He watched as the man inside the telephone box said his greetings and put the phone down with a smile on his face. Little sounds of coins crashing down a hard surface followed.
Must've been a nice call, he thought.
The man inside pushed the door and gave him a slight nod, as if signaling him to come in.
How he wished it was that easy.
He took the door handle and stepped into the box. The dark clouds hung up in the sky, and small drops of rain began falling.
He wondered if it rained too at her place.
His fingers reached for his wallet and a piece of paper with a series of numbers carelessly jotted down on it. He didn't have to read it to recall the numbers--it was a series of numbers he knew the most.
He didn't want her to pick up. Or maybe he did.
All he wanted was just a call--just a trip to the telephone box to feel the red cold phone pressing his ear and his fingers pressing her number--and it would all be enough.
The cold familiar tone redirected him to her mailbox and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Hey," Hanbin said, letting his back slide down the glass door. "Hey."
"It's been a while," he muttered. "I know I said I wouldn't call. And I know I said I'd lose your number."
His breath formed a dim constellation of steam against the glass window. "Apparently my brain forgot to lose it."
"I said a lot of things." he whispered into the phone. "I guess I just wasn't thinking. I said you and I'll be fine after all this, right? But I'm not."
"I was a boy who lost his mind, and I guess I still am. I just need you back in my life--I really do. Everything is still messed up the way it was, but it used to be a nice kind of messed up. With you." He paused. "I found peace in our kind of mess."
"And I guess I'm calling you because I'll hate myself for knowing that you're just a phone call away and I'm not even trying."
"Can we try again?" He pressed his forehead against the steam his breath made. "Hey Jen, can we try again?"