On his fifth birthday, his mom had given him a present, one that had belonged to her little sister, who was now living in the United States and never got to see her nephew. It was a stuffed white bunny with black button eyes, a red sweater, and a blue and tan jumper, affectionately named Grace. “A special bunny,” she’d said, “for Mommy’s favorite boy.” From that moment onward, he took his bunny with him everywhere: it would peek over the top of his book bag during school hours, stare out the window with him as they rode in the backseat of his mother’s car, and snuggle next to him when he went to sleep.

And, just after he’d turned five and a half, it became the object that he would sob into on an almost daily basis.

On November eighteenth that year, his mom was in a terrible car crash. She’d been rushed to the nearest hospital but had died only a few hours later. He was inconsolable. His mother was gone. She would never again lift him in the air and spin him around or ruffle his hair fondly when she was waiting for the rice to finish cooking. He would never see her face light up at a picture he drew her or hear her cheer when he danced around their living room. She was gone.

His stuffed rabbit became somewhat of a substitute for her and he literally never let it go. He clutched onto that bunny every second he possibly could, wishing he would come back, wishing that the man talking on his cell phone that day hadn’t taken his mommy away.

One day about four months after her death, he’d accidentally left his bunny in the grocery store when he and his father were shopping – it was all his dad could do to keep him from hyperventilating when he realized it was gone and they immediately went back to get it. That was his precious bunny and he was never going to let it go.

Slowly but surely, though, he began to accept the fact that his mom was no longer around and his rabbit Grace became a slightly smaller aspect of his life. He still took it with him to school (despite the teasing he received from the class bully) and slept with it nightly, but for the rest of the day it would live on his bed, leaning back on the pillows and staring into space.

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“Have fun, okay? I’m going to go talk to Kristen’s mom for a little bit. Be careful, Min!”

Seven and a half year old Sungmin nodded, clutching his bunny tightly as he wondered toward the playground. It had been exactly two years since his mom died and, while he normally left Grace at home when they went to the park, he’d wanted to bring the bunny along today.

His father watched Sungmin stumble off and sighed. Both he and his son were still dealing with the loss of his wife and today of all days was the hardest. The void of her absence always seemed larger on and around November eighteenth.

Sungmin looked around the playground at the park, frowning slightly. He didn’t really want to play on the swing set or slide down the slide. Just when he was about to go back to his dad and say that he wanted to leave, he spotted a boy sitting by himself on a bench off to the side. He looked sad. Min changed direction, instead heading over to talk to the boy.

“Hi! I’m Sungmin!” The seven year old waited patiently for a response, but the other boy just stared at the ground. “What’s your name?”

After a few seconds of silence, the boy finally muttered out, “Kyuhyun.” He didn’t sound happy.

“Hi Kyuhyun! I’m seven! How old are you?”

“Five.”

“Want to go play?”

“No!” Kyu snapped, his brow furrowing and his lips curving downward. “Leave me alone!” 

Instead of leaving, Sungmin sat down on the bench next to the boy, swinging his legs and staring up at the sky. “What’s wrong?”

Quite without warning, Kyuhyun started crying, tears running down his cheeks slowly. “M-my mommy’s…she’s…she’s dead.”

Min clutched his bunny rabbit tightly. “My mommy’s dead too,” he whispered, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes quite without his permission. He impatiently wiped them away, determined to be strong (or as strong as a seven and a half year old could be). “But she’s not gone.”

Kyuhyun hiccupped, looking over at Sungmin. “Yes she is.”

“No, she’s not gone. Well…she kind of is. Her body is gone. But…I still remember her. And I know she’s watching me from Heaven. And I have Grace!”

“Grace?”

“My bunny!” Sungmin smiled, looking down at the stuffed rabbit in his arms. “My mommy gave her to me. I always feel like I’m getting a hug from Mommy when I hug her.”

“Can…” Kyuhyun faltered for a moment. “Can I hug her?” he asked softly, almost embarrassed. Sungmin nodded, holding his bunny out to Kyu. The younger boy took the bunny in his hands gently and hugged it tightly before giving it back. The pair fell silent then, just sitting there together on that bench.

“Min! Sungmin, come on! We have to go!” Sungmin’s father called out across the playground a few minutes later, waving at his son. The boy hopped off the bench and, after a moment’s thought, gently placed his stuffed rabbit back in his place. Without another word, he ran to catch up with his dad, leaving Grace behind.

When they got to the car, his dad noticed the absence of the rabbit and sighed. “Min, did you forget your rabbit?”

Sungmin shook his head. “I left it for Kyuhyun. He needs it more than me. Mommy would have wanted me to let him have Grace. I’ll always have her in here, anyway.” He pointed at his heart, smiling at his dad, who looked shocked. A second later and he found himself wrapped in his dad’s arms. He glanced back at the lonely bench as he got in the car and smiled when he saw Kyuhyun clutching the bunny for dear life, tears running down his face. Sometimes it was better to give away the precious things.

Hi guys! ^^

This was a piece of original fiction I'd written, but I thought it might be a cute Kyumin story, so I edited it a bit~ The original's on my tumblr, if you're interested~ Just click this link! ^^ 

Hope you enjoyed the story!

Love,

afallingstar