I have returned! I hit a wall for a bit. Like, a real high wall with no ladders. This chapter brought to you in part by:

1) I finally got a laptop! No more having to use public computers!

2) I'm sick today - which means unlimited typing!

3) @dreamcatcher_xoxo_ sent me what may be the sweetest message ever and it just sort of inspired me to actually focus and knock this chapter out!

And 4) watching My Hero Academia while writing gets me freaking pumped.

Hope you guys enjoy! 

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Summer was fast approaching. The seasons were changing, and I could feel it in the air and see it in the town. The spring chill normally present began to melt into something softer, less sharp. Instead, warmth began to slip into everyday life, edging into the evenings. It still hadn't reached a point where I felt uncomfortable. But it was coming.

Instead of closed windows, mine were open, a breeze speaking of warmer days drifting through my room. It was this breeze keeping me uncharacteristically distracted. A lazy attempt at pulling myself back to the homework in front of me, I lightly shook my head and turned back to the pages laying out on my desk.

Surely, I would be able to keep my focus. Surely.

About five minutes into my focus time, my phone buzzed. Sitting innocuously enough on my bed, face down, out of arms reach.

No, I thought to myself, gripping the pencil harder. Be strong. You got this. Almost done! Well . . . at least until I realized exactly how much I still needed to finish. "Okay, maybe just one break," I told myself, already rolling my eye internally. I wouldn't get back to that homework for a while.

Pushing away from the desk, I made my way to the bed, flopping down on it and grabbing my phone. Unlocking the screen, I was not even a little surprised to find Bennett waiting on the other end, several messages already in line for me to read.

MooseHunterFTW: Why did I do this?

MooseHunterFTW: I lost my mind.

MooseHunterFTW: Everything hurts and I'm dying.

A small wave of panic pushed through me, one I attempted to push back as I texted him.

Dorkyandartsy435: What mess have you gotten yourself into this time?

MooseHunterFTW: Have you watched Call the Midwife?

Dorkyandartsy435: Uhhhh, no?

MooseHunterFTW: Then you wouldn't understand the emotional turmoil I'm experiencing right now. But you should know my heart has been ripped out and stomped on and OH GOD WHY HAVE I DONE THIS??

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Hard. More than anyone, I'd discovered how obsessed with television shows Bennett could get. Somehow, some way, he became so emotionally entrenched with these characters; sometimes, he would start talking about a character and I would just naturally assume him to be speaking of a relative with how much detail he could provide.

Over time, though, it became obvious he was just a fanboy. No big deal here.

Before I could respond, another message came through, one which made my eyebrows reach my hairline, I'm sure.

MooseHunterFTW: So when do we progress from text messages to like, actual phone calls anyway?

MooseHunterFTW: We've been talking for a while and I think we can all safely assume you aren't an axe murderer.

MooseHunterFTW: Can it be phone number exchange time? Plleeeeeeaaaaassssseeeee??

He followed up his inquiry with a gif of a puppy dog face, all pouty and begging. With a sigh, I ran a hand down my face and peeked at the screen through my fingers. Realistically, it wasn't too bad of an idea. Honestly, I was getting sick of seeing his username. It gave me a headache every single time I looked at it and I'm almost certain he felt the same way about mine.

We'd established a decent relationship at this point, maybe not besties or anything, but enough. We spoke a lot. I definitely knew more about him than he did about me, but that's neither here nor there.

Dorkyandartsy435: Is it really such a big deal?

I sent the text before I had a chance to overthink it and not so patiently waited for the response. A response which I knew would logically defeat my hesitation.

MooseHunterFTW: We aren't seriously going to do this again, are we??

MooseHunterFTW: I'll even give you my number first.

And he did. His phone number popped up on my screen within seconds of his last message, glaring up at me from the glass.

MooseHunterFTW: You know you want to.

Gritting my teeth, I blew out a huge breath of air through my nose and tapped the number, letting it automatically dial through.

When the call connected, I didn't give him a chance to say anything before starting the conversation with, "You're a real bully when you want to be, you know that?" I said it with no real heat, no real malice behind the words.

A short pause. And then, "I like to think of it more as bulldozing my way through."

As he spoke, it sort of dawned on us, or at least me, that we officially heard each other for the first time. My breath hitched a bit, heart skipping a single beat. I didn't usually talk on the phone to people. I didn't usually talk to people in general. And now here I had the voice of someone else right there.

It weirded me out, as well kicked my nerves up a notch, making me want to hang up the phone. But I steeled through. I know to anyone else, this wouldn't be a big deal. But for me, for someone insanely antisocial, for someone who hated interacting with others, it was a very big deal.

"So . . . this is more awkward than I imagined it being," Bennett said from the other side of the line.

I nodded, before remembering, oh yeah, he can't see me. "Yeah . . ."

"Well, anyways. So, this episode of Call the Midwife." And he was off. Bennett took the reigns of the conversation, easily brushing off the awkward vibe we had going on. And I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to listen to him for the first time.

Some people had rather irritating voices. Far too deep, far too high, too gravelly – you get the idea. But Bennett? Bennett had a rather nice voice. Softer than you would imagine for the personality he has over text, but smooth and a little on the low side. Overall, very pleasant to listen to.

"It just really tore out my heart and – hey, are you listening over there?"

I snapped back to attention, sitting up straight and refocusing on the conversation. "Yes! I'm sorry, I got a little lost in thought for a second. I honestly can't relate to much of what you're talking about because, again – I've never actually watched this show before."

Bennett sighed and I figured he began shaking his head at my words. "I can't believe you've never watched this show," he said in disbelief. "I found it a couple months ago and just started binging every chance I got. I'm in the most recent season now."

