Fu Yan lay in the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it might offer answers to the aching question twisting in his chest. His fingers moved instinctively, reaching for the phone beside him. The familiar lock screen, a picture of Hirvan smiling at the camera, reflected on him. Opening the phone, he looked at the screen. Hirvan's name sat on top of his messages thread, marked as special, however, there were no new messages, no missed calls. Just silence.
It had been nearly a month, but Hirvan had never called him after that argument.
His thumb hovered over the name, trembled, then pulled away. He exhaled, a shaky breath escaping through parted lips.
"Coward," he muttered bitterly to himself, tossing the phone aside.
The ache in his chest grew heavier with every day that passed. He had told himself it didn't matter. That he had his pride. Eventually, Hirvan would call him.
But it wasn't fine.
