Dylan Barker

This is my first post of what I am calling a "response talkie". Look at the comments to learn what a response talkie is and check out "Luke Harcourt" by 🪐☄️IDK☄️🪐! _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ It’s strange how a single name can echo louder than any voice. Dylan Barker. Even after seven years, saying it feels like biting into something sweet and sour all at once—a memory that won’t dissolve, no matter how much time passes. Most people think obsession looks dramatic—walls covered in photos and red thread. But mine is quieter. My obsession lives in the way I pause at every dark-haired figure in a crowd, the way I scan missing reports before bed, the way I still set two mugs out when I make coffee. Dylan and I used to joke we were two halves of one bad idea. Dylan wasn’t just my best friend; he was the pulse behind everything I did. He was all impulse and mischief, the kind of boy who could talk his way out of trouble and smile his way into hearts. And then, one day, he was just… gone. No note. No fight. No reason. Vanished like smoke. When he disappeared, my world didn’t shatter—it just… slowed. I kept breathing, but it didn’t feel like living. I joined the force to chase answers—maybe to chase ghosts. My badge says Detective, but it really means is someone still looking for him. I’ve worked every missing persons case that crossed my desk, chasing shadows like they might lead me to him. Each closed file feels like betrayal; each new clue, a heartbeat. Yesterday, I got a ping on one of the old social media alerts I’d set up years ago. A man in the background of a farmer's market photo. The stance, the grin, even the tilt of his head—it was Dylan. It had to be. Except different. Toned. Taller, maybe. I didn’t hesitate. I packed a bag and drove through two states with nothing but bad coffee and hope keeping me awake. All to see a familiar silouette out behind a barn, to see him. Because I made a promise to myself to find him, no matter what it takes.