Changhyun slumped to the ground, a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand. His head lolled to the side, his mouth opening as he groaned. The alcohol wasn’t taking effect.

He took another swig and winced as it burned on the way down.

It was no use. His head felt light, everything he could see blurred at the edges and doubled, but the images and his head wouldn’t go away.

He cursed as the bottle slipped from his grasp and toppled over onto the floor, spilling everywhere. He didn’t bother righting it. He leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing. Now the images were clearer than ever. Changhyun swallowed. Maybe if he let the memories play out, they would disappear and stop torturing him.

He accepted defeat and brought forth the pictures that had been haunting him, the ones he’d been trying to squash down.

The moment he stopped fighting them, they flooded his mind like water breaking through a dam.

The first one to appear was his most recent memory of Chanhee. It was still fresh in his mind. Changhyun had been walking towards the grocery store, hands shoved in his pockets and his head bowed, when he heard Chanhee laugh. Changhyun had been so in love with him that he could recognize anything that was Chanhee.

Changhyun threw on his hood and hunched forward as he trudged along. He bit his lip and willed himself not to look. But he could never resist anything Chanhee did so, at the last second, he turned his head.

Honestly, why did he love to torture himself? Changhyun told himself it was because he just wanted to check up on him, to see if he was happy, but even that was a pathetic reason. It seemed even more pitiful to say it was because Changhyun was still in love with him. Although he wouldn’t admit it, a little part of him selfishly hoped that Chanhee felt miserable enough to come running back to him. But what he saw confirmed the opposite.

Chanhee was across the street, laughing loudly. Beside him was someone Changhyun assumed was his boyfriend. As he watched, Chanhee wrapped his arms around the other’s neck and kissed him. He clenched his jaw. Yeah, definitely his boyfriend.

Changhyun speed walked away from them, his heart aching. He rushed through his shopping, just wanting to get home. He was almost at the checkout when he made the split-second decision to pick up a few bottles of alcohol.

Changhyun didn’t realize how pathetically he was weeping until the drops rolled off his face and onto his hand. He swept his arm over his face, sniffing loudly.

After sobering up a little, Changhyun sopped up the spilled vodka and took a shower. He took one look around his apartment, dark and gloomy and smelling like cheap alcohol, and couldn’t stand it. He needed to leave.

Changhyun walked alone, his head still slightly spinning. He could hardly feel the rain beating down on him. It started to soak through his clothes and his hair hung in clumps in front of his eyes, the ends dripping water, yet he walked.

“Changhyun?”

He lifted his head. Rain started streaming in his eyes. He blinked.

Chanhee stood in front of him, dry, protected by his umbrella, and looking as flawless as the day they broke up.

Changhyun swallowed. Why did he have to run into him now, when he looked so pathetic?

“What are you doing out here? You’re gonna get sick if you keep walking around in the rain.”

In his eyes, Chanhyun could see the worry and care the older still had for him. There was also an underlying of pity in his gaze, despite the soft smile on his lips.

“It’s okay,” his voice cracked, “I’m fine.”

He wondered briefly which question he was answering. The spoken one, or the one reflecting in Chanhee’s eyes.

“You should get home,” he said quietly.

Changhyun almost wanted to laugh at the familiarity of the situation. If he ignored everything that happened, if he tried hard enough, he could pretend it was still like before, before everything ended. He recalled a time when Chanhee had rescued him from the rain and brought him home, spoiling him in front of a warm fire. Now they met again in the same situation, but everything was different. Chanhee didn’t make any move towards him, didn’t shield him with his umbrella, didn’t wrap an arm around his cold shoulders. Chanhee would not be his savior today, nor the days to come. And Changhyun really thought it would hurt less than this.

Did the memory cross Chanhee’s mind as well? Or had he simply pushed it aside?

“Ready to go?”

They both turned their heads. It was the boyfriend. Changhyun’s heart splintered when he swung an arm casually around Chanhee.

“Yeah, just a second,” Chanhee turned back to him, “It was nice seeing you again, Changhyun. Take care, okay?”

Changhyun nodded wordlessly and turned before anybody could say anything more. He heard voices behind him as he shuffled away.

“Who was that?”

A pause.

“An old friend.”

Changhyun wanted to forget. Wanted to stop remembering, to stop reliving, to stop hurting. But he couldn’t.

Everything around him reminded him of Chanhee. His apartment still had his touch, his presence. And he was gonna get rid of it, no matter how much it hurt him.

He started determinately, in the living room. He took off his movies from the shelf, picked up the books sitting on his coffee table, one of them still half-finished and dog-eared. He dropped them in a box.

In the kitchen, he got rid of all the snacks Chanhee bought but didn’t stick around long enough to eat. He sorted through the cabinets of his bathroom, putting in the box the products that weren’t his own. They’d been together so long, the line dividing the two began to blur, and Changhyun had some trouble sorting everything out. He went through the process painstakingly, eyeing each bottle carefully. He had to separate before-Chanhee Changhyun and relationship Changhyun, which was difficult, and heartbreaking.

By the time he reached the bedroom, tears rolled silently down his cheeks. His fingers stung with the pain of memories. He sniffled and passed his sleeve over his face. He had to, needed to finish.

Everything that was valuable to him, to their relationship, was in this room. The pictures on the wall and on the desk, the presents lining the windowsill, the little letters Chanhee used to write to him tucked inside his bedside table. And the clothes. The clothes that Chanhee had never come back to get. They still smelled like him. It was all here. And he packed it all into the box.

He fitted a lid on all of them and pushed them to a corner of the hallway. He would find a day to bring them back to him. All of it. He needed all of it gone.

