The Beginning of What Will Be

One

     "And as always, I will see you in the next video. Bye-bye!" I grin as I click out of the video. I look at the clock and read 7:26 A.M. SHIT. I'M LATE. I grab my hoodie and run out into the rain, that I didn't know was falling today. I purse my lips in frustration. Why can't I just stay home today?
     I feel my phone vibrate and I try to read it before I start my car, but it's an unknown  number, and I'm already late, so I don't have time to answer. I try to crank my car, which decides it's going to be difficult today. "No, no, no," I whisper over and over. Finally, it just dies. I start to hit the wheel until I'm just too worn out to keep this useless task up. So instead, I grab my phone and call the number back. It rings three times, and half way through the fourth ring, the person finally picks up right before I hang up on them. "Hello?" This masculine, smooth, voice is too familiar to not realize who it is. Yet, I just cant place it. 
     "Yeah, hi. I just got a call from this number. Who is this?" I say somewhat rudely. I sigh and try to sound a bit more kind. "Oh, sorry... I guess I dialed the wrong number. My apologies." I reply with, "That's okay. But could you tell me who this is? Your voice sounds too familiar, yet I can't quite figure out how I would know it."
     The caller goes silent. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you who I am. I know that's really creepy, but I am a well known man, and if I tell you who I am, and you tell other people this number, it could create quite a hassle for the both of us. So again, I'm sorry." I can feel my face turning red. I feel my temper getting uncontrollable, and the next thing I know, I'm spouting out, "NO. Now you listen here, you called my number, on my phone, on my time. You are to tell me who you are, and how you got my number, and how I'm supposed to know you." I'm panting. Probably a stupid idea to do in my severe asthmatic condition.
     The man stays quiet for a good thirty seconds, that seem a bit too long. "Okay, can we at least talk a little bit before I tell you who I am? I'm not lying when I tell you I am a well known man, so I have to know that you are not going to go tell someone and then my number gets out, causing problems. It'd either that, or I hang up, and block your number." I grin slightly, but smugly. "Deal." At least I'll have someone to keep me company on my self-given day off. "How would you be famous?" I ask him, curiously. Something about that really caught my attention, along with his voice. "I didn't say I was famous. I said well-known." I like how he phrases that. He sounds humble.
     "Well, how would you be 'well known' as you put it? How well known are you? Is it possible that I would know you?" I can hear him take  a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose it would make sense that you would know me. Over nine million people know me." My eyes widen in shock. Nine million people? How is that possible? "Are you an actor?" He sighs, "No, although I have done some voice acting and some short films for other people. Plus, how would I know approximately how many people know me, if I were an actor?" He has a point. Even if he were an actor, and got statistics, it wouldn't be able to tell him how many people there are approximately.
     "Okay. I asked a question, so I suppose it's your turn." He scoffs and replies with, "So what, are we twelve and playing twenty one questions?" I don't reply. "Alright," he says with another sigh, "how old are you?" "I'm nineteen, not that actually matters at this point. How old are you?" I'm starting to get annoyed again. "I'm twenty-six." My jaw drops. The voice, nine million people, twenty-six years old? How can all of this be a coincidence? "Mark...?"