Chapter Text
Eugene is moving through classes when he checks his phone for the first time since early that morning and finds a missed call from a number he doesn’t recognise. He looks at it puzzled, trying to remember if he recently gave his number to maybe some college counselor or to the dorms’ administrator. After realising there’s in fact no reason why he should be waiting for a call, like any other college student would do he promptly decides not to call the number back: if they (whoever they are) were calling for important matters, they would for sure call back.
He forgets about it altogether and goes on through his full schedule of classes until he gets back to his and Sid’s room and checks again his phone to find another missed call from the same number and a message.
Confused, he opens the text to read: ‘ That gators back in mamans garden she said it can eat the cat ’ and he pauses for a minute to figure out what these words meant and why exactly should he be concerned about this matter.
As he sits down on his bed and re-reads the text over and over, he promptly receive a new one from the same unknown number: ‘ I know you like that fella but we needta build a new fence ’ to which he feels the need to simply reply with a: ‘ ??? ’
He gets up and starts tidying up his desk and taking the books he needs out from his backpack when his phone chimes with a new unread message. He reads it immediately: ‘ c’mon Gene it isnt gonna take long ’ and he double takes at the sudden use of his name from a number he is by then pretty sure belongs to someone he doesn’t know.
‘ I think you got the wrong number ’ he types and sends, then quickly thinks about it and asks: ‘ How do you know my name? ’
‘ Cut the crap cuz ’ is the almost immediate reply.
‘ I’m being serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who do you think this number belongs to? ’ he writes, growing more and more unsure about this being a simple wrong number situation as he figures this could convincingly be an elaborate prank played by Sid and/or Bill.
‘ Eugene ’ replies the unknown interlocutor, quickly adding: ‘ Roe ’ and ‘ my cousin? ’ to the list of texts.
‘ That’s not me ’ sends Eugene, relieved he has a way out of this sudden unintentional exchange with a complete stranger.
‘ youre not Eugene? ’ asks again the other and Eugene could be that guy that stops replying once the mistake is made clear to both parties, but the stranger sounds genuinely confused and he doesn’t feel it’s fair to leave him hanging without an explanation.
‘Coincidentally enough I’m A Eugene, but not your cousin’ he replied.
‘ shit sorry ’ says the stranger, and then the texts stop arriving and Eugene is left with confusion, curiosity and a pile of still closed books on his desk.
He scrolls to the top of the conversation to read the first two messages once again: was there really an alligator in someone’s backyard? Did alligators eat domestic cats? What happened to the previous fence and did the alligator have something to do with it?
On the spur of the moment, sure he would probably regret his decision, he types: ‘ But let me know what happens with the alligator ’ and sends.
‘ yeah :) ’ is the last reply before him and Unknown Number get back to their respective businesses.
Two days later he is grocery shopping when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and he finds a request on Telegram from the same number of the alligator story with a picture attached. He opens it to look at a photo of an unfinished picket fence being built in a green backyard by a guy in a white t-shirt, with short jet black hair and a look of disapproval aimed at the camera lense.
‘ thats cousin roe ’ says a message following right after the picture.
Eugene finds himself smiling, looking at his phone like a complete idiot while standing in front of the fresh fruit aisle. He types back: ‘ He doesn’t look pleased to be the only one doing the work ’ just to stir a reaction.
‘ fuck you I sawed this fence all by myself ’ is the heated response: ‘ I am the carpenter he’s the manual laborer smartass gator-lover ’ then a pause, during which Eugene finishes his shopping and steps outside the supermarket: ‘ told me to ask if youd paint this white or black ’
‘ White ’ he replies, balancing the grocery bag on his forearm to hold his phone with both hands and type faster.
‘ just like him. Are you taking his side? ’ he gets accused by the mysterious interlocutor.
‘ Of course. He’s a hardworking animal lover with an annoying cousin. Plus, he wasn’t the one telling me to go fuck myself ’ he fast-types while waiting at the bus stop.
‘ I like animals but gators re just dumb n useless ’ is the only reply.
Eugene thinks the conversation is over, but when he steps into the bus and finds a seat he takes his phone out of his pocket and sees another notification with a picture. This time it is of a fat red cat curled up on the photographer’s legs, looking smug while getting his chin scratched: ‘ see this the lil bitch we trynna save here. I like her ’
Eugene smiles. He wants to indulge Unknown Number somehow, so he looks through his phone’s gallery to find a picture of his dog Deacon to send back.
