26. Telephone
Sailor Raspberry
601 Words

The sidewalks were deserted, streets empty, air still and silent and calming. That's why he so commonly found himself wandering outside at twilight, spooning up the delightful feel it all. Because the solitude welcomed him, surrounded him with the unknown sentiment of peace.

He burrowed his hands into the protective curb of his pockets, fingers cold and breath fading off into the endless space around him. The weather proved unrelenting, billowing past the layers of his clothing and chilling his bones. But he didn't mind. He was okay with the cold. In fact, he found that he rather enjoyed it.

He wandered past a telephone booth, not sparing it a second glance, eyes balanced on the concrete before him. His mind was numb, cheeks and nose and ears pink, lips pressed together to prevent a burning inhale that the cold always brought.

But then it began to ring.

Mamoru's steps faltered, eyebrows furrowed as he peered back over his shoulder. The shops were all closed, lights off and windows bare. And the only thing he could hear was the ringing of a telephone.

Slowly, with feet that felt awkward and uncomfortable, he pulled back the door to the booth and stepped inside. His fingers strayed to the handle.

"Hello?" Mamoru's voice cooled naturally, one slender eyebrow arched as he leaned against the glass windowpane.

Somebody on the other end giggled, someone hushed. What followed was the delicate sound of breathing. "Yes, hello, we have your DVDs all packed and ready to be shipped. Would you like express shipping, or standard?"

Mamoru's forehead creased, lips curving into a frown. He recognized that voice. "Ah, what kind of DVDs have I purchased?"

There was a pause, a bout of whispering, before the voice returned. "That information is strictly prohibited, sir. Now, express? Or standard?"

And suddenly Mamoru knew, felt the hit harder then a silly school girl's Mary Jane to the head.

"Odango?"

A gasp, static, bumbling movements, and she was back with him. "Mamoru-baka! Wha... This is your number?"

His frown deepened. "No, the payphone was ringing and I happened to walk by. What do you think you're doing? Prank calling? Don't you know you're only supposed to do that to people you know?"

Usagi fumbled over words, and he could imagine her batting away curious friends. Then, in the background, "Usagi! Mom wants to know who you're talking to!"

"Shingo, get out!"

"But Dad told me to ask if it was that Chiba guy you always write about in your diary."

"Shingo! Get out! Get out!" And something clunked against the wall. A moment later, her voice returned to his ear. "You didn't hear that, did you?"

Mamoru's stomach flipped, heart tugged until it was liquid in his veins. His voice was barely a whisper. "Hear what?"

Her rush of breath puffed into messy static. "Nothing. Look, I got to go. I guess... I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded, mumbled a goodbye, and let the phone slip from his grip. The dial tone filled the air.

As he made his way back onto the sidewalk, skin milky-white beneath the moon, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

He wondered, in the deep, clouded part of his mind, how he could possibly get a hold of her diary. And as the cold submerged him back into that numb, forbidden world, his felt warmth, something that boiled his blood and shaded his skin to a wonderful shade of red. The sound of her voice floated within the shell of his ear, blocking out even the buzzing of the dial tone.