I am sorry for missing out this chapter when first posting. There isn't really anything special about the second life and the late posting isn't done intentionally. It was just me being careless. Sorry!

And thanks to everyone who commented, subscribed and just generally enjoyed this story.

2.

Nothing noteworthy happened to Jonghyun in his second life. If anything could attest to that, it was the fact that Jonghyun barely remembered the skeletons of his life. He was born, he was nurtured and he was loved. He grew, he lived and he died. Jonghyun remembered very little of his life and whatever fragmented memories he could dig out were coloured in shades of grey unlike that of his other lives.

But if there was one thing Jonghyun could remember with startling clarity in his second life, it was this one day—when a friend of his died and the funeral wake was held. Jonghyun could remember everything, right down to the very flowers he laid down on the grave that day.

It was surprising, but then again, it wasn’t.

-

The skies were a gentle cornflower blue, and the breeze was sweet with the scent of moist earth and growing life. It was spring, and the weather was the sort you read about so often in books, but so seldom had in real life. It was almost ironic how Jonghyun was standing among a sea of people wearing black, watching a casket of gold and brown being lowered into the ground. The world itself seemed to be revelling in its new-found life, and yet here Jonghyun was, mourning the passing of an acquaintance.

The air was silent except for the sound of shovelling dirt and quiet sobs. Beside Jonghyun, Kibum was silently crying, tears running down his cheeks. Jonghyun rested his hand on Kibum’s shoulder in what he hoped, was a comforting manner. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

While Jonghyun had only been (for a lack of words) friendly acquaintances with Jinwoon, Kibum had a close friendship with him. The two of them had been great friends—always calling each other out for a cup of tea, always lending each other a shoulder in times of troubles— and it must have pained Kibum to have to abuse himself of the notion that Jinwoon was no longer in this world. It was such a pity. Jinwoon was only forty-two.

-

When the last shovel of dirt was thrown into the pit, Kibum’s shoulders started jerking violently as he swallowed the tears that threatened to engulf him. Not far away from them, Jinwoon’s wife had already given up on all façade of ‘being strong’ and was wailing full out. The grief in the air was almost tangible and Jonghyun found himself wishing he stayed at home, instead of agreeing to accompany Kibum to this place reeking of death and sorrow. Choked sobs started coming from Kibum, and Jonghyun sighed mentally before pulling Kibum in for a hug.

Jinwoon was no longer there to offer his shoulders; it’s time for Jonghyun’s stiff-armed hugs to take over.

“It’s ok,” Jonghyun patted Kibum’s back gently, “It’s ok.”

Kibum simply cried harder into Jonghyun’s shirt, not bothering to reply. Because it wasn’t ok; it really wasn’t.

Small pockets of crying people appeared and Jonghyun found himself growing more and more uncomfortable in this place where he clearly didn’t belong. He felt strangely distanced from this whole affair and couldn’t feel any tinge of sorrow in his heart. He knew he was supposed to be upset, to feel some form of abstract sadness at the loss of a friend, at the loss of a brilliant young life. But Jonghyun just felt oppressed as he tried to guilt himself into feelings of despair.

In his defence, Jonghyun had never been really close with Jinwoon. They were the type of friends who would say ‘hi’ to each other after coincidentally bumping into each other on the streets, the type who would occasionally strike up light-hearted conversations (never anything too deep or personal) when seeing each other at a party or something and the type who would never tease the other, make fun of the other or laugh at the other. Both of them had been extremely conscious of the invisible line and were always unfailingly polite around each other.

Maybe that’s why they never got that close.

But then again, Jonghyun was pretty sure the girl who was sobbing profusely to his right had never been close to Jinwoon either. According to Kibum, that girl was a colleague who hated Jinwoon’s guts and was probably only invited because the whole department was invited. And here she was, crying her heart out as tears rolled down her puffy eyes relentlessly.

Jonghyun wasn’t sure what that made him. A heartless bastard or just someone with the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. (But Jonghyun had always harboured this mild suspicion that some people crying at funerals like this weren’t actually crying for the deceased, but rather at the fact of their sudden reminded mortality. They were crying because the issue of them being not ‘invincible’ was brought fore, front and centre. And the idea did not sit well with them at all.

Of course, Jonghyun wasn’t accusing the girl of being such a person. For all he knew, the girl might have been secretly in love with Jinwoon all her life and was now weeping at her One True Love’s demise.)

-

Their turn had finally come. There was some sort of morbid pedestrianism in queuing up to pay respects to a newly installed headstone, but Jonghyun didn’t comment that to anyone. He simply held Kibum’s hand tightly as they circled around the recently disturbed ground to the front of the marble slab. Jonghyun passed a bouquet of white lilies to Kibum (he had been carrying it for the man who was too busy mourning earlier), who bent down to rest it among the pile of flowers. Jonghyun followed suit, placing his bouquet of chrysanthemums at the corner. He figured his probably didn’t deserve a spot in the middle.

