I knew it was my fault. I knew you were sick and you always told me that you were depressed. I always told you that there were bigger fish to fry, to which you replied that you didn’t even like fish. I then in turn told you that there were bigger problems than your own and you pleaded for my help. You said that you were at the end of the line and you know what I said?

                Whatever.

                And I guess for you it was whatever as well. Those were my last words to you before I found you hanging from the hotel balcony, fourteen floors up. I pulled your body up over the railing and your face was blue. I remember. I remember thinking I could have prevented this and this was all my fault. I never would have thought you would have gone and killed yourself, but now I’m left without you. Or so I thought.

                “Stop crying, Daehyun.” Youngjae said from by my side as we rode back to the dorm in the van. The seat is empty to everyone else but Youngjae is there, clear as day in my eyes. I see him. I hear him. I’m not sure if he’s a hallucination, or if he’s haunting me. “I’m right here.”

                This has to be a nightmare, I assure myself. The worst part is, is that whenever I look to the apparition, his face isn’t blue like I remember it. It’s like the Youngjae I know. Whatever kind of curse this is, it’s ed up and I can’t stop crying. I see him reach out to wipe the tears on my face but I feel nothing, and the tears remain unmoved aside from them rolling around my cheeks and meeting at my chin. When they fall onto my clasped hands, another rattled gasp of despair shakes through my body and I want to hide my face away in shame, but I know I can’t. His death was my responsibility, and as if he can read my mind, he speaks up.

                “This isn’t your fault, Daehyun.” the ghost of Yoo told me. I want to turn to where he sits and scream, but everyone already thinks I’m losing it since we just buried my best friend. I’ve never seen any of them be so affectionate towards me in a non-joking manner. It was odd, and uncomfortable, which is the opposite of what the goal was for them. I wanted to be left alone and to think about this all. “Don’t ignore me. Give me any sign that you know I’m here. Think what you want to say.”

                “ off.” are the words I think, and I glance off to the side. His face looks sullen, but he nods, and then there’s a smirk.

                “Now those are the kind of words that got me killed.” Youngjae, or who I assume is Youngjae, says.

                “Okay, now you really need to off.” I think again. It’s stupid. As if this thing is the ghost of Youngjae. But he laughs, and there’s a hand on my thigh that I see and I think it gets colder, but it could be the chills of the prospect that this really is his ghost gives me. “That’s not funny. You being dead isn’t funny. Have you any idea how I feel right now?” I ask in my head. There’s a look he gives me and my hearts breaks even more as if it were even possible.

                “You feel how I felt when I was alive. All the time. It got unbearable, and I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry.”

                “But you’re here, so that means you have something unresolved, right?” I ponder. I’ve never been a religious man, but there are those things that are absolute in my head. I don’t believe in God, but I believe in Heaven and Hell. “Shouldn’t you be in Heaven?”

                This ghost laughs. It’s arid, and his words sound like those of the ghosts you hear in a kid’s movie. Like it’s at a distance. It’s not inaccurate. He’s a whole plane of existence away from me, if he’s even existing in the first place. “There’s no such thing. You die, and then you be. It’s no more different than being alive except for I float and I can get to places much quicker. Also, you get to choose who sees you. It’s pretty cool.” he says.

                “But why me? Is it because I was the last person you spoke to or was it because I found your body? Do you also get to see the emotional and psychological damage you’ve caused me?”

                “Even after I’m dead, this is still about you.” he said back to me. His voice had deepened. Demonic, if I dare say. There were no red eyes or flames from Hell, but the words sure did burn. “I’m ing dead, Daehyun, and you’re thinking I chose to show myself to you to console you?”

                “That’s not what I meant. I’m… I’m not even sure you’re real. Perhaps I’ve made an imaginary friend of you to fill the void that you occupied.” I told it. Him. Youngjae. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until Yongguk turned off the A/C from the front seat. He looked back at me and forced a smile. I’m sure my face was pale as a ghost; every pun intended.

                “What kind of void would that be? You were my friend and you were the one who ignored my sadness the most.”

