Yoon Yoonjae was not a meditative type by nature. But perhaps, certain occurrences in life could truly change a person.

It was late, almost dawning, but he could not sleep. There was nothing that had triggered him into entering such deep thoughts, yet there he was, randomly sat awake whilst his wife was soundly sleeping on the other side of the bed.

He looked at her, a smile forming on his lips. Yoonjae loved Shiwon. That was something no one could argue against. Affection and attraction had brought them together, to the point that Yoonjae would go mad if she was to be taken out of his life.

It came too close to become true once, when her sickness came like a thunder on his calm day. He remembered the overwhelming fear and panic he’d felt when she fell, as if collapsing together with his world. And even more, during her surgery.

However, Shiwon was right here now, alive and healthy. Yoonjae moved to her hair gently, a sudden need just to make sure her presence was real.

Sometimes, like tonight, Yoonjae felt ever so grateful. But there were other times, like tonight as well, he wanted to beat himself for feeling so. He didn't deserve any of these. Not when someone else had to sacrifice so much for something as irrelevant as his happiness.

There were things Yoonjae wanted to redo, circumstances he wished to change. There had to be different ways in which things would turn a lot better. There just had to be options, more alternatives. But the past couldn't be revisited, nor the dead could be revived.

His hand travelled to light the bedside table lamp and grab his wallet, from where he took out a neatly folded yellowish paper. It was a letter which he'd read too many times that he remembered word by word, written in a too familiar handwriting, yet still sent him into an emotional ride each time.

Yoonjae closed his eyes as a kind, gentle smile greeted his vision. Years of being best friends. A day of being something more. He desperately wanted to remember each detail about the memories, anguished when some seemed so hazy.

“I'm not going anywhere so long as you guys kept me in your memories.”

It was that sentence that Yoonjae clung to to keep his sanity when Joonhee was the one to be taken out of his life instead.
 

Shiwon was wailing in his arms, but Yoonjae stood still, expressionless. It was as if Joonhee’s message was written in another language, that Yoonjae could read but could not understand. What was happening?

He then blankly followed as the red car owner doctor guided him to the room where Joonhee had been moved to. And only when he saw his best friend lying so white and still, Yoonjae exploded. He ran and shook the lifeless body, desperately wishing this was a cruel joke, or a horrible nightmare. But it seemed to be neither.

Joonhee was gone, with no other goodbyes aside the letter still on his grip.
 

Yoonjae loved Joonhee. There was affection, and there was attraction. But they didn’t bring them together. Yoonjae was always late to realize. And Joonhee was way too early to disappear.

Or maybe the circumstances were just wrong. Yoonjae liked to imagine other realities, such as if only Shiwon hadn’t captured his heart when he met Joonhee, or if Joonhee never fell for him to begin with, or simply had moved on from a forever hidden high school crush. Any of them would save Joonhee from a number of heartbreaks Yoonjae wished he didn’t cause.

But the past couldn't be revisited, nor the dead could be revived.

Memories could be cherished. But human brains, despite how smart Yoonjae was supposed to be, had limitations. They could be lost in time.

He wondered why the same time didn’t engulf the feelings instead. The love, the ache, the guilt, the regret...

“Don't regret it because I don't either. Anything to save Shiwon. Because she is your happiness. And I would do anything to ensure it.”

Looking back at Shiwon, maybe Yoonjae didn’t regret indeed. Afterall, he would never be able to choose one and let one die regarding Shiwon and Joonhee. The young doctor made that choice for him.

So the least Yoonjae could do was really, to try to be happy. He didn’t deserve it, but that was the only way so Joonhee’s death didn’t turn to be in vain.

Putting the letter and wallet back to its place, Yoonjae laid back and tried to imagine Joonhee’s smile once again, before angel of the dreams took him back to the one radiant sunrise at Gwangali beach.