He hates to admit it, but sometimes he waits for that phone to just miraculously ring, ring dammit ring ring for me. Purple eyes watch enviously as they all took their turns on the phone, each one talking to somebody different every day or every other day. If somebody asks him why he was gazing so intently on the phone, he either simply shrugs (nothing's wrong; it's all good, how are you?) or just scowls and moves on to someplace else.
His ears have memorized the rising notes of the phone as it rings. Kamui's become so afraid that his ears have become so tuned to it that he can't get out the notes out of his ear, his head. Riiiing, shrill sharp high, hopes shattered everyday.
He hates it even more whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night because of the damn phone. It's always a call for somebody else. In his head, there's a certain mantra of perfectly ordered numbers that when dialed, may or may not even end this war; forward and backward anagrammatized in his head. It burns in him and sometimes he feels the urge to just lift the receiver up and dial it again. He knows he'll hate the one that will either answer it; and even more on the one which will never even pick it up.
He has a speech all figured out in his head, and he knows how exactly it's supposed to go.
Kamui likes to think he's prepared.
He was twirling the cord around his hands when the phone rang, shrill sharp and commanding in his room. Kamui was startled to hear it and so he untangled his hands in a hurry, the cord unravelling swiftly from his hands as he tried to answer it. "Hello?"
...and there it was: "Kamui."
"F-- hi."
"How are you doing?"
"...good. You?"
"Fine. Listen, Kamui --?"
"...Fuuma? Fuuma... I can't hear you anymore," Kamui whispers softly, his voice breaking as tears start to well up in his eyes. He has a smile on his face because he knows that the call isn't going to last any longer. "I think... the line's pretty bad over here..."
A pause on the other line. In his mind, Kamui could see his wistful smile, those amber eyes. He was tired, he could tell, even though he had terrified them pretty well the other day as he killed another Seal. "Yeah... I think we... I think it's breaking up."
"It is," he said, and he was surprised as both of them chuckled at the fact that it was breaking up.
The phone was growing cold and heavy in his hands. He's breathing heavily now and he's pretty sure he can hear him. "I... I have to hang up."
"...alright."
There's the small click on the other end of the line, like the sound of a gun cocked to his head; the final nail on the coffin; the sound of broken bones and hearts alike.
He cradled the phone in his arms, staring stupidly at it. He had a speech all memorized in his head as to what to say to him, but he'd forgotten what it was.
Tomorrow he'll try again, but the lines have been cut off and destroyed so now he'll have to find another way. Kamui looks at the thin scars lining his skin, and he thought they were a perfect substitute for it.
