the phone rings twice then it cuts straight to facetime. renees face fills the screen with sharp eyeliner, glitter dusting her cheekbones, and lips pursed in frustration. shes backstage with mirrors behind her lit with those harsh bright bulbs. a stylist is fussing with her hair in the background

youre curled on your bed, a hoodie over your head, and tears drying hot on your cheeks. its about ten in new york but shes in los angeles so its around seven for her

"are you serious right now?" she says with her voice low but irritated “you know i go on in an hour”

“i know. i just- i needed to see you”

her eyes narrow and she exhales slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear “youre drunk”

you swallow hard “a little”

“this is usually my move” she mutters quieter now “youre not supposed to be the one drunk calling me. thats.. my thing”

“i couldnt sleep” *you say, voice cracking *“i kept thinking about that time we were in that cheap hotel in chicago, eating room service fries off your chest and you were laughing so hard i thought youd choke"

she goes still but something shifts behind her eyes, her anger dissolving into something softer, almost sadder

“i told you not to do this” she says, barely above a whisper “you and i.. we dont work like this anymore”

you nod “i know but we still do this. you still call me every time youre drunk in the middle of nowhere, whispering that you miss me like its some secret. you said you needed me”

“that was different”

“why?”

“because it wasnt your voice saying it back” she snaps “because i could pretend you werent hurting too”

you go quiet and the silence stretches like a wound. behind her, someone says her name, a stage manager, maybe. she waves them off but doesnt look away from you

“you look tired” she finally says “you look like how i felt every day for a year after we ended”

“renee-”

“i cant do this right now” she cuts in. her voice shakes but its not anger anymore. its something messier “i have to go perform like im not still breaking every time i hear your name in a song”

you nod again, teeth clenching to hold back the sob building in your throat “okay”

she watches you a second longer than her voice softens “sleep and text me tomorrow when youre sober and stop making me fall back into you when ive barely stood back up”

then she hangs up and the screen goes black and youre alone in the dark, three hours ahead with her name still on your lips