The realization hit him like a wave crashing against the shore. His hand instinctively tightened around something in his hand, the phone. Her phone. The one she had left behind on the bus. The one he had carefully placed on his bed when he got home, still unsure of what to do with it. He hadn't even thought about it since, until now. Now, it was ringing, and the sound of it seemed to pull him back to the moment in an instant.
He looked down at the phone, his fingers trembling slightly, unsure of what to do. The ringing seemed to reverberate in the air, each chime growing louder, more urgent. His breath caught in his throat. He felt as though he were stuck between two worlds—one where she had disappeared with the rain, and another where this phone, this small connection to her, was still calling out. The phone lay heavy in his hand, like a lifeline, a bridge to her that he hadn't asked for but couldn't seem to let go of.
The seconds felt like hours. His mind raced, his thoughts tumbling over one another. Why was it ringing? What should I do? The questions floated in his head, but no answers came. The phone vibrated again in his hand, its ring louder now, more insistent. Each second that passed felt like a moment lost, like something important was slipping through his fingers.
He thought about answering it, about pressing the button and hearing a voice on the other end. But fear held him still. What would he say? What could he say? He didn't even know her name. He didn't know anything about her, except for the brief encounter that had already taken over his thoughts. Yet here it was. Her phone. Her call. He could feel it, feel the pull of it, as if this moment—this ringing, this phone—was the only thing left that mattered.
The phone rang again, its sound cutting through the thick silence, and he sat there, frozen, unable to move, unable to answer, lost in the sound that seemed to echo through the room.
The phone rang, slicing through the quiet of his room like a sharp, unexpected sound. For a moment, his heart skipped, the noise pulling him from his thoughts. It wasn't like it was an unfamiliar sound, but somehow, this call felt different. His hands trembled as they reached for her phone, his fingers brushing against the cold screen. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening, as if the phone itself was something far more important than a simple device.
He hesitated before tapping the green button to answer, his thumb lingering for just a second. As he raised the phone to his ear, the soft static buzzed, filling the silence around him, and for a brief second, it felt like the whole world paused.
Then, a voice—her voice—came through the speaker. It was soft and unsure, like he wasn't expecting to hear from her. "Who is it?" she asked, her words light, but with an edge of confusion. It felt like she was trying to place him, trying to remember who he was, but he wasn't quite sure she had yet.
His heart raced. He could feel the nervousness creeping up, squeezing his chest, and making it harder to breathe. It wasn't like he had prepared for this moment, or had even known it would happen. The sound of her voice felt both familiar and strange at the same time.
"Uh…" the boy hesitated, the word stumbling out of his mouth as he tried to find the right tone, the right words. "Hi, it's Mark," he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he'd intended. "You left your phone on the bus." His words felt clumsy, like they didn't quite fit. He cleared his throat. "I tried to catch up with you, but you were already gone. By the time I realized, the bus had started moving."
There was a long, unsettling silence on the other end of the line. Mark held his breath, feeling the seconds stretch out, making him feel like time itself had slowed down. The quiet was deafening. Had she already hung up? Was she not interested in talking? He almost couldn't bring himself to check the screen.
Finally, the silence broke, and he heard her voice again. She sounded a little flustered now, but there was also a quiet sincerity to it. "Oh… I didn't even realize, at that time" she said, her tone almost regretful. "I was in such a rush. Thank you, you try to return it, Mark."
Her words, soft and genuine, melted the tightness in Mark's chest. He could hear a faint rustling on her end—maybe she was looking through her bag, maybe pacing a bit. Either way, there was something so real about it all, something raw that made him feel connected to her in a way he couldn't explain.
Mark smiled, though she couldn't see him. "It's no problem," he said, trying to sound casual. But even he could hear the nervous edge in his voice. He felt like he was fumbling through the conversation, but somehow, he still wanted to keep talking to her. "I just… I didn't want you to lose it." The words came out a little too quickly, and for a moment, Mark regretted speaking so fast. But then he reminded himself that it didn't matter—he was just returning her phone.
There was a slight pause before she responded, and Mark could almost feel her searching for the right words. "I'm really sorry," she said, her voice more tender now, as if she was embarrassed by the whole situation. "I feel so silly. I shouldn't have been so careless." She let out a soft sigh, almost as if she was shaking her head at herself. "I must've looked like a mess, running around in the rain."
Mark couldn't help it; he smiled again. He could picture her now, soaked from the downpour, hair sticking to her face, rushing to catch up with her friends. The image was so vivid in his mind, it was almost like he was standing there beside her. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said, his tone more reassuring now. "It happens to everyone. Really." His words felt like a small offering, a reassurance that he hoped would make her feel better. "It's no trouble at all."
But then there was a shift in the tone of her voice, something a little more hesitant, a little unsure, like she was trying to ask something she wasn't sure if she should. "Um… could you bring it to me?" she asked, and Mark could hear the hesitation in her voice. She sounded almost shy, like she wasn't sure if it was okay to ask him this favor. "If it's not too much trouble…"
Mark's heart skipped a beat. Something about the way she asked made everything feel more real, more intimate. It wasn't just about the phone anymore. There was an underlying tone of vulnerability in her voice, a kind of rawness that made him feel protective in a way he didn't quite understand.
He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her request settle in his chest. "Of course," he said before he even had time to second-guess himself. The words came out without thought, like they were meant to be said. "I'll bring it to you." His voice was steady now, though a bit softer, as if to say that it wasn't a big deal, that he was happy to do it. "I can come by in a bit. How about… fifteen minutes?"
There was a soft rustling on her end, and Mark could hear her breathing, steady but faint, like she was thinking. He waited, his own breath slower now, wondering if he had said the right thing, wondering if he had sounded too eager, too quick to help.
"That would be perfect," she said after a beat, her voice more relaxed, as if she had been holding her breath too. There was a slight hesitation before she added, "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it, Mark."
Mark's chest tightened at the sound of her gratitude. It wasn't just about the phone anymore—it was something deeper, something that felt far more significant. It felt like this moment, this simple exchange, had shifted something between them, like the quiet rain outside had woven something delicate into the space between them. He didn't know why, but he could hear the sincerity in her voice, and it made him feel both warm and vulnerable at the same time.
"No problem at all," he replied, his voice almost soft now, like a secret he wasn't sure he should say aloud. "I'll see you soon."
There was a small sigh of relief on her end. "I'll be waiting near the bus stop where we meet" she said, and Mark could almost picture her, standing there, holding her breath, waiting for him to arrive.
The call hung in the air for a moment. Neither of them spoke. It wasn't awkward, but there was something unspoken in the silence. Something between them now that hadn't been there before.
Finally, after a beat that stretched longer than either of them anticipated, she spoke again. "Thanks again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "I… I'll see you soon, Mark."
Mark stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. "Yeah, see you soon," he said, his voice barely a whisper as well, as if it was all too much to put into words.
***
A/N: they are going to meet again I can't wait.
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