Secret Son / Bang Chan

Part 17

I had no idea what to say to that but my ears strain, eager to hear more, my stupid heart fluttering as I remember the feeling of his soft pillowy lips on mine. He was always happy kissing me.

"Why are you not happy?" I finally whisper when he doesn't say anything for the longest time. 

"I thought I was." He admits:

"I thought I was over you. Sana was the first person I seriously dated after you. I thought I was ready, that I could commit to and love someone else. But then I saw you again. And it undid everything, all those years of learning not to love you." 

A shudders, wet sigh escaped me and tears follow.
I couldn't stop them, I had no control over those waterworks.
I faintly hear noise on the other side and I was vaguely aware that the noise had been sounding on and off ever since we started our conversation. Some low rumbling, interspersed with silent periods of only music.

"You want to know why I never reached out after you left?"

"Yes, I do."

"I didn't want you to feel trapped by me. We were so young and you had such big dreams, I couldn't stand in the way of them."

"You we're always apart of my future plans. In ever idea we talked about I pictured you by me."

"We were so young though, how could I be sure that you actually felt that way or if I was just someone you were going to leave when somebody better came along? I was so hurt when you chose to go. I didn't think you loved me, especially since you never told me."

He was stunned to silence but it was only for a brief moment:

"I told you I loved you."

"Only when I sucked your cock."

"Doesn't mean I meant it any less. But saying it during sex made it to where I didn't scare you. As you said we were so young, and saying a phase that meaningful to someone can scare them at that age."

I wheezed out a disgusting sounding laugh:

"I....I don't even know what to say."

"Start small. I know you love my dimples." 

"I do." I huff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands but more tears kept flowing.

"And I know you love my veiny arms."
"Yeah, I hate veiny arms on other people."
"And you love how I make coffee."
"Yeah."
"And you love how I suck at dancing but it doesn't deter me."
"I'm worse than you though."
"That's true. And you love watching me swim."
"I do, especially butterfly."
"And you love that I'm comfy to sleep against. And a human heater."
"I hate your morning breath though."
"Well that feeling is mutual, but it never stopped me from giving you a good morning kiss."

It never did. And I never tried to avoid it.

"I managed to replenish my hoodie collection after your raid." His voice is light hearted but I recognize the fond edge in his voice.

And that's when reality hits me all over again, just as my tears stopped I feel them prickle at my eyes again, blurring my vision:

"And you have a fiancée to borrow them, too."

"The correct term is 'shamelessly steal' because that's what fiancées and girlfriends do with hoodies and French fries. And no, no I don't." 

There's a slam on the other end that I barely register as the sound of my own heart hammers in my ears:

"What do you mean, you don't?"

"We broke up."

My ears started ringing as a barley articulated noise escaped me.
On the other end of the line, I hear a door and soon, the padding of footsteps.

"When?"

"A few hours ago?"

Why?"

"You know why, dumbass."

"Why?" I insist, feeling like I'll die if I don't hear him say it out loud. 

"Grey is sleeping?" He says instead, taking me completely by surprise:

"Uh yeah?"

"So open your front door quietly, I don't want to wake him by knocking or ringing the door bell."

His voice is lower and I freeze in my bed, unsure on if I heard him or understood him correctly:

"What?"

"I'm in front of your door. So, open it unless you want me to tell you my answer in the hallway, over the phone."

I try not to pad too loudly through the apartment, walking barefoot and peeking through the peephole, my phone still in my hand and Chan still on the line. And sure enough he's there, standing with his own phone still pressed to his ear.

I swing the door open and his voice rumbled, echoing on two sides, it comes just a half second late on the phone, his dark eyes looking at me in the way the made me weak in the knees, that soft look that reminded me of warm blankets and hot chocolate every single time I'd see it. And I had seen that look so many times before.

"Because I love you."

The floor is cold under my bare feet as I suddenly collided with him in the doorway. The buttons of his denim jacket poke into my stomach and our teeth clank together with a clumsy enthusiasm. There is no finesse, there is no elegance, just wet, hungry mouths that once knew each other perfectly and we're far too eager to reunite again, yet, it didn't take long for them to find a perfect rhythm.
Objectively, it's not a good kiss.
Objectively, I had a better one a few days prior.  
But subjectively, it's perfect. It's all I've ever wanted and it's torture to know I could've had it all along.