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“Okay, yeah, that’s– that’s all. Bye, Mom. I love you.” Ricky mutters, ending the voicemail with a gentle click. His phone drops to his side, thumping against the wooden step.
“Fuck.” His voice is raw, tired. He slumps against the wall, dragging a hand through his hair.
Gina’s words echo in his head, pounding in his temples.
Ricky hops off the counter, reaching a hand out towards Gina’s hunched shoulder. “Hey, you okay...?”
“I will be.” She only says in response. Her voice is cool, but it wavers dangerously at the end.
“You wanna talk about it, or?” Ricky asks, brow furrowed nervously.
“Not even a little.”
“I– I’ll call you?” He tries.
“Honestly?” Gina’s tone rises, tightens in her throat. “You heard what happened. You don't think there's any point in calling me anymore, do you?
“Gi, I–” the door slams behind her, leaving Ricky standing alone in the kitchen, heart heavy in his chest.
Ricky pulls his legs close, wrapping his arms around his knees. Ricky can feel the weight of his phone beside him, how it threatens to melt a hole through the floor. He can even see Gina’s contact in his mind’s eye, two rows down in his Favorite contacts, just below his parents.
It would be so easy to press it, to call her, to hear her voice. He chews his lower lip, glancing back at the rest of the party. Still laughing, talking, like nothing happened. Like Gina didn’t just disappear. Like he didn’t just lose her.
Part of him wonders if she’s going to come back through the door, to tell him FEMA made a mistake and that she’s staying another year. Some small, lonely part of him that thinks maybe this time, he won’t be left behind again. Abandoned.
Fuck it.
Before he knows what’s happening, the phone is back in his hand, swiping to Gina’s contact without even looking. It’s a path he knows all too well, one he could take in his sleep.The ringing seems to last an eternity. He sits there, stomach sinking, watching the seconds tick by. How could he be so stupid? Of course she didn’t want to talk to him. He should’ve just respected her wishes, left her alone, but no. Typical Ricky Bowen. Always taking it too far, always missing the line.
His head falls into his hands as the line goes silent. He groans quietly, pressing a hand over his mouth. It’s all falling apart so fast, and he doesn’t know how to fix it, and it’s all his fault, and he–
The phone begins to vibrate. He snatches it up off the floor, accepting the call before it has the chance to finish its first ring.
“Gina.” he breathes.
The call is silent, no response from the other side.
“Gi, you there?” he half-whispers.
A wet sniffle breaks the silence. Ricky feels his heart splinter with each breath.
“Woah, woah, hey, you okay?”
A stuttered gasp drags at Gina’s lips, exhaling shakily. “No.”
“Hey, breathe. Just breathe. I’m here.”
“I can’t.” she mutters.
“You can. Hey—”
“I can’t , Ricky–.” She chokes out, between gasps for air.
Hearing the strongest, most stubborn person he knows (besides himself) become so vulnerable-- it scares him. He wishes he could reach through the phone, take her in his arms. He can't.
“Hey, listen to me. You’re gonna get through this.” he insists, holding his phone with two hands, like Gina will slip through his fingers if he lets her. “You’re Gina Porter. You can do anything. Right?”
Gina takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I hate this.”
Ricky swallows, throat thick with emotion. “Me too.”
She sniffles again. Ricky can only imagine her, sitting at the base of her bed, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “I’m sorry, Gi.”
“I’m just so tired of it all, Ricky.” She whispers. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, keep… losing everything.”
I don’t know if I can lose you.
Ricky hesitates, something sorrowful twisting in his stomach. “Maybe you should get some rest. You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
“I don’t wanna sleep. I don’t want today to be real.”
I don’t want you to go.
Ricky chews his lip, contemplating giving in to what he so desperately wants. “Would it… help if I stay on the line? Until you fall asleep?”
Gina is quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Ricky exhales softly. “I’m gonna miss you, Gina.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“No, don’t– don’t say things like that. Like this is…” she trails off.
“This is what?”
“Like this is… something. Like we’re something. I’m something.” Gina whispers, not daring to say “we” any louder than she has to.
Ricky’s breath stutters in his throat, burns on his tongue. The idea that she doesn’t know how he sees her, how everyone sees her. It pricks at the back of his eyes. “Gi, you– you’re more than something. You’re everything.”
Gina stays quiet for a second. “That’s silly.” she murmurs.
“I don’t think it's silly.”
“You’re wasting your time talking to me.”
“No, I– Gina, there is nothing I’d rather be doing than talking to you right now. Okay?” He insists.
“...You’re scary.” Gina mumbles.
“Scary?”
“You live like you have nothing to lose. You say these things that… I don’t know, Ricky.” she sighs, voice turning heavy with exhaustion.
He couldn’t begin to tell her wrong she is, how afraid he truly is of losing… anything. His parents, his friends. Most of all, of losing her.
Ricky doesn’t know what to say, so he just listens to the gentle rumble of her breathing, just… stays with her. For a moment, he thinks she’s fallen fully asleep. But then he hears it.
“I don’t want to leave you, Bowen.” Just barely a whisper. She probably won’t even remember saying it. But Ricky will.He exhales harshly, hastily wiping away a tear he didn’t realize was falling.
“Me?” He doesn’t dare to speak it above a whisper. He almost isn’t sure he heard her correctly, like he might’ve imagined the “you” in her sentence.
“You.”
They fall silent. The word burns along Ricky’s cheeks, stinging in his chest. He just… sits there. Stunned.
A minute passes, with only their breathing playing in their ears, tangling together. It’s an unsettling kind of quiet, but not an unwelcome one.
He inhales sharply, but closes his mouth. “...Gi?”
No response.
“Gina. You asleep?” He tries again, a little louder. But she doesn’t respond.She’s right there, a phone call away, but he can feel it in his gut. He’s lost her.
“Sweet dreams, Gi.” His voice is thick, watery. He hangs up without another word.