Too Little, Too Late- Ryo's POV

My life stopped two weeks ago, and I'm the only one who knows it.

Of course, I still go to work. I still do my housecleaning, and cook for myself and Bikky. I still listen to Carol when she comes over, and give her advice when she needs it. But a huge part of my life, the part that made it more bearable than simple existence, is missing. It doesn't matter whether Dee took it with him when he walked out of my life, or whether I drowned it in the river alongside the possibility of us ever pursuing a romantic relationship; it's still gone, and without it, I've come to the horrifying realization that I'm just an empty, albeit animate, shell of a man.

I only found out that Dee had requested a change of partners halfway into our next shift, when Drake came into our office carrying a stack of cardboard boxes and trailing Rose behind him. Dee's desk had already been cleared of his few personal effects, but I hadn't noticed. "You'll be working together from now on," Rose had said, in that cocky, serpentine voice that he thinks is so seductive. I hated letting him believe he'd won, but I'd been too stunned to do anything but stare blankly at Drake as he unpacked his things. His movements were stilted, like he was an unwanted guest in a haunted house, and though I knew I should have made him feel more comfortable, done something to make his transition easier, I couldn't.

I didn't trust myself not to transfer my hatred for the situation onto him.

Since then, I haven't spoken to Dee at all. I've seen him a few times, but always from a distance, and never for very long. Once, he was with J.J.: though I can't prove it, I'm sure Rose threw them together to spite me for rejecting his advances. I hate the way we left things, knowing that he must be nursing a totally justifiable grudge, knowing just how much I must have hurt him. I want to talk to him: I feel that I should, but I have no idea what I would say. I can't apologize, because I can't think of anything I could have done differently, and I can't ask him for another chance, because I know I can't offer him what he wanted, what he needed from me.

Still, I need to talk to him, and that need is what's brought me here, to the point of lying on my bed with the first six digits of his long-memorized cell phone number punched into my cordless phone. As I dial the last number, I try to convince myself that everything will fall into place as soon as I hear his voice. I try to forget that he might recognize my number and choose not to answer: I try to forget how much I deserve to be shut out of his life completely.

All of that stops mattering when the line stops ringing and a familiar voice that isn't Dee's says, "Dee Laytner's phone. What's up?"

"May I speak with Dee, please?" Though I want to know who's answering his phone, I don't ask: I can't allow any distraction, or I'll lose what little courage I've managed to scrape together.

"Dee's not available right now. May I ask who's..." The voice trails off, then says, "Wait a second. Is that you, Ryo?"

I blink twice before replying. "Yes. I'm sorry, do we know each other? I don't seem to be able to place your voice."

A chuckle. "The reception is really bad. I barely recognized you either. It's J.J."

J.J. Why is he answering Dee's phone? I look at my watch: it's 7:30. Dee should be at work now... and J.J.'s his new partner. That explains why they're together, but not why he's answering Dee's personal cell. "Oh. Hi, J.J. How have you been?"

"Pretty good. How about you? And don't say 'fine', because we'll both know you're lying."

I pause. "What do you mean?" I ask, and the question is not entirely an attempt to buy time for thought.

"Dee told me..." J.J. trails off and remains silent just long enough to come up with a better opening. "I know what happened between you guys. Even if Dee hadn't told me, I would have guessed, just like everyone else has." A silence. "I guess that's why you're calling?"

"I guess that's between Dee and I, isn't it?" I try to rein in the coldness of my tone, to remind myself that even J.J. has every right to look down on me for what I've done. "When's he going to be back?"

"I'm not sure. Even if I were, I don't think I'd tell you. He doesn't want to talk to you, Ryo. He wants to forget you exist, and I don't blame him."

I dig my free hand into the comforter. "He'll talk to me," I say, and it sounds more like I'm trying to convince myself of something implausible than stating anything resembling objective fact. "He's not that selfish."

Another chuckle: this one sounds sardonic, as though J.J. is mocking me. He probably is. "Maybe not as a rule, but I think he could make an exception for you. If anyone deserves it, you do."

I sigh. "Look, I admit I screwed up, okay? But will you at least give me credit for trying to make it right? For trying to fix whatever I can?"

"No. Because you can't fix this, and it's your fault it's broken in the first place. It's all your fault." I hear a rough shuffling of papers. "You can't stroke your ego at someone else's expense for that long and then expect to fix the consequences with a half-assed apology, or whatever else you called looking to offer him." J.J. sniffs. "It's all too little, too late, Ryo, and if you want to give Dee any chance at recovery, you're going to let him walk out of your life without trying to drag him back."

A click that I recognize too late as the line disconnecting is J.J.'s final, and perhaps strongest, message, and I place the phone on my nightstand with shocked calmness before I curl up with the nearest pillow and sink into the freshly washed, too-cool sheets.

It's going to be a long night.