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Though they weren’t sure why, perhaps a habit they’d picked up from their family, Mike always texted Chase to make sure he’d made it home safely after work. Then he called them to reply. Every time. At first, Mike had joked that he was like an old lady and didn’t know how texting worked. When he confirmed that he could, in fact, text, he still called when Mike texted him asking if he’d made it home okay.
It wasn’t a big issue so Mike just let it slide, though they hated talking on the phone. On the phone, they could stumble over their words and look like a complete idiot. Through text, they could meticulously look over their words before hitting send.
Every once in a while, since their lisp had left them in elementary school, they had an entire day where they couldn’t say almost any sentence correctly. It would sound perfect in their head then the words would come out mispronounced. On one particular Friday, this happened when Chase called after their text.
“Are you okay?” Chase asked eventually.
“Yes,” Mike replied, a little more irritatedly than intended. “I just- goddamn it, I can’t talk today.”
A pause.
“I really don’t like phone calls.”
“Why?”
“They make me anxious. And days like this suck enough in person let alone over the phone.”
“I noticed but I didn’t want to ask.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “That’s why I like texting better.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I call because I like hearing your voice.”
“Oh.” The line went silent. Mike rubbed their face. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s okay.”
“You like my voice?” Mike asked. “Isn’t it…really gravelly sounding?”
“Yeah,” Chase said, then added, “But I like it.”
“Hey, I was wondering, do you like your voice?”
He laughed, a laugh that made Mike’s heart skip a beat. “No. You get used to the accent when it’s yours.”
“It sounds…lightly toasted, if you know what I mean,” Mike said. “If the smell of a just lit barbeque pit with just the briquettes in it were a sound. And I don’t mean that to be a joke about anything, that’s just the best way I can describe it.”
“I sound like burning charcoal?” Chase asked, trying not to laugh.
“No, like the smell of burning charcoal. It’s not crackly…it’s I don’t know.”
“You still don’t want me to call you?” he asked.
“You won’t think I sound stupid?”
“You never sound stupid.”
Mike was glad he couldn’t see their blush over the phone. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mike.”