𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

[🎲] [𝟏𝟔] 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Author's Note - Twice in one day? 🙂‍↕️

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Jean: Hey, I was wondering if you were done with your half of the essay? Or if you need help with it, I'll be more than welcome to assist you.

You: can you call?

You fix your gaze on the small screen of your phone, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Every passing second feels like an eternity as you yearn for a sign or a glimmer of hope and then, like a bolt of lightning, it arrives—a message, a response.

Jean: Sure.

A mischievous smile slowly spreads across your lips as you eagerly initiate the FaceTime call.

The shrill sound of the ringing phone pierced the air, its persistent melody echoing through the room.

Just as the anticipation of an imminent disconnection began to settle in, a flicker of light illuminated the screen, revealing the countenance of none other than Jean.

"Hey, I thought it would be easier to FaceTime, if that's okay with you?"

"No, you're good; it just feels weird because I rarely FaceTime anyone," he confesses, and as his words flow forth, your attention becomes fixated upon his countenance.

His usually immaculate and well-groomed hair now cascades in disarray, as if tousled by a midday slumber; his countenance exudes an air of attentiveness, although his weary eyes betray a hint of fatigue.

Your eyebrows knit together in a furrowed expression, betraying a hint of concern or confusion.

"You don't FaceTime people?" you ask as you position the phone on your desk, liberating your hands from its grasp.

As you stand poised before your own device, you cannot help but observe the subtle movement of his eyes as they wander across the screen of his phone.

"I don't really like it," he admits, prompting a deepening of your brow furrows in response to his words. Sensing your perplexity, he acknowledges the cause and adds, "It gets too awkward sometimes." 

"Well, let's hope that talking about mental health isn't too awkward." With a mischievous glimmer in your eye and a wry smile adorning your face, you express a hopeful sentiment tinged with a touch of irony. "I've finished it, but I need to edit something, so let me just grab my laptop."

As you traverse the room, a faint sound of shuffling emanates from a nearby area.

With purposeful strides, you proceed towards your bag and then assume a lowered position, your body descending towards the floor.

"I really like your pink walls and..." His voice lingers, as if searching for something beyond the words he spoke. "Flower art," he murmurs, his tone filled with a sense of sarcasm.

His remark prompts your gaze to shift towards the phone, and in that moment, you discern a subtle yet unmistakable half-smirk adorning his countenance.

This sight elicits a gentle chuckle to escape your lips, as if in response to the unspoken amusement that lingers in the air.

"I'm over the moon that you like the decor, but I'm not at my apartment; sorry if that disappoints you," you articulate, deftly retrieving your laptop from within your bag and proceeding towards the desk.

"I'm extremely disheartened to hear that," His words, though tinged with a hint of jest, seemed to reflect a fake sense of disappointment.

"So, where are you?" he asks, his voice resonating through the room as he casts aside the bed covers and emerges from his slumber.