사랑한다(그럴꺼야넌) 안한다(아닐꺼야넌)
한다너만본다
I love you (I’m sure you do too) I won’t do it (you will do it)
I will do it, I’m only gonna look at you

Woohyun could still remember everything worth remembering about Sunggyu. In other words, he remembered everything, from the heartbreakingly beautiful smile to the sound of his honey-like voice. He remembered the way the sun looked as it danced along the curve of his soft creamy neck, he remembered the way the wind would breeze through the strands of Sunggyu’s soft caramel coloured hair. He remembered the way the warm sunlight would make Sunggyu glow, and it was at those moments that Woohyun would think he could die happy with a smile on his face.

He remembered how Sunggyu would blush adorably, a light rosy pink dusted across his cute cheeks that Woohyun loved pinching so much. He remembered how ing gorgeous Sunggyu always looked when they made love and he would always remember how soft and absolutely delicious Sunggyu’s lips and body tasted, and the warmth that emitted from their bodies at night as they lay entangled within one another in the cold silk sheets.

He remembered even the little things like the way Sunggyu would stick his tongue out when he was writing something, or the way Sunggyu picked all the mushrooms out of his food before eating, and the way Sunggyu’s fingers would drum against the table when he was bored, and the way Sunggyu would always end up in his arms when he woke the next morning.

Woohyun remembered everything and oh god, it just made everything that much more painful.

He sighed as he tore his eyes away from the crack in the wall that Sunggyu had once accidently made by flinging a frying pan at it. Oh yes, Sunggyu was bad at cooking too.

Another memory.

Another day and another bar added to the steel confines of his heart. Not to keep things out, but to keep things in, things Woohyun would never let go of.

Slowly he pulled himself off the table he was sitting on and wondered why he always chose that particular place to sit nowadays (because Sunggyu once spilt coffee on the table and left a dark stain, echoes his mind, but Woohyun ignores it). He looked down on the floor (a stain just visible under his shoe from where the coffee had run onto the floor) and he looked up again.

Hesitatingly, Woohyun stares a little and for a second, he swears he could see a faint glimmer of what could possibly be Sunggyu or something Sunggyu left behind a long time ago. But it’s soon irrelevant because it disappears, and the room is just as cold as it used to be since Sunggyu’s warmth was taken away from it.

Woohyun let another soft breath and slowly meandered his way aimlessly through the series of brightly lit rooms, an all too familiar voice haunting the corridors like an incessant echo. It’s warm and sweet like honey, a soft hint of a vibrato to it, and it comes and disappears like the wind, there one second and gone the next.

Woohyun walked on, and Sunggyu follows, singing softly under his breath, his eyes turned longingly towards Woohyun with every move he made.

He’s so close, and yet at the same time, he’s so far away, and it’s so heartbreakingly sad and sorrowful and all the things in between.

Gradually Woohyun slows to a stop, and so too does Sunggyu, separated by a misshapen object covered dejectedly with pale white sheets and an entire dimension.

Woohyun slowly turned around to caress the object, hands running lovingly (did he even love anymore?) over the spaces where he knew the black and ivory white keys would be, and the edges and dents in the ancient instrument.

He lifted his head up to gaze around the empty room, seeing but not seeing. He sighs and Sunggyu mimics his breath. He sings a little tune from a dusty time ago under his breath and Sunggyu does the same. He runs his hand perilously close to the edge and Sunggyu echoes his action, their fingers almost brushing, millimeters away from each other, millenniums away from each other.

Seeing but not seeing.

Woohyun looks up sadly, and Sunggyu feels like he’s looking straight at him, as if he knew he was there, but Sunggyu knows better, and he knows he’s not really there.

“I love you, you know.” Woohyun whispers mournfully.

“I’m sure you do.” Sunggyu replies, his voice lost in the tunnels of time.

“I can’t let you go. I won’t do it.”

“You will do it. You will have to eventually.” Sunggyu echoes back sadly.

“I’ll keep you here. I will do it. I won’t let you escape from me, escape from my memories. I’ll keep looking at you, I’ll keep holding onto you, I won’t let you leave,I won’t let you go.”

And at this, Sunggyu has no reply, and it’s all he can do to turn his head away slowly and sadly, hiding the tears that Woohyun can’t see anyway.

Memories are always sad, because they are evidence of what has been lost and what has been gone – mere shadows of what was once real and what was once so beautifully alive.

They’re sad, and Sunggyu knows that best, because just like Woohyun he remembers everything.