'We'

Chapter Two

Erik stared intently at the empty cup placed on his desk.

It still had brown stains on the inside, left over from the tea he had drunk, and carried a faint scent of apple. The handwriting was turned to face him, and he silently looked at each figure. The cloud of his dyslexia strained at his mind, but he managed to push it away.

It had been two days since his visit to the coffee shop. The paper cup had been sitting on his desk since then, and he had not yet brought himself to enter the digits in his phone. He still found the gesture peculiar and wondered if this was the reason he found entering the number so difficult. After all, this was the type of thing that
happened in bad rom-coms, not when someone wanted to make friends in real life.

Erik's phone sat beside the cup, untouched. He had never liked mobiles. They were too intelligent. What's more, the bright light pulsing from the screen did nothing to stop the letters blurring and swirling before his eyes. In fact, it worsened the effects of his dyslexia. He used his phone for the bare minimum. Calling work.

As he considered the number again, Erik ran a hand through his jet hair. With a jolt, the image of Felix doing the same entered his mind; his uniform immaculate, and his hat sat at a jaunty angle. This was not a man who would stare at a paper cup for days, considering why he hadn't yet entered the number. This was a man who would call you back as soon as he got home.

Erik picked up his phone.

One by one the digits were entered. He double checked each number, not trusting himself to read it correctly the first time. His finger hovered over the name next. He could only manage to type an 'F'. Spelling was never his strong point. He didn't have the self-confidence to believe he would spell Felix correctly.

Another click saved the number into his contacts.  He stared at it blankly for a long moment, considering what he had done. Why was he so nervous?

Erik had never been good at making friends. Not that he was a particularly solitary person - on the contrary, he loved company. Rather, he was extremely shy. His dyslexia had given him a sense of self-loathing, and he was too afraid that others would call him stupid. He was aware he wasn't the brightest, but words hurt him more than he would let on.

The man's mind had wondered. He was too busy thinking about his own misfortune to pay attention to the relax of his muscles. His finger twitched, and he hit the call button.

A shock of electricity ran down his back. Panic quickly settled over his mind, and he hung up with haste. He let out a breath of relief, before realising that he had now worsened the situation. Now Felix had a missed call from an unknown number. He was sure to call back. Before he could properly think, Erik hit dial again.

He waited with bated breath as the dull tones of the ring sounded. He counted each as it passed, shoulders slouching with each new beep. Suddenly, a voice sounded.

"Hey! This is Felix!"

"Hey! Uh, I'm-"

"Sorry I can't take your call right now! Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!"

Another tone sounded, and Erik sat dazed for a moment. He shook his head, willing himself to talk.

"Hey. Uh… sorry, this is weird. I'm that guy from the coffee shop the other day. Erik. Erik with a 'k'. You gave me your number, so I thought you might… want to talk about something or something…"

Erik could hear the awkwardness in his own voice, and he cringed at it.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Uh. Anyway. Call me back if you want. You don't have to. I'm sorry."

The man hung up quickly, throwing his phone down on the table. It knocked into the cup, sending it rolling towards the edge of the desk. Erik caught it before it fell, looking at the writing once more.

'Kric'

He chuckled to himself, before realising and stopping. He had been stupid to call. What reason could that barista have for wanting to contact him? He had written his number by accident. Maybe he had meant to give it to the next person in the queue. He wouldn't call back.

Erik stood up. He had work today. He had to get ready. He needed the money. He could use the paperwork to distract himself from his relapse of judgement. Anything to get that barista off of his mind. His chest hurt, and he didn't like it.

Shaking his head, he fixed the half-made tie that was fastened around his neck. It felt uncomfortable but more uncomfortable was the feeling of regret that stirred in him. The man grabbed his cost from the back of the door, hurriedly pulling the black fabric over his suit. It was going to be a bad day. He could tell already.

The door clicked behind him quietly as he made his way outside. His shoulders hunched against the cold, and he made his way slowly along the short walk to work. His eyes remained fixed on the ground as he moved, ignoring passers-by. Making eye contact meant speaking, and speaking meant stumbling over his words. He quickened his pace, rushing onwards.

Work. He had to work. That was the one thing that kept him sane. He hated it, but it was the rock of normality in his life. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost trick the others into thinking he could read as well as them. They knew, of course. Everyone always knew. Everyone always guessed. His boss helped him in any way he could, but on days like today, he wished he didn't have to accept it. He wished he could be normal. Erik pulled up the collar of his coat in annoyance.

Back home, the cup sat upright, writing facing the empty chair. Erik had not pushed it in in his rush to leave, and so it stood a few steps away from the desk. In his haste, he had also forgotten his phone. Not that he needed it. Not that he wanted it.

With regular tones, the phone let out a dull ring. One by one, they sounded into the empty room, begging for Erik's presence. The last ring sounded. There was no welcome message. Just a high-pitched beep.

"Hello? Guess you're not here anymore. Sorry, heh. I'm at work. I'll call you back later."

With a click, the 'F' on the phone's screen faded back to black.