The phone was still in your lap when it buzzed again.
You hadn't moved since parking. The engine was off. Your bag still slouched in the passenger seat. You hadn't even taken off your seatbelt.
But this time, his name lit up the screen. Your breath hitched. You opened the message with trembling fingers. Tears welled immediately, but they weren't the same tears you'd held in last night.
These were different. Full. Warm. They spilled silently as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
He cared. He still cared. It hadn't been a dream. It had been real, every touch, every kiss, every look.
Your fingers danced across your screen, a rush of adrenaline and comfort colliding at once.
You :
"I kept your note in my pocket all day. It's the only thing that kept me grounded." "And… I checked my leave. I have 15 days."
You could practically feel his joy in the three dots that immediately popped up.
Chan :
"FIFTEEN?! That's two whole weeks. I'm freaking out right now. You have no idea how much I want to see you again."
Your phone buzzed again:
Your grin was unstoppable. You rested your head back against the car seat and let the moment settle into you; into every corner of your heart.
The rest of the day passed in a dreamlike haze. You knew he was busy moving between rehearsals, meetings, prep, but the messages came like small lifelines. A heart emoji here, a soft check-in there:
Chan :
"How's your day going?"
You :
"It's going OK. Been daydreaming all day."
Chan :
"Just finished rehearsal. Wish you were here."
You :
"I wish I was there too."
Chan :
"I miss your voice."
Each one made your heart skip.
And still, through it all, you kept his note close—tucked into your pocket, sometimes pulled out just to trace your fingers over the ink.
That night, you lay in bed not aching, but full. Brimming.
This feeling was new. Deep. Strong. You didn't say it yet. Not to him. But you knew what it was.
Before closing your eyes, you sent one last message.
You :
"Sleep well, Chan. I'm thinking about you… always."
You had just set the phone on your nightstand when it buzzed again—this time with a different name.
Felix.
You sat up quickly and opened the message.
Felix :
"Hey :) Sorry to bug you so late. I just wanted to say… Chan hasn't shut up about you. And I heard you have 15 days of leave. Mind if I call real quick?"
Your heart skipped. You replied:
You :
"Of course, call me!"
The screen blinked, and a moment later, it was ringing.
You answered, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Hi, Felix."
"Hey!" he greeted brightly, his accent laced with warmth. "Sorry again if it's late. We finally got a break, and I wanted to catch you before tomorrow kicks off."
"You're fine," you said with a smile. "It's really good to hear from you."
He chuckled. "Likewise. I just wanted to say... thank you. For being who you are to him. I don't think I've seen him like this before. It's not just a crush or a phase. He lights up when he talks about you."
Your cheeks flushed.
"I mean it," he added. "I know we're swamped this week, but we've got two New York shows coming up, and I had a thought."
You blinked. "Okay?"
"I know tickets are sold out," he said quickly, "but if you can swing it with work, I'll get you a backstage pass for both shows. No question."
Your hand flew to your mouth. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," he said. "Chan has no idea, by the way. I thought it could be a surprise. All you need is to get the time off."
You laughed through the lump forming in your throat. "I—I don't know what to say."
Felix's voice softened. "Just say you'll think about it."
"I don't have to think," you whispered. "I want to. I really want to."
"Then it's settled." He paused. "Thank you. Really."
"No," you said softly, voice cracking with emotion, "thank you. He's going to love this surprise."
**********
The next morning, you woke early—buzzing with anticipation. You stared at your work calendar, heart pounding, then submitted the leave request.
Approved.
You stood from your desk glowing. People noticed. They tilted their heads, smiled curiously, asked if you had a good night's sleep. You just nodded. Because how do you explain the kind of joy that lives in your bones?
Your phone buzzed again—this time a simple photo from Chan. A blurry mirror selfie, his hoodie halfway on, eyes puffy from sleep and captioned: "Woke up thinking about you. Again."
And now, so were you.