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★❱ 電話

sbtxmamoru

Mamoru was one of the younger friends that had somehow became acquainted with Keigo. When was it again? He guessed it was somewhere along the first year after his graduation. He was scrambling around, working three to four jobs at once trying to make a living and one of them being an employee at a convenience store. That’s how they had met and somehow, between the younger’s frequent visit and his long hours of work and additional shifts, small talks had turned into conversations and that into something that could be called a friendship. That day, they decided to meet up at a small restaurant/cafe nearby. Sipping his coffee, he let out a groan as the other picked on his phone as soon as he pulled it out of his jeans pocket and nitpicking on it. “Christ, Mamoru, what’s wrong with my phone anyway? I mean, it still works perfectly.”

#;p #p;phone #sbtxmamoru

––✱ phonecall { sj+hk }

There was a phone on the desk. It would be quite common and expectable, really, to see a book or two on a library table. But not a phone. There, on a lone table by the big window, the phone seemed as if it were looking at him. The white and silver phone seemed to have come alive. An animated thing as opposed to some just some object. He came closer and sat on the table, picking up the phone and sliding it open. It’s not locked. Surprise, surprise. He went to directly to the photo gallery, wondering who the phone belonged to. It was the dance teacher. The man moved in some times ago and though they ever talked more than necessary he remembered his face. A mischievous smile slowly crept up his face as he called his own number from the phone, saving it as his contact before he put the phone back to its place for his owner to find. There was a phone on the desk. That phone would be the start of an amusing tale for Seiji.

#;p #p;phone #hyvnkistr