Two days. No calls. It was the worst argument they'd had in months. The topic? Alcohol. More specifically, a certain wild haired boys excessive consumption, much to the dismay of his godlike boyfriend. That was how it started, only ending when the one who's habits sparked this debate, stormed out of the pairs shared apartment. Enough was enough for the marble man. Switching on the news, he pulled out his laptop and started typing up the report on his latest case. Then came the message.
Unknown number: 'Eyes on the news golden boy'
And so eyes moved from phone to news. Legs carried their owner from chair to door. Another case. Meaning one more body for six feet under. Same routine, walk into the station, be handed the case file, look through the victim's belongings, write up the report. Not too hard to do in the comfort of the apartment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, he pulled out the case file and the dead mans belongings.
There wasn't much. Phone, cash, usual things. Suicide it had been. So there must be a note. Checking again, the marble man still had not found any note. Something to report back to the station. He pulled out his phone preparing to call the others positioned on the case. The screen flashed up, one new voicemail. A clue or just a missed call? Hazard a guess at just being a missed call. No harm in listening to it quickly. So the voicemail started.
~voicemail~
"I don't know whether you'll listen to this. If you do, I'm saying sorry. Sorry for everything. What I've said. What I've done. It was my bad habits that caused it. My fault and mine alone. I know you hate my habits. The drinking, the random bruises. I wish I could explain it, but I can't. So I guess that's it. As much of an apology as I can manage right now. I'd understand if you hate me. I hate me too. One thing before I end this. I love you, I love you so much. There's food in the apartment. Don't forget to eat and sleep. Look after yourself. Please?"
The voicemail cut out, indicating it was over. The marble man quickly came to his senses, dialling the number the voicemail came from. One ring, two rings, another phone ringing? Hang up, try again. One, two, another phone.
A phone in the apartment. The phone in front of him. The suicide victims phone. His boyfriends phone.
No.
One new message: 'I'm sorry Apollo. Love R'