‘ This is mine. Most of the time he’s the one saving me ’ he writes, smiling to himself.
They keep texting.
At some point Eugene figures out he can’t keep calling the other boy (most definitely a boy, judging by the few details of him he could see in the pictures he sent) Unknown Number, so he asks for a name and the reply is: ‘ snafu ’.
‘ Should I really call you that? ’ he asks again, perplexed.
‘ yeah ’ is the simple answer.
‘ Doesn’t sound fair. You know my first name, I haven’t accidentally texted you and then left you with just my childhood nickname ’ he argues, trying to ignore any other reason why he would want so badly to know the other’s real name.
‘ fine I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours ’ texts Snafu.
‘ It’s Sledgehammer. My last name is Sledge, the kids weren’t funny nor original ’ he explains, for a bunch of seconds unsure about revealing his full name to someone who is, after all, still a stranger.
‘ Eugene Sledge ’ writes Snafu: ‘ mmm I like the sound but I like Sledgehammer more credits to the kids ’ then he adds: ‘ Merriell Shelton ’ and leaves it like that.
‘ Don’t you like your name? Google says it means “of the shining sea”, seems nice enough ’ writes Eugene, genuinely curious but also sure he is somehow hitting a nerve.
‘ dont google my name ffs ’ is the immediate reply: ‘ I just don’t like the irony of it being about the sea n me having seasickness ’ is the reluctant explanation.
Eugene laughs out loud reading it, making heads turn as he’s suddenly aware he’s been studying in the library. He scrambles to put down his phone, blushing furiously in embarrassment.
When he has calmed down enough and all the others students’ attention is turned to something else, he quickly texts back: ‘ Can’t help you, mine means “well born” and “noble” and that’s exactly what cousin Roe and I are ’
‘ fuck off. Noble my ass ’ is Snafu’s colourful remark.
After two weeks, Eugene realises he still doesn’t know much about Snafu.
All he’s gathered is that Snafu is a few years older than him, he works as a repairman and never attended college, he lives in New Orleans with his very numerous extended family (hence the constant presence of cousins and aunts in his stories), he speaks fluent French but only when he’s piss drunk and that he smokes a lot.
All the rest of the stuff they discuss daily is useless random knowledge that he knows don’t mean a thing and could all be lies, but he still store it in his memory as he tries day after day to figure out who Merriell Shelton truly is.
Snafu knows about him almost the same amount of informations: he’s and Alabaman boy from Mobile but he’s studying biology and natural science in Montevallo, he likes birds and flowers, he’s got a dog and an annoying older brother he was never close with while growing up, he shares a dorm room with his best friend Sid and he tries to keep his nicotine and alcohol assumption to a minimum, but he sometimes likes to pack his pipe and smoke out of the window on stressful days and he can’t refuse a friday night out with his friends.
Snafu is at times very rude, like when he calls Eugene ‘fucking hipster’ for smoking a pipe and not cigarettes ‘like us poor bastards do’, and apathetic, like when he refuses to wish Eugene good luck for his exams because ‘fuck luck, if you studied or not is what’ll make you have a good grade’. Some other times he’s considerate and almost caring, like when Eugene confesses he had been anxious all day and couldn’t study because back home his dad had had to take Deacon to the vet for a small surgery. Snafu textes he’s sorry and asks how old is his dog and tries to divert the conversation towards dogs and cats average ages and Eugene doesn’t really think it’s effectively helping his anxiety, but Snafu is trying and he’s glad for it.
Their exchanges are always casual but they become more and more frequent.
Sid starts suspecting something is up when he sees Eugene smile at his phone while they’re out on a friday night with their college friends.
“Has Mary Frank suddenly become a fine comedian?” he asks, trying to sneak a peek from Eugene’s phone screen, which his best friend is quick to hide, waving at him dismissively.
“It’s not my mama. Why would it be my mama?” he asks defensively.
“Until one or two weeks ago the only one texting or calling you was your mama or occasionally your brother. Not my fault,” says Sidney, raising his hands in surrender: “So who is it?” he asks.
“Just… a guy I met.” shrugs Eugene, failing to hide his raising panic at having been caught.
“Yeah? Where?” asks again Sid, smiling knowingly.
“Uh, college? We’re in the same biology class.” rushes to say Eugene.
“Cool. What’s he into? Birds and flowers like you nerd?” comments Sid, clearly not buying any of Eugene’s lies but playing along just to humour him.
