Happy Lowman Imagines

Collect Call

Request: Happy Imagine where you are childhood friends but you haven't heard from Happy for years until you get a phone call from him in prison.
Type in bold is flashbacks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

High School Graduation. You had made it, despite all odds, you had finished high school. You stood in front of the mirror and stared at your reflection and took a deep breath. Today was the first day of the rest of your life. The graduation ceremony started in two hours and after that, you were free. Free from the shitty hallways and shitty classrooms. Free from the shitty teachers and your god-awful classmates.
The roar of the motorcycle pulling up outside bought you back to reality and you grinned before running outside.
He stood leaning against his bike, his black t-shirt clinging to his sculpted body.
"Happy!" You yelled as you ran towards your best friend.
He grinned at moved towards you and you leapt into his arms.
He twirled you around, with of your hugging each tight on the front lawn of your house.
Happy was your best friend. You had grown up together and you had spent every afternoon together, getting high down by the river or getting drunk and getting shitty tattooed and hiding them from your parents. He had dropped out of school last year, when his mom got sick the first time. And despite seeing him everyday after school you would spend all day in your classes dreaming about him.
You were madly in love with him, of course. How could you not be. He was loyal and caring. He had a good heart and he could make you laugh harder than anyone else. He didn't talk much, to others. But sometimes you could barely shut him up. You dreamed of a life with him, despite what your parents thought, and despite knowing he didn't feel the same way. You were like a sister to him, and it broke your heart silently every time you thought about it.
"Hey pumpkin." He grinned at you and you rolled your eyes.
He had been calling you that for two years, ever since you'd gotten high with him at the river then gone home, eaten the whole pumpkin pie, and threw up all over your moms thanksgiving dinner.
That was the first time your parents banned you from seeing Happy, but you had rebelled against them, and they knew better than to try stop it these days.
"You ready?" He asked you, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.
You tilted your head and looked at him questioningly.
"How mad do you think your parents will be if you arrive at graduation on the back of my bike?" He asked you, his smirk turning into a full blown grin.
You laughed and nodded. "Lets go Hap."

"Clean up on aisle two."
You sighed as you stacked the last can on the shelf. You had ten minutes left of your shift and it was just typical that there would be a spill just before you finished.
You walked to the cleaning closet and pulled out the mop and bucket and pushed them in front of you as you walked to Aisle Two.
You looked at the open can of soda on the floor and the fizzy puddle surrounding it and swept the hair out of your face as you began pushing the mop around.
You hummed along to the music as you mopped.
Once you'd finished you walked back to the closet and poured the soda in your bucket into the basin.
You watched it pour down the drain, and couldn't help but think the soda was a metaphor for your life.
You'd been working at the grocery store for four years now, and you knew you were wasting your life.
You used to have such big dreams for your future, for your life.
You wanted to travel the world, have a family and make a name for yourself.
But that had all turned to shit years ago.
You rubbed the wedding ring on your finger for comfort and leant against the wall.
The smell of bleach filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, wishing that you could just disappear.
37. You were 37 years old and widowed. You had no kids, no friends, you worked in a grocery store, earning just enough money to pay the rent in your one bedroom apartment and keep yourself alive. Living the dream, you thought sarcastically.

You scanned the room, eyeing the men clad in leather and the topless girls.
ACDC blasted through the speakers and the scent of weed and pussy swirled around you.
"Lookin for me, gorgeous?" A voice slurred and an arm draped over your shoulder and the breath filled with alcohol was hot on your air.
You shrugged the arm off you and glared at the man.
"In your dreams." You said with an icy stare.
The man shrugged and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the doorway of the Sons Of Anarchy Tacoma charters clubhouse.
You looked towards the back of the room and finally spotted him.
It felt like acid poured through your veins, or knives ripping through your body.
There he sat, your best friend, Happy Lowman, with a topless red head in his lap, grinding into him.
You fought back tears and swallowed before waking towards him.
You cleared your throat as you stood at the end of the couch but he didn't even look up.
You fumbled with your hands awkwardly before clearing your throat again.
This time he heard you and he glanced up at you.
"Hey pumpkin, you came!" He smiled at you and the sight of his smile almost made you forget the whore in his lap. Almost.
"Happy birthday, Lowman." You said, trying to sound normal.
He smiled at you.
"Can you come outside? I have something for you." You said and rubbed your neck awkwardly.
Happy hesitated and looked at the girl in his lap.
"Maybe later pumpkin?" He asked awkwardly.
Your heart sunk and you nodded slowly as four burly men came over and crowded you.
His attention went to them and you slipped outside without him noticing.
You ran to your car and jumped in before pulling out of the lot.
Tears streamed down your face as you drove home and you felt empty, knowing that you'd left your heart on the cum stained floor of that clubhouse.

Beep-beep-beep.
You stood and walked to the kitchen, the smell of instant macaroni filling the room.
You walked to the microwave and opened the door,and reached into grab the tray.
Ever since your husband had died six years ago you had been practically living off frozen microwave meals. You had never been good at cooking and your husband Tom had cooked every night. You were married for two years before he died, an innocent victim of a drunk driving accident. You'd never forget that phone call. You had been sitting on the toilet, a pregnancy test in your hands, tears of joy streaming down your face as you looked at the two pink lines.
The phone had rung and you'd practically ran to the phone, hoping it was your husband on the line.
But it wasn't Tom, it was the hospital. You didn't remember driving to the hospital, and you didn't remember getting the car.
All you remembered was the two police officers with solemn faces, standing outside the emergency room. They told you that your husband had died and you had fallen to your knees, sobbing on the floor of the hospital.
You loved him, you knew you did. But you were always filled with guilt knowing that you loved someone else more.
Things had never been the same between you and Happy after that night. He was always busy with the club he had joined and you were busy working your ass off to get enough money to get the whole out of that place.
You used to spend every minute together but then you'd go weeks without speaking, and you both knew you were drifting apart.
Some friendships just seemed to have an expirary date, and for you, it was Happy Lowman's 19th birthday.
You had almost fallen asleep on the couch when the phone rung.
You groaned as you stood, wiping your eyes and waked across the room to the phone.
It was probably work, wanting you to come in on your day off or someting.
You answered the phone and pressed it to your ear as you stifled a yawn.
"This is a collect call from Stockton State Penitentiary. Inmate Happy Lowman is trying to contact you. Dial 1 to accept the call. Dial 2 to decline, or hang up."
You froze, the phone pressed tightly to your ear.
The message repeated itself and with shaky hands you lowered the phone and pressed 1.
You heard a click as the line was connected and your heart almost beat out of your chest.
The familiar raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.
"Hey pumpkin."