A beautiful, white feather, and a brokenhearted Brian. That’s what was left on the bed after Jae has vanished into thin air. 

 

Time suddenly loses all of its importance, as Brian remains there, in the same foetal position. He keeps drifting from the cruel reality to a distressed sleep, before waking up with a dry cry of a name on his lips, over and over again. Every time he opens his eyes, he hopes for it all to be a bad dream, and for Jae to be there by his side, sleeping peacefully. But the empty side of the bed leaves no doubt, that this is his reality, the one that he should accept. 

 

So he clutches desperately on the white feather, the only tangible evidence left of Jae’s existence in his life. The three previous months were real, and not just some wicked game of his mind. Jae was here, Jae was real, and Jae was his. 

 

And most importantly, Jae is still out there, somewhere. Brian can’t see him anymore, but he knows that he’s there, probably somewhere really close. It wasn’t death that tore them apart, but their difference, their natures. 

 

That brings a lot of consolation to Brian. Jae is not hurt. He’s just back to his original life, and he’s probably shooting arrows and flying in the sky like he always used to do. He might be even watching him right now. That last thought is what pushes Brian to collect the shards of his broken heart, to ignore all the sorrow and loneliness, and to continue on with his life. 

 

‘Always,’ Jae has promised, and that promise keeps him going. 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Brian eventually goes back to his dull routine, back to living on autopilot, as if nothing has happened. Those few months were just a beautiful dream, that he was cruelly awaken from. Now he’s back to reality, and reality is unforgiving, ruthless. 

 

It’s all the same. It has always been and should stay that way. The routine, the indifference, the loneliness, the void. He’s used to them. They shouldn’t be affecting him this much, and he definitely shouldn’t be hating them as much as he does right now. 

 

He pushes himself off his bed, forcing his gaze not to linger on the other side of the bed. The room is freezing cold, so he rushes to the bathroom. After a hot shower -that warms his skin, but does nothing to warm his heart-, Brian stops for a minute to stare at his reflection on the bathroom mirror. His face looks exactly the same, no less healthy than it has always been. That’s good. If he notices how the darkness underlying his eyes is getting heavier, day by day, he ignores it, and hopes that whoever notices it would do the same as well.

 

‘You have the most beautiful smile ever, so make sure to always smile, not for anyone’s sake, but yours.’

 

A gentle voice inside of his head reminds him, like every morning, so he forces the corners of his lips upwards. It’s anything but beautiful, half pained and half forced. He keeps it whatsoever. Maybe, after a lot of practice, it will become a habitual smile. Maybe one day it will be more relaxed and natural, and maybe- just maybe-, it will become more genuine.

 

 

Brian dutifully prepares his breakfast, his mind blank and hands moving on their own. He doesn’t miss his meals anymore. If anything, he eats more regularly and more healthily than he usually does, even if everything tastes like sandpaper at best. Breakfast became sacred as well, and not just coffee. He places the omelette and the cup of juice on the table, and sits on his usual seat. The other chair remains vacant. 

 

Buying two chairs was never his plan when he first moved into this apartment. He was tight on budget and had to spend a few weeks eating on the kitchen’s counter. As soon as he got his salary, he went straight shopping for a dining table, as if it was his biggest priority -the living room was literally deserted at that time, and he lacked a lot of necessities. And despite needing one single chair, he ended up buying two. ‘Maybe it will come in handy’, he kept convincing himself. 

 

The chair kept collecting dust for years, but Brian refused to even move it or sit on it. Call him crazy, delusional, or desperate, but he once thought that that chair kept him company. It made his meals less lonely. Something inside of him kept telling him that he was waiting for someone to come and fill that space. And Jae did come. He sat there like that’s exactly where he belongs to, and claimed that space as if he’s its rightful owner. He was. Still is. 

 

Brian eats his breakfast -and the rest of his meals- while imagining someone sitting across of him. If he strains his ears enough, he could almost hear the traces of a cheerful voice still echoing through the silence of the apartment, and that’s what probably make his meals more tolerable, keeps the food going down instead of out. 

 

Life goes on. And Brian goes on. 

 

He’s more cheerful these days, especially at work. He probably has never talked this much with his colleagues before, especially about non-work related topics. They were taken aback at first, surprised at his sudden socializing. But they were fast to get accustomed to it. Brian wonders if they could see past his forced smiles, if they could see the sadness following him like his own shadow, and if that was what made them accept him so easily. Whatever their reason was, he despises the pity he sees in their eyes.  

