![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Screw your courage to the sticking-point
May. 27th, 2020 08:57 pmNeil manages a couple of days, feeling very silly every time he looks at Caleb's picture in his phone, every time he thinks of calling him. It's terribly silly to feel silly, he knows. He's sworn men off, hasn't thought about anyone or anything in months, and he's fairly certain that any kindness here is just kindness, just looking for familiarity and friendship.
They have a mutual friend. Neil has been trying so much to be closer with Rosie's friends, all the mutual friends they have, and it's been easier in the last couple of months, now that he's sworn everything else off. Now that he's just focused on being a twenty-thing and not bed warming or something else.
What a terrible way to think about what he and Harry were doing.
But anyway, he's been staring at Caleb's picture in his phone, thinking of what to do. What to say. He lied about not texting. Not that he wasn't good at it, because he isn't very good at it, but he still did it anyway. But he couldn't think of what to say for a text, or for a phone call, or any of it. The swirly nerves were strange.
He manages a couple of days and then he buckles.
The phone rings...and rings...and Neil almost hangs up when it picks up with cacophonous background noise, and Neil's already speaking.
"Hi, Caleb, it's Neil." He's barely breathing, thinking too fast, strangely nervous in a way he hasn't been in years. "I was wondering if you wanted to...get together of coffee or food or something."
They have a mutual friend. Neil has been trying so much to be closer with Rosie's friends, all the mutual friends they have, and it's been easier in the last couple of months, now that he's sworn everything else off. Now that he's just focused on being a twenty-thing and not bed warming or something else.
What a terrible way to think about what he and Harry were doing.
But anyway, he's been staring at Caleb's picture in his phone, thinking of what to do. What to say. He lied about not texting. Not that he wasn't good at it, because he isn't very good at it, but he still did it anyway. But he couldn't think of what to say for a text, or for a phone call, or any of it. The swirly nerves were strange.
He manages a couple of days and then he buckles.
The phone rings...and rings...and Neil almost hangs up when it picks up with cacophonous background noise, and Neil's already speaking.
"Hi, Caleb, it's Neil." He's barely breathing, thinking too fast, strangely nervous in a way he hasn't been in years. "I was wondering if you wanted to...get together of coffee or food or something."
