"eli, i'm sorry."
"it's fine."
"no, i just, i'm sorry."
"don't worry about it."
"but-"
"for fucks sakes, dylan, please don't make this harder."
"okay."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"why?"
"why, what, dylan?" he sighs.
"why did you say that?"
"because it's true."
"how?"
"just say the whole question, this guessing game is pissing me off."
"how do you... uh.... love me?"
"easy. you made me love you."
"but i rejected you."
"yes you did."
"doesn't that count for something?"
"well, no. you see, i think you rejected me because you don't know who i am, which is a valid reason of course. but you do love me, or you're on your way to loving me. otherwise, you wouldn't be here talking to me about this."
"..."
"am i right, dylan?"
///
"dylan, i have to go, something just came up."
"what happened?"
"nothing you need to be concerned about."
"can you call me tomorrow? I need to tell you something."
"sure, okay." he says dismissively.
"will you call, eli?"
"yes."
"do you promise?"
"no."
"what? why?"
"because my mother always taught me to only make promises that i can keep. which is ironic, since she never did."
Then he hangs up.
YOU ARE READING
∆ Will You Call? ∆
Short Story((This is really crappy and stupid but I'm too sentimental to take it down)) ∆ "Will you call?" "Yes." "Do you promise?" "No." ∆
