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[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

“No,” he admits.

He hadn’t been able to stop there.

“I would… still like to hang out some time. If. That’s okay.”

[conning]

Neal's tone lightens slightly. "If that's on the table still, I'll happily take it."

[abrightboy]

“That’ll always be on the table,” he says quietly.

[conning]

"Well... I should go get groceries, if I'm going to have everything ready for tomorrow."

A pause, then: "It was good talking to you. I mean that. I like talking to you."

[abrightboy]

Right. He has to go. Malcolm’s making things awkward.

But then he says that.

The first two sounds that come out of his mouth aren’t words. He swallows and takes a breath and tries again.

“I’m glad you called. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says evenly, because maintaining a careful control is what’s making the sounds be shaped like words.

[conning]

"You can call too," Neal reiterates, for the sake of... not making things awkward. For the sake of that and nothing more. "If you wanted to. Either way, I'll see you tomorrow."

He hangs up, staring at the phone a moment, seized with the desire to throw it off the roof and into the street.

It seems safer than keeping it. Safer than checking the number every time it rings.

Shit.