君の最後の言葉
Your last word

君の最後の姿が
Your last appearance

砂のように胸の中で
Is like sand in my chest

ざらつく
It’s gritty

分からない
I don’t understand

今でも僕を苦しめるその音が
Even now, the sounds afflict me

君の声なのか
Whether it’s your voice

雨音なのか
Or the sound of rain

今僕が歌うこの歌が
This song that I sing now

今でも残っている僕のことなのか
Even now, whether I’m leaving

雨音なのか
Or the sound of rain

He’d thought he’d be doing better by now, to be honest.

Three years gone by and he still feels the same debilitating weight on his chest every day; while not as painful as before, it still sticks in his heart and refuses to leave, to matter how hard he tries to brush it away.

He still wakes up with nightmares of your face, your voice, and that day all over again, his lungs heaving and his throat crying out a name that no one will ever respond to in the dead of night.

He doesn’t know how to liberate himself from you, and sometimes he wonder if he ever will.

Sometimes he wonders if you even know, or even care, about the effects you’ve had on him.

“You look like ,” Daehyun tells him one morning as they sit inside a café, while Himchan’s down his second Americano of the hour (those still bring back pain for him, too, but the thought of living the rest of his life without caffeine is an even more painful proposition). “Are you doing okay? You never talk to us much anymore.”

“I’m surviving,” Himchan grimaces, “sort of.”

Daehyun just looks at him, pity in his eyes, and Himchan feels so defeated.

He knows there’s not much else to do but pity him, but that doesn’t make him feel any better about it.

“We’re all worried,” Daehyun says, voice soft and hesitant, like he’s treading around shattered glass.

Himchan doesn’t have the