“No, more like… reptiles. Alligators.” replies Eugene and he immediately smiles at the memory of the alligator and fence story. Sid’s still intently looking at him and doesn’t miss the sudden moronic faraway look on his best friend’s face.
“Shit Gene, you got it bad for this one.” he comments, rushing to gulp down his beer as Eugene looks back at him in disbelief and then sputters: “No I don’t! C’mon! Don’t be a dick. We’re just texting!”
“Yeah, sure. Keep texting my man, see how that goes.” says Sid dismissively, noticing how their friends are coming back to their table after buying a second round of beers and knowing the conversation would have to stop before the others joined in and started mocking Eugene for his very obvious new crush.
Snafu sends a picture of the picket fence, all finished and painted white and writes: ‘ peekaboo ’ because on the other side of the fence there’s the dark scaled tail of a huge reptile.
Eugene gasps loudly in the middle of chemistry class, and the girl sitting next to him sends him a look of pure hate.
‘ is that cousin Roe’s alligator? ’ he texts from under the table, trying to be discreet.
‘ not his but a friend for sure. Said the names roxanne ’ explains Snafu.
‘ Did he come up with that name himself? ’ asks Eugene, curiously.
‘ nah his bf did. Hes got a bf now that cousin roe ya know? Pisses me off ’ writes Snafu and Eugene has to suppress another surprised noise before the girl on his left stabs him with a pencil.
‘ Why are you mad? You should be happy for him ’ he tries to make the other reason.
‘ I am. Its just that the bf is a sweet tiny redhead from Philly and thats no good’ writes the Cajun, and Eugene doesn’t have to ask why once again because another message appears soon after: ‘ ’cause I have a thing for redheads. Its pretty bad ’ and one more: ‘ except roes bfs mild as fuck so this one he can have I dont care ’.
Eugene’s heart is beating pretty fast after reading this confession and he hopes the rest of the classroom can’t hear it as loud as he does because he’d surely be killed by the girl next to him.
He’s so distracted by this brand new information about Snafu that he forgets to reply and he stays in a state of confusion and excitement through the rest of the day.
He finds the courage to look at his phone again only late in the afternoon, alone in his room as Sid is at baseball practices. Snafu hasn’t texted again and Eugene is not sure if being alone is a good idea because he’s about to do something stupid he might regret greatly and needs someone to stop him. Except Sid would probably tell him to do it, go for it.
Before he writes anything compromising he opens his and Sid’s mini fridge and gets a beer: he has no human support from his best friend, but at least he can have liquid courage.
‘ Would you make a deal with me? ’ he types, then sips his beer, then re-reads, then sips again. He hits the send button with his eyes closed.
‘ got me thinkin I scared you off earlier cher ’ is Snafu’s first message: ‘ what deal? ’ he asks.
Eugene takes a deep breath and lets out a long exhale as he types: ‘ Would you send me a photo of you if I send you one of me? ’ and, without giving himself time to rethink, hits send.
He needs to see what Snafu looks like, he can’t wait anymore. But most importantly, he thinks Snafu needs to know how he looks like. For scientific reasons, of course.
‘ yeah ’ is the reply, so simple it makes Eugene’s heart skip a beat: ‘ how dirty are we making them? ’ he asks and then adds a winking emoji and Eugene wishes he could stop being this excited because Snafu is being so lame.
‘ Make it something my mama could look at without blushing, so to start ’ he writes.
‘ how would I know how spicy is mrs Sledgehammer ’ replies Snafu and Eugene is getting close to call the whole thing off before he gets another notification: ‘ fine boo Ill be a good boy for now ’ and then nothing more.
While he waits, Eugene finishes his first beer and goes getting a second, before realising he should find a picture of himself to send back. He goes into his phone’s gallery to see if he miraculously has something saved there, but he doesn’t like taking photos of himself and usually avoids being in his friends’ pictures as well, so all he has are a bunch of group photos in which he’s always too small or too blurred or looking like a drunk idiot.
His phone vibrates in his hand with a new notification and his heart jumps in his throat.
