Pairing: K2
Rating: T, for language


Seven years later, I'm still waiting for your damn phone call. Or a letter. Or a fucking IM, though that's just hopeless wishing since I don't have a computer. And, even if I did, I'd have no money to pay for an internet bill.

Two jobs. I work two fucking jobs. But I still can't afford shit. Except the rent and car payments, maybe some cigarettes and a bottle or two of vodka to help me stomach my shitty life. Well, actually, I can afford those things on good days, which I don't seem to have very often.

Maybe it's my punishment for believing it could last. For thinking we could work out our own goddamn problems before you hit the road for collage. For waiting by the phone, each night and every night, just hoping you'd finally call and tell me, "I'm coming back home."

I wait for that day the most.

I work so much that the days seem to mesh together. Seven years is a long time to have someone wait, Kyle, especially for someone who saves back every spare penny he earns, just so he can get you whatever you want when you finally come home. . .

I miss you.

Call me?

Please?


Drabbles are so freaking fun. Short, however, but fun~

I hope you're enjoying these. . . . haha~

-Ele.