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Whizzer Brown is definitely over Marvin. A year and a half since they've seen each other, and he's moved on with his life. He tells himself what's done is done. Marvin made his choice, and Whizzer for one, was relieved to be rid of him.
And if he sometimes happens to find himself thinking of round blue eyes or gentle smiles, that's no one's businesses but his own.
He's moved on. He's gone back to his lovers, who dote on him, but know their place. He has his fun, and tries to convince himself that it doesn't sting when he leaves the next morning.
Who needs love? Love was a four letter word that didn't apply to Whizzer, he tried to avoid it as much as he can, drive away anyone who might fall blindly like moth to the flames.
Anyone who he may find he loves too.
No, he wouldn't allow himself to become a fool. Love makes you stupid and Whizzer was tired of being treated like he was stupid.
He doesn't need anyone. He doesn't need love, doesn't need-
The phone rings, and he jumps.
Even after all this time, he cant help thinks as he reaches to answer it-
Let it be him. Please, let me pick up the phone and let me hear his voice- he can yell or god forbid he can cry, just let it be him.
"Whizzer Brown speaking." he feigns nonchalance.
"Hi Whizzer, it's Dave, listen I'm just calling to remind you of the electrician coming tomorrow morning to work on the second floor outside apartment 2b-"
Right. Dave. His landlord.
Calling about the electrician.
He barely listens to the rest of the call as his heart retreats to it's average pace.
It's a month later and Whizzer nearly feels like his old self again. The hurt of empty love still remains, but its settled into a dull ache in his chest that he can ignore given enough distraction.
He sits at the bar, third drink in hand idly looking for someone new, when he sees Marvin walk through the door.
It takes a moment to realise no- thats not Marvin, but the red hoodie and tousled brown hair were enough to send Whizzer into a (ever so slightly tipsy) panic.
He ducks his head low.
The universe hates him.
The look-a-like looks up and they meet eyes.
He walks to Whizzers side.
"What's a pretty face like you doin round these parts?"
The line is cheesy and basic but Whizzer's face flushes.
He's reminded of charming smiles, soft touches, cruel words and condescending explanations-
"Leave me alone, asshole." He mutters, standing to leave. The guy blinks, taken aback and Whizzer can understand his confusion, he just can't bring himself to care, not again.
He's put his heart back on its shelf. He won't be hurt like that again, he swears.
Whizzers come to hate that damn phone of his.
No matter how many months go by, no matter how many lovers he takes, how many names he learns and forgets, the phone will ring and Whizzer's heart will skip with hope, whispers of 'let it be him' echo faintly in the back of his mind as he picks the phone up to his friends, his managers, his landlord-
Tonight the phone rings, his pulse jumps half heartedly, he picks up the phone.
And it's not Marvin, but it is-
"Jason? Why are you calling at one am is everything okay?"
"Hi Whizzer, yeah everything's fine." Jasons says casually, as if he wasn't calling his father's ex- lover.
"How'd you even get this number?"
"Phone book? There's not a lot of people with the name Whizzer in your area, you know."
Whizzer scoffs, of course Jason would track him down via phonebook.
"So, how have you been keeping." Jason asks, his voice slightly hushed.
Whizzer's grateful he doesnt have anyone over tonight as he sits up in bed, double-checking his alarm clock which did indeed read 1.37 am in blaring red numbers.
"Uhm, I'm fine, I guess- look Jason not that I'm not happy to hear from you but why-"
"Would you like to come to my baseball game? You can say no- duh, I just thought I'd ask because I know you kinda like baseball- but I get it of you don't wanna I mean our team's kinda shitty-" Jason's ramblings are so quick Whizzer can barely register what he's saying.
"Woah, kid, language." Whizzer blurts, its the only thing he was able to catch in that whirl wind. "Jeez, who taught you to curse?"
"I'm twelve, Whizzer, I can say shit." He deadpans and Whizzer snorts. He's missed this kid.
"At least that's what Aunty Charlotte says."
Whizzer feels a slight pang when he realizes he has no idea who that is- Jason used to tell him loads of stuff. He knew about Jason's crappy English teacher and his growing fear of the dark-
But that was two whole years ago, things have changed.
"Okay champ, run that by me again? you said something about baseball?" he pushes those thoughts aside.
"Yeah! my teams playing this weekend, i was wondering if you wanted to come see me play? I'm kinda terrible though-"
"Jason, I'd love to come to the game. Just tell me where and what time." He smiles.
"Okay but... Dad's gonna be there."
There's a loaded pause as Whizzer's smile drops to a slight frown.
Of course he'd be there, why wouldnt he be at his son's baseball game-
He doesn't even like baseball though-
Maybe he finally understands the complexity and precision behind a perfect pitchers toss-
"Look, it's silly forget I said anything-" Jason says, and Whizzer curses himself at the embarrassment in the boy's voice.
"No! no, Jason of course I'll be there, your dad and I are grown adults, we can be mature for a couple of hours." He shakes his head, doubting his own words.
"Great! Thanks, Whizzer! It's Saturday at four in the park by 84th." Jason sounds excited, stuggling to keep his voice hushed.
"Okay, Jace, I'll see you then."
"Okay... Whizzer?"
"What's up?" He shifts slightly at the sudden change in Jason's voice.
"I think my dad really misses you."
The line is dead before Whizzer can even fully process what Jason says, but even so he sits in his bed eyes wide and hand still holding up the beeping phone.
Shakily he puts the phone down and looks out the window.
This family was going to be the death of him.