The last memory of Jonghyun that I have was him smiling. Isn’t that what we always hope for our loved ones: to remember them as someone happy? We were always the broken kids, even as we were growing up. But he always had a way of picking life up and telling it that he wasn’t going to break the way everyone else did. I was the quitter; the negative in his positive little world.

So I thought.

I didn’t see through the smiles; the laughter; the eyes he used to look at me and tell me everything was going to be just fine.

In the end, life caught up to Jonghyun. Way quicker than it did to me. And how unfair of it to do so, because such a wonderful soul didn’t deserve to be stripped off from his life just when he was at the peak of his life – out there changing the world and lives of those like us. The broken kids. The misfits. The ones who involuntarily stumbled and fell onto this life we called adulthood.

And damn the universe for taking the best part of me away.

-

Jonghyun and I had been neighbors all our lives. I remember our mothers having tea at our patio one summer afternoon when we were in high school, and how they laughed as they told us that Jonghyun and I had been friends even when we were eggs in their stomachs. The awkward look we shared that day was even more memorable than what our mothers had said. Yet, we flashed our mothers a half-smile and nodded like the obedient kids we were in their presence.

We always knew that we were connected at some way. I guess we never acknowledged it, but Jonghyun and I were never as comfortable with others as we were together.

At the age of six, we went to our first Halloween together. The neighborhood was always lively at this time of the year, and Jonghyun and I enjoyed it as well. I remember during one occassion, he was dressed as Frankenstein’s monster and I was Dracula. He had lauged at me for dressing as someone uncool. Even at a young age, he was a very vocal person. I'd ask him what it was about Halloween he enjoyed, to which he said:

“When I wear a mask, I can be anyone I want to be.”

And I smiled at that, because I adored him. Because we were kids. But maybe you wore the mask too long, Jjong. Huh. Who am I to say that? The bravest man I know may have worn a mask, but he wore it so gracefully and made others so happy.

At least I think so. As he said those words, he danced around like a fool, pretending to eat me as he came closer. That memory always made me laugh. I wonder if it will now.

At twelve, we often skipped classes to go to the beach. We both enjoyed the sound of waves as it hit the shore. With every rise of the waves, so did our chests. Heaving up and down as if we were on life support. The skies were always clear when we decided to go and play hooky. We’d just sit there and breathe the scenery in. Despite the emptiness of the beach, we always loved the idea of its vastness and silence. Just Jonghyun and I against the world. Always and forever.

Or so I thought.

Even on summer days, we’d come to the beach. “Let the heat get to us,” he’d always say, “in the end, we’ll die a happy death with all this beauty surrounding us.”

I would chuckle at his words, because I adored him. Because what a way that would be to go, wouldn’t it? But why didn’t you wait for us to get to a beach one summer afternoon before you left me all alone in this world? Huh. Who am I to say that? We all fight our own battles at different places. The bravest man I know may have been brave, but we all lay down our weapons and armors at any time. Demons are relentless, after all.

Eighteen. It crushed me to hear when you said you wanted to pursue your dreams of being a singer. I wanted so much to beg you to stay. For selfish reasons, of course. I didn’t want to live this life without you around. You were my anchor; my best friend. But I let you go, even if I didn’t want to. Because I knew the world was your biggest enemy and that you were going to conquer it. Who knew you would change the world along the way?

Still, we had our last hurrah before going our separate ways. I remember sitting underneath the stars with you that one night. I think it was autumn because the trees had turned a mixture of yellow, orange and red. You had your head rested my abdomen, and I remember your black locks so gently.

“I’m going to miss you wherever I go, you know that right?” you whispered so lovingly.

And that night, salty tears trickled down my face. But I leaned my head back so that you would not see. I was always weak that way, and even when you knew that, you never treated me as such. You were a liar even then. I loved you still. Maybe that’s why I never told you to quit lying and tell the truth.

I never did. I wish I did.

I want to be angry, Jjong. I want to be angry because you left me all alone in this cruel world. But how could I be? How could I be angry when you’ve fought all your battles singlehandedly? If anything, I should be angry at myself because I never thought to fight it with you. How could I be when you say those words to me on a moonlit evening under starry skies?

I love you.

We never talked as much after. At twenty-four, you and I had different lives. You were always busy with pursuing your dreams, and I was the silent supporter. I’d tease you now and then that you were beyond my reach for being famous. Now and then you’d leave messages, about how I should set a date for us to have coffee and catch up, but I was just as busy trying to keep my life together. Still, you were that constant voice in my head to stay strong. To fight no matter what. To know that I am still loved by you.

I cry every now and then at your messages because I always missed you so much. I always responded half-heartedly because I thought you’d be with me always. I wonder what we would have been like at thirty, Jjong. I wonder what you would say to me if I had set a time and date to have coffee with you. I wonder if you’d tell me what was going through your head. I wonder if I could’ve done something to help you change your mind.

But that’s all it’s going to be, thoughts that I will never know the answer to.

I’m sorry, Jjong. I’m sorry I couldn’t be your anchor.

I see your picture from where I’m sitting and you're smiling. I can't believe this is how I'm seeing you after a long time. This makes me incredibly sad, Jjong. Tell me it's a joke. That this stuffy funeral home, filled with people I barely know is just an illusion. I blink and catch your sister comforting someone I think you were close with from the agency. But I’m not too sure.

I’m just wondering and reminiscing and slipping through the gaps of time, hoping that if I open them, we’d be back to where we started. Maybe then we’d do things differently. I’ll say for you sure, Jonghyun, no matter what, you always did well. In everything you did and say. And God, I will miss you so very much.