 

 

After work, he goes on a brief stroll to wash away some of the day’s stress. No matter how many times he tires to fool himself, Brian knows that the walk is not him trying to stay healthy, but rather him stalling from going home that soon. That has to be the worst part of his day. Opening the door of the apartment, hopelessly expecting a certain someone to welcome him back with a huge smile, but be greeted by darkness and disappointment instead. 

 

The apartment is as empty as it has always been, and yet, Brian can’t stop the pain of longing, of missing the person that used to fill his days with happiness and love and light. It’s scary how in the shortest of times, Jae was able to erase years, and years of solitude. He made Brian forget them, like he’s never went through them. Now, he doesn’t even recall how he used to endure being that lonely, and he has to learn it all over again.

 

 

Despite everything, Brian does not cry. He holds it all inside and cages it away. Even at night, when the loneliness gets too overwhelming and the memories show him no mercy, and when his eyes fill with tears, he reminds himself that Jae might be watching, that it would be hard for Jae to watch him cry. So Brian stays strong for Jae. He can do that much. And he survives on that belief for a surprisingly long time. 

 

 

That, until the nightmares starts. 

 

 

Brian has lost Jae once in real life, but he has lost him an endless amount of times in those nightmares. No matter how hard he tries to hold on, to protect the other, or save him, it always ends in the same way. And what’s scarier than the nightmares themselves, is that there’s no light saving him, or interfering to end his torture. There’s no warmth seeping through his body, calming him down and lulling him back to sleep. Brian is left like an easy prey for them, every night, trashing in his sleep only to wake up with a cold sweat and a desperate cry. Now he just dreads going to sleep at night, because he knows they’d be waiting for him. 

 

 

Brian keeps reassuring himself that Jae is fine, that he’s watching over him like he promised he’ll do. But it’s just too lonely, and he would feel it if Jae was around. He’s felt it before. He can’t see him, that’s true, but there’s no way he’d be feeling this hopeless and alone if the cupid kept him company. Jae would always chase the bad dreams away.

 

With the nightmares haunting him at night, and the shadows of doubt and fear following him around during the day, Brian can only count the days before he finally snaps, or loses his sanity, whichever comes first. He can’t focus anymore, becoming really scatter brained, and his thoughts are always finding a way around to get him into really scary places. 

 

 

He hesitates for sometime, but there’s only one way to end his suffering. Or at least some of it.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

The cupid café remains the same, just like everything else. For a passing moment, when Brian gets inside, he expects to find Jae causing a scene or annoying the staff, as usual. But when he’s greeted by unknown faces of customers and part timers, he does everything not to get disappointed. His brain has been mixing past with present, and reality with dreams a bit too much, lately. 

 

“Brian hyung!” Jinyoung waves at him from his spot behind the coffee machine. He waves back, walking slowly in his direction. 

 

“How have you been?” the barista asks, concern showing behind his wide smile. 

 

“Good,” he winces at how flat his answer has came out as. He ignores the visible pity on the other’s face, and asks about what he came here for, “Is aunt Hyeji here?” 

 

Jinyoung shakes his head, “She stepped out for a minute with Wonpil.” He gets his phone from his pocket, “You can wait for her in her office if you want, I’ll call her.”

 

Brian sends him a grateful, polite smile, “Okay I’ll wait, thank you.” 

 

 

No one guides him to the said office, he’s been there a number of times anyways. He sits on one of the chairs across the desk, fidgeting nervously. The option of leaving comes to him one too many times, so he tries to distract himself with his phone, but there’s nothing stopping the bouncing of his knees. A shy knock on the door startles him from his fight with inner, coward self. The guy that comes in is vaguely familiar, but Brian recognizes him right away.

 

“Hello,” he says, placing a steaming cup on the small table in front of Brian, “Jinyoung hyung sent you this, for your wait.” 

 

Brian beams at him, “Thank you,” he puts his phone down on the table, then takes the cup in his hands. The heat helps him warm his hands, and calm him a bit.

 

The guy doesn’t show any signs of leaving, so he asks him, “You’re Dowoon, right?” 

 

Dowoon nods knowingly, as if he’s expected Brian to recognize him. 

 

“I’ve seen you,” he admits him. He clears his throat before adding, “that night.” 

 

The guy nods again, “I know.”

 

His reckless actions that night would always be a bitter memory for him. What Dowoon did has alleviated some of the consequences of his drunken mistakes. Brian suddenly feels the urge to say something he’s wanted to say for so long. “Thank you.”

 

That gauges a surprised look from the other, “There’s no need to thank me.” He insists, shaking his head repeatedly. His expression then turns sad, “I don’t think hyung would’ve loved you any less, regardless of my arrow.”

 

The admission fills Brian’s heart with warmth, as much as the use of the past tense tears it apart.

