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Marvin stares blankly at his phone. At this point, it isn't a foreign sight to have Whizzer's contact number and the call button mocking him. He's done it multiple times already, and all times they were at an ungodly hour where he was definitely not thinking straight— this one included. He's deleted Whizzer's number from his phone. He has! But who can blame him if he knew it by heart? He wouldn't be able to tell you Trina's number to save his life, but he can't do anything when his fingers just know which numbers to type when it comes to his ex from two years ago.
For the record, he has no idea if Whizzer has changed his number. But what does it matter, really? It's not like he's gonna call the guy.
He's done this before. His finger's gonna hover over the call button and his hand will start to shake and his heart will start beating faster and then he'll chicken out like a little bitch.
It's routine, at this point.
Which is why this time, he just stares at it.
The bright light glares at him and hurts his eyes, almost like it's taunting him, but he just lets it. Because he realizes at that moment that if he even did call, there's no one waiting on the other side to answer it. Whether it's still Whizzer's number or not. Because if there was someone there, maybe that someone would have already called.
But it's been two years.
Marvin knows he won't be calling. He can't keep waiting for someone who has moved past waiting for him long ago.
As he stares at the set of numbers that shouldn't mean anything more than random numbers put together, Marvin realizes that he's all to blame for it. That the reason he can't reach out now is because he fucked up. He pushed Whizzer out of his life and now he has no right to coax him back in.
It's his own fault that he's lonely. That nights are long and that his home seems empty.
He looks at his phone one last time and laughs.
He laughs at his previous self because what the hell was he even thinking? What would he even tell Whizzer if he called him? (If the guy even answered.)
He probably would've said some sort of apology. (Any variation of sorry wouldn't be enough to make things right.) Maybe if he was crazy enough he'd ask Whizzer to give them a shot again. (If Whizzer wasn't lashing out on him.) But deep down he knows he would've called not to say anything but to just listen.
To hear his voice again. To have some semblance of having him back in his life instead of just being some memory. To know he's there and he's alive and that he's not just somebody he loved and lost.
But all things considered, he knows Whizzer wouldn't give him that. And he didn't deserve that either.
Marvin sighs, mostly in surrender. He walks to his piano, which he always turns to on nights like these, and puts his phone face down on the place where the music usually stays.
He presses a few keys, his fingers trying to figure out what to play.
Eventually, they land on a few gentle colorful chords.
"I get along without you very well. Of course I do," he starts to sing softly.
"Except when soft rains fall, and drip from leaves, then I recall, the thrill of being sheltered in your arms."
He remembers the nights, which were very few, that he and Whizzer sat on that very piano stool. He'd play and he'd sing, exactly like he was doing now, and Whizzer would be pressed up against him, his head on Marvin's shoulder, his hair tickling Marvin's neck, his arm around his waist, as the music floated around the room.
"Of course, I do. But I get along without you very well."
He glances at the empty space beside him, at the empty room he's singing to, and his heart breaks a little more than it already has.
"I've forgotten you just like I should. Of course I have."
The chords grow richer, warmer, while his singing grows a little more sentimental. A bit more heartfelt.
"Except to hear your name, or someone's laugh that is the same, but I've forgotten you just like I should."
He can picture the way Whizzer would smile at him if he were here right now. The smile where his eyes grew soft. It was real, and tender, and full of love adoration. It was only reserved for moments like these, quiet moments under the moonlight, where it felt like it was only the two of them who existed in the world.
Those moments were long gone, but he remembers them like they were yesterday.
He hasn't really forgotten Whizzer, nor has he tried to.
"What a guy, what a fool am I, to think my breaking heart could kid the moon. What's in store? Should I phone once more? No, it's best that I stick to my tune."
He misses Whizzer. For the longest time he's tried to move on, but he can't. Not when he still loves him. Which is a dumb thing to realize only now that he's lost Whizzer, but he can't take it back now.
He just misses the way he'd held him in his sleep, the way he'd run his fingers through his hair, the way he'd kissed him so reverently on his body and kissed him hungrily on his lips. He misses the brief moments that he could've thought they could've been more than just sex and fights. Moments where they loved each other.
He misses that, and he wishes he knew what they were before he lost them.
"I get along without you very well. Of course I do. Except perhaps in spring, but I should never think of spring, for that would surely break my heart in two."
Marvin plays and he sings and he looks around his house and all he sees is Whizzer.
There's the bed, which always seems empty even with him lying in it. The sofa, where he'd cuddled with Whizzer as they watched some useless movie he barely paid attention to. The kitchen, where they'd shared breakfast after sharing a few kisses. The wall, where Whizzer had pasted his photographs of scenery, random people in New York, and Marvin. The floor, where clothes had been laying, though never Whizzer's purposefully, only sometimes in haste.
