TRACK 1: MISDIAL !
Toji never calls.
It’s one of his most peculiar habits, that although he does carry his phone (a cheap flip-phone he hasn’t ever bothered upgrading) everywhere he goes, he never calls, never texts, never cares to take it out of his back pocket. And most importantly, he never picks it up.
Taking this into account, it’s no wonder that when his phone begins to ring at 4.30am on one of his off days, his first thought is to end it all. He spends so little time with it, he hasn’t quite yet figured how to turn off the sound... and now he’s annoyed.
He grabs the item and stares at it, trying to make sense of the number that flashes on the screen, the green light blinding him momentarily.
“Fucking thing,” Toji mutters, trying to press any button that could make the ringing stop. Eventually he gives up and shoves it under his pillow.
It keeps on ringing.
“You’ve gotta be… fucking…” The phone flips open. “What?”
“Toji?”
He freezes, his hand suddenly tightening around the metal as if to try and cage the sound.
It’s you. Your voice whispers his name once again and he’s never woken up this abruptly since Megumi was an infant.
“Uhm hello,” he stutters. Like an idiot.
“Oh God it’s really you! Fuck, I’m sorry, I meant to call my friend and your surnames are so similar I must’ve pressed the wrong number… Fuck, it’s four in the morning! Christ, I’m really really sorry–”
As you ramble he starts to shake his head, mouth agape, until he realizes you can’t see him. You have his number saved. You are on the other side of the line and he can listen to your breathing.
He starts to feel dizzy.
Did you just ask him a question?
“Uhm, it’s okay, uh… I was about to wake up anyway.” Sure. At 5am on a Sunday.
“Were you? Ugh, I feel terrible… Listen, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I have to hang up and call my friend or she’ll freak out but I will make it up to you, seriously. Please go back to whatever you were doing! I’m sorry. Again.”
And then you’re gone.
The line goes dead and his hand drops to his lap with the phone still hugged inside the palm. He’s going to engrave the thing into his flesh at this point but he can’t mind.
Toji Fushiguro has known you for two years and yet he was unaware that you had his phone number. Did he give it to you? Did you write it down from the records? You called, you called, you called.
It’s been unbearable these past few weeks; he’s been off taking care of a less than legitimate job, which meant being away from his actually legal office job, which meant less time to stare at you as you pick up calls and take notes and greet clients and smile that pretty smile of yours.
Now, your voice reverberates through his spine and he can’t help but imagine your eyes in the back of his mind.
He’s never been a corny person, he’s not a great romancer and contrary to popular belief, he’s not much of a Casanova, but he knows when he’s in love. Toji’s but a man with a shielded heart whose barriers you’ve taken down with a hammer and a laugh.
So he yields. For the first time since he bought it, Toji opens his phone and saves a number under his son’s.
For the first time in twenty years he chooses to pick up a call, to think of what you’ll come up with to make it up to him, to dream of you searching for him with your eyes… just this once.
And, for the first time in a long long time, he falls asleep just fine, with a smirk toying with the corners of his lips and some hope with the strings of his heart.
© 2024, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.
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