 

“His love to you goes way before that night,” Dowoon adds, as if he’s trying to make a point, “you do realize that, right?” 

 

“I do.” Brian says, certain. He’s never doubted Jae’s love towards him. Never. 

 

Dowoon’s smile is warm, albeit the grief burdening his face. “It all shall pass,” he puts a heavy hand on Brian’s shoulder, “please stay strong.” He pats him again, then leaves. 

 

Brian likes that not once did the other look at him with pity, just empathy and encouragement. 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Brian!” 

 

Hyeji comes a few minutes later, with Wonpil on her tail. “It’s really you!” She gives him the briefest of hugs, tapping his back casually.  

 

“Brian hyung,” Wonpil nods at him in acknowledgment, giving him a small smile. 

 

Hyeji rounds the desk to sit on her seat. “How are you doing?” She asks, lightly. The question still holds a lot of weight and hidden concern.

 

He forces a small smile, just enough to reassure her. “I’m sorry for the sudden visit,” he starts, sitting back down. 

 

She shakes her head, and sincerely says, “You know you can come here whenever.” 

 

Brian beams, his gaze alternating between her and Wonpil, who’s now sitting across him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

 

He pretends not to notice the fall of her smile, or the sudden tense in Wonpil’s posture. She nods, nevertheless, encouraging him to continue. 

 

“I know what you are,” he pauses to study their reactions. Hyeji doesn’t seem the least surprised, but Wonpil is shocked, to say the least. “Did he tell you?” He questions, in disbelief.

 

Brian shakes his head, “I figured a lot of it by myself, he just confirmed my doubts.” He then turns to Hyeji, “He told you, I guess.”

 

“He did,” she admits, so he decides not to beat around the bush. 

 

“I know that you can see them.” Hyeji doesn’t react, but her silence is enough of a confirmation.  

 

“Does that mean that you can see him too?” He hates how hopeful he’s just sounded, but he really can’t help it. 

 

Hyeji speaks without even thinking it over, as if she had the answer ready beforehand, “Brian, you know I can’t reveal much. This is against the rul-”

 

He holds her hand with a bit too much force, “Please,” he nothing but begs, already too desperate, “I just want you to answer my question, and I promise that I won’t bother you again, ever.” 

 

She hesitates for a second, visibly contemplating the options. At the end, she gives in with a small nod, and Brian almost hugs her in gratitude. He takes a deep breath before hesitantly asking, “Is he- is he here at the moment?” 

 

Hyeji slowly shakes her head, but he doesn’t let it get to him. He didn’t expect Jae to follow him around everywhere, anyways. The cupid still has a job to do. 

 

“You must’ve seen him recently, though. How is he? Is he okay?” This is the most important question for Brian. He’s here to know whether Jae is fine or not, and he’s not leaving without a clear answer.

 

Hyeji smiles sadly, and he can almost feel his heart fall, but then she nods, “He is alright. Jae is doing just fine.” Her hand turns around to hold his and squeeze it, “You have nothing to worry about. Really.”

 

Brian thinks of searching for any hints of a lie, but stops himself before going any deeper in the hole of doubts. His lips stretches into a smile, and for once in a very long time, it’s genuine, almost happy.

 

“I’m glad,” he exhales heavily, letting go of the weight he’s been holding onto for so long, “That’s a relief.” 

 

And it really is. Brian has been worrying for nothing. Now, he can truly say that his life has a purpose, that all the weeks of pain he’s been through were not meaningless. As long as Jae is fine, he’d endure it over and over again, with a smile and a content heart.

 

“Thank you.” He tells her, his smile getting wider and wider. He then stands up, barely hiding his excitement. “I should go now. Can’t disturb you any longer.” 

 

“Goodbye, Wonpil,” he waves at the other, who’s been looking kind of lost for the past few minutes. “I’ll visit again soon. Let’s talk then!” 

 

 

Brian almost skips out of the office, and once he reaches the front, Dowoon and Jinyoung give him curious looks. They must be wondering if the grief finally made him lose his mind. He thanks them for the hot chocolate when they refuse to let him pay for it, and promises to come back soon.  

 

With his lunch break nearly coming to an end, Brian rushes out of the café. However, as soon as he’s out in the street, he remembers that he’s left his phone inside. He really needs to do something about his forgetfulness. Sighing, he rounds the café, opting for the backdoor for quicker access. The office door is closed, but there are some voices coming from inside, which means that Hyeji is still there, thankfully. 

 

Brian is about to knock when a relatively loud voice reaches his ears. His hand stops midair.

 

“What did you want me to say?” It’s Hyeji. He wonders who’s she talking with and what’s making her sound so harsh.

