Are we friends yet?

Longing

The gentle morning brushes me over the deep slumber and I wonder if the sunlight has been so bright outside, but I refuse to open my eyes. Instead, I allow myself to be lost in the moment a while longer. I snuggle more to the existence of the warmth as the cold air's creeping under the fabric of my clothes. Then, I feel the calm breathing. And that's when I open my eyes.

How did I end up holding Chanyeol so close like this?

The answer, however, won't be unveiled if I never articulate the question.

My head that's on his shoulder doesn't move when I realise that we're clasping to each other in something like... comfort. I can't see our legs that are buried in the soft blanket, but I can feel that one of mine is on his.

His arm drapes on my shoulder and another hand encircles my wrist on his chest like it's an assurance of the wholeness that I need. And I curl my fingers-- his sweater is so soft against my cheek and my fingertips, and it's like I'm going to explode as I'm feeling the warmth creeping from my neck up to my face.

Questions build on the tip of my tongue, still wishing an answer.

Why did you allow me to hold you in my sleep?

"Chanyeol," I call, stroking his chest once, twice, and his chest is raising and falling. Then, he mumbles something I recognise as my name when I call him again-- his voice is deep, deeper than ever and I tilt my head. And in the end, our eyes meet.

I never saw his smile so early like this.

"Morning," he says and I'm quiet as if I haven't just worded questions in my head. "Got a good sleep?"

"Y-yeah," I respond after a short pause. "I'm...I... What happened last night?"

His eyebrows furrow before he eyes my hand on his chest-- and I really can't comprehend why I don't let go of him.

We're quiet and I cut the eye contact, slowly detaching myself from his arms. I'm getting up and letting my feet meet the bare floor of his room. I feel him sitting behind me and I meet his dimpled smile as he's handing me my hair band.

I don't remember undoing my ponytail.

"When did your hair get longer?" He asks like he needs to replace the awkward silence, but I only reply with a small smile. Then, I hear, "Miyeon told your mother that you were with her-- a white lie I suppose. But your mother was right when she guessed that you were drunk-- A habit?" A deep chuckle leaves his lips as he picks my phone. "And someone named Thunder called twice. I didn't answer it, though." My hands that are tying my hair stop. "Your friend got a unique name."

I clear my throat as I'm tying my hair quickly.

Then, he leaves the bed as he mentions that the clean tootbrushes are stored in the drawer in the bathroom. He offers his fresh T-shirt if I need it, but he says that it might be too loose for me. I mutter a thank you and assure that I'm alright in my hoodie.

He smiles again and tells me that he's hungry.

"Is there anything you would like right now? I'll make some soup if you don't want toasts."

I reply that I should just leave. And that's when he stops on the doorway.

"What if I say that my guests can't step out my home before having anything from my kitchen?"

"Chanyeol..."

"Miyeon was right. It's not every day that you're here." He looks everywhere but my eyes. "Besides, we don't know when we'll meet again."

"I'm back next month," I tell softly.

"I know." His brown irises meet mine again. "But I still miss you. Don't you miss me, too?"