Evening was falling; the warm smells of a summer evening blowing in the open window caused the sheer curtain to wave in the darkened room. Outside, the quiet hum of insects slowly started to rise once again, recovering from the silence that followed the slam of the front door.

Jiyong closed his eyes, leaning against the doorframe and let the feeling of the quietness overtake him. He knew the room he was in very well: maroon walls rose from a dark hardwood floor covered in cream rag rugs with two windows stood opposite the door, each covered in a wispy, dark brown curtain, and an armchair sat between them. To his left was a short dresser, and he knew the contents of the drawers as well as the room: neatly folded clothes of Seungri. To his left was a bed, still covered with white sheets and a quilt in shades of maroon and so soft he sometimes found himself burying his face in it.

Of course, that wasn't only due to the softness. The entire room was filled with a sense of loss. It was still acute even three years later. But for all that the quilt made when they first moved into their new house brought memories of sadness and pain and the feeling that a piece of his heart had been cut from him could bring him to tears even now, th