Without another glance at my brother, I raced out of my room, stomping down the wooden stairs, looking as if I had just seen a ghost. Thoughts surged through my mind as I ran past the kitchen, ignoring the calls behind me, not stopping until I had reached the one place where I could be at peace.

“Why is it,” a voice said behind me as I fell to my knees, bowing my head down to the sand and watching my tears fall like the rain, “that whenever you’re upset, you turn to the ocean for consolation?” I didn’t look up as I heard him take a seat beside me, once again. “Do you want to be like, a mermaid or something?” I heard the lightness in his voice, the joke that covered up his worry for me.

“It’s not funny,” I mumbled, turning away from him, “I like the ocean.”

“Why?” The laughter was gone, his tone was replaced with a serious one. “Why are you so attached to it?” I was silent for a moment, deciding on my words. Deciding on whether I should mention it to him or not.

“It was here, on this beach, on this spot, that started everything,” I spoke softly, “it was here that I met him.” It went quiet again as he processed my words in his mind.

“Can I ask another question?” he finally said, causing me to nod slowly. “You keep talking about this guy…who is he?” I gulped loudly—a topic that had always made me uncomfortable. I opened my mouth to speak, but immediately closed it again. My mouth became dry as I desperately tried to find the words to string together to make a complete sentence—I wanted to let someone know what I was feeling inside. I slowly turned my head towards my only outlet, locking my eyes with him, the expression on my face screaming, I want to say it, but I can’t.

I want to tell you, but I can’t.

“Was he a brother? A cousin? A father? A friend? A boyfriend?” he began to guess, reading my features and attempting to help me open my heart. I nodded slowly as confusion drifted over his broad features, the look in his eyes unreadable yet again. “Boyfriend?” I sighed and broke his gaze, turning towards the ocean again.

I was just going to say it.

“He was a boyfriend,” I said softly, “my first and…and last.”

“Really,” Junhyung mused, “why last?”

“Last year,” I began my story, feeling the tears already welling up from the memory reel that clicked on in my mind, “he bought a motorcycle.”

“Come look, Taeyoung!” Doojoon grinned happily as he took my hand, leading me back to the garage. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Is that what I think it is?” My eyes grew wide as he led me closer to what looked like a bicycle, “what on Earth did you buy, Doojoon?"

“A motorcycle!” he grinned proudly, leading me around the piece of metal to inspect it. “I’m going to fix it up all by myself.”

“You’re going to fix this up?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea, for Doojoon couldn’t even fix his own lunch, much less a vehicle. “Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

“No,” he continued to speak with the tone of pride in his voice as he dropped my hand in order to put his hands on the rusty material, “but I’m going to learn. And after I learn, I’m going to take you away, Taeyoung. We’ll go far, far away where nobody can find us. And it’s just going to be you, me, and this motorcycle.”

A tear spilled down onto my lap as I remembered the very first day he showed me the piece of scrap he had found at the junkyard, determined to turn it into a first class motorcycle. I remembered the countless hours we would spend inside of his garage; I would always be studying for my next test and he would always be tinkering away on that piece of metal. The hours we spent together would be both full of comfortable silence or full of chatter—then I would go into his house, greet his parents, and bring us both back dinner to eat together. It was a set schedule, and nothing would have made me happier than to sit in that hot, stuffed garage, watching him get dirty from trying to turn a bicycle into a motorcycle.

“You know,” Junhyung broke through my thoughts, “you don’t seem to be one who would date guys that ride motorcycles.” I cracked a sad smile at this as I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on top of my knee caps.

“I’m not,” I spoke, my eyes glazing over at the horizon, “he wasn’t the type to ride a motorcycle. That was exactly why he did it. I think he got bored with the monotony of his life.”

“I see,” he nodded, “so what happened to him? Did you guys break up or what?” I slowly shook my head, turning to look at Junhyung and looking directly into his concern for me, a girl that he barely knew.

“He died, Junhyung,” I said softly, another tear falling and seeping into my jean-clad knee, “last year.” His eyebrows shot up as he opened his mouth to speak, closing it again when no sound escaped.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry,” he managed to say, “I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged, “you’re new to this town. You wouldn’t have known.”

“If you don’t mind me asking….how…how did he die?” Junhyung’s normally confident eyes turned nervous, hesitant to ask me the questions that were burning in his mind. I turned away from him again, feeling him follow and watch my every move.

“It was a cool spring day,” I began, my eyes glazing over once again, “and he had just finished his motorcycle.”

“Let’s go for a spin, Taeyoung!” he grinned brightly at me as he wheeled his new motorcycle out to where I sat underneath the tree, reading a novel. “Come on!” I sat up straight, raising a wary eyebrow at the cleaner, newer piece of metal that rested in his hands.

“Do you know how to drive it?” I asked him again, the same question I had asked him the very first day he bought it.

