It's not my fault that I called you; I blame it on my drunkenness. Picking up my phone, I clicked into my contacts, looking for your number. I don't know why I even bothered; I had your number memorized by heart anyways.

You picked up after the second ring, your side of the line crackling with unsaid words, silent except for the soft sound of your breathing. "I missed you," I slurred, lying on top of my bed, a can of beer in my hand.

You didn't answer. "Why did you leave me?" I asked, sounding ten folds more pathetic than I felt. No reply.

"You said that you would fix me, what happened to that?" I pressed on, my voice rising by the word. "Huh, Dara? What happened to that? What happened to staying by my side no matter what? What the happened to that? What the happened to you? Happened to me?" I paused, my voice cracking, "What the ever happened to us?"

You didn't say anything, and at this point in time, I didn't even expect you to say anything. I knew you weren't going to say anything, therefore I didn't expect you to.

I breathed out deeply, feeling more frustrated than ever. "I love you." I whispered softly, more to myself than anything.

I heard the sharp intake of a breath and for a second, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would actually say something. Not 'I love you' but something.

Anything. Even a simple 'okay' or 'I know' would've been fine. But you didn't, you didn't say anything. And the 'I