CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN.
EUNHYE
I woke to stillness.
Not peace—just silence that felt too heavy, like the room was holding its breath. My limbs were sluggish, sunken into the bed as if the mattress had swallowed me whole.
Everything felt distant.
Light leaked through my eyelids, soft and gray, but even when I blinked, nothing sharpened. Just haze. A ceiling blurred into shadows, like the world had lost its edges.
I blinked.
Still nothing.
Still blind.
I tried to swallow. Regret. My throat burned like paper scraped raw. Somewhere nearby, a slow beep counted time I didn’t remember losing.
The sterile scent gave it away before my thoughts could catch up. Hospital. Again.
I wanted to move, to speak, to scream. But my body didn’t obey, and my voice—
A sound.
Not mine.
Just a faint shift beside me, the hush of fabric brushing fabric. A breath, barely audible, but enough to anchor me.
Someone was here.
I turned my head, slowly, careful not to chase the moment away. And I felt it—warmth close to mine. Not imagined. Not a drug-born ghost.
Real.
"Jaehyun…"
His name slipped out, more breath than word, but he heard it. I felt the way his presence changed—tense, alert.
"You’re awake," he said, his voice raw and low, like sleep hadn’t let go of him yet.
Something fluttered in my chest. Fragile. Unsteady. A beginning, or maybe just relief.
"You stayed," I murmured.
He shifted closer. "I didn’t want to leave."
A laugh tried to form but died as a cough. "You never wanted to come, either."
He didn’t deny it. Just let the silence settle like an answer.
"I know," he said, after a moment.
And in that quiet, I felt something unspoken pass between us—something gentler than forgiveness, but heavier than understanding.
"Did you… move my phone?" I asked, catching the strange absence of its weight by my side.
There was a beat. Then— "Yeah. It fell, I think."
A soft lie. One I didn’t press.
The silence returned, not empty this time—but filled with breath, shared space, a kind of temporary peace.
"You should eat something," he offered.
I turned toward his voice. It didn’t matter—I still couldn’t see him.
We drifted after that. He helped me sit up, fed me in silence. Told stories—some nonsense about his friend—our late friend, and a dumb dare at school. I couldn’t tell if he was distracting me, or himself.
It didn’t matter.
It helped.
Eventually, my eyes grew heavy again. My body surrendered. And just as I slipped under, I heard his voice, close and certain.
"I’m right here. Just rest."
So I did.
When I woke again, the room hadn't changed.
Still quiet. Still dim. Still him.
I blinked through the fog, senses slow to return. The air was colder now, like time had passed but hadn’t taken anything with it.
"You’re still here," I murmured.
He looked up from his phone, guilt flickering across his face.
"Yeah. You dozed off again."
"You didn’t leave for school?" I asked, my voice lighter now.
His brows lifted, amused. "It’s Saturday."
"Oh."
Days had lost meaning. They ran together, like watercolors bleeding on a page.
"Right. Saturday," I echoed, like the word belonged to someone else.
He leaned in, elbows resting on the bed’s edge. "You okay?"
I hesitated. Something in the air had shifted again. The kind of quiet that wasn’t calm—just still, waiting.
"…Do you know what a premonition is?"
His expression twitched, curious. "Like when you feel something’s gonna happen before it does?"
"Yeah." I nodded, slowly. "Like something brushing your skin that isn’t there. Or the sound of the world stretching too far away."
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched me, really watched.
"You feel it now?" he asked.
"I think so," I admitted. "It’s not pain. Just… something."
I wasn’t looking for comfort. Just honesty. Just space to say the thing aloud.
The light outside was too pale.
The clock ticked too loud.
My chest ached, but not from illness.
A warning.
He reached for my hand. "Then I’ll stay.”
Squeezed it, firmer this time. "Even if it’s just a feeling. I’m not risking it."
I almost cried at that.
Because the Jaehyun I used to know never stayed.
But he was here now.
Maybe premonitions weren’t just signs of endings. Maybe they were a chance to choose something different. To hold on.
And I was glad I told him.
Even more glad… that he listened.
