Okay but thinking about Grayson seeing Indy’s name popping up on his phone whenever she tried to call him and he just looks at the screen and whispers “let me go, please just let me go.” 🥺🥺
why u gotta make me SAD ang. this is set between track 11 and 12
Grayson’s bed felt cold. He knew it wasn’t, because Ethan had turned up the thermostat again, but he didn’t have the energy to yell at him about it, or to truly care if he was honest.
It was almost 3:30pm in LA. He wouldn’t have known it if his phone wasn’t shining the numbers at him, considering he hadn’t bothered to open his blinds, much less leave his room that day. He knew what was coming. It was like clockwork most the time, or at least for the last few days.
He couldn’t think of why 6:30 NYC time was when she always called. It wasn’t a surprise she called at the same time, no, it wasn’t that. He could picture her in his head, scribbling down his name in her planner with a blue pen as a little reminder. But why 6:30? That was usually when she was just sitting down for dinner, and he knew she hated to be on her phone while she ate.
He waited, phone heavy in his hand while the minutes ticked by slowly. It took her a few seconds longer than usual, and his chest got a bit tighter. He couldn’t tell why, whether it was anticipation, or sadness as his clock read 3:31.
The day had finally come where she had given up. She’d given up on him, on trying to convince him to come back and it stung. No, it fucking hurt, but at least it felt like something.
He thought of her, as he always did, and wondered if it hurt her too. The idea of her in pain was worse than his own, and he shut his eyes for a moment, breathing in deep before he spoke.
“Let me go. Please baby, just let me go.”
Against his leg, his phone rang. 3:31 was replaced with “dee” at the top of screen, with a picture of her in Jersey in front of the half constructed tiny home, space buns in her hair and his flannel around her waist. It took his breath away. He wondered for a moment if maybe it was a sign, from the universe, or God, or his dad, that she seemed to still want him after all he had done to her. She cared enough to keep calling, and that had to mean something.
His hand shook as he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over the green.
He pressed down just as it disappeared.
Missed Call: dee @ 3:31pm
The tears came back, welcomed visitors to his cheeks now and he stood, walked into his closet and pulled out the old lock box, shoving his phone into it and latching it shut before he crawled back into bed alone.
