"You have eighty seconds to say all that you want to say."
He falters for a second. She picked up? Wait, eighty seconds? He takes a breath before rambling all the thoughts that he had previously prepared to say for the day she'd finally pick up.
"Look, I know it's kinda creepy that a stranger is calling you and happens to know things about you that even your friends don't know."
She just manages to bite her tongue from letting a sarcastic remark slip out. After all, if she had cut him off, he probably would've demanded some extra time, and eighty seconds was more than enough. To her at least. He probably could've begged to differ.
"Okay, okay. Shit, this isn't working out. Um, basically, I know you don't really want to let anyone in, and I understand. Well I don't, because even if I was experiencing what you are, I'd feel things differently probably. But- I don't know. I just, I feel like..."
He grimaces, running a hand through his hair while trailing off. How exactly was he supposed to phrase this?
"Look. You don't want to get hurt, so you don't let anyone in enough. Every time you've let your walls down, they've let you down in return. So you're not giving anyone your heart, because how can anyone leave something, or someone, they've never had? But even when you're feeling like this, you still feel like you want someone to come and prove you wrong. To break down your walls, but still never hurt you. You want someone to save you from yourself."
"But Celia, don't you see? I'm not here to be that person. I'm not going to urge you to let me in and become your prince charming or something. I'm... I'm here to help you save yourself. I'll listen and be your friend, but I won't be your knight in shining armor. I'm here to teach you to be your own hero."
Pausing, he takes a breath. Had it been eighty seconds yet? Well, he had said the most important part, but maybe he could tell her something-
"Celia. I just wanted to-"
"Your eighty seconds are up."
"Wai-"
"Goodnight. And do stop calling at 3:17 in the morning."
She hangs up.
In his room, he groans, massaging his temples and letting out a weary breath. Hopefully he got through to her... That spiel was pretty deep, right? But her voice when she cut him off... It was so cold, so... emotionless. Nothing like the girl he once knew. But did he really ever know her?
In her room, she closes her eyes, inhaling sharply. How did he read her so easily? She didn't like it at all, his ability of seeing past her facade. It made her feel too... vulnerable. But that one part, about teaching her to save herself... Did he really mean it? Or were those just empty words to cause her to fall once again with no intent of being at the bottom to catch her?
YOU ARE READING
Three Seventeen || Completed
Short Story"Each night she lies awake in bed, Blaming insomnia. But in truth it really is, Her restless thoughts instead." A phone call. A boy. A life changed. --- entry for @vinyl-'s one-shot competition (although mine's more of a short story oops)
