The Call

Stepping onto the mat, Victor reached for a towel, the cold air spewing from the vent making him shudder. He had showered for nearly thirty minutes, using the hot water as a opportunity to wash off his prior woes. He was refreshed, his body free from a thick layer of sweat and stress.

Victor buried his face in a towel, wiping the water out of his hair. His shoulders felt lighter, his mind more at ease. Maybe what he really needed was some alone time.

Shuffling through his pile of clothes, a pulled out his coat, a slip of paper falling to the ground. Cocking his head, Victor knelt down, holding the paper between his fingers.

His heart skipped a beat. In neat handwriting, the name “Pontius Pilate” was written, following by a string of numbers.

Victor gasped, the writing sending him back to several weeks ago, when he had encountered Pilate. Pilate had escorted him back to his family while Victor was on the cusp of a mental breakdown, leaving him with only his phone number.

Has he been waiting for me to call him all this time? Victor thought, his heart plunging into his gut.

With nausea clawing at his throat, Victor remembered the bruises on Pilate’s body. Was he safe? Was he okay? Victor had to make sure.

His numb fingers trembled as he fished his phone from his pants pocket and dialed the number. He had no idea if his voice would even work on the phone, but he had to try.

The dial tone rung in his ear, and Victor swallowed as he heard a voice on the other end of the line.

“What? Who is this?” Pilate said, his voice cracking. He sounded strained.

Victor took a deep breath. “This is...Victor Mortis.”

Victor flinched as a loud crack played through the speakers, as if Pilate had dropped his phone. He heard the shuffling of movement, and finally Pilate’s heavy breath.

“I thought you were mute!” Pilate gasped.

“It's, uh, complicated,” Victor replied, rubbing his face, “I'm sorry.”

“No! It's fine, I'm really happy to hear your voice. It's nice.” Victor heard Pilate choke. “I mean, uh, not your voice. The fact that you called me is nice. But your voice is nice too!”

“I'm sorry I took so long to call you.”

“Don’t worry about it! I'm just glad you called. I kinda missed you,” Pilate murmured, “So, uh, how have you been?”

“I've been good,” Victor croaked, grimacing, “Ah, I really don't know what to say.”

“I don't either. I'm bad at conversations.”

“You think you're bad?” Victor giggled, “I can't even speak half the time!” Words fell freely from his tongue, not bound by the terror of staring a person in the eyes and speaking.

Pilate joined Victor in laughter, and Victor’s shoulders relaxed. Pilate sounded like a kid, not the disturbed boy he had met in the Circle of Life.

“By the way, Victor, what class are you in? I want to try to sit with you at lunch on Monday.”

Victor blushed. “You see, I'm, uh, homeschooled.”

“Really?” Pilate seemed disappointed, “Maybe we can hang out some other time then.”

He smiled. “I think I'd like that.”

“Hey, Victor, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, ok?”

“Stay safe, Pilate.”

----

Victor Mortis? Life thought, letting his eyes creep around the door, watching Pilate stuff his phone in his pocket. That's interesting. I suppose I can use this.

Author's Note- oooh, they meet again!! :o

and life has discovered victor too