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I guess you were sleepingI’m sorry if I woke you

It’s not that I had anything to say to youI just wanted to hear your voice

           

He doesn’t mean to.

            He’s had a little too much to drink and he thinks that tomorrow morning he’ll yell at Minseok and Kyungsoo for not talking the bartender down like they usually would—he doesn’t care if he’s the one who yelled at  them when they tried to take away his glass. They should’ve done something—should’ve known that even though it’s been half a year, Baekhyun getting that drunk and then being alone for the rest of the night still isn’t the greatest combination that could be.

            So it’s not that he means to because he doesn’t.

            He just happens to be sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in his hands, freshly showered and ready to sleep (and by all means, shouldn’t he have passed out hours ago with all that alcohol?) but not quite able to. He isn’t sure what set him off—maybe it was seeing those couples pass him by on the street, maybe it’s seeing all the Christmas lights decorating the stores, holiday advertisements for lovers—maybe it’s just the season in general. Maybe he simply just went utterly overboard with the alcohol and he’s going to kill Minseok and Kyungsoo.

            The number should have been deleted ages ago—it should have been deleted the moment Baekhyun walked out the front door (the moment that Chanyeol told Baekhyun to leave and Baekhyun deluded himself into thinking it was mutual because it had to have been—Baekhyun was okay with it, he was fine with it, so why isn’t he fine with it?). He still has it though and it stares alluringly up at him from the screen of his phone.

            Baekhyun calls.

            It takes a full six rings because it’s well past two in the morning regardless that it’s a weekend night, and Baekhyun is tempted to just give up in the middle of the sixth ring. His hand is about to pull the phone away from his ear when there’s a click and a deep, familiar (full of warmth and it melts Baekhyun from the inside out and it’s like molten chocolate in his ear and it’s everything he remembers and he hates it and hedespises it), “Hello?”

            Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol knows who’s calling (wonders if Chanyeol kept Baekhyun’s number). “Hey,” he says, and doesn’t know how to go on.

            “Baekhyun-ah?” Chanyeol’s voice is laced with sleep, making it even deeper than usual, a little throaty, plenty husky, and Baekhyun has to close his eyes for a moment to will away everything that begs to lurch up through his body and into his throat—choking him.

            He swallows. “Yeah—it’s me.”

            A half-laugh from the other end, rumbling through Chanyeol’s long, lanky body doubtlessly and Baekhyun digs his fingertips into his knee. “Well—yeah—hey, it’s been a while. Kind of late call—everything okay?”

            “Everything’s great,” Baekhyun says with a deep breath and smiles painfully into the receiver. “You?”

            “Yeah—yeah,” and Baekhyun can easily see Chanyeol nodding. “Same old crap going on—it’s all good—haven’t gotten ‘round to Christmas shopping though.”

            The pain fades slightly from Baekhyun’s smile. “Me neither.”

            “Really?” Chanyeol’s grin is as audible as his nod. “Then—”

            There’s a pause—Chanyeol pauses—and Baekhyun can all too easily hear the mumble of an unfamiliar voice in the background. It’s not quite as deep as Chanyeol’s but nearly so, and thick with sleep just as Chanyeol’s is.

            He hears Chanyeol respond—a light laugh, a rustle of sheets, dead silence for a moment, and then Chanyeol’s back on with an apologetic, “Sorry ‘bout that—what was I saying?”

            Baekhyun wishes Chanyeol had never picked up.

            “Nothing—I forgot—it’s fine,” Baekhyun rushes (lies). “Who was that?”

            Chanyeol answers after another pause. “My boyfriend,” he says evenly.

            “Oh,” Baekhyun breathes.

            “Yeah—I woke him.”

            “Oh.” Baekhyun fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s his name?”

            “W—I mean—you can call him Kris,” Chanyeol says slowly and there’s something thoughtful to his tone.

            Baekhyun blinks. “What d’you mean I can call him Kris? That’s not his name?”

            There’s a smile, most certainly, and Baekhyun can hear that smile as Chanyeol says, “He went to school abroad for a while—got used to being called by more than one name.”

            “Do you call him Kris?” Baekhyun licks his lips—swallows again.

            “Nah,” Chanyeol answers. “Grappled his real name out of him—gave me hell for it though.”

            And everything airy, everything bright and happy and content and satisfied is in Chanyeol’s voice with that sentence—obviously there’s a fond memory to that, a fond moment shared to be tucked and stored away in what’s clearly an amazing relationship. Baekhyun has to remind himself to breathe for a moment, has to grope around inside of himself to find his voice again. “Oh,” he ends up saying yet again because what else is there?

            “We should hang out soon,” Chanyeol says. “I want you to meet him.”

            And Baekhyun laughs that off as best he can because he can barely keep himself upright just talking to Chanyeol over the phone—he hardly thinks looking at Chanyeol in the eyes, in person, would go over well. Even more so if Chanyeol is bringing Kris and expects Baekhyun to remain on his feet without breaking down right there on the streets. Baekhyun never should have called and Chanyeol never should have answered his phone (and Baekhyun is furious now—frustrated and angry because why did Chanyeol have to pick up the call—he should’ve seen Baekhyun’s name and ignored it—should have just gone on sleeping so Baekhyun could’ve gone on with his life).

            It’s been six months and Baekhyun thought it was okay. It’s supposed to be okay by now. He’s told Kyungsoo and Minseok that it’s okay.

            It’s not.

            “Maybe,” Baekhyun deliberates. “After all the holiday shit is over though.”

            Chanyeol laughs. “Damn straight.”

            Baekhyun takes another deep breath. “I should go now—late.”

            The other end is silent for a moment, before there’s another sleepy rustle—as though Chanyeol is shifting back into bed, and there’s a the tiny creak of a mattress spring. “Me too,” Chanyeol murmurs, low and warm (and

it’s like coming home—the voice that Baekhyun’s associated with home for too long that now he has to leave it after just minutes ensconced in that beautiful familiarity).

            “’Night, Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun whispers.

            A sleepy smile—easily heard. “G’night,” and the click of Chanyeol hanging up.

            Baekhyun deletes Chanyeol’s number before he falls asleep.   

           

            I know I shouldn’t do thisI know it’s over between us

But will you stay like this for a moment?