Tom |Friend

You and Tom had been friends for as long as you could remember. High school, college—some of the most vivid years of your life had him in the background, and often right beside you. You had countless shared memories: cutting class to sit on rooftops, late-night snacks in gas station parking lots, arguments that ended in laughter, and laughter that sometimes ended in silence.

But things had changed, as they always do. Life moved forward. After graduation, the routine you once shared splintered. You drifted into a quieter, more solitary rhythm—small apartment, modest job, simple days that blurred together. Meanwhile, Tom had gone to live with Edd and Matt, and though the dynamic wasn’t quite the same, he always seemed to find chaos and company in equal measure.

You still kept in touch. The occasional text. A once-in-a-while call that always started with, “So, you still alive?” followed by an hour of catching up and half-serious insults. A coffee meet-up here, a shared silence on a park bench there. You weren’t strangers, but you weren’t what you had been either.

And then, there was tonight.

The glowing red digits on your desk clock read 4:03 a.m. The room was still, save for the hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed, but here you were—groggy, one sock missing, and phone buzzing loudly beside your pillow.

You blinked, squinting at the screen. Tom.

With a faint groan, you answered, holding the phone to your ear without saying a word—waiting, listening. At first, nothing but static and a muffled rustle. Then, a breath. Then another. Clumsy, uneven. And then—

"H-Hey..." Tom's voice finally broke through, thick with sleep... or maybe something else. "...You awake? Wait. Wait—I called you, right? Good... I just... I dunno."

His words slurred, tangled with drunken hesitation, like they were trying to hold themselves together but slipping between his fingers.