A/N: It’s been ages since I last wrote. First ever song-fic, was trying out a different style of writing. Not quite sure what to make of this though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Already In by Jon Mclaughlin, but I do love the song.

At exactly 11:11PM every day, someone out there wishes they had the guts to tell you they love you.

Phone Call

I can’t sleep.

I’ve tried every method that there is, from counting sheep to burying myself in my sheets and counting to ten before I officially suffocate. Nothing works. Instead, I end up all sweaty, cross, tired and still bloody well awake.

My cellphone rings, and the sound of Aerosmith fills the room. I don’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it’s 11:11PM. He’s always on time. Always.

I count to the third ring, then pick up. “I knew it,” he says quietly on the other line. “You can’t sleep again.”

I grumble rudely into the phone, and he laughs softly. “You know, having me here is such a blessing,” he teases. “I’m like your personal sleeping pill.”

“I slept perfectly fine yesterday,” I hiss, careful to keep my voice low in case my nosy mother hears. “I didn’t even hear the phone ring.”

“I know,” he says, sounding disappointed. “I had to wait until the fourth ring before I cut the line. Waste of my time.”

I smirk, turning on my back. “Aw, you know I love you.” There’s a more serious edge to my voice that I wish wasn’t so obvious. I bite my lip and hope he hasn’t heard it. Maybe he might associate it with me having a rough day.

He pauses for a second and laughs lightly. “Glad to be appreciated.”

There’s a short silence during which I exhale quietly in relief. He won’t know I have a crush on him. In fact, I’m not even sure myself if it’s a crush or really love.

“So, what can I do for you tonight?” The voice has a slightly husky tone to it, and I smile and huddle into my blankets. He’s got a really good voice, the kind that sounds both a bit musical and yet slightly deep and soothing at the same time.

I pretend to ponder for a while. “Sing me a song.” I order, smiling. “Anything nice.”

“Again?” he complains. “Didn’t I sing one the other day?”

I pout even though he can’t see me. “That was a children’s song. Sing me something. Anything.”

“Hang on.”

There’s a long pause while he fiddles around with something on the other end. To my surprise, I hear the sounds of piano keys being pressed. And then the sound of his voice, slightly distant because the phone was probably lying on top of the piano, but still distinct and clear.

It’s you to me, your gentle face
Overdue, worth the wait
And out of my reach

I nearly drop the phone. He’s singing, actually singing properly. It’s miles away from the previous time when he was just half-mumbling his words through the words of “Twinkle twinkle little star” at my song request. Even slightly distorted over the phone, his voice still comes on strong, clear, and full of some strange emotion I’ve never heard before.

And it’s already in my mind
I’m in over my head inside
And it’s already in my mind
Inside, inside

He almost sounds like he’s lost - and lived for someone.

Everyone’s back, hearts at war
With all these plans I had before
And I’m losing my grip but
I’d lose it all for you

I close my eyes. If I dream hard enough, I can almost imagine that he’s singing to me. For me. The corners of my mouth tug upwards.

So I go driving on around
And I’m denying all the sounds that hit my ear
Drum the beat of a heart I can’t defeat
And so it’s already in my mind
I’m in over my head inside

I glance at my clock. It’s 11:42. Still I’m drawn to his song, the story that he is telling through his music.

Inside, inside

He ends awkwardly, striking a wrong note, but I don’t mind. Somehow it fits the entire song the way he sang it.

There’s a brief silence as he picks up the phone again. “Well?” he asks hesitantly, almost as if he was embarrassed.

I am speechless. The words lock themselves in my throat and I clear it awkwardly, not quite sure of what to say.

“Was it that bad?” he asks uncomfortably, and I can hear him shifting around on the other side. I let out a small laugh, amazing myself by how calm and matter-of-fact I sound. “No, no. It was great! Very nice.”

“Oh. Really? That’s good.” He mutters, the relief sounding in his voice.

The strange silence settles again. I cast around for something to say. Should I praise his singing? Tell him I really really loved the song?

Or should I say something else?

I start to talk at the same time he breaks the silence. “It-“ “I-“

We laugh simultaneously. “Shoot.” I say generously.

“Do you really think it’s good?” he asks anxiously.

“It’s beautiful.” I say honestly. In fact, words can’t express what I feel. “How long did you –“

“I- I wanted to sing it to her,” he blurts out, and my heart just about plummets into my stomach. “For her.” A certain kind of pain fills the back of my throat, choking me. I swallow.

“Oh,” I manage dully. Of course. The girl he secretly admires, been in love with for so long I nearly can’t remember when he first told me. I think it was the day that I locked myself up in my room and stared hopelessly at the ceiling wishing something would happen to make him change his mind. Like maybe he'd call and tell me he didn't mean it, it was all a joke...

It would make perfect sense why he’d test out the song on me first, wouldn’t it?

I force myself to grin and sound as unemotional as possible. They say that you can tell when the person on the other end of the line is happy or not just by his smile. “I bet she’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Then, “Do you?”

“Yeah, loads.” I say flatly. Now I wish that he’d just get off the phone and leave me to bury my head in my pillows.

“Okay,” his tone is uncertain, as if he doesn’t know what to do next. “Are you dropping off to sleep soon? You sound pretty tired.”

D’you think I’ll be able to sleep now? I think irritably, then realise he probably can’t read my mind. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams.” He pauses, hesitating. “Love you.”

The words make my heart speed up just a little bit faster. I hate it. “Yup, I know,” I say lightly, blandly. Too bad you love her more.

I end the call, drop the phone on my bedside table, clamp my eyes shut and pull my blankets over my head like always. Trying to block out the rest of the world, all miserable darkness and words that don’t mean anything. Trying to be as calm and in control as I normally am.

I try, and fail.

I cry.