                I didn’t want to fight with myself, or with Youngjae. We had fought enough when he was alive, and I was still struggling to think that this was him as we pulled up to the dorms. One by one, we piled out. Junhong was the first to run inside and straight to his room. Himchan was acting like nothing happened and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner as if we just didn’t bury our friend after he hung himself. Yongguk and I would more than likely be the only two that ate, and even then, Yongguk would take his ceremonial four bites as if to thank Himchan for bothering in the first place, and then he’d go back to the studio. This time though, I bet he’d only take two and then fall asleep on the couch. I feel as if he’s going to be on high alert for the next few weeks, months even, to be sure no one else decides their time is up. I’ll eat his food just for the sake of some normalcy.

                Though, I went to my room first and looked around at the space and it felt unusually empty, considering there wasn’t another body there. Body. My mind flashed back to his corpse and I had to sit down. The being sat down next to me and sighed.

                “I always thought it’d be a little more glamorous.” he said.

                “Did it hurt? Did you suffer?” I asked him, unable to filter. I shouldn’t have said, or thought, anything. He looked like he was going to cry. I didn’t know if ghosts could produce tears or maybe they oozed ectoplasm, but he sighed out again.

                “Yes, and yes. The seconds before I died, I thought to myself if only I had worked on my arms as much as you I could climb the rope back up and live. I thought I could go get help, but I felt my lung sear with this fire. I thought I was going to Hell for committing suicide. But it just hurt. I should have gotten a gun.” Youngjae said so nonchalantly, as if he were discussing how he got chicken strips instead of a burger because the burger wasn’t cooked right and there were tomatoes even though he asked him to hold those. I looked at him and I wanted to reach out and slap him. I wanted to feel him. Anything about him, I wanted back. I could hear his voice, but it had been so engrained in my head that what I was looking at could have been my imagination.

                I considered asking it questions about me, but then I’d be able to answer them because I was myself. I then thought to ask it questions about Youngjae, but I also knew those things, and even if I didn’t know them, I could have very well made them up. Just like him.

                “I’m real. I can promise you that.” he said, cutting off my thoughts again. This was going to be a pain. But, it was a pain I’d rather have than not.

                “Are you not going to show yourself to the other boys? What about Secret noonas? Your parents?” I asked him. I felt like I needed to state at least 15,000 more questions in case he disappeared, but he remained there and smiled. It was so warm to look at. It was a smile that touched my soul as I looked at the remnants of his. Was this Youngjae?

                (I hoped this was Youngjae).

                “No. Not yet at least. I felt like since you were the last one to see me alive, you should be the first one to see me dead. Next will probably be Yongguk, since he’s sound in the head and then Junhong, so he doesn’t feel so alone and betrayed. Jongup then, because he’s surely confused. The poor kid has such little experience with life. And lastly Himchan, because I know he’ll scold me but not before thinking he’s gone mental. We all know how he can get.” Youngjae said, laughing to himself as if it were a fond memory. I guess to him it was because now he’s gone, and I still couldn’t believe it.

                “Well, what are you going to do now? Haunt me? Stick around to be sure I don’t kill myself too?” I asked. I was only joking when I said it, but he looked a little pale. I wasn’t quite sure how ghosts could be pale, but the way I saw him, Youngjae, was like the way I saw things from far away without my glasses on. He was a little blurry, but he was there. Since he was so close though, it was a little more apparent of his facial features and such on so forth. He was so close to me, in mind and spirit. I wish I could say body, but his is buried 8 feet under the ground in a beautiful casket, holding some sunflowers. I wondered, maybe, like in the Weekly Idol where he was told he looked like a princess because of his shoulders, that if I kissed him, he would wake up.

                “That’s not going to happen, Daehyun.” Youngjae said. “Though, your imagery of kissing me is so beautiful. I like how you’re even imagining your bloodied fingernails as you claw through the dirt. Your face when I wake up too is cute. The way you kiss me again when I wake up though, I wasn’t expecting that.” Youngjae said to me, taking a seat on his bed. The covers didn’t flinch yet he had sunken down into it. The physics of a non-material world were too much for me to wrap my head around but first and foremost I had to tell him to get out of my head.

                “I’d like to think that if I killed myself too that you’d try everything if it meant you had me back. And look, I’d kiss you again out of joy and nothing else. A hug wouldn’t suffice. A kiss conveys the right amount of emotion.” I explained to him, and he nodded.

                “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you were blushing in your head.”

                “I was not blushing.” I said matter of fact. Maybe I was. I was just so bewildered that this was even happening. My eyes still hurt from crying and I could hear Himchan in the kitchen talking to himself rather loudly. Maybe he was talking to Yongguk in an indirect manner. Himchan would do that whenever he didn’t understand something but he didn’t want to sound stupid.

