Believing You’d Never Leave Me
Warich didn’t sleep.
How could he, after coming home to that? The closet door was still open like it was mocking him. He hadn’t touched it since he saw the empty hangers. He couldn’t. If he closed it, it would make everything feel final. If he left it open, it would remind him every second that Klao was gone.
So instead, he chose to sit on the floor of the bedroom, back against the wall, legs stretched out, fingers digging into the edge of the rug as if the fabric could anchor him into something real.
His phone lay on his lap. Screen dark. Still nothing. Still no one.
💔
By sunrise, he gave in.
He opened up the drafts folder on his phone and read the message he’d written days ago, but never sent.
I know I hurt you. You asked me once if we were going to make it. I didn’t answer you then. I thought if I ignored the question, it wouldn’t matter. But it did. I’m sorry I made you feel alone when you were still standing right next to me. I miss you.
He deleted it. Started another one. Then another. Hitting Send after each one.
You’re really gone, aren’t you?
I thought you just needed time. I thought if I waited long enough, if I gave you space, you’d come back and say something sarcastic like you always do. And I’d pretend not to care, and you'd roll your eyes, and we’d make up the way we always did.
You left. And I don’t blame you. Not anymore.
You were always trying. I was always trying to control what you gave me.
You were patient with me. I gave you reasons to stop being patient.
He stared at the blinking cursor for a long time. Then typed one last message.
I don’t know how to do this without you.
And hit Send.
The second it was gone, he regretted it. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it was. Because if Klao saw it and didn’t answer, then he would really know that it was over.
He stood, restless, and paced. Nearly tripped over the edge of the rug. Ended up back in the kitchen, aimlessly pulling open cabinets like there’d be something there he hadn’t already looked at ten times.
He opened the fridge. Saw Klao’s favorite drink on the shelf that he'd bought “just in case.” Then he slammed the door shut.
💔
An hour later, he was curled on the couch, Klao’s one remaining sweater in his arms like a lifeline. He pressed his face into it, whispered Klao’s name like it might echo back to him.
💔
Later that night, he stared at his phone again. Still no response from Klao. Just a text from Nop asking if he was okay. Warich didn’t answer. He powered off his phone and just sat in the dark.
And cried.
The kind of crying that breaks you open, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left to hold.