A/N: i wanted to write a small fic so here it is! it’s my first riarkle fic so i’m sorry if there are any errors haha
It’s two in the morning, and Riley Matthews can’t sleep.
She doesn’t know why. She’s twisted and turned and counted sheep and played calming music and done everything she could possibly do to lull herself to sleep but it’s not working.
(She knows why. She just doesn’t want to admit it.)
So she grabs her phone from her nightstand, squinting at the sudden glare of light, and taps her conversation with Farkle Minkus. It’s late, and he might be asleep, but she knows he won’t mind seeing a few messages from her the next morning. And she doesn’t mind having a temporary one-sided conversation with herself.
Hey, she types, and her phone emits a little swoosh noise as the message sends. Late night thoughts are confusing. Thinking at two in the morning with your brain feeling like a mushy puddle of soup is confusing. Life is confusing.
Are you okay? The message pops up as she’s composing her next one.
She raises her eyebrows a little. Why are you awake? You should be asleep.
So should you, comes the reply, and her mouth lifts into a small smile. You all right over there?
Why shouldn’t I be?
I heard about Lucas and Maya.
She presses her lips together. Oh.
Is that why you aren’t asleep?
She pauses, thumbs hovering over the tiny keyboard, then quickly dashes out, Maybe. I don’t know.
Farkle doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t mind, because she knows he will, eventually. Because he’s always there.
She says, Love is confusing.
He tells her, Don’t we all know it.
What’s love like?
I couldn’t tell you if I tried.
They’re silent for a while more, but Riley’s still clutching her phone under the covers, and she knows Farkle’s still there, too.
Two minutes pass, and she asks, Can I call you?
Sure, is the almost-immediate reply.
She taps on his number without even needing to look at the screen, because he’s always the first one in her recents list. He picks up in the middle of the second ring.
“Hey,” he murmurs, and he sounds tired, his voice hoarse.
“Hey,” she whispers back. “I’m really sorry, am I keeping you up?”
“No,” he says. “I couldn’t sleep.”
She sighs. “I can relate.”
“Seriously, though. Are you okay?”
A pause. Then, “I don’t know.”
He’s quiet for a while, and she clutches the phone just a little tighter.
She drifts off to sleep with the slight crackling of static and the soft sounds of Farkle’s breathing still sounding over the phone.