                He wasn’t alone this time. No one understood why Youngjae never asked for help. I still didn’t, and I didn’t want to ask him either. I felt alone in this matter and those are the kinds of questions you save until the moment was right. But, when was the right moment? Hey, I know we’re having a great day and all so why don’t I ruin it by asking you why you killed yourself! Or, hey, I know today is going really badly, so let’s drown ourselves even more and discuss your suicide. No one moment seemed right.

                “You were totally blushing. And also, I would do the same. Man, like, it’s weird to think that I’m dead.”

                “You’re telling me.” I said back to him. I thought about his comment about everything still being about me, but I really didn’t know how to act. He and I always fought like this. It wasn’t even fighting I don’t think.

                “I know. You’re not too thrilled.”

                “I’m not thrilled at all, are you kidding me? This is close to the worst day of my life, and if not, the worst day of my life. I can’t believe you’re dead, and yet, you’re talking to me.” I told him. He looked like he wanted to speak, but Himchan yelled from the kitchen that dinner was ready, and I shot him a look. “So, are you going to come eat like usual or what do you do now?” I asked him, and he shrugged.

                “I’ll stay here. I don’t want to look at the pain on everyone’s faces as selfish as that is. I know I’m the one who caused it and I should live with it…or, well, you know. Exist with it.” he corrected himself. This time, there was no smile on his face. I felt like I wanted to cry again as I stood up from my bed and walked past him. He didn’t follow me out like usual, and I looked back into my room and I saw him stand and begin to run his fingers over his possessions. He went to grab one, but his fingers just shut into a fist. The look on his face sent a wave of depression over me and he sighed out. I hoped he was having second thoughts about his death and there was some 30-day trial where you could be brought back to life.

                When I sat down at the table, it was only Himchan, Yongguk and I. Jongup and Junhong had had fallen asleep I guessed. Yongguk looked worn out and Himchan’s eyes were puffed up and I felt miserable for the man. He was always the most emotional one in the group and while he and Youngjae weren’t the closest, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what was going on in his head. How much blame did each of us harbor? I still know the blame was all on me, but Himchan must have been thinking about all the signs he didn’t see and Yongguk was going over in his head all the times he didn’t talk to Youngjae because he didn’t think it was needed and that it was something he could handle by himself. Apparently it wasn’t.

                Nothing special was for dinner. Himchan had made some ramen and I’m sure later in the week we would have Youngjae’s favorite foods as a tribute to him and we’d try to sit around the living room and laugh about all the fond memories. We’d cry as a group, but we’d mend. Yongguk and Himchan were bound to get drunk every night for the next couple of weeks though, and I considered joining them. Yongguk already cracked a beer open and the bottle of wine that was on the counter was nearly empty. It was about half when we got back to the dorm. Himchan looked into his bowl and Yongguk had his hands clasped in prayer.

                “Don’t cry into your food Himchan. Ramen has enough sodium as it is.” Yongguk said, his head still bowed and eyes still closed. Himchan sniffled.

                “I’m trying Yongguk. It’s hard. Has God told you anything yet? Has he made it to Heaven?”

                If only they knew.

                In conclusion, Yongguk crossed himself and started to eat. He picked at his food but for sure, he had more of an appetite. He was eating for two. Himchan was also eating more than usual, which was the opposite of what I thought was going to happen. There was still some left over and sure enough Himchan would toss it in a container and place it in the fridge for Jongup and Junhong to eat once they woke up. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stomach anything. My usual insatiable appetite wasn’t there, and I felt sick to my stomach as I heard Youngjae’s melodious voice coming from inside my room. It wasn’t a song I recognized, but I still felt my breath catch in my throat and it hurt. There was that strenuous feel and I wanted to yell out that I was seeing our deceased bandmate’s ghost, but then I was sure they’d carry me off to the hospital or rehab and check me in. I wasn’t going crazy.

                I was not going crazy.

                “Eat your food, Daehyun. You’ve surely had a rough day.” Himchan commented to me. He made the comment like it was just another day of practice. Like I couldn’t get a move right. Like my voice was worn out and I wasn’t able to record a high note. Like maybe I had hurt my knee and not like my heart was broken and I was in between a rock and literally the most impossible scenario in my life. I found my best friend’s dead body hanging from our hotel balcony when we had come back from getting pizza. He said he was going to take a shower and I come back and his face is ing blue. He’s dead. Have I had a rough day? You could say that. You could very well say that.

