Dirtied. Concaved. Etched engravings of numbers with ink chipping away. Although most of the time unnoticed, Kyungsoo takes in his surroundings with amplified concentration. Seconds go by as he debates on whether to pound out a random series of numbers and see what happens. The yellow rays are harsh in the dead of night and Plexiglas walls make him seem a lot bigger than he feels.

He picks up and holds the phone to his ear. A voice too computerized gives him instructions that turned to white noise.

Drop it.

Walk away.

He can’t. He doesn’t know what else to do. He just wants—He hopes. He hopes and wishes so much.

Change goes in and the dial tone blares. Are his knuckles going to split? His grip is far too strong. A series of beep and the ringing begins.

Hang up.

Run.

Before they—

“Hello?”

His breathing hitches. A voice is addressing him.  Confusion was underlined in its tone, but that was all right. Kyungsoo understood why.

“H-Hi.”  And he gives nothing more.

“Who’s this?”

That’s right. Who was it?

“I’m not sure.” It was the truth. Kyungsoo didn’t know who he was anymore. “I’m trying…I’m trying so hard to find myself but nothing is working.”

Now, this is the part where the male on the other end stays silent for approximately ten seconds and then the dial tone would mockingly scream in his ear.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

It sounds sincere. Kyungsoo would be damned if it didn’t really really sound sincere.

He chocks, “Why? Don’t I deserve it? It’s all completely my fault.” Cracks in the pavement beneath him match the state of his self-conscience. He’s cracking open, breaking and pieces of him are spreading further and further apart.

“How is it your fault?”

It’s his fault. He should have tried harder. Why wasn’t he trying harder? His motivation isn’t there. He wants it to be there but nothing sparks it back to life.

“I’ve been dragging my feet for too long.”

The image of a typical office setting flashes. The water jug crew is mingling on the side. They’re laughing and their white teeth is nearly blinding. Kyungsoo sits and types. Nine to five. Nine to five. Nine to five. His boss tells him great job on his last assignment. Nine to five. Nine to five. He sits at home and watches television.

Rinse and repeat.

“Then why don’t pick them up?”

“What?”

“Your feet, pick them up.”

Kyungsoo explodes, tears stream and sobs echoed.

The man on the other end is patient. They chat and they chat. Kyungsoo speaks about his lacklustre life and how he hates it. He speaks of his loneliness and how his days feel like months and his hours feel like days. He thinks there’s something more out there for him. He wants to believe that in the least.

The voice is soothing and understanding until Kyungsoo’s eyes dry and his tone evens out. Questions are asked and Kyungsoo responds to them honestly.

“Well, Kyungsoo, I work at Café Luna from 6-3 on Saturday. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

He has.

“Then, I’ll wait for you there. Oh, and ask for Jongin. I’m sorry but I have to go now.”

“Wait, what? Why am I—but, why do you even—“

“Come by and I’ll help you pick up your feet.”

Glue stuck his lip together. He waits. Maybe if he doesn't reply, the call will grow in length. Maybe this will last longer. He wants to hear the voice more. 

“I'll see you later, Kyungsoo.”

The dreaded dial tone isn't as loud as Kyungsoo imagined. He clicks the phone down and exits the booth. 

One foot in front of the other, Kyungsoo walks toward the future where that voice will hopefully match up with a face.

I said it was short. I might do a sequel, but not for a long while. Hope you enjoyed it. Expect more writings from me when December hits, wooo :) Love to you all <3