‘ please dont show this to mama Sledge ’ is the message that accompanies the picture, which Eugene has to open to see in full: its a selfie, a slightly dark and crooked one, but he can see the wall of a bedroom behind the subject and the reflection of a window off the frame. The last rays of light illuminate in a single long stripe the side of Snafu’s face, making his eyes look two different colours: they’re probably something between green, grey and blue, an aquamarine tone looking very much like waves on a placid sea. They’re the first thing Eugene notices of him, his prominent feature: they’re big and expressive and so very luminous. Snafu’s face is pretty and squared, thin but with a well defined jaw and pointy chin. His mouth has a uncommon shape, overbite slightly pronounced and upper lip fuller than the bottom one. He’s not smiling or frowning, just a neutral expression making him look almost sleepy. There’s not much else Eugene can gather from the photo: his skin looks tanned and his hair fall messily in curls of black or dark brown, he can’t be sure.
But he’s gorgeous for sure. Eugene almost can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t believe he put himself right into this mess, not only by replying to an unknown number but also by having to send his own photo right after witnessing how utterly beautiful Snafu is.
‘ Wow. Okay. Please tell me this is really you and not a picture of a model you found online ’ he sends without filter.
‘ calm yo jets Sledgehammer whats with comparing me to a model! ’ Snafu types back.
Then there’s a pause in which Eugene actually opens his camera app and tries to find the right angle to snap one at least okay selfie, but he gets interrupted by another text from Snafu.
This time is only a picture, one of him holding the fat red cat from their second exchange of texts. The scene hasn’t changed, he’s just pushing the side of his face close to the cat’s head with the angle even more bent because of the position he had to snap the selfie so they both fit into the picture.
‘ think you remember her ’ he has added while Eugene was once again contemplating the new photo in a trance: ‘ your turn boo. Dont leave me hangin ’ is the last message.
Eugene takes a deep breath and stands up, striding toward the room’s only window to try and emulate Snafu’s good angle with the setting sun. He takes a bunch of selfies and then goes back to the bed to check them out, see what’s the most salvageable.
He selects one in which the deep yellow rays hit his face and hair obliquely, making it looks like his dark red hair are catching fire, with shades and highlights of copper and orange. His eyes look a bit lighter too, the green parts winning over the deep brown but only around the pupil. His skin is still pale and he has dark circle around his eyes for lack of sleep and bad college student routine, but at least the few freckles still surviving on his forehead and cheeks can be slightly seen on camera.
He sends it, once again hitting the button with his eyes closed.
Waiting for a reply feels like an endless agony, during which he finishes his second beer in one single gulp. Might as well get drunk to better face an inevitable rejection, he thinks.
Except Snafu has said he has got a thing for gingers and that gives Eugene a little bit of hope.
His phone dings while he’s distracted by the thought of getting a third beer and he scramble to get it and look at Snafu’s fateful first impression of him.
‘ fuck ’ is the only word on the screen and Eugene’s agony hasn’t ended yet because he has to decode what that means. Except he gets an addition soon after: ‘ now I get it why you wanted pictures ’ and again: ‘ fuck my life Eugene youre hot ’.
Eugene feels like he might pass out. Maybe the third beer is a good idea, maybe it’s not.
All he knows is that when he opens it and takes a first sip is when he decides to text: ‘ Can I call you right now? ’.
‘ you sure about this boo? ’ is Snafu’s reply and Eugene thinks that this boy is so strange.
So crude but so considerate at the same time, able to sound mean while calling people ‘boo’ and ‘cher’, able to hide concern under a snarky remark.
‘ I’m sure ’ he writes and sends and he’s about to hit the call button when his phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. Snafu is now saved as ‘Merriell Shelton’ on his phone after having been ‘Unknown Number’ for a whole week. His full name is now pulsating on the screen of his phone and all Sledge has to do is press the green button.
If he presses the green button, he’d hear Snafu’s voice for the first time.
They’d talk, properly talk, for the first time.
He lifts the phone, hits the button, closes his eyes and waits.
The line is silent for a bunch of seconds, but if he concentrates he can hear Snafu’s breath against the phone, wishing he could also hear his heartbeat, feel him beside him, close.
“Eugene?” he asks and his voice is wavering but it’s deep and he drags all the vowels for miles with his thick accent.
“Hey, Snaf.” he almost laughs, hearing Snafu’s intake of breath at the sound of his voice.
“Hey.” he replies, sounding a bit more relaxed, a bit more self-confident: “What you wanna talk about, Sledgehamma?” he inquires like he’s smiling.
Eugene waits a moment and then makes his request: “Tell me about that time you texted the wrong number because you had an alligator in your backyard.” and Snafu is suddenly laughing and Eugene feels light, exhilarated, utterly enamoured.