In The Pursuit of Success

Reasoning & Responsibility

Here it is! Next chapter! Don't be afraid to critique, too! If anything's unclear and/or worded weirdly, lemme know! ;D

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Are you sure you want to delete this message?, read the pop-up on his bright little cellphone screen. After hitting "no", he sets the phone down on his side-table and seats himself on his bed. He runs his fingers through his auburn locks, feeling somewhat light-headed due to lack of sleep. His drowsy eyes move up to the Zalien egg-themed clock hanging on the wall opposite him.

Eight in the morning. Had he really been up all night trying to figure out how to reply?

Trish must be in L.A. by now, Dez figures, clasping his hands together in his lap and leaning forward. He isn't sure if it's the lack of sleep or the thought of her words that make his stomach churn. Heavy with guilt, he feels sick to the stomach. He lifts himself up from his bed, only to jump at the sound of his phone playing an upbeat tune. Austin.

Austin called several times the night before, so much so that Dez figured that he had given up by now. Realizing that there is probably no way he could avoid having this talk with his best friend, Dez answers the phone, "Hey, buddy."

"Don't 'hey, buddy' me, Dez. Why weren't you at the airport yesterday?" Austin's demanding voice booms through the phone, causing Dez to wince slightly. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt Trish? Dez, that was just wrong. She's your friend, you should've been there for her." Dez sucks in a large amount of air, holds it in for a few seconds, then exhales – trying to pull himself together in order to properly respond to Austin.

"Austin, look – I-I don't really want to talk about this right now, okay? I'm not feeling well," Dez groans. It certainly isn't a lie, as the pain he feels in his gut continues to grow.

"Oh…I'm…I'm sorry to hear that, man, I hope you feel better," Austin's voice softens. He can tell how pained Dez is, just through the sound of his voice. Not just from sickness, however. Something much deeper.

"I hope so, too," Dez replies, his voice reflecting his pain. "Can we…Can we talk about this later, maybe? I really need to lie down–" Dez pauses, hearing a beep from his phone, indicating that he has another call. He pulls his phone away from his ear to check.

Trish.

He taps "decline" on the incoming call, then resumes talking to his blonde friend, "Hello?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. You didn't answer my question," Austin states, wondering why there was a pause.

"Sorry, I had an incoming call. What was the question?" Dez asks him, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes shut tight, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Who was calling?" Austin questions him, even though he has a pretty good idea of who it must have been.

"That's not your question, Austin," Dez responds, trying to change the subject. Austin couldn't remember the last time he heard Dez sound as cold as he does at this moment. As if he is trying his hardest to keep everything in, which he rarely ever does.

"It was Trish, wasn't it? Dez, you should've answered," Austin frowns. He remembers the broken look on Trish's face after telling her Dez wouldn't come to see her before she left. It is not a look Trish wore often, and it was hard for him to see her like that. If Dez could have seen her, too…, Austin wonders to himself.

"Yeah. It was. What was your question?" Dez proceeds on, wanting to shove any thoughts of Trish away. He just cannot bring himself to talk about it right now. Austin figures that it would be best to save this conversation for later.