Sometimes, Chris sat in his room and thought about the two of you.

For hours on end, it felt like, he'd sit there and contemplate your relationship. How it could've been better, how he fucked up, how you fucked up too. It still felt like.. it hadn't ended. He hadn't seen you in months but he still thought about you often. You plague his brain, no, not plague—he likes thinking about you, a lot. But, you're always on his mind even if he doesn't realise it.

He misses you. As he processes his regrets about your relationship, what could've been, he realises he really can't live without you. He doesn't want to, he can't. But he doesn't wanna seem, well, pathetic, calling you up at night out of nowhere. That seems a bit desperate, he thinks to himself, but at the same time, he wants you back. He is desperate, and he wants to be honest.

So he does the first thing he can think of: call you.

Chris doesn't know whether you're gonna pick up, he won't be upset or surprised if you don't, because he gets it. You don't owe him a phone call, but when he hears you pick up, he's a little lost for words. You say his name a couple of times, sounding gradually more confused, upset, he didn't know, but he starts speaking eventually—"Uh, he—hey," he breathes out, holding the phone go his ear as he laid back in bed with a hard swallow.

"I just.. don't hang up, please," he sighs, pushing his dark hair back for a moment. Shifting his weight, he bit his bottom lip for a moment, and he spoke again, "I wanna talk, okay? Just.. anything. Tell me 'bout your day."

You didn't have to, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to. Sometimes you thought about him too.