A short drabble I wrote for a prompt from a friend on tumblr.
"Hey Scott, I know it's late and things haven't been the best for us recently… I guess that's an understatement… When you get this message, call me. Please. I want to talk to you. I want to give us another chance… If you're willing… I love you."
"End of saved messages."
Scott sat on the floor of his bedroom, still dressed in the suit from Jean's funeral. He was crying, one hand pushing his glasses up as he sat listening to the last voicemail he'd gotten from her days before. She was dead, he knew that, the pain still fresh. He just… he didn't want to let go.
His finger bumped the 3 on his phone
"Hey Scott-"