                But, I wasn’t in the mood to fight with Himchan. I picked up my chopsticks and found some meat and chewed on it slowly. Nothing had taste to me right now. I didn’t feel much but overwhelming sadness and anger on the occasion. Confusion. Regret. My emotions were at battle and I just wanted to go to bed. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to talk to Youngjae’s ghost. I didn’t want to explain how I was feeling to the group counselor that we were going to have one on one’s with from now on for the next couple of months while we coped with what had happened. I’m aware of what happened. I don’t want to talk about it. I hardly want to remember it. But, with a ghost being with me, it’s kind of hard to ignore it.

                I mean, to ignore this, I think, would be the worst option for all of us. We needed to know signs now in case another member was in distress. I don’t want to lose anyone else in my life. I think to lose maybe Junhong, or Jongup, would be the most tragic at this rate. They’re both so young and so impressionable. I was just glad they were both asleep now and not crying. I had seen Jongup cry maybe once or twice since we’ve known each other and I mean really cry, but this… this was something I’ve never seen in my life. He was so stoic as tears fell from his eyes. They were never ending and I thought maybe he’d run out. But not a sound escaped past his lips the whole service. Not even when he went up to Youngjae’s casket and ran his hands over the rope burn on his neck. The beautician tried her best to cover it up but there was still a visible rash beneath all the makeup. He seemed so lost. I didn’t want to think about that.

                Himchan left the broth in his bowl because he was never one to eat more than he needed to. Yongguk’s bowl, on the other hand, was empty. He probably needed to be sure that when he puked from the alcohol later there was something to puke up. I still had noodles and vegetables and I just didn’t feel like I could finish my meal. I looked up at Himchan with sorrowful eyes and he got the message. I excused myself in silence while the other two males looked at anything but one another. No one wanted to see what someone else was feeling. I think Junhong and I made eye contact in the car and that traumatized him a little bit.

                Once my bowl was in the sink and I had washed up, I returned to my room, thinking that maybe Youngjae would be gone. But, lo and behold, he was sitting on my bed this time, holding a picture of us. The physical frame was still on my nightstand, but it was also in his hand. I was confused, but equal parts embarrassed that he had seen it.

                “When did you put this up?” he asked me, and I sat next to him. I went to grab it out of his hands, but my hand passed through him. We both exchanged looked of shock and then normal conversation ensued, if you could even describe it as normal.

                “A few days after you died. I got lonely and I missed you so I found my favorite picture of us and framed it. It’s a little weird, huh?” I asked, and Youngjae shrugged, placing it back on the nightstand exactly where it was before.

                “Not at all. I’m just wondering why you didn’t do something like this when I was alive.” he asked. I didn’t have a good answer for him though.

                “Putting up pictures of you and another person is something that couples and families do. Not friends.” I said to him, but it was a cop out answer. Friends do that all the time, and the look he gave me made me rethink it all. “I mean, like, I just thought it was weird. Why would I need a picture of you when I could look next to me and see you?”

                “To let me know that I mattered to someone.” he said back to me. “Did you ever think of that?”

                “I didn’t! And why are you the one asking questions? Did you think for one second that killing yourself would completely ruin not only me, but all of us?” I asked him, slamming my fist on the bed. He sighed and looked at me and I knew the answer before his lips parted.

                “Yes. I thought about it for weeks. Months even. I thought to myself if there was a better way to not feel so much pain, and there wasn’t. I couldn’t seek out help. You know how the company is. I wanted to talk to you, but you always brushed it off. You never took it seriously and that’s why I know it ruined you the most but it’s something you’re going to have to live with.” Youngjae explained. I felt like I was going to vomit.

                “Are you seriously partially blaming me for your death?” I asked him. Youngjae looked uncomfortable and he stood up and returned to his bed. I felt like his answer should have flat out been ‘yes’, but I gave him the grace to explain himself.