Jonghyun squeezed Kibum’s hand comfortingly as they moved out of people’s way. Kibum’s sobs had died down, but he still looked tired from the whole ordeal. Jonghyun made a silent note to himself to drive Kibum home soon. He needed to rest.

However, for now, he would give Kibum the time he needed to gather himself together. He would give him the silence and solitude he wanted. He would be an understanding friend and give him the space he required. Probably.

Jonghyun wasn’t too sure what would be the antidote to the cursed poison that was sorrow, but he still stood silently beside Kibum, his expression carefully blank.

And then, Tiffany came over.

-

She came over and swept Kibum up in a tearful embrace without anything so much as a preamble. And before Jonghyun knew it, Kibum’s tap was open once again, and the two of them—Kibum and Tiffany—were clinging onto each other, wailing and wailing as they mourned the loss of their dear friend.

Somehow, in the middle of the whole process, Kibum’s hand had freed itself from Jonghyun’s, and Jonghyun now found himself staring awkwardly from the side. He could hear incoherent sobs of ‘Jinwoon… Jin…’ and ‘I miss him’ floating over to his ears, but he wasn’t too sure who said it. The two of them were now stuck in the tiny bubble of misery that they had created for themselves, and Jonghyun wasn’t too sure how to burst it or whether if he wanted to, for that matter.

He could not help but to feel a sense of relief. At least the grieving Kibum was off his hands. He had no idea what to do with him.

(Well, other than to give uneasy hugs.)

Jonghyun tried to unobtrusively stand at the side. And considering the fact that he was in an open cemetery, it wasn’t too hard a feat. He retreated a few columns back and found himself next to a piece of limestone slab as he eyed the two who had now proceeded to sniffling quietly into each other’s necks. Jonghyun felt absolutely detached from the whole process.

Keeping a corner of his eye surreptitiously on Kibum (so as to ensure he didn’t do anything foolish), Jonghyun allowed his attention to wander. The sight of people crying, sobbing and just generally being upset felt like lead in his stomach, weighing Jonghyun down, down and down.

It made him guilty for not feeling the same. Maybe he should try crying.

Jonghyun opened his eyes wide forcibly and imagined the image of Jinwoon being dead and ascending to heaven. All he got for his efforts were a prickly feeling in his eyes and the irresistible urge to blink. So much for crying.

Running a hand through his hair, Jonghyun gave up on getting his eyes to tear and settled for looking somewhere else where he wouldn’t be assaulted by the sight of the mourning crowd. His gaze drifted from his fingers to his boots, from his boots to the ground, from the ground to the limestone slab next to him. The tombstone’s base was adorned with words.

‘A Happy Soul, That All The Way to Heaven Hath A Summer’s Day.’

Well, that guy must have been an optimistic one, Jonghyun thought. At least, that’s what the epitaph indicated. Jonghyun wondered idly what Jinwoon’s tombstone read— he hadn’t paid that much attention to it when he was paying his respects. He could probably find out now if he really wanted to. But the idea of wading through the whole mass of veritable unhappiness that was Jinwoon’s friends, relatives and family to read just a few words made Jonghyun feel faint.

Yikes. He had best not think about it any further.

Jonghyun’s eyes moved upwards, onto the face of the grey tombstone that was marred with signs of neglect and wear and tear. Mosses and weeds had gotten a hold in it, and were now spotting the aged limestone with a darker shade of disgusting grey—it was bordering black. When it came to honouring the dead, Nature certainly seemed as if it didn’t care a hoot.

Some of the words engraved into the tombstone were, as a result, blocked by the streaks of grey, and Jonghyun had a fun time trying to decipher and decode the carvings.

No. Not really, it wasn’t fun at all. But it’s a whole lot better compared to simply spacing out or looking at the people attending the funeral, who were now—Thank god—slowly dispersing. Oh, and Kibum and Tiffany were now joined by Nicole and Minho. Judging by how the four were standing in a close semi-circle before Jinwoon’s gravestone, they seemed to have little intention of leaving yet.

Jonghyun went back to the intellectually-stimulating task of decoding the faded engravings.

Filial son, loving husband and dutiful father.

Well, no. The last word was pretty much covered up by the moss. But using his superior inference skills, Jonghyun decided that since the first few parts were of ‘son’ and ‘husband’, the last would undoubtedly be ‘father’. Either that, or a ‘friend’. But ‘father’ had a higher likelihood, because the three words –son, husband and father—came in a set. At least, that’s what Jonghyun thought.

Jonghyun’s eyes moved upwards, and he frowned. While the bottom part of the slate had been blessedly free from the clutches of Nature’s enthusiastic growth, the top was nearly a veritable maze of moss, fungi and everything grey. Jonghyun squinted and moved his head forward, hoping it would help to enhance the clarity of his vision. It did—Jonghyun could now quite clearly see the little hairs on a particularly fuzzy patch of algae.

Jonghyun sharply recoiled his head back in disgust. He pursed his lips disapprovingly, but it’s alright, he could compromise. He leaned his body forward, but kept his head tilted slightly to the back. Jonghyun looked quite the ridiculous sight.

