"Brad?"

"Hi, Mike."

"...Where are you?"

"At.. at home. Why?"

"Are you sure you're in the same time zone I'm in? Because it's two in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. I just had to talk to you."

"Now?"

"I couldn't sleep. Something's been really bothering me."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm... upset."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Alright, what's up?"

"I.. Well... Are you still mad at me?"

"Hmm?"

"A few nights ago... you got mad at me for messing up on stage.."

"Oh, no, it's cool. I'm over that."

"Oh. Cause, it really bugged me. I didn't mean to mess up."

"I know. It was an accident."

"I had a long day."

"Yeah. We all did."

"Yeah."

"Mmhmm."

"It's been bugging me for a while, is all."

"It shouldn't have been, though. It was an accident, right?"

"Yes."

"So there we go. You haven't messed up since, so it's all good, right?"

"Yeah. I mean, you didn't mean to yell at me like that."

"No, I didn't."

"Or to throw all my stuff out."

"No, I let my anger get the best of me."

"Or to hit me that night."

"I was just really mad, Delson. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. But, you really didn't mean it, right?"

"No, I swear, I didn't."

"It really hurt. It's just... you've never done that before."

"I know, and I'll try to control myself the next time I get mad, okay?"

"Okay."

"And you'll try to do a little better during shows so don't get angry with you again?"

"I'll try."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad we talked Brad."

"Me too."

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Can... can I just ask you one question, at least?"

"What is it?"

"I can't find my social security card. Did you toss that out, too?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. I was really pissed off, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so."

"Is that it?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Good night, Mike."

"'Night, Delson."

Mike hangs up. Brad cradles the phone between his hands for a moment. He stares at the screen before shutting his eyes tightly. It doesn't matter. It was just useless stuff Mike tossed away. It was just the watch his grandfather gave him before he died. And it was just his wedding ring. And it was just all his clothes and shoes and money and identification. It was just a slap, too. Nothing serious. He could replace that stuff. He couldn't replace Mike.

-t.b.c-

A/N: Sup, dawgs. A bit of writer's block produced this. There's a few of these, so prepare to be hit by a good amount of updates. Mostly dialogue, one plotline. Reviews appreciated, of course. I'm working diligently on "I Am..." and you should see another soon.

Luff, Clarke