The ghost hands of smoke and coughed up embers were all the fireplace had left to offer me by this point of night. The old clockwork bell chimed, informing me that is was well past 12. I guess I hadn’t necessarily bothered to keep track of time anyways.

    Perhaps, I wanted to believe that if I stay here long enough, Jongdae would walk through the front door with his tender smile and soft eyes that always felt home. He would walk through that door and sing my name. He would sing it like he sang it everyday. Except, he hadn’t. Not for the past 5 days.

    He hadn’t held my hand, him thumb going over my knuckles absent-mindedly for the past 5 days. He hadn’t overused the word “boyfriend” like he always did for the past 5 days. He hadn’t woken me up with bed-hair and a too-loud-to-contain laughter for the past 5 days. He hadn’t locked his lips with my mine, lacing his fingers through my hair in 5 days.

    Thinking now, I can remember days when Jongdae wouldn’t hold back on public affection, completely disregarding the looks tossed our way. He would confidently walk down the street with his chin jutted out, holding my hand proudly. Even if some stranger threw vulgar comments at us he never looses his tight grip on my hand. Each time it happened he simply leaned down to kiss me and tell me that they were “jealous of how cute his boyfriend was”.

     I remember one day he gave me over twenty kisses. I remember how each time he made sure it was just as passionate and sweet as the last. Yet, I could taste the faint frustration on his lips by the eighth. I could taste the words of the strangers by the twelfth.

    I could hear the fireplace’s melancholy heartbeat as I stare at the now empty coffee mug in front of me. I felt the last bits of sleep fade away and let out a sigh of relief.

    Sleep only visited for brief moments lately, and each time it was always dreams filled with him. Each time I woke up, aching for his arms but only finding his ghost.

    The coffee was to kill those dreams.

    Those agonizingly vivid dreams.

    I stopped sleeping in our, no, my room after the second morning without him. I had been restless the whole night. My thick blankets suddenly felt cold and my pillows still smelt like his shampoo. I had found a blanket, a blanket before him, and slept on the couch since. If you want to call it “sleep”.  

    Suddenly, a gust of wind made itself guest within the small living room, extinguishing the last of whimsical flames. My eyes flickered to the window across the room, which was still open. I would have thought it was strange for me to that unobservant but due to recent circumstances, I wasn’t.

    With a sigh, I removed the blankets slowly to go shut the window. It was harder to move around now that my only light source was gone. I reached the window, but hesitated before shutting it.

    I understood why I had ignored it.

    It was the window he had engraved his initial into as a joke. KJD messily craved into the wood with a dull knife.

    We had stayed up late that night. He claimed that he couldn’t sleep and he didn’t have to tell me it was because of a conversation with his father earlier that day. Even if I hadn’t overhead the conversation I would have known something was up. 

    One of the main indicator that Jongdae was agitated or stressed were the random forehead kisses followed by “You know I love you right?” or the famous “I’m so ing proud to be your boyfriend.”

    His father never approved of our relationship and blamed me for “converting” his son. Jongdae could always ignore his father’s words but I guess that night he finally struck a cord in him.

   That night I was the one doing the comforting. I was the one giving forehead kisses and overly cheesy lines. Slowly by slowly, I watched as his breathtakingly beautiful smile came back to life. Jongdae had always joked about getting matching tattoos but I absolutely refused but after a few glasses of champagne I gave a suggestion.

   I passed my thumb over our engraved initials, desperate to go back to that day.

   It may not seem like much, but whenever Jongdae was away, I always came back to that window for a sense of comfort.

    I tried to feel that same comfort standing next to the window, the cool winter air brushing against my bare legs, yet it was gone. Instead, all I felt was emptiness.

    He was gone.

    Out of frustration (with myself, with him, with everything), I slammed down the windowsill and grabbed at the curtains, extended them fully so I wouldn’t have to see it anymore. Spinning on my heel, I headed over to the kitchen to grab some matches to relight the fire.

    I raided the cupboard and found the matches soon after. I spotted a bottle of vodka at the back of one of the cabinets and decided to bring it back with me to the couch.

    I struck the match and carelessly threw into the fireplace. Instantly, light flooded the room again. Bottle in hand, I dragged the blanket with me over to the fireplace.

    I stared down the bottle in my hands. It was already half empty. From what? Who knows. I hated drinking and I hated Jongdae drinking as he always pulled some stupid stunt each time he was drunk.

    it, I thought defeatedly. I popped off the cap and took a long swing. I felt myself wince at the taste. Even them, I still took another swing. My head lolled back as I waited for the bitter taste to pass by. Or rather for the vodka to set it.

    It almost didn’t feel real. One day we seemed perfect, morning rants over crappy pancakes jongdae was so damn dedicated to make every Sunday. Then suddenly, I come home to all his clothes gone, a smashed mirror, and a ripped photograph of us at Disney world from last year.

    I barged into the room as if I would see him there sleeping soundly and ready to tell me this was just some misunderstanding. Some incredible misunderstanding.

    Where his outline should have been I found a note. All it read was “I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

    It was at that moment that I finally allowed myself to breakdown.

    Later, I had drifted around the house and kept finding small, useless things he left behind. A pair of socks, a box of paperclips from his work, empty bottles of cologne, and stick notes from days before that read things like “Meeting at 9” or “Do the dishes.”

    I was almost scared to touch them. As if daring to disturb anything from its natural tranquility would break the almost dreamlike state I was in. As if doing so, I would finally have to admit he was gone.

    My thoughts kept getting muddled and my limbs felt flimsy, so I came to the conclusion the vodka was finally kicking in. Though, the feeling of dread kept intensifying.

    Whilst I’m here, pathetically crying over him, he is probably already found some other boy head over heels for him. Like one of those overly attractive toys from his work. What did was that one guy’s name? Junmoney? Isn’t that his nickname?

    Subconsciously, I knew I should be anger but instead I felt almost…light.

    Okay so the vodka was definitely kicking in.

    I felt a giggle bubble up from within me. It rung through the air, cutting at the heavy silence. I felt myself sway along to some unknown beat.

    Maybe it would be better if I went out of town for a while. Yeah, a visit back home doesn’t seem to bad. I am sure my boss wouldn’t mind me taking a bit of a vacation from work. Something to get my mind off of…everything.

    A doorbell chime yanked me back to reality. It was followed by another one. And another one. And another one.

    I tried standing up but vodka had caused my legs to lose the ability to keep up with the rest of me. I kept teetering and tottering as I made my way to the front door.

    I hesitated before clamping my hand over the doorknob. Who could possibly be up and about at this time?

    People who were making fools of themselves by moping over someone who was already moved on, that’s who.

    Reluctantly, I finally swung open the door. My eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to outside’s light pouring into the depressingly dim room. I resorted to looking down at the floor mat as I finally squeaked something out. “Look, I think I think you may have gotten the wrong addre -“

    I didn’t get to finish my sentence.

    “Kaden” A voice breathed above me.

    My head snapped up so rapidly, the world spun a bit.

    I felt my heart skip a beat. My tongue felt heavy.

    I knew that voice anywhere.

     It was him.