Blank 7, 1889.

The first word certainly looked to be a short word—ranging from three to five alphabets long. But that simply meant that it could be any month from March to July, and Jonghyun’s deductive skills were not as sharply honed as he would like. After spending a minute or two, speculating, Jonghyun decided there were some things better left unknown. After all, he wouldn’t want to take all the mystery out of this world; it was boring as it was already.

(And no, it wasn’t because try as he might, Jonghyun couldn’t make out the word.)

Having figured out the year the grey limestone slab was installed, Jonghyun looked at it in a whole new perspective. He might have been a little judgemental and unfair to this piece of enduring stone at first sight, but knowing now that it had withstood all the raging summer storms and bone-chilling winter hails for forty-eight years, Jonghyun couldn’t help but to feel a tiny bit of respect towards the gravestone (ridiculous as it might sound). Sure, it might be all rundown and dirty, but it had done its best to endure the worst Nature had thrown at it for many, many years.

The tombstone was born on the same year Jonghyun was. The guy whom this tombstone was dedicated to died the year Jonghyun was born. What a strange coincidence.

Jonghyun inspected the headstone in a new light, noting the disrepair it had fallen into. Perhaps in the recent years, the children of this ‘dutiful father’ hadn’t been coming to pay their respects as frequently as they should be. No wonder those stuck-up old stooges in universities were always lamenting about the ‘abysmal state of the younger generation’. It was people like that who gave good youngsters like Jonghyun and Kibum a bad name. Guilty by association.

Jonghyun snorted slightly, all thoughts about the on-going funeral procession just 15 feet away from him forgotten. He found himself developing quite the taste for detective work.

Ahoy there, Sherlock Holmes! All Jonghyun’s lacking was his trusty partner, Watson. Maybe he could convince Kibum to play the role later on.

Upon the thought of Kibum, Jonghyun was suddenly reminded about the on-going funeral procession just 15 feet away from him. Jonghyun cringed inwardly and did his best to shove the uncomfortable thoughts of Jinwoon’s death, his apathy towards the whole thing and the crying—oh the crying—into the deep recesses of his mind. He was just beginning to forget.

Hurriedly, Jonghyun cast his eyes upwards. Time to figure out the name.

Blank Jinki.

The first word was really undecipherable. An impossible task. The fuzzy patch of algae (which had terrified Jonghyun earlier) dominated the area, and there was little chance Jonghyun could see through it unless he suddenly developed X-ray eyes. Of course, there was the more mundane method of simply reaching out and brushing it off, but Jonghyun didn’t feel quite comfortable touching anything in this place—this cemetery. He didn’t want to bring back anything remotely resembling the dread, despair and sorrow that were practically emanating from the ground (or maybe just from the people who attended Jinwoon’s procession).

Jonghyun wasn’t superstitious. He just felt he would rather be safe than sorry.

The second word was less of an impossible puzzle as Jonghyun could see the ‘J’ and ‘n’ as plain as daylight. Even though the ‘i’s were more of an enigma, Jonghyun could spy the little dots that the carver had carved too deep. ‘k’ was a bit harder though, and Jonghyun had a hard time deciding whether was it a ‘b’, a ‘f’ or a 'k' (the words were cursive).

However, at first glance, Jonghyun had a strange feeling that the alphabet should rightly be a ‘k’. He had no idea why he was so certain. It was not as if Jonghyun had any solid evidence (he certainly did not reach forward and brush off the algae). But Jonghyun had no doubts that the name was ‘Jinki’—it was just the way things were supposed to be. It was just like how rocks were supposed to drop down towards the earth, and how rivers were supposed to flow to the seas. The name rolled off Jonghyun’s tongue as naturally as breathing.

“Jinki,” Jonghyun whispered, more to himself than to anyone in particular, “Jinki.”

And when Jonghyun spoke the name, it hinted vaguely of an epic romance that could have been, a love that was fated not to be and intertwined destinies that would span across a thousand worlds—ageless and timeless.

Jonghyun found himself crying, and he couldn’t quite say why.

-

Every 7^th of March, April, May, June and July, Jonghyun would stop by the cemetery under the guise of paying respects to Jinwoon. He would bring with him a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and lay them on the foot of the grey limestone slab.

-

Jonghyun now knows the reason why he remembers only that scene with startling clarity in his second life. And he too, understands why only his second life was coloured in black, grey and white. It’s just the way Jonghyun is programmed, the way his very being is crafted. His existence revolves around Jinki and there is little he could do about it. Jinki is the lodestone that Jonghyun is drawn inexorably to.

Anything related to Jinki are treasures. Anything that wasn’t are trash, meant to be thrown down the recycling bin that is the yawning pits of Jonghyun’s memories. And in his second life, only the memory of Jinki’s gravestone is carefully sorted apart from the rest, to be burnt into the very heart of Jonghyun’s soul.

This piece is boring.