She looked at the caller ID, half-expecting her late night caller to be a scammer, when it instead read "Michael." Annoyance stewed sharply in her chest-- Him calling her this late couldn't have been an accident, and she'll be damned if she's going to be the receiver of any of his half-hearted hookup calls. She swiped to accept and put the phone up to her ear, mouth opening to give him a piece of her mind.
"Eileen," Michael said, his voice muffled like he was holding the phone too close to his mouth. Eileen had forgotten when exactly they had exchanged numbers. Now she was regretting it. "You answered." His accent slurred, his voice deep with drunkenness.
"If this is what I think it is, I'll hang up on you right now," Eileen threatened, her green eyes narrowing. This is not what she needed right now. A deep laugh answered her, and she huffed with irritation. "Don't call me." She had lowered the phone when his voice suddenly spilled from it.
"Don't hang up on me," he begged, stumbling over his words like they couldn't get out of his mouth fast enough, as if he could see what she was about to do. She held the phone up to her ear again. "Please," he pleaded.
And she had half of a mind to hang up on him right then and there. But there was something in his voice that she hadn't heard from him before. A desperation that made her hesitate.
A relieved sigh on the other side. Then muffled rustling. Then nothing.
"What do you want?" She asked, breaking the silence.
"I'm lonely," he replied, drawing out every syllable. "I just wanted to hear someone."
"You must be real shitfaced to call me," The corner of her lip rose as she expected him to banter.
"Sorry. I know you don't like me," he muttered. Her smile fell.
"I--" That was not what she was expecting. She swallowed the words that burned on her tongue, feeling like an asshole. It was not fair of her.
He let out a brittle chuckle, the sound crackling in her ear. Then he lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "I had no one else."
She leaned against the wall, crossing her free arm as she mulled over his words. It was certainly not what she had expected from him when she answered his call. It was something raw that she almost didn't want to touch.
She looked out of her bedroom window at the night sky and the lights of the cityscape. What was really going on with him? She knew his personality was an act to keep people at arms length. She knew his type. She wasn't even sure if he was capable of being genuine.
He had never dropped his façade around her. Until now, when he was very drunk and begging her not to hang up on him.
A beat passed. "What do you want to talk about?" She asked.
"I dunno. Anything," he said. "What are you looking at?"
She focused on the sky outside of her window. It was a deep blue, with a dark gradient fading into the silhouette of the city, dotted with endless stars. A deep blue that you could sink into. "The sky."
Michael hummed. "It's nice."
"Yeah." A deep blue the same color as his eyes. "It is."