Work Text:
Last night, I woke the fuck up
I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds
___
“You’ve reached Jack Zimmermann. Leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you when I get your message.”
“Hey, Jack,” Kent let out a deep breath, scrubbing at his eyes with his hands. “It’s, uh. It’s late. Or, I guess, it’s early, where you are.”
Kent laughed. At least, he tried to. The sound that came out was barely more than a wheeze of breath. He knew he sounded wrecked, possibly even more wrecked than he was trying to feel. But it didn’t matter. Zimms wasn’t gonna ever know.
“I know I—your mom said they put me on some ‘do not call’ list, or whatever…I dunno if you just don’t get your messages until you’re out. Or maybe they delete them, and you’ll never get it. That would make sense. But I. Uh.”
Kent cleared his throat softly, looking over at his alarm clock. The red LEDs were harsh in the darkness of his room back home, but in Las Vegas, their brightness was diminished. Even now, at 4:26am.
“You would hate Las Vegas,” Kent stated conversationally, standing from his bed and pulling back the edge of his curtain. “It’s so big, here. And loud, And bright. And hot. And crowded. Even in the airport, the first thing you see is all lights, and neon, and slot machines. Slot machines in the airport, Zimms.” Kent paused, closing his curtain and flopping back onto his bed. “So. I guess it’s good, maybe. That they drafted me, and not you. Because…I don’t mind that nothing ever shuts up here. You get used to it faster than you’d think.”
Kent scratched absentmindedly at his neck, while somewhere on the street below him, someone was shouting. “It’s really weird out here, Zimms. Vegas is…everything in the city is so busy, and so flossy, and it’s like…who do they think they’re fooling, right? Everything around it is empty desert. That’s all Vegas is, you know. Wasteland in pretty packaging.”
Kent paused again, letting his hand fall back down against his mattress. “I guess. I guess I fit in pretty well by those standards, too, eh Zimms?” Kent laughed again, louder this time, but it sounded more pathetic. “I don’t know who I think I’m fooling, either. If I was really ready for this, I wouldn’t be calling you.”
Kent squeezed his eyes shut, draping his arm across his face, willing the tears not to come. He’d cried the first night he got here, and he wasn’t gonna do it again. He was better than this. He was better than calling his secret ex to cry at him in a message he’d never even get, much less care about.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Zimms,” Kent’s voice cracked into a whisper, and he took in a deep, shaky breath. “You were—you were supposed to be doing this with me. And even though I knew we wouldn’t—we wouldn’t be together, or whatever, you’d still be doing this with me. You’d still get it. I’d still have someone I could—”
Kent was cut off by a shrill dial tone from Jack’s line, ending his message. Kent clenched his fist, bringing it down fast into his mattress with a dull thud.
“Dammit!” Kent cursed, keeping himself in check just long enough to avoid throwing his phone at the far wall. “Dammit, Jack,” Kent watched as his phone screen flashed that the call had ended, before returning to his home screen.
“I need you,” Kent whispered through grit teeth, his hand shaking where it gripped tightly at his sheets. “I need somebody. I need somebody in my corner. I need you to have my back, Zimms.”
Kent locked his phone and let it slip out of his hands, hearing the clatter of the screen against the floor that felt too loud in the solitude of his apartment. This was it. This, Kent thought, must be that last step he’d heard about. If this was acceptance, Kent was pretty sure he should feel better than this. He still felt awful.
Kent wiped at his eyes almost angrily, kicking his blankets down to the end of the bed, flipping his pillow over in a vain attempt to find the cool side before shutting his eyes tight. Acceptance. Letting go.
He should delete Zimms’ number.
Maybe he would in the morning.