Everything in his life still reminded him of Whizzer. The only thing left was the man himself.
He sighs, the piano playing doing nothing but amplify his heartache. He sets on to keep playing still, when he finds that his phone is still on.
He turns it around confusedly, and jesuschristwhizzerisonthephonerightnowimusthaveaccidentallypressedthecallbuttonohmygodmarvinyoufuckingidiot.
He raises his phone to his ear, panicking as his hands tremble and his heart beats in his ears.
"Hi. I'm sorry if I woke you up. I must have butt-dialed you or something," he says, voice shaking. (Also, liar.)
"Ah, don't be. It was a nice surprise, Marvin," Whizzer's rough voice answers.
Fuck. It's really him. Fuck. Marvin. Say something.
"Shit. Did you hear all of that?"
Marvin checks his phone and sees the call already having gone on for a few minutes.
"Fuck. You did. Oh my god," he groans.
"Such colorful vocabulary you have there," Whizzer remarks.
"I'm so sorry about this. I really didn't mean to. I don't even know why your number is still on my phone, it's been two years—"
Okay. Shut up, Marvin. Stop rambling and making an ass of yourself.
"Ugh, can we just forget this happened?" Marvin almost begs.
"What? Come on, Marvin. It was nice. I've missed that," Whizzer says softly.
Marvin's heart jumps.
"Oh," he manages to say.
I've missed you, he wants to say.
"Look, I'm sorry—" Marvin tries.
"I told you, it's okay," Whizzer interrupts.
"No, Whizzer. I'm sorry for—" he says purposefully.
"I know."
They're left with an empty silence.
"Why don't you just sing me another song?" Whizzer suggests.
"What?"
"You know. What you did earlier? Do another one of those?" Whizzer answers a bit sarcastically.
"I— Wh— Okay? I, um, do you want anything in particular?" Marvin stumbles over his words.
"I don't care. Just sing. I've missed your voice," he says casually, the last sentence a little more sincerely than the rest.
Marvin's heart stutters and his hands shake and his fingers lock up. He tries finding a few chords before Whizzer's voice speaks from the phone again.
"Actually, you know what?" Whizzer starts.
Of course he's gonna take it back. Great job getting your hopes up again, Marvin.
"Why don't I come over for that song? I can't sleep anyway," Whizzer says.
What.
"Uh,"
"Same address?"
"Um, yeah?" Marvin answers after finding his voice.
"Great. I'll be there," Whizzer says with finality before dropping the call.
Marvin sits frozen on the piano stool.
Whizzer's coming over. Whizzer's coming over? Oh, fuck. What does that mean? What's gonna happen? Nothing's gonna happen. He's just here for my playing. Yeah. That's all. He just wants to hear me sing. Nothing more. Totally.
Marvin keeps repeating the last three sentences as a mantra as he starts practicing a few other songs.
===
Whizzer arrives while Marvin's in the middle of a song. He hears it even from outside the door.
"If a breeze, caresses me, it's really you strolling by. If I hear a melody, it's merely the way you sigh."
He doesn't know why he's here. He doesn't know if Marvin will let him in. But Marvin accidentally called him and started singing and that just brought back way too many feelings and—
He's tried to move on. And some days he thinks he's convinced himself he has. But the moment he heard Marvin's voice, the moment he saw him on the caller ID, he knew he hadn't moved on. Not one bit.
"Wherever you are, you're near me, you dare me to be untrue. Funny, each time I fall in love, it's always you."
He messed up. They both did. But knowing that Marvin's on the other side of that door, that he might open it for him, he's willing to try again. He's willing to try, and to fail, but now he won't give up because now, he's willing to love.
===
Whizzer arrives coincidentally right after his song ends. His doorbell rings as the last chord dissipates into the air.
His last song still plays in his head as he nervously walks to the door, slowly realizing he hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajama pants or brush his hair.
He brushes dust off himself and runs his hand through his hair before anxiously opening the door.
It overwhelms him.
To see Whizzer, still tall as ever, still the most handsome guy he's ever seen, and to top it all off he has that smile on his face.
It grows when their eyes meet, and inevitably, one blooms from Marvin's lips as well.
He's about to let him in when Whizzer steps forward and holds his face, kissing him.
It's not hungry, but instead, it's sincere. It's lips touching lips — warm, gentle, and real.
He kisses back, pouring into it his I'm sorry, and I've missed you, and I still love you.
It lasts for a moment more before they part.
Their eyes are full of hope, sparkling brighter than the stars in the sky.
"I missed you so much," Whizzer whispers.
"I missed you, too," Marvin whispers back.
"I'm sorry for being such a bitch before."
"I'm sorry for being a complete asshole."
They share a small laugh.
"I don't want to be without you anymore."
"Then stay with me. Tonight. Or forever."
"Okay, I'll stay. Tonight, then forever."