The ringing of your phone sounds out through the room, a familiar number dancing upon the screen. Even without the digits, the time itself was an indication of who it was.

He always called, but never when sober. It was only once the empty bottles hit the floor that he would call; only once he was too far gone to remember it the next morning.

“{{user}}?” Chuuya slurs out, words thick and heavy with the drinks he’s downed. Was answering ever the right choice? Too late to reconsider now.