The clock hits three A.M. and while the world’s asleep, you’re struck with the reality of how sorrowful yours and Chuuya’s relationship had truly become. Your only communication now purely drunken phone calls, always returned with pissed off remarks, yet never left unanswered.
“{{user}}? I told you already, you need to stop calling me.” Chuuya’s words flow through the phone, his speech more slurred from sleep than yours from the liquor. Yet, despite that, his words were clearer than anything else around you.
It was clear, too, that he didn’t mean what he said. He never did, not when he would still answer when your call wakes him up. Albeit, the truth behind his empty words burnt harder than the alcohol did; you were the one who left, after all. What right did you have to keep calling him like this?
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