A year later.

Kim Minseok had become world famous and Kim Jongdae was living his repetitive life.

Everything went like it went everyday.

Nothing had changed, except for the dust that had covered Jongdae's house.

In actuality it was their house, but now that he was used to living a dead man, he called it his own.

He had stopped watching television as well, he had stopped looking at their albums every week, stopped going to their favorite spots and stopped reminiscing.

Jongdae was like now like a doll abandoned by its owner, but it's okay. He can live alone, he can-

No he can't...

Warm but cold tears ran along his bony cheeks.

He missed Minseok. A lot.

So much that he was afraid of looking at his photo.

Afraid that he wouldn't survive the huge waves of happy memories.

Afraid that if once he looked, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying.