3am Phone Calls

Chapter 1

The ringing of your telephone echoed through your apartment. You'd been in the shower, letting the water run down your back. He'd been on your mind again, despite it being years since he'd left Glass Shard Beach. You hadn't seen either of them in years now, yet it still lingered in your heart. A constant reminder of the friendship you'd lost, and the lovesick ache in your heart that should've long since died and gone, yet still persisted.

Quickly, wet feet padded across the floor to grab the telephone off the base. You'd assumed it was probably a telemarketer, which was why you'd left it to ring for so long. Holding the phone to your ear, you spoke up; "Joe's pizza and abortion clinic, your loss is our sauce." It was a quip you'd been using for quite some time now. You'd come up with it when the telemarketers started getting annoying. It usually produced a dial tone from the phone, however, this time, it produced laughter.

Every muscle in your body froze as the phone dropped from your hand, hitting against the wall thanks to its cord. You knew that laughter. The deep baritone that haunted you as you walked across the beach. An old friend who you'd always wanted to be a bit more with... Stanley Pines.

You sink down against the wall, the phone next to your face as it dangled in the air. The laughter eventually stops, fading away to make room for his voice.

"Hello?"

Your hand mindlessly grabs the phone, replacing it back against your face.

"Hey," you stutter.

"... you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"My voice? What about yours?! I thought you were dead!"

"Eh, I ain't that easy to kill."

The call falls silent as you stare down at the floor, unsure of what to say. Your words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him everything, to tell him that you loved him, to ask him to come home. But... courage broke away for shattered cowardness.

He spoke first instead:

"What you doin' tonight, doll?"

Doll. He called you doll. A simple nickname he'd used so many times, yet each time it felt like magic to hear. A melody floating in your ears.

"It's late here, I just got back from work," you pause to let out an exhausted sigh, "I haven't even eaten dinner yet."

"Wait - really? Isn't it like... three hours... twelve plus three... Holy Hells, isn't it like three there?!"

"... yeah," you quietly admit, curling your legs up to your chest. Despite the interference of the phone, you could still hear the worry lacing his voice.

"You should be in bed, doll, not just gettin' back from work."

"I... I know."

"Do you want me to hang up and let you go do that then?"

"No!... I mean, no, I'm fine. Really, Stan."

"Doll, is there a problem? Are you doing alright?"

You card your hand through your hair, letting out a long sigh as you stare at the floor in your dimly lit apartment.

"Yeah. Yeah, there is a problem. We had a plan, Stanely. The three of us. Then you left us to flounder and stumble... the last time I saw Ford, he had twelve PhDs and was moving to Oregon. Leaving me here... stuck in a dead-end job, in a shitty apartment, with no friends and no family."

"Fuck... I really am an asshole."

"You think?" Stan chuckles weakly on the other side of the phone.