                “Not really. I mean, I wish you were there for me more. I wish you paid closer attention to your supposed best friend and realized how much I was hurting.  And now that I’m gone and… well, I’m not gone.” he corrected himself. I wanted to speak to him out loud and I wanted to touch him because I still felt like he was some sort of internal monologue manifesting. “I’m here to try and help you understand my reasoning. I know it’s a far fetch because I don’t think you’re depressed, but maybe you are and you’re just good at hiding it.” Youngjae said.

                “I’m not depressed.” I said back to him. He nodded. I felt like saying that to him was a slap in the face because I knew he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that he felt miserable every waking second of his life. “I mean, I’ve been really down in the dumps before, but I’m not depressed. I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize. I don’t want you to be depressed and I’m thrilled that you’re not. I wouldn’t know what to say if you were and I didn’t notice it through all my pity parties.” he laughed.

                “We could have been Romeo and Juliet and had a lover’s suicide, no?” I joked for the first time since his passing. He stifled a laugh, but his spirit seemed to glow.

                “Lovers?” he questioned. Looking at him, he was brighter. There was a pinkish shade to his form and I realized he was blushing. This, in turn, made me blush back and I had to revise myself.

                “Don’t take it too seriously. It was a joke. We’re not really lovers.” I said, and he cocked his brow.

                “What do you mean by ‘not really’ lovers? Are we pseudo lovers? Necrophilia is illegal you know.” he laughed. I nodded and swallowed the knot in my throat.

                “We’re not lovers at all. We’re friends and only friends. Plus, if we were lovers, how would that work out? You’re not tangible. How can you lift up things?” I asked him. He thought long and hard about the decision before beginning to explain.

                “Well, you see, everything has a spirit in some sense. I can still eat and I can pick up things but they don’t really affect me. We don’t have to eat and sometimes if we have enough energy in ourselves we can touch things physically and move them around. That’s what you see in those paranormal shows.” he said.

                “How do you know this?” I asked back.

                “That’s my interpretation. I don’t actually know. I’m still trying to find things out myself. That’s why I was shocked when your hand went through me. I felt it.”

                “You felt it?”

                “Yeah, I felt it. Did you not feel like the air was colder or something?” he asked.

                “Did it hurt? I’m so sorry.” I said. I moved up from my bed and sat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh. “Can you feel this?” I asked him, and he looked me in the eyes. I felt like I was drowning.

                “Yes, I can. Can you feel me, or is your hand just there because you can see I’m there. Any temperature difference?” he asked. I squeezed my hand and watched his soul bend. It moved like a thigh would move.

                “It’s just there because I know it’s there. It doesn’t feel any less cool or warmer and I don’t feel anything. I see you, and I hear you, but I can’t touch you.” I told him. I didn’t know what this meant, and from the looks of it, neither did he.

                “Would it be wrong of me to wish you could feel me? Because then, the whole idea of us being lovers would be a whole lot easier.” he said, and I moved my hand away from his thigh. I didn’t know what he was going for. Scratch that, I knew everything he was going for, but I wasn’t even going to begin to go there.

                “Like you said, necrophilia is illegal.” I laughed, and I waited for him to laugh too, but nothing came out of his lips. I was worried about this notion, but I let it slide. I tried to change the subject. “Yongguk and Himchan seem to be okay. Well, they’re not okay, but they’re really good at hiding how they feel.” I said. Youngjae looked over at me and we locked eyes for a few brief seconds before I looked ahead. I couldn’t stand seeing literally into his soul. Maybe I was the one who was dead. Maybe this is Hell.

                “Are you going to try and brush me off like that? Like you’re notorious for doing?” he asked me. Again, he was making stabs at my personality and I wanted to be angry, but after everything, I couldn’t. They were firm warnings to change if anything as opposed to friendly banter.

                “Look, I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want you brining up any lost feelings you had for me when you were alive because there’s no use in dwelling on them now that you’re dead. If you liked me, or even loved me, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I don’t want to know. I’m having a hard enough time coping with the fact that you’re dead, and it’s even weirder to me that I’m seeing you still. It would kill me-“ I stopped my sentence there when I saw his presence pale. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

                “I know. I know you didn’t but it’s also pretty weird to me that I’m dead. I’ve tried to kill myself before and every time it hasn’t worked and now that I’m finally dead I’m still getting used to this body and not sleeping or eating or doing regular, human things.” Youngjae explained to me. “And I just wanted to maybe have someone who was close to me get how I’m feeling now.  I have nothing to lose.” he said. There was a crack in his voice and his last words sounded like they were laced with regret. I wasn’t going to pry. I couldn’t pry. To ask him about his own demise would be too much of a personal thing. It was going into deep waters and I was already struggling to breathe. I watched as he started to cry.

