That night, Cash called me.

I was lying on my bed, doing some math revision, when my phone sprang to life beside me. I flinched as that familiar, insistent ringing filled my room.

Flinched as I read the name on my screen.

Cash.

Let it go to voicemail, I told myself. Let it go to voicemail.

"Alyx?" A drunken murmur emanated from my phone as my voicemail played. "Alyx, are you there?"

Oh my god.

Cash was leaving me a message. Drunk.

"Just pick up." His voice was pleading. "I'm begging you, just pick up."

And god, did I want to. My fingers itched to hit that button. To answer that call. But I remained frozen, gaping down at my screen.

"I read your book," Cash continued. His words were so slurred I could hardly comprehend them, each syllable blending together. "I read the whole thing."

My heart picked up. I stared and stared at that phone, weighing my options, caught by indecision.

"Please, pick up-"

His voice cut off suddenly with a beep, leaving me to the silence of my bedroom.

A silence that, in the wake of that message, suddenly seemed hollow and cold.

A/N: Thanks for reading!