Wonwoo’s funeral was held three days after he was pronounced dead. The weather matched the the sullen mood. It was dark and grey, and threatened for a storm.

A small group of people came to offer their condolences, but it turned out that Wonwoo’s parents were no longer in this world. They offered their sympathies to Seungcheol instead, who was known to be Wonwoo’s best friend. Chan came as well after hearing the news from Mingyu.

As the funeral ended it started to rain slightly. The majority of attendees left, and the only ones left were Mingyu and Seungcheol. Seungcheol looked at Mingyu with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face.

“You were special to Wonwoo, you know. I could tell…”

“I know..”

Seungcheol gave him a sad smile and patted him on the shoulder before leaving him alone with Wonwoo. Mingyu stood in front of the grave, unable to say any words. The rain started pouring a little harder, but Mingyu didn’t notice. He tried to find words to say, but nothing came out. When the rain thoroughly soaked his skin, he finally managed to speak.

“Why did you have to come into my life if you were going to leave so quickly?”

There was only the sound of rain responding to him.

“You said you would stop trying to die, you bastard.”

...

“You said you would stop.”

...

“You liar”

...

“So how did you do it? How did you get your heart to just stop like that, huh?”

...

“ANSWER ME, JEON WONWOO!”

...

“Why? Why did you leave me?”

Tears were streaming down his face along with the rain. His voice started to break.

“Why?”

...

“Please tell me this is a joke.”

...

“Wonwoo, come on. This is just a bad joke, isn’t it?”

...

“Alright, you got me, you can come out now.”

He knew Wonwoo wouldn’t appear. Never again. But he wanted so badly for it to be a lie. For it to just be a bad dream. He started sobbing uncontrollably, and he lost the strength in his legs. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. He gripped the freshly patted dirt and lowered his head, gasping for breath.

He put his hand in his right pocket and pulled out a small object. A pocketknife. He unfolded it, then rolled up his left sleeve. With a shaking hand, he placed the cool blade parallel to the skin on his wrist and stared at the metal. Slowly, he angled it so that the sharp edge would press into, but not yet break, his skin. He pressed harder, increasing the force in small increments.

There was a soft thud as the blade hit the dirt, still clean. Mingyu looked at his wrist, where there was a pale line from the pressure that was no longer there. He couldn’t do it. He never hated himself more than this moment. Why couldn’t he do it? His reason to live left along with Wonwoo, so why hesitate? He knew why. He was different from Wonwoo. He was afraid of death, and he absolutely detested himself for it. He tried blinking away the tears, but it was no use. They were endless.

“Wonwoo, please just come back.”

...

“Come back.. I need you.”

...

“Please”

He weakly placed a hand on the tombstone, tracing out Wonwoo’s name with his finger.

“I love you”