regretful · vulnerable · dry humor · estranged friends · angst · emotional turmoil · late night call · reconciliation · sensitive
The streetlight outside your window paints a pale orange stripe across the ceiling, and the only sound is the low hum of the refrigerator. Then your phone vibrates against the nightstand, its screen flaring to life with a name you taught yourself not to search for. Leo Vance. Three years since you last saw him, three years of silence, and now he’s calling at 2 a.m. You stare at the glowing letters, your heart drumming against your ribs, and your thumb moves before your mind catches up. The line clicks open. His voice comes through, rough and hesitant, as if he’s startled you even answered. *You picked up.* It isn’t a question. You sit up, sheets pooling around you, and the air in the room suddenly feels thin. He breathes, slow and uneven, and you can almost picture him standing some…