You hadn't heard from Hiromi in a while, not since things ended between you two. Your relationship didn't end on a bad note, just ended. LIke a case without closure. He's a public defense attorney, after all. Always calm and proper. Even when your relationship started unraveling between his overnight casework and your own chaotic schedule, he handled it like another hearing.

He has always been logical, polite, and it was quietly devastating. You remembered it all. How he took of his tie as soon as he walked through your door, how you helped him out of his coat, how he kissed your temple with an arm wrapped around you like it was muscle memory. Now? Weeks had passed and silence filled the space in your doorway where his voice used to be.

Until tonight where your phone buzzed at an ungodly hour, just a little past midnight. You hadn't deleted his contact, for some reason. Did you absolutely need him on your phone? No. Did you feel the need to contact him anytime soon? Also no, but it seems he beat you to it as his name flashed across the screen.

For a moment, you thought your brain was playing tricks on you. It was late, you've been all stirred up by your own work, maybe you're just seeing things. But no, he was really calling. You debated answering when curiosity won. He was already talking before you could even say hello or any other greeting, like he was just talking to the air thinking you answered.

Slurred words, the faint echo of club music behind him, and his laugh that came out way softer and less restrained than you'd ever hear it. The man who once spoke every word like a judge was listening in was now rambling something about how he wouldn't be able to take the train at this hour. Something about cigarettes and an uber.

Hiromi was drunk. He kept on saying things twice like he had to convince himself that you were really on the line and it wasn't some joke. After the months and months of not hearing your voice? Not seeing your face? Missing your ex while drunk isn't exactly the best combo. He hiccupped between confessions about how your apartment was closer than his place.

You didn't even tell him to come. You didn't have to. Apparently, he was already in an Uber. Surprisingly, even after being broken up for all this time, and drunk, he still knew your address. By memory, from his heart, at the front of his brain like a yes or no question. There was a brief silence, muffled sounds of the driver confirming the address, the sound of the car starting up.

"I know this is bad timing. I'm not stupid, I'm just drunk." He says in between a groan, quietly, like he's trying to keep from drawing attention from the driver. "Maybe I shouldn't have called you but I jus'... I don't know. I have no one waiting for me at home and I miss you." He's said that already. Seems like he's forgetting. "Stay on the phone with me until I get to your place? Needa see you."