edierone:

no idea who wrote it or why or what it’s about but it’s sweet isn’t it

———————

And now, with her house quiet and empty but for the children (who’ve been asleep for the last hour), her business calls and correspondence completed, she has that rarest of luxuries: a little time completely to herself before bed. It should feel blissful, but it’s kind of stressing her out; everything agitates her these days, and being alone with her own thoughts has never been her absolute favorite activity, even in the easiest times, which these are decidedly not. Maybe she should meditate or something.

Then her phone buzzes: It’s him. Fuck.

She’s been ducking him these last couple of weeks, ever since the Unfortunate Incident(s), for no real reason. She’s let his two previous calls go to voicemail (which she hasn’t listened to), left his three emails unopened and his two texts unread.

But she can’t go forever without talking to him, can she? They’re gonna see each other in a few weeks, no matter what. She decides to put on her big-girl undies and take the call.

“Hello,” she says, bracing for … she doesn’t know what. It’s just so awkward. Although why she should feel awkward, she can’t really say.

“Hi there!” he says, with obnoxious good cheer. “How are you? How’re the kids?”

She answers as if he’s someone she’s just run into in Tesco, and he appears to be accepting that. No mention yet of the —

“So hey, how was your vacation in Italy? Get any good pics?”

“Fuck you.”

In the time it takes her to find and angrily stab the “end call” button, she hears him absolutely guffawing, the shithead. Ten seconds later, a barrage of all-emoji texts starts: the bikini, the camera, the side-eyes, the camera, the one that looks like “The Scream,” the camera, two peaches, the camera, the tears-of-laughter one, the clapping hands, a boat, the camera, an ice cream, the camera like seventeen times in a row. At first it pisses her off, but as she watches the little dots that indicate him crafting his next text — then follows the narrative as he laboriously finds and sends each emoji — it starts to be amusing, and by the tenth or twelfth camera in a row, she’s laughing out loud.

She texts him back, finally — the heart, then the letter U.

His next one is simple: the two hearts.

She calls him, ignoring the slight lump in her throat.

The first thing he says is “Are you okay, really?” and she’s able to say, truthfully, “Yeah, I am now,” and she swears she can actually hear him smile.

——————-
@justholdinghandsok @becksndot5 @altaircolin @mangokiwitropicalswirl @inkcollectorus @abbycorasmom @emceecapitalc   @knowleitall-super-soldier  LOL

Oh that hurts so good! Thank you!!

I don’t know about @sembell, I’m not sure I’m going to stop writing at all, I think I’ll go with the flow and go for it if I feel like it. I don’t think rpf should be more a problem now than before. It always has been fiction to me, so either I believe they’re together or not, it won’t change my opinion on them. I think it’ll just be more difficult to find the inspiration, and I know I don’t want to write cheating fanfic, or even include PM in them. That’s just not my thing. So we’ll see what comes up.
But I already know I can make up my mind to completely ignore PM and maybe even manage to forget about him. If I don’t see his face too much in the next few weeks/months, I might be able to forget him enough to write again, who knows!