PART 3 ~ 1

“Hi…Yoongi,” he said, his voice echoed.

“Hoseok, is it really you?”

“Yes, I’ve come back,” he spread his arms wide, welcoming me into them. Wiping away the tears hastily, I lunged into his embrace.

“Please don’t ever ever leave me again,” I pleaded through the tears. I locked both my arms on his waist as tightly as I could, afraid of letting go again.

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They said that the people you loved didn’t really leave you. I didn’t believe it. I wanted him here, with me. I’d give anything for him to be here beside me again. They said they’d always be in your heart. But that wasn’t enough for me.

It had been almost five years. Five years without him. All I did was stayed cooped up in the house. I couldn’t take a step out of that door. Because everything reminded me of him. The soft breeze blowing in the air, the scent, the weather, the café by the street, the restaurant we’d always go to on special occasions, the road we always took on our way back home. All of it was painful. Staying at home was no better as I made his bed every single morning, cleaned up his room, and dusted the shelves. But I decided, it was the lesser pain for me.

That morning, I made his bed again. I rearranged the blanket and the pillows, even though there was no need to. And I could still feel his presence, smell his scent. Everything was still there. It was as if he’d never left. Most mornings, I crawled into his bed, wrapped his scent-filled blankets all around me, hugged his pillow close to my face, and sobbed. I was so used to it that it’d become a daily routine for me.

After cleaning up his bedroom, I made breakfast for one. After all this time, I still need getting used to making a smaller portion. I’d always made as much food as we have. He was such a big eater. I felt empty sitting at the table all alone. It was so strange having nothing and no one sitting across from me.

The house was quiet, a little too quiet for my taste. I remembered his voice, his laugh, and how he got so loud whenever he got excited. And he gets excited at even the tiniest things. But now, there was nothing but silence.

Sometimes, I played the piano, letting the music filled the empty space in the house. Although the keys were off, I didn’t have any intention of repairing it. I let the unusual notes hung in the air as I was reminded of our song, and how our voices harmonized. He used to play just right beside me. And I’d take his hand and show him the correct keys.

Sometimes, I curled up on the couch, and increased the volume on TV to the highest. I stared at the screen until my vision went blur and I drowned in the sounds. At least they drowned out the whispers and voices that I might’ve imagined.

Sometimes, I sat on the balcony at night, listening to the crickets sing. I stared up at the dark sky and imagined all the invisible constellations above my head. His voice was like a recording playing in my mind. I smiled to myself as I remembered the stuff he made up just to make me laugh. I remembered that special day, very much like tonight, that he confessed his love for me. We were so young, and so in love.

And sometimes, I sat at the kitchen table, listening to the silence. Usually in the afternoon, where there were no birds chirping and no crickets singing. There was only the hustle and bustle of the busy street outside the door. I’d stare at nothing and just let the recordings in my head replay again and again. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. In the silence, I could hear his voice, his laugh, see his smile, and feel his warmth. I hated opening my eyes, because everything would disappear in an instant.

At night, I found it impossible to sleep. It wasn’t the nightmares that I was afraid of. I just simply couldn’t. The bed was far too empty. I felt insecure. His warm embrace was nowhere to be found. I used to cuddle right beside him, with my face in his chest. But now, all I could feel was the coldness surrounding the room. Usually, I’d hug his pillow near to my face and squeeze my eyes tight. I inhaled his scent and forced myself to sleep. When sleep finally came, it was usually way past midnight.

Sometimes, I wished he wouldn’t, but Jimin would come visit me every now and then. He’d become an old friend, my only friend. He took care of me well, and I trusted him. When he visited, I got to eat something a little better than what I always prepared. He prevented me from listening to the voices and reliving the memories. He dragged me out of the house liked his life depended on it. I knew he was just trying to help. I tried to push the memories and the pain away. I tried relaxing, breathed in