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Rocket liked to travel. It was something so common in his work that you gotta like it or you gotta like it, even though it wasn’t that hard to get used to it. Since he was 9 years old, he used to travel a lot, if not all the time. He never had a “home” till his 20 years old (Home is where your heart is, man). He simply didn’t need it back then, and it was safer being in constant movement. And, if his memory didn’t fail, it was on a bad, abandoned, moldy road, on a rainy day with just an empty house as a cover of the cold and the water, that he met Groot (A kid so tall that he looked older than he was). Or at least, he remembered it that dramatic.
Definitely Rocket liked to travel. He was the kind of guy that enjoyed watching new landscapes, especially big cities, seeing things that were sold on stores (“You really call this rags clothes? Pffft”), buying tacos in every place that sold them or simply walking down the street looking for something to do.
But he didn’t like traveling alone.
It was hard to admit it, but it made him feel unsafe. Normally, he had a bad dream habit, but when he was alone, it was worse. And when he managed to sleep, his dreams were not the best. Everything made him feel uneasy, jumpy and the people around him were a threat.
That’s why every time he traveled alone; he would cling to his cell phone like his life depended on it. And when his phone failed, didn’t have signal o it was charging, he used to entertain himself with something else, like watching T.V, put it on mute and invent the dialogues of the news reporters. Even though Rocket was not patient to wait till it was fully charged to use it; it was not a rare scene to see him sitting next to the phone while it was connected.
Afternoons were spent sending silly and stupid texts to Peter; photos of places and people to Gamora; new words and phrases that he heard on the street to Drax; and, above all, what he did on the day to Groot.
The best of all it was the he could send anything and he would have an answer. He could pass from sending videos of him mocking people of the street (“His accent! And his clothes! Nobody taught him how to talk or what?”), to the most romantic, lovely and cheesiest texts of history.
Of course Rocket would never say it at loud. It was a thing between them and between them only.
From his sweatshirt’s pockets he took the money he needed to make the call. He got out of the car, that was probably not his, and closed the door with a “bang” without even bothering to close it with lock. Rocket growled when he realized that the windows were down, but he didn’t even make a movement to fix that. It was hot and there was no one on miles that would dare to try to steal him the car that he borrowed without asking and wouldn’t return it in a long, long time.
Poor of the soul that would just dare to think about stealing to him.
Without turning back he walked to the phone booth, which didn’t have a door, only a red stain that was almost too familiar. He shook off the dust that was on the phone and almost instantly regretted it because now his gloves were dirty and they were new. Great.
Before something else happened, Rocket took the phone and used the money that was necessary to make a long distance call. He, of course, ignored the lady voice that was kind of creepy and dialed the number he learned a long time ago. Thanks to the stars for his memory.
Beep…
Beep…
“C’mon… answer…” Rocket shifted his weight from foot to foot, the sound of the phone made him nervous.
What if he was not home?
“Hello?”
Rocket felt his stomach hurl, relieved that he didn’t got hung up. (‘Got it? Hung up’)
He couldn’t even remember the last time the he used the fix phone and not text messages.
“Groot?” Rocket cleared his throat, his voice had come out an octave higher and that was not the plan. He had to follow the plan.
“Rocket?”He almost could feel how he smiled through the other side of the line.
“The only one”
“Something happened to your cell?”
“Yup” Rocket leaned on the part of the wall of the phone booth that was not so full of dust or stain with red “Apparently the message I sent to Quill about a homeless guy dancing in the street, wasted all of my credit. Can you believe it? It’s stupid, but the guy was kinda cool”
“I imagine…”
There was a silence that Rocket didn’t know how to break. He wanted to tell him what he did in the day, how he stole a black car they could fix and use later. He didn’t have anything against The Milano, but there was so little space, it was dirty most of the time and it smelt like pepperoni pizza of a month ago.
“So, when are you coming back?”
Rocket licked his lips, how many times they have asked that question to each other? He had lost the count already. And he didn’t know how to answer it yet.
No, he did know the answer. He didn’t know how to say it.
Groot seemed to understand the silence because he started talking about the sewing pattern he read in the new crafts magazine and the he would love to make a sweater with it even though it was almost spring. Rocket told him how he almost ran over an old lady passing down the street and how uncomfortable he was in the hotel room.
He listened how Peter met someone knew in his shift at the music store (Kate? Katherine? Something like that) and that he got the amazing idea of asking her out. Rocket lamented not being there for the show. He also found out that Gamora also met someone named Adam-Wa-something and that Drax was going to make a party for her daughter’s birthday.
“Hm… I would like to be there, it sounds fun. I miss them…” Without noticing it, he ended up telling something he didn’t want to, and he didn’t even get the chance to bite his tongue at the end. He swallowed, and waited for something like laughter, or some joke, but he got nothing except silence. He cleared his throat and said: “I miss you”.
Rocket stopped breathing for a moment, waiting for the answer of always. Even though all this time, he always feared not having his feelings returned.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep..
>>”The credit for your call has run out, if you want to continue your call…”<<
Rocket pressed his lips in a thin line, putting the phone between his ear and his shoulder, looking for some change.
What if he didn’t hear him?
“Fuck!” He screamed inside the phone box and hung up the phone with everything but grace. He continued to curse in a high voice before taking the car keys.
Maybe…
Before he could go out of the phone box, his cell phone (that was supposedly dead) ringed in his pockets. Rocket put away his keys in order to grab his phone and, for his surprise, he got a new message. Immediately he smiled seeing from who it was.
“ I miss you too”.