Hang Up [Unedited]

Epilogue 2

25 December, 2019. 1:49pm.

On opposite sides of town, two people have just picked up their phones, and typed in old numbers; in hopes that they haven't changed. One of these people are sitting in a café booth, and the other is standing inside an empty apartment. Both have changed their minds, more than once, before just deciding to go through with the text. A simple text, three words, eight letter.

Taking a deep breath, they begin to type out their messages. Their hearts are beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings, and uncertainty fills their minds. So many doubts, but not enough reassurances. What if the the numbers have changed, so what happens then? Do they just forget about it and move on, or do they try to find that person's number?

Fingers hover over the send key, with hearts in their hands and lumps in their throats, they press send. Quickly locking the screens, they rest the phones under their chins, and wait. Seconds later, their screens come to life, and they swiftly unlock their devices. Green and brown eyes read over the same text, at least ten times, before believing what they're seeing. Just three simple words made one nearly jump for joy and the other cry with happiness.

To: Jewel

I miss you.

-sent 1:50

To: Andrew

I miss you.

-sent 1:50

A Christmas miracle, maybe, coincidence, perhaps, absolutely elating, yes. That text had given each of them a small shred of hope; that the other still felt the same way four years ago. While one tries to contain the overflowing tears from their eyes, the other slumps back with head in hands, and can't seem to get rid of their smile. Both had over come their fear of rejection, or being disappointed, because they had the tiniest bit of hope. Hope is stronger than fear, if there is even a little hope in a person's heart, fear cannot stop them.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

She coudn't cry anymore, there were no tears left to cry, so she sat with her head in her hand; smiling like a kid in a candy store. Four years have passed, yet he still has the same number. Jewel can't seem to figure out what would make him keep the same number for that long, because knowing him he'd have gotten a new phone at least twice in the last two years. She had kept her number for so long, just for the safety of consistency, and the hope he would call or text.

Again she reads over the text message, while waiting for his reply. Maybe she should reply first, but she doesn't want to seem desperate about it. Flipping her phone over in her hand several times, Jewel decides to let him text her first. Why should it look like she's the one crawling back to him, when he's the one who messed up. If he really missed he would make the effort to start the conversation.

Letting out a deep breath, she sets the phone on the table face down, and then picks up her cup of tea. Although she said she would wait, her hand was itching to reply to his message first. Hell her whole body was just itching to talk to him, see him, be held by him again. Shakily, she brings the steaming liquid to her lips, but keeps her eyes trained on her phone. Will the damn thing just ring already?

The tea nearly burns her tongue, and she almost spills it when the device starts flashing. Quickly setting the cup back down, Jewel scoops up her phone, and slides her finger across the screen to answer it. The name on the screen made her heart beat faster, but she keeps her breathing steady as she speaks.

"Andrew," she whispers, as if someone were listening.

Crying is the first thing she hears, and then shallow breathing. Someone clears their throat on the other side of the phone, while Jewel patiently waits for a reply. She's been patiently waiting for him to call for four years now. Finally the person returns to the phone, and the voice is low and solem. It doesn't sound anything like usually cheerful voice she was used to hearing.