|Wed. Mid morning.
||[Sep. 2nd, 2005|06:02 pm]
Camp Slash - rpg
Rupert has loaned me his cell phone to finish off my phone calls to the would-be stalkers. The only provision he had was that he get to stay in the room while I make them. I'm not sure why he did this, but he has. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. So it's me, a bottle of 100 proof vodka, and Rupert. After the first call he backs away from me, frowning. I don't think he really imagined what I was like. I'm sure he had some idea, but hearing me coddle and sweet talk these people I so obviously never wanted to talk to again makes him think again. After the third call, he walks up, sits on the bed across from me, and slips his hand in mine. I look at him confused and he has a bit of a pained expression on his face, but I'm not sure if it's for them or for me. When I hang up the call I just stare at him for a moment, then take yet another swig of vodka. He doesn't say anything, just takes the book laying between us with the phone numbers and swings it around his way to look at it.|
"What're these checks for?" I look down at the penned check marks beside each name.
"To indicate the people I've called," I inform him in a scratchy voice. All I feel is anger and disgust and each call fuels it. He points to a name that has check marks on either side but is not checked off itself.
"Why is this one not done?"
"Because I didn't call that one."
"But you've done all the others," he points out.
"I'm not calling that one."
"Why? How do you know that's not the one you need to call?" I hadn't given him any information, really, though I had let him read the note that was sent to me.
"How do you know?"
"I just do. Look, I'm not calling him, so just drop it." My voice is abrupt and he looks a little shocked, but he doesn't let go of my hand. He turns the book back to me and I sigh, giving in, though I don't know why. I call the number, squeezing Rupert's hand until the point that it's probably rather painful. If it does hurt him, he doesn't show it. "Hello, may I speak with Julian Minor, please?" There's a long pause, and I don't know what they tell him that he comes to the phone, but he does. Maybe it's been so long that none of them remember my voice. "Hello, Julian." My voice is light, as with the rest of the calls and I do my best not to slip. The person on the other end gasps and I hear the phone drop to the floor. It's fumbled along the ground and the next sound is a high, sharp voice.
"Cillian?!" I always hated when he used that tone with me, but this time it's welcome. God, it's been so long.
"So. You're talking to me again, I see." My throat closes up. I feel like I might hyperventilate.
"Cillian, why are you calling here?" I squeeze Rupert's hand tighter and the boy doesn't even flinch. I look up at him, embarrassed that I even feel this way in front of him.
"I needed to hear your voice." I somehow manage to convince myself it's just a line. Rupert doesn't look so convinced. "Why did you..."
"I told you already." His voice is steady and deep. "You need to stay away from me, alright?" I give a short laugh.
"How much further away from you can I get, Julian? I'm in the fucking United States for Christ sake. Would you like me to leave the fucking planet? Let me see how the next trip to Mars is faring and I'll get back to you on that one." There's a gentle sigh at my outburst. "Don't fucking sigh at me!"
"Don't fucking Cillian me, either. I didn't even want to fucking call you."
"Then why did you?" Because I love you, because I miss you, because I want you to tell me you love me and miss me. Because I hate you, fear you, loathe you, or only wish I could. Because you make me feel like all the others felt about me when I tore their lives apart and like them, I can't get the fuck over you. You make me want to tear my hair out, fall at your feet and beg you to love me back and the worst part is I KNOW you do.
"I... don't know, Julian. Guess I just had to make sure you were still where you put yourself so that you're not getting into any trouble, like sending any notes threatening anyone's life." He snorts and I can practically see him rolling his eyes. He's changed, but not that much, surprising for where he is.
"Why would I do that? I've let myself in. I hold no grudges against anyone. Cillian... please, just let it go, have a good life. He's dead, why can't you let his hold on you go? I can still hear it all in your voice, even over this shitty connection. Your mum will have a bird when she sees how much this call is costing. Baby, please..." I look over at Rupert who looks like he might cry on my behalf, and he's not even hearing the entire conversation.
"Fine. You get what you want, again." My hand leaves Rupert's and moves harshly through my hair. The corners of my mouth are struggling desperately to turn but I keep my lips in a firm, straight line. "I love you." My voice cracks in the middle of it and I want to smack myself.
"I love you, too, Cillian. Now go." I give a sigh, closing my eyes.
"Fine." I close the phone and Rupert holds out his hand, then takes it when I don't immediately hand it over. "What was that for."
"So you don't throw it across the room," he tells me with a tiny smile. He sets the phone down and wraps me in a hard hug. No one's ever hugged me before and meant it.