seventy-two hours. [k de vries] (Patreon)

synopsis: sound (part three of the five senses series).

Despite being over a century old, there were a lot of things K didn't understand until they met you. Affection, for one. They never quite understood why couples were all over each other, and still don't, really, but it's a little clearer to them now that the two of you are dating.

The second was love languages. They remember the first time Rylan brought it up to them. They proceeded to analyze K after that, which ended up in an argument over whether K was an 'acts of service' person or if Rylan was simply making all this up.

"Just because it's on the internet doesn't mean it's real," K argued.

"And just because you're a boomer who disagrees with everything doesn't mean it's not real," Rylan countered.

The discussion died quickly after that.

The third and final thing that K learned is something they still have difficulty admitting. Because, you see, if affection is still something they're struggling with, having the confidence to admit that they miss you is on another level entirely.

But they do. They miss you dearly. The two of you are busy people, but you always find time to meet. Sometimes, you'll stay over at their penthouse for the night; there's a drawer in their bedroom that's quickly filling up with your stuff. Other times, they'll make the trek to yours, busying themself in the kitchen so that you have a warm meal to come home to after your shift.

When you're halfway across the world, however, this isn't possible.

And that's fine. It's fine. K has spent decades being alone. They've faced heartbreak and grief and hundreds of other misfortunes that most don’t experience in their lifetime. They can handle a week without you. They can deal with staring at your face through a screen instead of being able to touch you in person. Hold your hand. Kiss you. Push you onto the bed and—

No. Don't go there.

K swallows. Stands and goes into their bedroom.

Had it been a couple of months ago, they would have shoved their feelings into the gutter and gone on a long walk. Had it been a few weeks ago, they would have hesitated to press that call button, finger lingering over their screen for longer than they'd like to admit. Today, it only takes them a few seconds to make up their mind.

The dial tone drones as they wait for you to pick up. They sit. Stand. Resist the urge to pace around the room. They stare at their bed, one side made and the other untouched from how they slept. It bothers them.

"Hello?"

K's shoulders slump. "Hi."

"Hi." They can hear the smile in your voice.

"Is it late for you? I can call back tomorrow."

A rustle of sheets. "No, it's only midnight here. I was going to head to bed in half an hour or so. Besides, I wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep."

"Me too," K replies, fighting a blush. They settle into their half of the bed, phone still pressed to their ear. "How was your day? They're not overworking you, are they?"

You laugh. "They always are. But today was fine. It's been mostly meetings, so it's more mental work and boredom than anything else. [A] makes them more interesting, at least. How about you? Did you have any clients today?"

And so, the conversation went on. The two of you talked about the mundane: about your daily lives and what's been happening since you left for your trip. You mention that it's only three more days until your flight home, and K quietly mumbles that they know, having been keeping track. They tell you they'll be waiting for you at the airport, and you teasingly answer if they’ll write a 'Welcome Home' sign for them.

They won't, but Rylan will.

It's a relatively short phone call, lasting no longer than ten minutes before K tells you to hang up because they heard you yawn. But it's calm. It's soothing, to hear your voice—something they didn't realize they could feel. They could listen to you talk for hours on end, whether it be you telling a story or ranting about some new coworker that you didn't like. It could be soft mumbling or joyful shouts—they'd still listen.

There's that saying: "I'll go anywhere you go." It used to terrify them. K used to argue that it was mindless to do something like that, to follow someone without any plans on your own, to trust them completely. It was never something that K would consider themself. That's changed, lately. Perhaps they're not fully there yet, but for the time being, they'll listen to anything you say.