He cursed, as he couldn't find what he was looking for in his wallet. The bright lights of the day were stinging his eyes. That or the unshed tears he held in were trying to come out. But he couldn't do that. He was supposed to be awesome. He was suppose to be the best thing that ever happened to people. Even though his head told him to keep on repeating those words, his heart couldn't believe them. He felt too crappy and drained to believe.
He shoved his wallet into his back pocket again with his useless piece of phone that had no charge. He stepped into the phone booth and with shaking hands picked up the used phone. He dialed a number he knew very well by heart.
The ringing came from the other line, but no one picked up from the other side. He sighed. Of course this would happen. For the past weeks he hadn't picked up his cell at all. Not just because this was an unknown number, but because Gilbert has a hunch that Roderich subconsciously knew that this bastard was phoning him.
"This is Roderich. I am unable to answer your call. Please leave a message. Thank you."
His mind froze for an instant. Did he want to leave a message? A message that would probably get ignored for the 100th time? His mouth was very hard to open. It was too dry to talk. Too tired from trying to hold those endless sobs in the darkness.
"Roderich," Gilbert began with shaky breath. He had a hard time continuing. Shit, he needed to concentrate. While running a hand through his silver hair, he continued. "Babe, I know I do stupid shit when I'm drunk, but this . . . Ah shit, it's no excuse. I am so sorry this happened. Blame me, hit me, I don't care anymore. Babe, Roderich, Please talk to me. I miss you. I want to see you."
He hesitated a little. Then he remembered those cold nights alone in a small bed with no one to share warmth. All those silent evenings full of nothing; Roderich's piano didn't exist. Or that sarcastic laugh when Gilbert said something stupid. He missed those delicate touches he received when they shared their intimate moments. Or those awful lectures he got when he came home late from partying with Antonio and Francis. He missed seeing Roderich come through those big wooden doors after a week away and just simply smile as he saw Gilbert dutifully leaning by the doorframe with his arms folded, waiting for him to come home.
The thought of losing him scared him to death.
He took a deep breath, and uttered those words that meant every ounce of how he felt throughout these two weeks.
"I need you."
Amethyst eyes could only glance at the answering machine and hit the 'end' button. He thought he lost all sense of crying, but those red-rimmed eyes that lacked sleep thought otherwise. He no longer had a tint of life in them, even as he played the instrument that made him who he is.
'Was,' he thought.
His slim, long fingers traced the cool keys, but he did not dare play. Roderich had been playing for well over three hours. Quite a simple routine for him, but not now. Even though time passed, his heart could not be mended. Not even by Brahms's compositions.
"Shit," Roderich cursed under his breath. He was being vulgar, but he did not care anymore. He took off his glasses and massaged his eyes. Unshed tears from the night before fell down again.
Author's Note: Wow, I have not written in forever, so I apologize for my horrible writing skills.
This is sad and I am so sorry! It was just an idea in my thoughts and I just felt like contributing to the fandom. I do not know if I will continue or just leave it here. Anyways, I hope someone enjoys this little work and also thank you to the amazing authors whose story inspired this. This is for y'all!