CALL ME • MYUNG JAEHYUN - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The call was still on when I woke up.
My phone's screen was black, the battery drained to a fraction, but the call timer had not stopped.
5 hours, 27 minutes.
I pressed the phone against my ear.
No noise. Only silence.
Perhaps she had dozed off—she had hung up without remembering. Or perhaps she was still present, listening, as before.
I swallowed, weighted down by the silence. Then, gently, I added, "If ever you need something… or if you just want to hear something again, just call me."
Perhaps because part of me already understood—she had no one else to call.
I hung up myself.
—
At school, things were normal enough at first.
"Did you hear? Someone died because of her at her last year."
"She didn't answer the call. That's why they're gone."
"She just stood there, did nothing. Isn't that crazy?"
A weight came down on my chest as I connected the dots.
Maybe that was why she called me.
She didn't speak last night, but maybe she had wanted to. Maybe she had attempted to.
And I never asked.
I glanced back over my shoulder, where she always sat near the window.
She was there, gazing at nothing, shoulders hunched in tight as if she were attempting to disappear.
No one was speaking to her, but they were speaking of her.
Loud enough for her to hear.
And still, she didn't budge.
Like she always did.
Like she had when she called me last night.
—
The rest of the day crawled along.
"She returned to the roof again." I heard someone said.
By the time I arrived, it was raining. Not hard—just a gentle drizzle.
And then I saw her.
She was at the edge.
No umbrella. No coat. Just sitting there, rain dripping through her hair, her clothes, her skin.
And she wasn't just at the edge. She was on it.
Sitting on the ledge as if it was the most natural place in the world.
I moved across the rooftop, into the rain, my shoes thudding against wet concrete.
"Get down," I told her.
She didn't budge. Didn't even glance my way.
The rain coursed down her face, sticking to her eyelashes, dropping from her chin.
"I'm not going to fall," she whispered.
"That's not the point," I snapped, already moving towards her.
But she flinched.
And in her eyes, there was something I couldn't describe. Something empty.
Something like nothingness.
Her lips parted and she breathed, "I didn't mean anything."
I rushed before I had time to think. Before she could jerk back again, I yanked her wrist, hauled her down—not hard, but hard enough that she didn't have an option but to release me.
She didn't struggle.
She just let me pull her back.
Away from the edge.
Out of the rain.
Back inside.
—
The storage room was dark, the whir of the fluorescent light the only noise between us.
I rummaged through the shelves, snatching a towel. The rain dripped from us both, forming puddles on the ground.
I turned around, and she was there, looking at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.
I let out a sigh, draping the towel around her head. "Dry off."
She didn't budge.
"Do you want to question me about it?"
Her hands curled around the material of the towel.
My tone was softer now. "Would you like me to ask you about it?"
She still did not look up. For what felt like an eternity, I believed she would not respond.
But then—
"I killed him."
The sentence was almost inaudible.
I froze.
She drew a slow, unsteady breath. "He called me that night."
I knew whom she spoke of. I had heard the gossip.
She lifted her head, and for the first time, I saw it—the weight she had been carrying. The one no one else could see.
"I saw his name on the screen. But I didn't pick up." Her voice wavered. "I—I didn't pick up."
The words shook, like they were locked up inside her for too long.
And then, almost too softly to hear—
"And now he's dead."
I didn't know what to say.
But I did know one thing.
I took a step forward, my voice firm. "That's not why he died."
She winced.
"You killed him because you didn't respond?" I continued. "You think that's the reason he's dead?"
She remained silent.
I breathed in, my hands tightening around the towel. "What if… what if he called because he was happy?"
She looked at me at last.
"What if it wasn't about dying?" I went on. "What if it was about you? About the fact that you were around him, that you existed, that you—"
"That you made him happy?"
Her lips parted.
It had started to rain more now outside. But within, it was silence only.
—
The rain eventually stopped by the time we went out of the school gates.
The sky was dark, the pavement wet, echoing the faint glow of streetlights.
Neither of us said a word.
She was a few steps ahead of me, her figure small under the burden of everything she wasn't saying.
I wanted to say something.
Perhaps I should've.
But words seemed inadequate now.
So I did the one thing I could.
I let her go.
And I went with her.
—
Night came, silent and cold.
I lay on my bed, gazing at the ceiling. The earlier conversation replayed in my head like a record stuck on repeat.
Her voice. The way it cracked.
The way she wept.
She had never wept before. Not before me. Not before anyone.
And now—
I had grabbed for my phone before I had a chance to think.
EUNHYE
The ring of my phone snapped me back to life.
For a while, I simply gazed at it.
The screen was lit up in the darkness, his name appearing in bold relief against the dim glow.
I lingered.
Then, tentatively, I picked up.
"…Jaehyun?"
He didn't respond immediately.
There was only silence.
And then—
"Did you sleep?"
His voice was hushed. Steady.
As if he was afraid I'd hang up.
I swallowed. "No."
There was a pause.
Then, softly—
"Me neither."
I breathed out, my fingers digging into the phone.
We didn't speak after that.
But somehow, it didn't feel like silence.
It felt like something else.
Like understanding.
Like I hear you.
Like I'm still here.