Tell Me You Love Me, Say You'll Come Home
Chanyeol isn't really a morning person. But Kris helps him wake up early.
An incessant ring comes from his phone, Chanyeol grabs a pillow and throws it over his face, the ring doesn’t stop but from underneath it sounds muffled, soft even. It’s 7:30, he knows it. He urges himself to wake up. Chanyeol rubs off the tiny crusts formed around his eyes. The ringing stops. He shifts to his left, the windows are closed but the curtains are wide open. Chanyeol feels the sunlight beaming against it, soaking through the glass, and then bathing his whole room with warmth. He smiles, albeit eyes still closed, he knows how the soft glow of sunlight washes his room full of whites.
The ringing starts again and this time Chanyeol reaches for it on his bedside table. It’s a different tune. And he knows it all too well. He smiles softly before answering.
“Hello-”
“Get up and get dressed, we can’t be late.”
Chanyeol almost laughs at Kris’ commanding voice. He’s always been like this since college, never wanting to be late and always an hour earlier awake than Chanyeol. It’s because he has so many skin care regimes, Chanyeol likes to think. He chuckles at the memory of Kris’ face being covered by an Avocado face mask. “Yeah, yeah. I’m ready.”
Kris sighs over the phone, he sounds irritated but Chanyeol knows he really isn’t and that Kris just sounds like that half of the time. “No, you’re not.”
“Yeah.. I’m not..” Chanyeol’s voice drops to whisper. Kris continues to speak through the phone, voice going softer. Maybe because he knows Chanyeol isn’t really going to get up soon.
“I bet you’re still in bed.”
“Yeah..”
“And you’re wearing your gigantic pajamas.”
“Hmm..”
“And you’re spooning your little pillow because it smells like me.”
“Well, no.. Not anymore.” Chanyeol breathes out heavy; the air feels trapped in his lungs. He had stopped hugging that pillow when he threw it out his apartment window fifteen floors above ground. Kris’ scent is too much. Suddenly he can’t breathe and Kris is chuckling over the phone.
“See, I knew it. You love that pillow more than me, don’t you?”
“I love you more, Kris..” Chanyeol sits up, he feels like he’s choking. The air is still heavy and his eyes feel sore. He wants to cry but he feels like he’s used it all up a week ago.
“I know, I know.. I’m sorry I’m not there right now. You know this business conference is important.”
“Please, come home.. Please.. Please..” Chanyeol curls back down on his sheets when his chest doesn’t feel as heavy, he fists his other on to his shirt- holding tight on to something, anything just so can feel something, alive.
“Of course, we’ll have lunch with Kyungsoo. Is he really getting married- Oh babe, I gotta go.”
“Please. Please, Kris. Come home.” Chanyeol presses the phone closer to his ear, nails digging on to his cheeks, wanting to hear every syllable of Kris’ voice that goes through the machine.
“Yeah, they’re calling for me. I’ll text you. Now get up. You have to be ready.”
“No, no.. Kris, please. Come home.” Chanyeol clenches his fingers tightly on his phone, he doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Kris. He doesn’t want to wake up without Kris in bed with him. He doesn’t want to stop hearing Kris’ voice. He doesn’t want Kris to be dead.
“I love you, Yeol. Get ready for your day. Bye.”
“No.. Please, don’t say bye.” Chanyeol closes his eyes when the line goes blank. He’s not ready for any of this. Kris wasn’t supposed to die. His plane wasn’t supposed to crash and Chanyeol shouldn’t be going to his funeral later. They were supposed to live together for a few more years, get married, adopt a kid, and buy a new house. They were supposed to fall in love together, forever. They were supposed to be together, waking up next to each and just breathing.
Chanyeol refuses to accept that the only person he really loved was taken away. He refuses to get up in his bed, he refuses to believe that he will never see Kris again.
He presses his phone closer to his ear, clicking on voicemail. A familiar tune fills his room. He refuses to be ready for any of this.
“Get up and get dressed. We can’t be late.”