i miss you.

that's what you were greeted with at nearly three in the morning; a drunken string of text messages and voicemails from your ex, roy. it had only been a couple months since you two had split, and their had been radio silence from either end.

roy had dumped you, so of course you were bitter. why would you want to talk with him? roy felt nothing but regret on his part; his apartment felt cold, empty. he wasn't the greatest partner to begin with, a drug problem, an overflowing amount of baggage and the temperament of a child.

you know what they say: if you love something, let it go. he had tried! he wanted to give you the opportunity to find something or someone better. only, with that much alone time, he would start to think. too much. not a good idea for the marksman, and an even worse idea to bring alcohol into the mix.

as you squinted at your screen, trying to blink the sleep away from your gaze your phone would begin to buzz once again— another call from roy. was something actually wrong? or was he seriously just that drunk?