A week of silence.
I tried my best to keep myself busy with college routine, classes, assignments, moot courtrooms—all the excessive college crap.
But the quietness from his side was eating me alive now.
I still couldn't believe he hadn't even tried to contact me.
Not after dropping a whole confession bomb and then hanging a no dating time bomb around my neck.
The elevator doors slid shut, my reflection staring back—tired eyes, dark circles, but a small smile of weekend relief.
I had full plans to forget the emotional drama and college stress.
Just hang out with myself, old episodes of Friends, and snacks.
Wait. Deja vu.
No, no, no. I must be overthinking—
There was a dark slump on the floor near my apartment door when the elevator opened onto my corridor.
Huh!? What is that?
I walked toward it, slow, unsure steps.
It growled and turned.
Ah. It's the bastard.
Somehow, I felt relieved.
"You weren't supposed to ghost me, Chibi."
His voice was rough, drunk, and filled with something like longing. He tried to get up but stumbled.
I crossed my arms, raised an eyebrow.
"I thought the next time I saw you, you'd be holding a shovel. Ready to bury any guy who dared stand near me, huh?"
He… laughed. A drunk, stupid laugh.
"Such a lovely sarcastic greeting. Missed it the whole week, Chibi."
Why does he have to be such a sweet drunk? I can't stay mad at him.
"Get up. The floor's cold, you idiot. Why are you drunk?"
I tried to sound cold, but my concern bled into the words. My body moved on its own to support him.
"No—don't touch me. If you touch me, then I won't be responsible for anything, Chibi."
Is he throwing a tantrum?
Or is that… a serious warning?
His drunk state was confusing the hell out of me.
I supported him anyway, helping him get up.
"Fuck off. You're way too drunk to do anything in that state."
But he wrapped his arms around me anyway—tight, suffocating, but not in a bad way.
Warm. His cologne and alcohol mixing in my lungs.
"You don't listen, Chibi. You stubborn ass."
He growled against my neck, hot breath ghosting over my skin, his grip messing with my hormones again.
"Are you drunk-talking?" I tried.
"Don't, Chibi. I'm not in the mood for jokes. I want to talk."
Don't order me, you drunk ass.
"Oh sorry," I said dryly. "But I don't talk to drunks. Try again when you're sober."
"I CAN'T WAIT!"
His voice echoed down the hallway.
"I WANT TO TALK WITH YOU. I NEED TO STAY WITH YOU."