Breathe (2AM) - Jogan Drabble

 “Hello?” He muttered groggily into the phone, blinking rapidly as his eyes struggled to adapt to the brightness of the room. He could hear muffled laughter and commotion on the other side of the phone, and he’d nearly hung up before he heard a voice across the line, sinking deep into his soul as his eyes widened and his heart thudded against his ribcage.

“Good morning, Lo.” The voice on the other end of the phone slurred, obviously intoxicated, as a laugh echoed in his ears. “Hope I didn’t wake you up, that would just be so very rude of me…to interrupt the slept of the tempestuous one.”

“Jules…are you drunk?” He asked as he blinked blearily, rolling over to check the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table. 4AM. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his eyes, as he tried to keep his anger for being woken up to a controlled minimum.

“Maybe…” The voice on the other end of the phone said softly, as if it was afraid to admit that such a thing had occurred. “You know how much I hate drinking, Lo…”

“I know you do.” He said equally as quiet, wishing for once that he had the numbed aid from his medication to help him with such a conversation. “Why did you call me?”

“I needed to tell you something…but I don’t think I want to.” Logan frowned at the hitched breath at the end of the sentence, the sound of Julian’s voice cracking as he spoke. His friend was upset, drunk, and by the sounds of it…crying.

“Jules…what’s going on?” He asked, worry seeping into his tone, “…you sound…upset.”

“Of course I’m upset, you pompous asshole.” The voice slurred back at him, sounding more angry than upset now as he spoke, his voice getting louder as he spoke. “You never saw it, did you? You never saw me…even when I was right in front of your fucking face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He snapped, running a hand through his hair. His patience was wearing thin and he was not in the mood for the games his friend enjoyed playing when attempting to evade revealing things he didn’t necessarily want to divulge.

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter. I just wanted to tell you I lo—I’m not coming back to Dalton.”

He was met by the sudden sound of the dial tone, and an aching in his chest that he couldn’t identify until he felt a sudden wetness on his cheek.

Oh. So that was what heartbreak felt like.