introspection

in·tro·spec·tion

ˌintrəˈspekSH(ə)n/

noun

the examination or observation of one's own mental and emotional processes.

Jisung opens his eyes and squints his eyes at the light as the sun shines brightly, filtering in softly through the windows. It’s tinted just barely pink, and Jisung rolls over, nose sniffing out the ghostly smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen, feels at the barely there warmth of the blankets on his right side, crumpled into the corner along with one pillow, the other one discarded at the foot of the bed. He waits for the final sound to set the morning, the call of Seungmin’s voice calling to him to hurry awake and get dressed for work.

But the call never comes.

Jisung opens his eyes, for real this time. The sunlight is still there, warming his face, but the context has changed and it mocks him from outside. The raindrops fall only on his own cheeks, and not on the world outside, until even those tears have dried.

There is no coffee, until he makes it himself with his own bare hands. There is no warmth, until he lays there for another hour, then another more, until the day is spent, missing work, missing calls from his worried friends and family, but most importantly, missing him.

Today, though, Jisung gets up.

He goes to the bathroom, looking into the mirror as he brushes his teeth. He feels the ghostly touch of an arm at his side, brushing up against him as he reaches for the faucet. He imagines he hears a laugh falling through the air, remembering when, just a year ago, Seungmin had laughed so hard, tiny bubbles and toothpaste foam spewed from his mouth and onto their reflection. Jisung had laughed, too, back then.

Now, he wipes off his face and pushes his lips up into a crooked smile. It looks the same way he feels. Broken.

—

In the kitchen, he skips the coffee for today, instead focusing on packing the food. Jisung finds himself pausing, staring at nothingness where Seungmin should have stood, by the oven, opening the fridge, at the counter. He remembers the arbitrary arguments they would get into over cereal before milk and then looks down with a sharp gasp when he nicks his finger, wrenched back into the real world

He should hurry up, Jisung realises, looking at the clock. The day’s already slipping away.

—

The bus stops with a jolt, and Jisung steps off cautiously. Everything looks the same as it does, always.

The hills have been grassy and green since he came here as a child to pay respects to his grandparents every year. It hasn’t changed one bit since then, at least not to his knowledge. Except for one thing.

Heavy footsteps take him over to the west side, until he has reached his destination.

Jisung kneels down, brushing away the dried flower stems from when he last came in order to make room for the meal he had prepared.

“It’s been a while since I last heard your voice, Seungmin,” Jisung says. “I keep wanting to ask when you’re coming back.”

The only answer is the rusting of branches as a breeze picks up above him. It’s enough of an answer for Jisung, for now.

“I know I say this every time, but I miss you. And I will miss you, forever. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you.

“I just want you to know, that I did love you. I loved every waking moment that I ever spent with you. Every breath that I took while you did the same, it meant that you were still here, with me. You were the world to me, and I’m sorry I couldn’t keep it that way.

“I know that if you were here, you would want me to move on. At least, that’s what everybody tells me. I can’t be sure though. I’m afraid I’m not very good at that kind of stuff. But, I’ve been trying, you know? I’ve been picking up calls, going to work on time.”

Jisung sighs, shaking his head, “What am I doing. This is so sappy.”

These days, the tears don’t even fall from his eyes anymore. He thinks he may have used them all up, enough for a lifetime.

“The point is, I wanted to tell you. I met somebody,” Jisung chuckles to himself. He’s not sure why he’s out here, spewing these words onto a gravestone like it’s a diary, but then again, when Seungmin had been around, he shared everything with him.

“He’s really nice. He sings, like you, too. Maybe that’s why I like him so much. He’s got a kid, too, which is crazy. Who knows if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.” Pulling out his phone, he pulls up his home screen, “Here, look. It’s a picture. I don’t know if you can see this in some way, but this is Woojin, and this is Jeongin. I don’t know. I like them, they’re nice. I think you might have liked them, too. Especially Jeongin, I spoil him rotten.”

Jisung laughs, for some reason. And then he laughs and he laughs, and he thinks he might never stop until he just keels over right there, next to Seungmin. But then he does stop, suddenly, abruptly. “I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet, just the slightest sounds of wind through grass, as he kneels there in silence. Finally, a flower petal falls on his lap, startling him. Looking up, he sees the sun is already setting, pink and purple hues painting themselves across the sky. He pats his thighs as he stands, shaking out the pins and needles before he gathers his belongings.

Jisung says goodbye to Seungmin, goodbye to the reflection of him cast in the shine of the stone in front of him.

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introspection

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