Miserere

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((Dolores Upton continued from Room 808: Low On The High End))

Dolly answered the phone as soon as the screen lit up with Artem’s name, cutting off the first note of the ring.

"Hi," she paused, wondering if it would sound like she was accusing him of something if she started asking questions right away. "Is something the matter?"

"I... ah."

Artem cleared his throat. His voice sounded raspy, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while.

"...Yes. I guess so, yes. Yeah."

"Quiet" was one of the words most commonly used to describe him, but he’d never sounded so withdrawn speaking only to her.

"What's going on? You don't sound well."

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be bothering you at all. I haven't been a very good friend, lately."

Dolly frowned, pacing in a small circle in the hall. She glanced at the door to her room and consciously moved a few steps away from it, occupying the space nearly halfway between it and the next door.

"You're not bothering me. Are you sick? What's happened?"

"I'm not sick, no. It's... a long story."

Dolly waited for the story, but Artem didn’t begin right away.

"You might want to sit down?"

Her frown deepened, heart twisting with an anxiety she couldn’t name. "...Alright." She leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, knees bending up towards her chest. She rested her free arm across them.

"I'm sitting down," she reported.

"Okay."

Another pause. Then,

"I'll start at the beginning."

It didn’t take long for Dolly to understand perfectly that this was a story that she didn’t want to hear.

Beat by beat. Mechanical explanation until Artem’s voice stuttered, slowed. Danced around the truth, getting quieter and quieter.

Dolly’s fingernails dug into the bare flesh of her knee, exposed between the top of her socks and the hem of her shorts.

Artem’s voice had nearly faded away, and she clutched at it desperately, cradled between her ear and her shoulder.

"...And I didn't feel like I deserved to be around you. After that."

Ah. That.

That hurt. Simple and sharp, right between the ribs.

Dolly swallowed around the not-so-sudden lump in her throat, taking a moment to gather herself.

"Listen," She said, and hesitated. What did you say, to these things? "You're not... at fault here." A platitude. Empty. She tried again. "Do you want me to say something about it to someone?"

"No!" Artem’s answer was immediate, his voice strained. "No, no, please, please don't tell anyone, I don't want anyone to know."

It hurt. "...Okay." Dolly shifted her leg slightly, dully noted the sting in the red crescents left on her knee. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"I don't... know."

A breath.

"Maybe not."

A breath.

"It just... hurts. It hurts and I can't stop thinking about it and I don't know what to do."

Dolly tried to swallow around the lump again, but it stuck in her throat. She choked when she spoke. "I don't know what to do either."

And perhaps it was logical, perhaps it was only natural, but she still felt useless. Where had she been? Too far away, oblivious. Not even wondering until it was too late.

It felt like a sick idea of karma. Something horrid that she couldn’t distance herself from this time.

Oh, but this wasn’t about her. It was worse.

"I don’t know what to do," she repeated, hoarse. "But we'll figure it out, okay? Can I come over when we get back from the trip?"

A breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm so sorry, I should have waited, I was just..."

A breath.

"I was so afraid to tell you. I couldn't do it when you were there in front of me."

It hurt. Dolly closed her eyes. "It's okay. Try not to beat yourself up about any of this. It's not your fault."

There were several faults here, but none of them his. She saw herself, smiling and pulling him by the hand.

"...I shouldn't have tried so hard to talk you into doing something you didn't want to do."

"Oh... oh, no. Dolly, this isn't your fault, either. Please don't be upset with yourself." Artem’s voice choked to match hers.

Dolly screwed her eyes shut tighter and made a concentrated effort to breathe. There was some sort of bustling down the hallway, but nobody came in her direction, and she was glad for it.

"Okay." She couldn’t stop her voice from wavering. "I'll just... I'm here for you. That's all I can say right now, I guess."

"...Thank you. So much. It means the world to me." Another breath, like he was about to say something else. "I love you, Dolly. I couldn't... I couldn't deal with this, without you."

She couldn’t help but smile, and it hurt. "I love you too. I really mean it. You're my best friend." It wasn’t the kind of thing they normally said so openly.

Artem let out a small, nervous laugh. "Always." She thought he might say something else, but there was just another pause for breath. "...I should let you get back to your trip, though. I'll see you when you get home?"

These words were too normal for this tone of voice, too benign for what had preceded them.

"Absolutely. We'll be back at the end of the week," Dolly said, easing into the banal despite the tightness still clutching at her throat "...Oh, what did you want as a souvenir?"

"I... I didn't think about it."

A breath.

"I didn't know if you'd still want to talk to me."

Tears pricked at the corners of Dolly’s eyes. She smiled through them and tried to make the smile heard in her voice. "You can't get rid of me, unfortunately. Let me know when you've thought about it, okay? Or I'll have to pick something with my roommates' input."

"Considering your roommates, that might be... interesting."

All of it so trite, the little updates she'd sent along the way and the one or two-word messages she'd received in response.

"They'd just as soon send me back with some new and interesting drugs, I'd imagine. Or a very tacky t-shirt."

"Either works."

She didn’t deserve a return to normal conversation like this. Like that was all they had to talk about. Like she wouldn’t have to see Lorenzo all week.

She was glad Artem had elected to stay home, after all.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Dolly put all of the warmth and reassurance she could muster into her voice, though it was difficult for her to tell how successful it was.

"Yeah. Real soon. I'll be okay, Dolly. Don't worry too much about me."

Sick. Damning.

"Have a good time. For both of us, okay?"

"I'll do my best. Try to relax."

"Yeah. I'll do my best, too."

"I'll... talk to you later, then."

"Y... yeah. Bye, Dolly."

"Bye."

The phone fell silent, and Dolly let her arm drop with it. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurred.

Down the hall, someone laughed.

Dolly pressed her free hand back against the wall, palm flat, and used it to lever herself back to her feet. She thought that her mind ought to be racing, but she couldn’t bring her thoughts together. Every time she tried, they collapsed again into cobwebs and dust.

What was there to do? Nothing. She’d promised. The making of it was still her fault, either an instigator or a bystander. Maybe keeping it locked inside was punishment enough for now.

The week ahead was as vaguely-formed as it had always been, but now its unknown agenda taunted her.

Dolly didn’t think that she would sleep much tonight, after all.