“Sure!” he shrugged, waving me over, “let’s go for a ride!” Still wary of how this would turn out, I stood up and slowly made my way over to him, watching him beam down at his hard work. “She’s a beauty.”

“You did a good job,” I grinned at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you sure this thing is safe?”

“I’ve never been surer than anything in my life,” he beamed at me, leaning in for a kiss on the lips. “Let’s go for a ride now.”

“And the next thing I knew,” I continued with a shaking voice, the tears running uncontrollably down my cheeks, “we were both lying in a ditch, just on the outskirts of town. No cars were passing by, and I couldn’t move my body at all. I couldn’t see where he was, I couldn’t feel his presence beside me…”

“Doojoon?” I desperately called out, attempting to sit up. “Doojoon!” I screamed, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to pull my legs out from underneath a large metal part. “Doojoon!” I cried out again, brushing the blood from my eyes and my mangled hair away from my face. I quickly tried to search the area to find that head of brown hair I knew so well; a bad feeling had grown in my gut when I realized that he was no where to be seen. “Doojoon!” I screamed louder, tears running down my face and mixing in with the blood that was gushing from the cut in my head.

“Tae…Taeyoung…” I heard a whisper from underneath the main body of the bike as I struggled to crawl over to him, with every limb in my body feeling broken. As I approached him, I nearly gasped in horror at what I saw. He was stuck underneath the motorcycle, with every arm and leg twisted in an untraditional fashion. His head was bleeding as he also coughed up the blood, groaning from each motion he created.

“Doojoon!” I screamed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. He slowly turned his head towards me, forcing a smile on his bloodied face.

“The helmet was on you tightly, wasn’t it?” he managed to choke out, a trail of blood leaving the corner of his mouth, “really tight, right?”

“Yes,” I sobbed, my tears mixing in with blood and dirt, “please hang on, baby, don’t let go…”

“Tell me you love me again, Taeyoung,” he whispered, his eyes beginning to close, “just once more.”

“I love you,” I cried, “I love you, Doojoon! Please hold on for me! Please!”

“It hurts, Taeyoung,” he murmured, his eyes closing, “it hurts a lot…” With one hand tightly holding on to his, I tried to push the heavy metal off of his body, trying to free him from the pain he spoke of. With all the energy I had left, I tried to push it off of him, trying to help him breathe, trying to help him hold on until help arrived. “I love you, Taeyoung,” he spoke above my efforts of freeing him, “and I’m sorry.” His eyes slowly closed shut as he coughed one last time, the trail of blood making a puddle beside his head.

“No!” I screamed, throwing myself over him and holding his cold body close to mine, “no, Doojoon!”

“It turns out the brakes weren’t working correctly,” I managed to continue, the sobs ready to burst out of my chest, “but he didn’t want to scare me, so he didn’t tell me. Instead, he told me to take his helmet and put it on myself. There was a large truck coming our way, and he couldn’t stop. He didn’t tell me that either, all he told me was to take his helmet. If I—if I hadn’t taken his helmet, he’d still be alive right now. If I hadn’t gone against my better judgments, he’d still be alive right now. If I had told him no, let a professional inspect the bike before either of us rides it, he’d still be alive right now. If I—“

“Taeyoung,” Junhyung cut through my rambling, feeling that I was near a state of hysteria, “are you blaming yourself for his death?” I turned to him, allowing my watery eyes to look at him directly.

“Well, that’s why he died, wasn’t it?” I spoke shakily, looking at him through my streaming tears, “I took his helmet. I let him ride the bike. I encouraged him to fix it. I—“

“You are telling me complete and utter bull,” Junhyung blinked at me. “Nobody could have predicted this, Taeyoung. It’s not your fault. He wanted to protect you, so he gave you his helmet. He didn’t want to scare you, so he didn’t tell you what was wrong with the bike. He didn’t want you to die, so he died for you. It’s not your fault.” I gaped at him, processing his words in my mind.

“Don’t you see, Junhyung?” I replied softly, “if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have needed to do all of that. He would still be alive.”

“No,” he shook his head, “what I see is that if it wasn’t for you, he would have lived a boring and unhappy life.”

“No,” I shook my head as well, “no, if it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he scoffed, “it’s not your fault.”

“No, you’re being ridiculous,” I started to raise my voice, “you don’t know me, and you don’t know him! So tell me, on what grounds do you have the right to tell me that his death was not my fault? You weren’t there, Junhyung! You’re not a part of this!” I watched a hurt expression begin to fill his face, and then I watched him attempt to cover it up with indifference—and I immediately regretted my words. He was only trying to comfort me; he was only trying to be a friend.

And I pushed him away, just like I had everybody else.

“You’re right,” he spoke quietly after a long, tense moment of silence. “I don’t know you and I didn’t know him. But I know one thing’s for sure."

“What?” I softened my voice at him, feeling regretful for my harsh words. He slowly started to stand up, never taking his dark eyes away from me.

“He loved you, Taeyoung. And he wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life holding on by a single thread.”