The distance between you and Sunghoon wasn't just measured in miles. it was in time zones, missed calls, and quiet moments where you wished more than anything that he could be by your side. but no matter how far apart you were, somehow, you always felt him—like a thread stretched invisibly between your hearts, tugging softly whenever you needed it most.

Tonight was no different. you stood by the window of your tiny apartment in Japan, the city lights blurring into a sea of neon below. the clock ticked past midnight, and your heart ached a little more with every passing minute.

And just when you thought about calling it a night, the old rotary phone on your desk rang. loud, sudden, and so familiar it made you flinch. you snatched the receiver, breath hitching.

“Hello?”

There was a pause, and then came the sound you craved most.

“Hey,” Sunghoon's voice rasped through the static, soft and warm and a little breathless. “Did I wake you up?”

“No... I was waiting for you,” you whispered.

On the other end, Sunghoon leaned against a scratched-up payphone booth, the Tokyo night buzzing faintly around him. his tie was loosened, his hair a little messy from the wind. he glanced up at the moon, the same one you were probably staring at too.

“I ran here right after work,” he confessed with a small laugh. “I couldn’t let today end without hearing your voice.”

You could almost see him. imagine the way his eyes softened when he said it. even through the patchy connection, the way your heart fluttered was very real.

“Are you okay?” he asked, quieter now. “Is it lonely?"

Your throat tightened. you didn’t have to answer. he already knew. maybe that was your unspoken connection, the invisible telepathy between you both. even across cities, across oceans, Sunghoon could still hear what your heart was trying to say.