Chapter Text
Though she’d expected the bustling noise of the city to die down once it had gotten late enough, the thin walls of her apartment revealed no such falter, and failure to afford sound-canceling headphones made such a distraction not easily fixable.
Once again Gwen found herself wistful at the remembrance of the quiet nights at Camp Campbell. Sure, the day was full of screaming, crying, fighting, etc; but once the moon rose and the kids were put to bed, only the sounds of nature echoed inside the cabin–excluding the nights where campers snuck out, or when she had to bargain with fellow fanfiction writers, of course. But for those few nights of serenity, the chorus of frogs, crickets, and katydids were able to lull her to sleep.
Turning back to the half filled paper on her desk, she tapped her pen, attempting to focus–to think of something, anything good . She had been told that her ideas were worthwhile. She had been told that she had potential. Only half-truths, she supposed, and looking back up to the notes underlined by her publishers, she grimaced.
A human only story, with no sexuality involved whatsoever.
That’s what the publishing team wanted.
A story that was the opposite of everything she'd written or even wanted to write.
A story that wasn’t her own, but was in her name.
A story that had her style of writing, but wasn’t hers.
Groaning in frustration, Gwen crumpled up the paper and threw it at the wall, sinking into her swivel chair and sulking until her phone pinged, which she picked up, and held in her hand for a moment, simply staring at the notification:
Another voicemail from David.
At first, she’d turned off notifications for his calls because of the time zone difference. Hell, it was four in the morning where she was, and though Camp Campbell was only three hours behind, David would send her messages once he’d put the campers to bed, which was nine or ten in the evening for them, and one or two in the morning for her. However, this message was at four for her.
“What the hell is David doing up so late?” She muttered aloud to herself, squinting her eyebrows. It was the first time she'd spoken in hours.
She hadn’t meant to ghost him. All of her reasons and excuses could’ve been spewed out page after page, and there still wouldn’t be a definitive answer, at least not one she’d admit. Something about missing someone or something the way she did caused both her heart to ache and her stomach to drop.
Taking a deep breath, she let the message play aloud quietly, so as to not disturb any sleeping nextdoor neighbors.
Hey, Gwen. Sorry, I know this message is later than usual. I really hope you’re getting these; It's, uh, it's still been radio silence on my end. Today we finished a camp activity about werewolves and it reminded me of you. I know it’s silly, but it did, and I… I miss you a lot, Gwen. Running this camp isn’t the same without you. I can tell that the other campers miss you too, even though they don’t say anything. Heck, even the Wood Scouts and Flower Scouts have admitted that things are different without you here.
She could hear his voice begin to break on the other end of the line, and it took more physical effort for him to continue with what he wanted to say.
I know that it was just a... well, a shitty summer job for you, and that you’re doing great now as a big author in the city, but I would give anything to have you back here for just a day. You’re my best friend, Gwen. You always will be. …Uh, I’d better get to bed now, so, uh, goodnight. You’ll hear from me again next week, as per usual, and I’ll try not to call so late. Sorry again for that.
Click.
Gwen bit her lip, feeling the tears forming in her eyes and shifting her gaze to outside her window, which flashed with neon signs all over the buildings around her, then back at her tiny excuse of an apartment, and finally back at all of the notes stuck onto her rejected ideas, which were attached to her wall with pins, in an attempt at some sort of masochistic motivational way.
Grinding her teeth in an emotion she could only describe as a spark, she found a suitcase and began packing, closing her blinds and clutching her keyring, ans as she locked the door to her apartment, she gave a mental double check to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything, and put the desired address into her phone.
She didn’t care that it was a multi-day long trip.
She didn’t care that she was dropping everything from her current job.
She didn’t care that she didn’t know what would come next, even though it filled her with a dread she could feel in her chest and her stomach.
All Gwen knew was that she was leaving, and she was leaving right then, right there, that night.