Guns and Roses

❝You only get one call. ❞

   He nodded to his warden and dialed the number. The phone rang four times before someone picked up. A woman answered, her frail voice gave away her old age and she was talking to someone in the background.

   "Hello?" She finally said turning her attention to the phone.

   "E-- Eomma..." He mumbled.

   "Seven? Ugh," she scoffed.

   "Eomma! Eomma. Don't hang up. Please don't hang up. I need your help."

   "What do you need now, Seven?" She was obviously tired, she gave it away in her frail, tired voice. She was tired of him wasting his life away. Tired of getting calls from the jail house. She had worked all day came home to make dinner and now she had to deal with this but, she put on a smile and gave a happy voice just for her son. 

He moved his mouth to carefully form his words.

   "I-- I need a place to stay."

   "What? You're out of jail?"

   "Yeah, ma and I need a place to stay. Can I crash with you and pops for a while until I get back on my feet?"

She was silent. But, he still heard his mother's light breaths.

   "I don't know. I need to ask your father." She finally replied after a long moment of silence.

   "Can't you ask him now?"

   "Just wait." She sighed with a tinge of irritation on her voice. "Honey, is it okay if our son stays with us for a little while?"

He heard his father's voice in the background.

   "Seven? He's out of prison?" He rolled his eyes as he mentally corrected his father.

Jail, not prison.

"No." His father firmly stated. "I told him that if he got in trouble with the law again, I'd want nothing to do with him. Now, I'm going to stand by my word."

   "He said no," she said into the phone. "But, I'll tell you what. I'll send you a few hundred dollars and you be on your way, alright?"

   "No! Eomma! One thing I need more than anything right now is your support. Please, can you talk to pops?"

There was silence again.

   "Give me a moment."

   "Ok," he nodded and stood by patiently. He could hear their indistinct voices in the background and hoped that his father would come around.

He moved his black hair from his forehead and shoved his hands in his pockets. His breathing grew heavier as he thought of his own father hating his only son.

   "Luckily, I was able to persuade your father into changing his mind. He says you can stay for a few months until you recuperate."

   "Oh thank you, eomma! Thank you so much!"

   "Don't thank me. You should be thanking your father."

   "I will. I'll be home in a little while, I'll see--" The phone was removed from his hands. The warden placed the phone back on the hook and stared him straight in his brown eyes.

   "Your call time is up." Seven backed away from the phone. "Someone's here to pick you up. You'd better get going." He motioned for him to go away.

Seven gave a slight nod before turning away. "Oh, and Seven..." he turned back around. "I'll see you soon." The warden smirked.

He didn't find his joke funny at all. Instead, he turned around and left the place he had called home for a year and a half.

   "Seven!" Dario waved as he leaned against the car. He was tall and skinny but a bit shorter than Seven. His shaggy brown hair covered his eyes and tatoos covered both arms. 

   "Dude, I'm so glad to see a familiar face!" Seven jumped into the front seat of the van, kicking away all the pop cans and bags of chips that laid at his feet. "How's it been?"

   "Everything's fine. Nothing's really changed since you left."

   "Really?" He turned on the radio and flipped through the channels. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starved, bro."

   "Sure thing," Dario pulled out of the parking lot.

   "So what's been going on with Remi? I've been writing her, but she never wrote back."

   "Oh, she's hella busy."

   "With what?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

    "Oh," he chuckled. He looked at  his friend then back at the road. He wasn't sure whether to reveal this news or not, knowing that his reaction would not be particularly positive. "Well... She's getting married in a week."

   "M-- Married?!" His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "To who? Who is this guy?"  

   "He's a professional photographer. He makes lots of dough."

   "Oh," he stared at the road and played with his ebony black hair. "I didn't know. I wonder why she didn't tell me. She didn't even mail me an invitation either."

   "I don't think she knew when you were getting out, man." Dario chuckled trying to lighten the mood. 

His hair tickled his forehead and he ran his hand through it to move it. "Seven... Are you alright?"

   "Yeah." He opened his friend's phone and asked, "What's his name?" 

   "Are you trying to search him up?" Dario reached out to take his phone back. 

   "Hell yeah." Seven pulled away. "What's his name?" 

   "Bro, you just got out. Why don't you lay low for a bit? Don't try to take anyone out just yet." 

   "I'm not trying to take him out, I just want to know who he is." 

   "Why don't I believe you when you say that?" 

   "Seems like a you problem." He continued to scroll through his friend's phone. "Where does she work at? Does she still work at that one place?" 

   "Nope, she does not." 

   "Where then?" 

   "I'll tell you if you give me my phone back." Dario held out his free hand. Seven looks over to his friend who's wearing a sly smirk. 

   "I don't believe you." Seven squinted his eyes at the brown haired man. 

   "Seems like a you problem," He remarked. Seven rolls his deep brown eyes and shakes his head. 

   "Fine," He handed over the phone. "Now tell me." 

   "No! You really thought I was going to?" 

   "Bro, you get on my nerves." He punched Dario in the shoulder, the car swerves a little and Dario reached to rub his sore spot. "Play too much."