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They were doing a quick call on Instagram to keep the fans updated and entertained. It was nothing unusual; Neil didn't know why an offhand comment he'd made was sticking with him so hard.
"Brad doesn't answer my calls! Does he answer your calls? Can you ask if he still likes me?" he asked Matt. They both laughed.
Brad's internet connection was terrible where he lived; they all knew that. Neil was no expert in the mechanics behind the internet, but wasn't phone reception separate?
So Brad was probably getting his calls, and that meant he just wasn't answering. Which didn't mean anything, he kept telling himself, because nobody in the band ever answered their phones at any sort of reasonable speed unless they were touring. It wasn't a big deal. Definitely not worth worrying about.
Except.
That one thing he'd said to Matt kept nagging at him. Matt hadn't answered the question because it was a joke, obviously, so he hadn't needed to. It was just a joke. He knew Brad, knew him better than he knew almost anyone else. So it was stupid to even consider—
"Can you ask if he still likes me?"
He'd thought he'd known Adam, too.
It wouldn't hurt to check. So he called, intending to just say hi. And Brad didn't pick up.
Fuck.
Okay, maybe it would. Neil swore to himself he'd call one more time and then wait an hour.
Still no answer.
So Neil set a timer, grabbed his latchhook project, and worked on that for a while with his phone face down on the side table next to his chair, just so he wouldn't be tempted to check the time. As much as he enjoyed the project, he couldn't fully focus on it with the anticipation of the alarm going off sitting in the front of his mind.
It felt like way longer than an hour, but finally the alarm rang. Neil snatched up his phone and called Brad again, to no avail.
Okay, that was fine. Maybe he was out doing something. Neil resolved to wait another hour and set a new timer. He needed something more intensive to do while he waited, he decided, so he pocketed his phone and went to go do some drum technique practice.
He thought it was working well until the alarm went off and he had his phone out of his pocket before he'd even fully registered the noise. Brad didn't pick up this time either.
Or the next time, another hour later.
In the middle of a speed exercise that he kept getting worse at every time he restarted, the phone rang and Neil's heart lurched.
"Hey, man," he said as casually as possible.
"Dude," Brad said, and Neil knew immediately he hadn't sounded casual enough. "Why are you calling me once every hour? You good?"
"So funny story actually! You know how I was doing that Instagram stream with Matt? I made a joke about how you don't answer your phone, and I said to Matt like, 'can you ask if he still likes me?' and—"
Neil was surprised to hear his voice break. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing Brad not to notice.
He did, of course.
"Ah god, I'm sorry, man. I was out with the kids for a while. A lot of the time stuff doesn't come through caus of the—"
"—the service over there. That's the thing, I know that. I don't know why it was bothering me so much."
"No idea?" Brad asked.
Neil laughed wryly.
"Alright, ya got me. Might have a little bit of a thing there."
"I still like you, man, I promise."
"Well, sorry I freaked out a little. I didn't actually think you'd just quit talking to me."
"No, I get it. Seriously," Brad said. Neil smiled and nodded to himself. If anyone got it, it would be Brad.