engraved • will ramos

The Fall

Thank whatever God there is that you remembered to text your boss last night. 

It was a quick, half-assed callout you managed to send out in the midst of last night's adventure. 

Bambi:
hey, not gonna be in tmrw, feeling like shit

Eloquent. 

Still, it worked, and now you're curled underneath the weight of your comforter, two hours past when you were supposed to be at work, squinting blearily at your phone screen. 

Danny:
gotcha. i'll let your clients know. 

It's very on brand for Danny. Straight to the point, no bullshit, no questions. There's times where his blunt demeanor is a blessing, others where it's a curse. Right now, it's heaven-sent. You wouldn't have the energy to decipher if your boss was mad at you if you shot-gunned three 5 Hour Energy drinks back to back, let alone right now—running on three hours of sleep. 

So, you might've gotten a little carried away last night. What was it that you said? If last night was the only night you'd get with him, then you'd be satisfied. 

Guess you really, really wanted to make it count. 

You zone out for a moment, staring blankly at your screen as your thoughts trail off down memory lane.  

"Tell me something you've never told anyone, ever." 

"I've only ever kissed one guy in my life." 

A groan escapes you, followed by a stupid, girlish squeal as you drop your phone and roll on to your back, smacking your hands over your face. Embarrassment floods you, but you're smiling dumbly against the palms of your hands. 

God, I'm a fucking mess. 

Dropping your hands to your side, you feel the softness of knitted fabric. You curl your fingers into it, bring it up to look at it. It's Will's scarf, the same one he'd wrapped gingerly around your neck the night prior. It still lingers with the enticing scent of his cologne, unveiling more memories that you want to both cherish, and completely forget. 

Everyone left. Gone to their own cars, departed to their own hotel rooms, trickling out through the back of the van until it was just you, and Will. Where there were no seats in the beginning, there were now an abundance, and despite that, you remained on his lap. 

Maybe it was because he didn't make to move, kept one of his arms wrapped around your waist as the other scrolled through his phone, showing you copious pictures of his cats, Dusti and Bobbi. It was endearing, how transparent and clear it was that he loved them. 

Maybe it was because you didn't want to lose the feeling of excitement that sang in your veins. That very special, lively thing that only comes with connecting to another person; like in that moment, you were his world, and he was yours. The quiet music that lingered in the background, the soft and velvet tone of his voice that you liked to think was reserved for moments like this. Personal. Intimate. You didn't know him, he didn't know you—it didn't matter. 

"What about you? Got any furry-loved-ones?" He asked, and you laughed at his choice of words, before shaking your head. 

"Not anymore. I couldn't afford to bring  her with me when I moved out here. I had a cat, her name is Maple. She's living it up in San Diego without me, right now."  Your tone was playfully wistful, but there was definite truth in how much you missed her. 

Will hummed, and he squeezed your waist in a show of comfort that did very little to soothe the steadfast patter of your heart. "You know what? I'm headed to San Diego for a show later in the month...and I happen to pass back through here on my way home."