I’m not sure why I’m calling you again. Again, again, again. It’s all I fucking do these days, isn’t it?

A laugh comes through the line, though it could just as easily have been a sob.

Ah well. It’s not like I’ll ever get it into my head that you’re not going to call me back. I suppose I might be a be a masochist- why the fuck else would I just keep calling you… and calling you… and calling you.

I’m just fucking stupid as shit I suppose. But what else is knew, right Joe? Since I’m the one who pushed you away in the first place. It only makes sense that I have to suffer without you. I shouldn’t have kissed you- but god damn it, I’m glad I at least got that before you bailed out of here like we all had fucking AIDS or some shit.

Is that terrible of me, Joe? That even knowing that’s what sent you running in the first place, I really don’t regret it? That it’s been the happiest moment of my life? I mean, right up until you fucking punched me in the face. And god damn but you can throw a punch, for somebody who doesn’t like to touch people at all.

He laughs again, but the sob in it is gone.

I’m so glad I got to spend that time with you, Joe. Even if… hell, there’s no even if.

I was just some broken up little brat getting drunk in his room, an asshole who didn’t know any better. Until you got a UPS package. I wonder if I can donate to UPS; I doubt it. But maybe-

Ah, fuck it, I’m getting off topic.

What I mean to say is… well, you made my life brighter, Joe. Rolling that wheeled chair across the floor because you were too lazy to get off your ass, nodding off and drooling on the keys of your laptop- I’ll honestly never know how you didn’t electrocute yourself.

You probably don’t know, but there was one time you slept on my lap. It was probably fucked of me to do it, but if I hadn’t caught you, you might have given yourself a concussion on that goddamned hardwood floor you weren’t supposed to have. And… you looked so fucking peaceful, Joe.

But that’s not the best part. The best part was that… I got to touch you that night, Joe.

This next laugh holds a note of drunken hysterics.

Fucking shit, I didn’t mean it to sound like I grabbed your dick or something. Not that I would have minded- crap, that’s not really helping. Damn it, Joe, I’m not trying to say it like this.

I… I guess I stroked your hair? And you… god damn it, Joe. You looked happy when I touched you. You leaned your fucking head into my hand, and smiled, and I thought my heart was going to explode.

A soft sigh takes the place of the words for a moment.

I wish I had gotten more of that.

I fucked that up hardcore, didn’t I?

The harsh, choking laugh is back, and it clearly ends in a sob. Soft sniffles follow.

I think I’m going to regret that for the rest of my life.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. Because this is going to be my last call, the last time I’m going to let myself chase after you.

My father died. If you ever happen to hear this by some miracle, you probably already know the old fucker kicked the bucket. He didn’t manage to have any other kids first, so he was screwed into leaving it to me.

And you can imagine I got the biggest fucking congratulations.

There’s a long moment of silence after the voice cracks, sniffles becoming full sobs, the deep kind that shakes somebody’s whole body.

I- I hate this fucking job, Joe.

But I’m stuck. I’m going to stay here in this fucked up job that I can’t stand, and I’m going to do my best not to think about you every second of every day like I have been so far.

It’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve done in my entire life. But… I have to do it.

So this… it has to be my last call. It fucking hurts, but this is the last one. So… I just wanted you to know… I love you, Joe.

I fucking love you with all my heart, and I’m going to fucking miss you. Goodbye, Joe.

The line clicks, and dies, leaving silence. Joe, alone in a room, lets the phone slip out of his nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor, and is on his knees a second later choking on pain and tears he didn't think he was capable of anymore.