He was a murderer so he would resent him for the rest of his life

Black.

Everywhere he looked, everything was black.

Junhong shut his eyes and covered them with his palm, suppressing every tear, sadness and grief that had been pleading to escape from him. He didn’t want to show his weak state to anyone. No, he refused to because he didn’t want to be pitied.

The sky was rumbling, preparing itself to cry together with everyone who had gathered around the field, wearing black from head to toe. Junhong could feel a drop of rain caressing his left cheek. He wiped it off his face in an instant—afraid that the others would misunderstand it as his tear.

When the small crowd had dispersed, Junhong stepped in front of the coffin and knelt down on the damp grass. He ran his fingers on the wooden surface of the black box and bit his lips as hard as he could just so he wouldn’t burst into tears.

“Hyung,” he croaked, closing his eyes as he pronounced the word wistfully. “Yongguk hyung, please come back. I need you…”

A part of Junhong had died.