He lay in bed that night and closed his eyes; or at least tried to. The taste of salty tears still lingered in his mouth as he curled up and grabbed hold of his pillow, holding it close to his chest and silently sobbed into it.  He breathed in the scent of the pillow and cried a little harder.
“It smells of him,” he managed to cough out.  He pressed his tear stained face against the pillow and screamed. He was so mad at him, but he knew he couldn’t be – he absolutely couldn’t.

He woke up the next morning with puffy red eyes and a throbbing headache. Coffee was his morning escape. He walked downstairs with his head hung between his shoulders, feet dragging across the carpet floor. He just wanted everything to reverse – go back in time – just for one day at the very least, but he knew that was physically impossible.  

He reached the kitchen, switched the kettle on and went to the bathroom. As he stepped in front of the bathroom sink, he finally looked up at his reflection. Cheek bones were prominent; hair was messy and in knots, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. He turned the tap on and began washing his face roughly, almost scratching his porcelain doll-like skin. He didn’t bother brushing his teeth because he thought that a mint or two would do him justice. He didn’t bother fixing his hair either because it was naturally curly so having it untidy had no difference to the appearance.

Grabbing his coffee, he went back upstairs to change into something semi-decent. He needed to do some grocery shopping because god knows how long it has been since he’s seen daylight. He stripped of his stained pyjamas and stared into the mirror in front of him. His ribcage was easily seen, hip bones sticking out more than usual. Sighing, he grabbed a plain white V-neck shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans.  His car keys were downstairs so he took another sip of his coffee before putting on a random pair of shoes without socks, because god, he really didn’t like wearing socks.

He headed downstairs and walked over to the wooden plaque hanging next to the front door. He took his keys and stood in front of the door, unable to move. He clenched the keys in the palm of his hand and fell to his knees, hot steaming tears rolling down his thin face.
“For s sake, it’s been one year,” he threw his keys to the ground and slammed his fist against the front door, “but I need you so much, Sehun.” The palm of his hand rested on the wooden frame in front of him as he looked up and gently traced four small words that were carved in.

‘Sehun and Luhan forever.’