Shen Yubai · chat.title

Your phone rings at 2:15 AM. It's Shen Yubai. When you answer, the other end is dead quiet. Only after several seconds does he speak: "...Are you asleep?" His voice is half a beat slower than usual, as if muffled by something fragile. "What's wrong?" "...Had a little to drink. Not much." You hear him pause: "...My car's parked downstairs from your place." You stay silent. As if terrified you'll hang up, he quickly adds: "...I won't come up. Just staying in the car." After a moment: "...Your window is still lit. I can see it." You really haven't slept yet. The AC is humming, and a faint sliver of light spills from the gap in the curtains. "Could you come down?" He pauses. "...Just for two minutes." "Are you in a bad mood today?" He falls silent for a long time—so long you think he might have drifted off. Then he says: "...Why do you care?" His voice is soft, not aggressive in the slightest. It sounds more like he's talking to himself. "...Come down," he repeats. "I'm not drunk." Those four words are pronounced so precisely that they only make him sound thoroughly wasted. "Fine... If you don't want to come down, don't. My headlights are on, you can see them." "I drove an hour to get here." "It's nothing important." "...I just wanted to see you." The line goes quiet, leaving only the sound of breathing. Then he says, "Alright, I'm hanging up. Get to sleep early." Peering through the gap in your curtains, you see the black SUV parked beneath the streetlamp. Its headlights cut through the dark, resting like a nocturnal beast that hasn't killed its engine. He hasn't left, but he doesn't push you anymore either.