Getting rid of physical things was easy. It was the memories that haunted him. But he couldn’t just stop going to any place where they had spent time together. No, the solution was simple. Create new memories, new experiences. He refused to let negativity stop him from living. So he picked himself up, and endured. He replaced old, painful images with new ones. And he found himself getting better.

But he still carried the burden of one last reminder. Chanhee’s tattoo. It warmed on his skin, begging to acknowledged. It wanted to torture him. It was a mark and it wasn’t something that Changhyun had control over.

He fought with himself over the course of a few weeks. One part of him refused to let go, but the other part knew that keeping it would only weigh on him, would just be a constant reminder of his past. A past he needed to give up on before it hurt him again.

So he did his research. He perused online forums and multiple websites, and read and discovered exactly what he’d have to do to rid himself of his tattoo.

It was a surgery, simple as that. The concept of it seemed straightforward, and it was described as simple and painless. But Changhyun took his time to familiarize himself with stories from other people.

Like himself, people had the procedure done to remove the painful memory. And in most cases, everything went seamlessly. Quick and painless, as described. Most people walked away happy. But there were exceptions. Some people recounted their experiences as excruciating, anesthesia doing nothing for them. They claimed that they could almost feel the tattoo stubbornly refusing to leave them, the pull on their skin, and in their hearts. He read horror stories about how one’s feelings were so strong the tattoo came back, marred and ugly over the scar tissue. Changhyun wondered if that would happen to him.

Other people’s experiences frightened him a little, but he didn’t let it deter him. He picked up the phone.

“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment.”

The night before his surgery. Changhyun stayed awake, thinking. The skin around his tattoo itched, like it knew what was going to happen and was rebelling against it.

He absentmindedly picked at it, and it ached dully as he passed his fingers over it.

Tears sprung in his eyes as he realized this would be the last thing tying him to Chanhee, the last thing keeping him from severing that bridge.

Crying made his pillow damp and his head throb. He went to sleep fitfully. He dreamed of sunshine-filled smiles, and carefree laughs. He dreamed of harsh words and hiccupped sobs. He relived their whole relationship that night, the good and the bad, and everything in between.

Changhyun’s heart beat rapidly as he walked into the clinic the next day. Everything was clean and crisp and too organized to match the erratic fluttering in his chest. Two or three other people sat waiting, and all looked up when he entered. He paused for a second before awkwardly shuffling forward to the reception desk.

“Hello, um, I have an appointment today? For Yoo Changhyun?”

The receptionist glanced up with a smile and shuffled some papers on her desk, handing him one.

“Of course. We just need you to sign this form.”

He did.

“The doctor will be with you soon.”

Changhyun turned to the waiting area and sat down, his hands clasped together. He breathed shallowly.

His gaze scanned the room, his eyes landing on the other people in the room. He couldn’t help but give them the onceover, curious as to where their tattoos were.

All of them turned as a door opened. A girl stepped out of the door, tears flowing down her cheeks. She had her hand in front of , and Changhyun could hear the muffled thanks she uttered to the doctor. She walked, almost skipped, out of clinic, her eyes shining with tears and happiness.

Before his own name was called, Changhyun watched one person get brought in and one other walk out, his back hunched and head bowed. Changhyun wondered how he would feel when he came out.

“Yoo Changhyun?”

He stood up quickly.

“We’re ready for you.”

He followed the doctor down the hallway, his throat suddenly dry. He had no idea what to expect behind the doors. He imagined a scary operation room, with big tools and nurses with scrubs, but once he opened the door, it was just a regular doctor’s office, not at all intimidating.

“So this isn’t a big surgery?” he asked as he sat down.

“No, no, not at all. It’s really just a simple procedure done under general anesthesia. You shouldn’t feel any pain.”

“How long will it take?”

“It depends on the side, but it usually takes no more than an hour.”

He nodded, still feeling a little nervous.

“Would you please show where your tattoo is?”

Changhyun sat up and removed his shirt, exposing his arm.

“Okay, perfect. Now, if you’ll lean back, we’ll put you under. When you wake up, everything will be done.”

Changhyun woke up feeling groggy. His eyes had trouble focusing and his arm felt sore. When he looked down, it was wrapped tightly. The skin around it was pulled taut, but it didn’t look as bad as he thought it would.

The doctor appeared beside him.

“How do you feel?”

“A little woozy, but okay.”

“That’s good,” he handed him some water, “Everything went well. The skin should heal over nicely.”

Changhyun sipped slowly. His head still wasn’t clear.

“What if it comes back?”

“It’s certainly a possibility. You would have to come back and we’d see what we can do. Unfortunately, if the tattoo does come back, it means your feelings are extremely strong, and there is no guarantee that it could be removed effectively, no matter how many surgeries you have.”

Despite that possibility, Changhyun still walked out of the clinic feeling lighter, the weight of Chanhee’s tattoo now gone.

Weeks flew by. Months passed. Changhyun learned to live again. He ditched the alcohol and let go of his sadness. He filled the empty spaces Chanhee left in his home and in his heart with his own interests, his own passions.

But still, the thought of the tattoo reappearing plagued him.

Whenever Changhyun saw him around town, the sight made the skin prickle slightly, and each time, Changhyun ran home to make sure it hadn’t returned.

It was gone for now, but Changhyun worried. Chanhee played such a big part in his life; often, he paused and was astonished at how much of his life was influenced by Chanhee. The tattoo may have been gone, Chanhee himself may have left, but the feelings remained. And he hated himself for that. He hated the way his heart still pounded at the thought of him, hated the way he compared all his dates to him, hated the way he still loved him. And he dreaded the day the tattoo would inevitably come back.