Phone Call.

You sit and stare at the phone as if willing it to ring. You know it won’t, but you’ve got nothing to lose. Not anymore anyway. You knew it was a bad idea telling him, knew that he wouldn’t feel the same way about you, but you tried anyway. All of the lies and secrets were eating you alive and if it hadn’t been this that had ruined everything, the lack of talking would have done.

So you told him. Uttered three little words that meant everything to you, but apparently nothing to him. He didn’t say anything for a while after that, the silence making you feel uncomfortable. But when he did eventually speak, you started to wish the silence hadn’t been broken, the awkwardness was nothing in comparison to him telling you he needed time to think. Needed time to work things out. Surely, if he felt the same, there would be nothing too think about And so he left, mumbling a quick ‘goodbye’ and an ‘I’ll phone you later’. That, you decided, hurt the most. He couldn’t get away from you quick enough.

Here you are, six hours later, phone in hand, sat in the same chair you had fallen into the minute he left the room. He still hasn’t phoned you. You realise that six hours isn’t really all that long to work things out, but you can’t help it. You’re in love, and love makes you do stupid things. And he’s not the type of person who needs days to sit and think about things. You realise, that if he doesn’t phone soon, he probably won’t be phoning at all…

You awake to a noise. You hadn't even realised you had gone to sleep, but the clock next to you reads 22:30, that's more than ten hours since you told him you loved him, and a little over nine hours since you sat down waiting for the phone to ring.

You hear the noise that woke you again. Still being half asleep you can’t quite work out what it is. It gets slightly louder, before it eventually stops. You sigh, look at the phone, and close your eyes, ready to get some more sleep. You know the high pitch shrill of the phone will wake you if and when he rings, and you really are quite tired; today’s events seeming to take more out of you than you had realised.

Your eyes blink open when you hear your front door opening. You realise the noise must have been someone knocking, before panic finally sets in and you realise that someone is entering your house.

"Have you never heard of locks? And you do realise that staring at the phone like that won't make it ring, right?" An all too familiar voice drawls.

“I…I wasn’t staring at the phone…” You whisper, your face suddenly feeling a little too hot for the temperature inside your flat.

“You were.” You look from the phone towards the voice that’s coming from the doorway. He’s just standing there, looking at you expectantly; you close your eyes and look away.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to phone.” You hear him move towards you, before you realise just how desperate you must look to him with the phone in your hand and blush a little harder.

“I’ve never really liked phones that much.” He’s standing over you now. You can feel him, rather than see him, due to the fact that your eyes are still closed.

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say. You still don’t understand why he’s here, instead of at home phoning you. It doesn’t make sense.

"Well, you seem to be half asleep and not really up to holding a conversation so I think I’ll just go.” He doesn’t make any effort to leave, but you open your eyes and look at him anyway. You don’t really want him to leave, but you can’t seem to form the words to tell him.

“You should have phoned.” You realise as soon as those words leave your mouth that they aren’t the words you were looking for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re suddenly reminded of what happened earlier on in the day. But this time, instead of speaking to break the silence, he laughs. At you. And you can’t really find the energy to be mad at him, especially considering the fact that if it weren’t you being so pathetic, you’d be laughing at you too.

“You…you…you’re laughing at me!” The words are accusatory, rather than angry. You still can’t be angry with him; even after all he’s put you through.

“Yes. I guess I am.” He manages to sputter in between laughing.

“Oh.” You knew he was laughing at you, but for some reason, you expected him to deny it. He didn’t. You don’t know what to make of it. It takes him a minute or so before he stops laughing, but when he does, his face takes on a more serious look. “I didn’t phone because some things are better said in person, are they not?” He smirks. “And even better when shown.”

With this he closes the distance between you, kneeling down when he reaches the chair you’re still sat in. He looks you in the eyes before smiling once more and then everything is a blur because his lips are on yours and you can’t think straight when all you can see and feel and smell is him.

When he eventually pulls back you don’t know what to do. He gives you a small knowing smile, which makes everything click into place though.

“I…I guess that was better than a phone call.” He looks momentarily shocked, before he kisses you briefly on the lips.

“Guess?” You can’t help but stare dumbly at his face. You’re still not used to him kissing you like that. You’re not entirely sure you’ll ever be.

“Okay, it was much better than a phone call?” He smiles before capturing your lips. Only pulling back slightly to whisper the three words against your lips that you had said to him earlier in the day.

You realise that while this may be better than a phone call, a phone call would have been nice none-the-less just to warn you so that maybe, just maybe, you could have reacted a little less stunned and bit more enthusiastically.

A/N. It’s not really anything like the original. But, never mind. I prefer this.