Emmett stared into the gas station cooler. He already had a bag of jerky and a couple snack cakes in hand, all he needed was an appropriate drink. The question was, booze or coffee?

He grabbed a six pack of beer, something that had elegant packaging and boasted a high alcohol content. If he was going to eat junk food he may as well go all the way. Tab would probably disapprove but someone always seemed to disagree with Emmett's actions.

When he reached the counter he added a case of cigarettes to his purchases. There was no way he looked under 18 but he showed his ID anyway, swiping a card for payment this time. He was running low on cash.

With a couple of bags looped around his wrist he made his way back to the motel.

It wasn't quite evening yet but the sun was beginning to angle its way towards descent. It was more "his time". How Tab could function so well in the morning, he didn't know. Emmett had thought all of the younger generations were night owls. If he just let me spend the night with him I could correct that.

Emmett crossed through the motel parking lot, glancing in the direction that Tab had run off. He couldn't say if Tab was back yet. The kid had trotted off on foot instead of taking his car. Who knew?

He placed the bags on the ground by the door to their room, dug into his pocket for the room key. Cigarettes, lighter, wallet, a couple condoms, loose change… where was it? He went through his pockets again, searched the ground around him, checked under the bags… no key.

He knocked on the door. Maybe Tab had made it back already.

No answer.

"Shit."

He thought about the office. Did they have another key? The place was so old that they still used physical keys and not those cheap plastic cards. Tab had signed them in. What was his full name? Was 'Tab' just a nickname? Short for something else? Emmett didn't know.

"Shit." He said again, lowering himself to sit on the ground. If it was still the woman at the counter she might recognize him. If it was anyone else he would have to awkwardly explain and probably look shady as fuck doing it. Too much trouble. He didn't want to deal with it. He could just wait.

And wait.

Emmett tossed another cigarette butt away from him, took a sip from one of the open bottles of beer. The sun was starting to dip under the tree line. A feeling of boredom, but also anxiety. Too long alone with his own thoughts. Tab needed to hurry back.

He didn't want to find another stranger.

He didn't want to use the payphone.

Emmett was already shoving coins in the machine, plugging in a well known number, the last one he'd memorized before regular use of a cell phone had ruined that ability.

It rang once.

Emmett hung up.

His heart was pounding. He drained the last of his beer, lit a cigarette with shaking hands. This is stupid.

He opened another beer, chugged half the bottle, dialed again.

It rang.

"Hello?"

Emmett couldn't answer. His eyes were stinging. A couple of tears had already made it down to his chin

"Emmett?"

"..."

"Say something."

Emmett leaned into the box of the payphone, braced the receiver against his shoulder, wiped his eyes with his palm. A bitter smile twisted his lips. "...What are you wearing?"

What a shit thing to say.

"I'm hanging up."

"That's a shame." Emmett waited. There was no disconnecting click.

"Where the hell are you calling me from, a payphone?"

"Mhmm."

"Why?"

"No reason."

"What's going on with you?"

"It's been a long time. I want you to touch me."

"..."

The silence stretched. Had he hung up and Emmett hadn't noticed? He couldn't remember. Did pay phones have a dial tone when people disconnected? He'd forgotten the cigarette in hand. It burned through to the filter, singeing his fingers and he dropped it with a curse.

"Where are you Emmett?"