                I didn’t know how to console him. We both sat in silence as he clenched his fists and pounded at his thighs. He was hurting himself and yet again I sat back and watched. Time and time again I was going to let Youngjae down and I felt like if this was all I was good for he should have gone to Yongguk or Himchan or hell, his own brother, but I was left to tend to his needs. I knew this should be a blessing but this was a burden in of itself. Most anyone would kill to see their friend alive again but I was terrified that ghosts could re-die. That they could terminate their whole existence and in the end I’d forget about Youngjae all together. That wasn’t something I could imagine happening but I had no idea. Youngjae probably didn’t either and from the corner of my eye I saw red blotches appear all over his torso. Much to my horror, and apparently to his, there was blood oozing from wounds that weren’t previously there.

                “What the hell is happening?” I asked him, placing my hands on one of the cuts. When I pulled away my hands, there was nothing on it that was visible to me but on Youngjae’s body, the blood was smeared. He looked up at me and then to my hand. I think there was blood on it to him.

                “I don’t know. I feel no pain. Do you not feel the blood?” he asked. My question was answered. I shook my head no and so badly did I want to console him and help him figure out what was wrong, but as fast as the blood appeared, it stopped. There were still traces of it on his shirt (I wasn’t sure how), but the cuts had closed up. Upon closer inspection, there were just unsightly scabs. His body was no different in the afterlife than it was on Earth. Not like I knew what his body looked like. Not like I had really, thoroughly, looked at his body when he was on Earth.

                “Are you okay?” I asked him. I expected him to say he wasn’t, but he looked around the room as he mindlessly picked at one of the wounds on his chest.

                “This happened while you were eating dinner too. I got depressed and then blood starting manifesting on my body. I got scared, but I think that when I get this way-“

                “You mean depressed?” I asked him. I wanted Youngjae to rationalize with himself that he was depressed. I didn’t know much about mental illness but I wanted him to know what was going on in his head. This wasn't some passing feeling for him. This was depression. I’m sure he knew that but I wanted to hear it. 

                ”Yes, depressed. What, you think I thought this was some man-period deal where I was just moody? I killed myself. Happy people don’t kill themselves.” Youngjae said, and I wanted to agree. I wanted to nod and tell him I knew that too, but I was starting to think that might not be the case. I thought that maybe happy people could kill themselves if they felt like they needed to be with someone else. Perhaps had my feelings for Youngjae been different I would have followed him. I thought back to him saying something about us being lovers. I didn’t want to think he loved me. Again I was walking towards the ocean and I wanted almost for the salt to burn in my lungs.

                Again the silence consumed us and I didn’t say any more, and I think he was done speaking too. I was too tired to ask anything else and he was too tired to explain. Maybe it wasn’t exhaustion but it was unknowing and he didn’t want to lie to me anymore. Again, I was thinking about myself. He was right. Even in his death I thought that his death was an inconvenience to me. I was beginning to hate myself and for a fraction of a second, I thought I knew what Youngjae felt like. To be so disgusted with your life and with yourself you want to crawl out of your skin and remove yourself from your body.

                His was obviously on a much grander scale but I couldn’t help but to wonder what it really did feel like. He said he didn’t want me to understand, so would it make me suicidal if I wanted to? If I felt like he did, would I kill myself as well? That, was another thing I added onto the list of things I didn’t want to think about. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to forget. I wanted to wake up in the morning and look over into the bed next to me and see Youngjae’s sleeping face, or even better. I wanted to walk out into the living room and see him watching TV with a plate of food and the other’s talking to him. This was all one big nightmare and I’d fall asleep in it and then I’d wake up from both my nightmare and my actual slumber and everything would be back to normal. I’d ask Youngjae about how he was feeling and I’d listen to him and anything he wanted to say.

                But for now, I curled up onto his bed and buried my face into his pillow. How many nights had he cried himself to sleep and I was no more than ten feet away from him? Inhaling, his scent made me calm. It was such a painful thought that with time, his things would be taken out of his room, and even worse, his scent would fade. His life was already gone and I couldn’t bare the idea of his remnants slowly fading out as well.

                I didn’t want him to be a passing thought.