[DISCONTINUED] string bean pt. 2 | wilbur soot

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It was late, probably anywhere between 1-3 in the morning. I had no idea; I lost track of time a long time ago. I was drawing in my sketchbook, shouting along to the lyrics of each song that was playing. My roommate, Elena, and her boyfriend, Noah, were staying at his place, thank God. If they were here, I wouldn't be able to be as loud. (My neighbors can suck it. They've gotta be used to the noise by now.)

"I DON'T COOK, I DON'T CLEAN BUT LET ME TELL YOU HOW I GOT THIS RING," I shouted along to Cardi B's song, "WAP."

"GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME, DRIP DOWN INSIDE OF ME; QUICK JUMP OUT 'FORE YOU LET IT GET INSIDE OF ME. I TELL HIM WHERE TO PUT IT, NEVER TELL HIM WHERE I'M 'BOUT TO BE. I RUNDOWN ON HIM 'FORE I HAVE A," I paused, refusing to say the n-word, "RUNNING ME."

I got slightly distracted when I heard the sound of a melody that I knew didn't belong in this song. Looking around, I saw that my phone was lighting up. "Alexa, stop!" I said, grabbing my cellular device. I listened to the ringtone for a second, almost forgetting to answer the FaceTime before it was too late. Screw having to have only a certain amount of time to answer the phone; my ringtone fucking slaps.

"Why do you look wide awake?" my British boyfriend asked. "It's late for you. You should have had to wake up to answer this, Vee. Why aren't you asleep?"

I chuckled, propping my phone up against a pillow so he could see me. "I got distracted, I guess. Drawing."

You could tell that Wilbur was looking at himself in the small rectangle that showed what the other member of the call could see. He was running his hand back and forth between his brown curls, making sure he looked alright (I knew this because he always did it whenever we FaceTimed). He hummed in response. "Can I see what you're drawing?"

"Nope. Not until I'm done."

"What? Whyyyyy?" he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

"Because it looks like shit."

Wilbur laughed at my response. "It's a work in progress; it's allowed to look like shit."

I pretended to think about it for a minute. "Yeah, no. Still not showing you until I'm done," I smiled, picking up my mechanical pencil and started to sketch again. It took me a second before I asked, "Why'd you call?"

He shrugged, rolling over in his bed. For him, it was probably around 10 a.m. We were eight hours apart due to our long-distance from California to Britain. "I missed you," he replied.

"That's always your reason," I chuckled, looking up from my sketchbook to look at him again.

"That's because I'm always missing you." He let out a soft sigh. "You need to come and visit me already. You promised you would before I visit you in America again."

I frowned, looking down in my lap. We had this conversation every few weeks. "Yeah, I know. I will soon. Money's just kinda tight right now. Always is... Maybe I should go back to Target."

"You hate Target," Wil reminded me. I nodded. He was right. I did.

We both kind of sat there in silence, doing our own thing. It was a comfortable silence. Though, eventually, my eyes closed and I fell fast asleep, not even bothering to turn off my light or saying goodnight to Wilbur, who stayed on the phone with me for most of the night.

a / n  -  surprise surprise motherfuckers :)