I woke to stillness.
Not peace—just silence that felt too heavy, like the room was holding its breath. My limbs were sluggish, sunken into the bed as if the mattress had swallowed me whole.
Everything felt distant.
Light leaked through my eyelids, soft and gray, but even when I blinked, nothing sharpened. Just haze. A ceiling blurred into shadows, like the world had lost its edges.
I blinked.
Still nothing.
Still blind.
I tried to swallow. Regret. My throat burned like paper scraped raw. Somewhere nearby, a slow beep counted time I didn’t remember losing.
The sterile scent gave it away before my thoughts could catch up. Hospital. Again.
I wanted to move, to speak, to scream. But my body didn’t obey, and my voice—
A sound.
Not mine.
Just a faint shift beside me, the hush of fabric brushing fabric. A breath, barely audible, but enough to anchor me.
Someone was here.
I turned my head, slowly, careful not to chase the moment away. And I felt it—warmth close to mine. Not imagined. Not a drug-born ghost.
Real.
"Jaehyun…"
His name slipped out, more breath than word, but he heard it. I felt the way his presence changed—tense, alert.
"You’re awake," he said, his voice raw and low, like sleep hadn’t let go of him yet.
Something fluttered in my chest. Fragile. Unsteady. A beginning, or maybe just relief.
"You stayed," I murmured.
He shifted closer. "I didn’t want to leave."
A laugh tried to form but died as a cough. "You never wanted to come, either."
He didn’t deny it. Just let the silence settle like an answer.
"I know," he said, after a moment.
And in that quiet, I felt something unspoken pass between us—something gentler than forgiveness, but heavier than understanding.
"Did you… move my phone?" I asked, catching the strange absence of its weight by my side.
There was a beat. Then— "Yeah. It fell, I think."
A soft lie. One I didn’t press.
The silence returned, not empty this time—but filled with breath, shared space, a kind of temporary peace.
"You should eat something," he offered.
I turned toward his voice. It didn’t matter—I still couldn’t see him.
We drifted after that. He helped me sit up, fed me in silence. Told stories—some nonsense about his friend—our late friend, and a dumb dare at school. I couldn’t tell if he was distracting me, or himself.
It didn’t matter.
It helped.
Eventually, my eyes grew heavy again. My body surrendered. And just as I slipped under, I heard his voice, close and certain.
"I’m right here. Just rest."
So I did.
When I woke again, the room hadn't changed.
Still quiet. Still dim. Still him.
I blinked through the fog, senses slow to return. The air was colder now, like time had passed but hadn’t taken anything with it.
"You’re still here," I murmured.
He looked up from his phone, guilt flickering across his face.
"Yeah. You dozed off again."
"You didn’t leave for school?" I asked, my voice lighter now.
His brows lifted, amused. "It’s Saturday."
"Oh."
Days had lost meaning. They ran together, like watercolors bleeding on a page.
"Right. Saturday," I echoed, like the word belonged to someone else.
He leaned in, elbows resting on the bed’s edge. "You okay?"
I hesitated. Something in the air had shifted again. The kind of quiet that wasn’t calm—just still, waiting.
"…Do you know what a premonition is?"
His expression twitched, curious. "Like when you feel something’s gonna happen before it does?"
"Yeah." I nodded, slowly. "Like something brushing your skin that isn’t there. Or the sound of the world stretching too far away."
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched me, really watched.
"You feel it now?" he asked.
"I think so," I admitted. "It’s not pain. Just… something."
I wasn’t looking for comfort. Just honesty. Just space to say the thing aloud.
The light outside was too pale.
The clock ticked too loud.
My chest ached, but not from illness.
A warning.
He reached for my hand. "Then I’ll stay.”
Squeezed it, firmer this time. "Even if it’s just a feeling. I’m not risking it."
I almost cried at that.
Because the Jaehyun I used to know never stayed.
But he was here now.
Maybe premonitions weren’t just signs of endings. Maybe they were a chance to choose something different. To hold on.
And I was glad I told him.
Even more glad… that he listened.
End of CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN book page.