Humming noncommittally, I looked up at the ceiling. "I haven't gotten into any shows recently. I've been a little too focused on school and my art. Plus my weekends recently usually involves my cousins in some shape or form." And it was true. My cousins club activities put on several events. One cousin made it into the spelling bee, another played soccer now. My youngest cousin's school had a little carnival and I would be dead before I missed the little booth his class did with paintings and drawings. Were they the next Picasso? No, but they were absolutely adorable.

All these things made it difficult to just sit and watch tv for several hours on end. The various blocks of my day were always filled with something or another, always being around my family or working on my next project. There just wasn't any time.

"Huh. I would have figured some background noise would be good for your art," he replied. I heard shuffling on his end and a groan like he had to strain to move before he spoke again. "Is there anything you like outside of art? If you aren't interested in watching TV, or rather, you don't have time for it, what else do you do for you?"

Stumped, I stared wide eyed at the ceiling raking my brain for an answer. What did I like to do aside from drawing? "Uhm, well, I like being with my cousins -"

"Doesn't count."

"And why not?"

He sighed, as if the answer were painfully obvious and I merely lacked enough brain power to figure it out. "Because, they are younger than you right? Which means it's up to you to care and responsibility when you're around them. Which means you don't do it for you."

Chewing on my lip, I squinted. Aside from art, I really couldn't think of anything else that I enjoyed doing. I couldn't think of a single thing stealing my attention the way art did. Most things were passing interests, a glance from the corner of my eye, or a quick itch to scratch. They weren't things that stuck with me.

"I hate to disappoint, Bennett, but I just don't have anything interesting to tell you." I shrugged as if he were there in the room to watch the gesture. "I guess my life is rather boring, huh?"

Light chuckling came through the line. "That's fine. It'll be something we can work on later."

I raised an eyebrow, replying, "Oh? And when in this later you speak of?"

"Never you mind, Wendy, never you mind. So," another sound of rustling and a sigh, "are these phone calls going to become a normal thing?"

"The texts did, didn't they?" I asked with a smile. "You bulldoze, remember?"

Instead of the laughter I anticipated, Bennett hesitated, just the sound of his breathing coming through. "Still there?"

Bennett let out a deep breath of air before replying. "Yeah. Just ... I know the bulldozing thing is fairly realistic, but ... I kind of like to think you talk to me because you want to now. Not because I bullied you into it." Another moment of hesitation. "I actually really like talking to you. Some part of me hopes that the feeling is mutual."

His hesitation now made sense; of course he thought I didn't like talking to him. After all, bathing cats seemed to be an easier than getting our initial interactions going. And I'd never explicitly said I enjoyed our conversations.

Plucking at a loose thread on my blanket while plucking up my courage to speak, staring at the pattern on the bedspread. "Look," I began quietly, "I'm sort of garbage at saying things. Sometimes I just forget to say them altogether." I paused, making sure I actually said what I needed to instead of rambling. "But come on, dude. Do you really think I would keep talking to you if I really didn't want to?"

"I suppose not," he replied softly after a moment of silence. Then, "At least tell me you've watched Doctor Who."

* * * * * * * * * *

After learning the tragedy of my watch list, or lack of, Bennett insisted I write down a list of shows and movies I'd not yet seen. My homework laid forgotten on my desk while I pulled out a notebook and jotted down the titles he gave me. By the end of our conversation, the sky had darkened.

"I should probably go," I told him, tossing the notebook with all my scribbles off to the side. Throwing one arm over my eyes, I continued, "I haven't eaten in literal hours and I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you haven't either."

"Ah, yes. You would be correct. And I'm starving so, yeah, calling it quits sounds good."

I was unsure of how to end the conversation. Would we still text after this or would he want to do nothing but just chat all the time? I wasn't sure my antisocial little heart could handle it.

"Well, I'll text you later, maybe tomorrow. Don't want you to succumb to burnout," he joked, most likely grinning like a lunatic.

With a roll of my eyes, I said, "Yeah, yeah, we'll chat tomorrow, okay?"

Goodbyes taken care of, the phone call ended and I dropped the device. Instead of getting up as my original plan had been, I decided to just lay there and stare at the ceiling. To be honest, there were a lot of things going through my head at the moment. More than anything, my brain felt boggy and slow, like I'd completely overused my social circuits.

It didn't surprise me, but it was still a little annoying. Pushing those thoughts aside, I rolled off the mattress, wobbling towards the door. My legs were half asleep from the position I'd been in for several hours.

Once I hit the bottom step, I found my mother sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and smiled. "Have a nice conversation?"

Feeling my face rush with heat, I sputtered out undignified noises. "Wha - -? Pshh, no. I mean. Boo! Ugh, I'm getting tea!" I stomped out of the living room with her laughter trailing behind me.

Upon returning to the living room, my mother's eyes still shone with mirth. "Well?"

Flopping down next to her, I tucked my legs under my body and looked at the TV. "I didn't even know you came upstairs."

She shrugged, setting down her mug. "I came up to get you for dinner. But when I heard you talking, instead of calling you like I normally do, I knocked. You were having fun and I figured you would come down eventually."

I shook my head, unintentionally letting a grin out. "Yeah, yeah."

"You normally don't like phone calls," My mother noted casually, peeking at me from the corner of her eye.

Gripping my mug just a little tighter, I shrugged. "Yeah, well . . ." I sighed, leaning back. "I mean, it's . . . not my preferred method. You know that. I sort of wish the whole phone thing didn't even exist. I wish I could take it out of the equation completely, but oh well." I shrugged and turned my attention back to the television.

Though, as I tuned out all other sounds and focused on the TV, my mother said something rather odd.

"Be careful what you wish for," she mumbled.

I gave her a questioning look, but ultimately ignored the remark. After all, it was just an offhand comment.

Right?