 

“Anything but lie to him.” Comes Wonpil’s voice, and Brian’s hand falls to his side, all of the excitement and high he was in crashing over his head. Who this discussion is exactly about? It can’t be him, right?

 

“I didn’t do that willingly, and you know that very well!” Brian has to strain his ears to hear her next words, “That was the one and only thing he’s ever asked of me. I couldn’t say no.”

 

Wonpil curses, his frustration going beyond the door and reaching Brian clearly. “For how long are you planning to keep this lie? A year? Two? Till the end?”

 

Brian holds his breath, not wanting to miss her answer. 

 

“Wonpil, you’ve seen him just now. Do you think he can take the truth?” 

 

There’s a long silence, afterwards. It feels like an eternity for Brian, with all the doubts playing with his head. They just reassured him that Jae is alright. What can they be hiding from him, then? His anxiety is already at an unbearably high level at this point.

 

“If you were in my position, would you be able to tell him the truth?” Hyeji asks, words and tone helpless, but Wonpil doesn’t seem to back down. There’s a pause before he speaks again, tone firm and determined.

 

“Brian deserves to know what has happened to Jae, that’s what I am saying. They’ve been in this together, all along.” 

 

What has happened to Jae. 

 

Suddenly, Brian can’t seem to stand straight, his knees almost giving in under the weight of the shock. What has happened to Jae?

 

“I didn’t say he doesn’t, but do you think he’ll be able to live with the blame?”

 

And that’s more than enough to confirm all of Brian’s previous doubts. Something bad -very bad- has happened to Jae, and it’s his fault. It always is. Hyeji is for once right. Brian would never live with the self-blame. He’d never forgive himself for hurting Jae, whether be it intentional or not.

 

“Wonpil,” she calls again, her voice alarming, “Brian shouldn’t know about the punishment, are we clear?”

 

Brian finally has had enough. He can’t listen to this conversation anymore. He takes a deep breath -that does nothing to ease his anguish- before knocking on the door. Eavesdropping is bad. And Brian didn’t hear anything. When he gets the permission to go in, he enters with a forced smile. If he notices their nervousness, he ignores it and walks directly to the table, “Sorry, I forgot my phone!” He says, a bit too cheerfully. He grabs the device and bids them goodbye once more, as quickly as possible so that they won’t notice the strain in his smile. Thankfully, they’re too shocked to react or say anything. 

 

And Brian didn’t hear anything.

 

He had the answer he came here for, and his phone. He should leave. Any additional question won’t do him any good, anyways. But having too many doubts is also a scary thing. And are they just doubts? After everything he’s just heard? 

 

Totally against his will, his body stops before he reaches the door, and the question is out before he could swallow it down. 

 

“What punishment?” He slowly turns around. They’re barely trying to hide their panic this time. A deadly silence falls over the place, one that he fears to break. Still, knowing the truth is more important.

 

“You said punishment just now,” he repeats, barely holding it together. “Was he-” he takes a shuddered breath, “was he really punished?”

 

“Brian-” Hyeji starts, and something inside tells him that she’s not intending to answer, so he cuts in sharply.

 

“Just-” he stopes himself mid cry, trying to calm himself, “Just tell me the truth, will you?” What was meant to be a demand, came out as a plead instead. 

 

Wonpil approaches him carefully, “Okay sit down first, and I’ll answer all of your questions, I promise.” He forces him down on the chair, and gives him a cup of water. Brian drinks obediently, the drink barely passing the rock currently lodged in his throat. The promise of the truth is the only thing making him comply and wait patiently.

 

They’re both staring at him nervously, studying his actions one by one. He hasn’t calmed down yet, his heart beating too fast, yet in a very unrhythmical pattern, and his body shaking slightly. But if he waits any longer, he’ll just have a mental breakdown. He needs to hear the truth. All of it.

 

“Why was he punished?” Out of all the questions flooding his brain, he just throws that out, not being able to think straight anymore.

 

Hyeji gives him a sympathetic look. He has a feeling that whatever she’s going to say, he won’t like it. Brian hates how right he was, when he finally hears her answer.

 

“It is forbidden for Cupids to get into relationships with humans.” 

 

“But he- he told me that it was okay. He told me that there are no rules against it!” He cries in denial. Jae has reassured him over and over that he would be okay. She must be lying. Jae would never-

 

“Jae has lied to you,” Wonpil states, as if he could read his mind. 

 

Helpless, hopeless, and utterly stupid Brian slumps back in his seat, all hope leaving him at once. He’s left with nothing, not even denial.

 

“Why would he?” His voice is barely above a whisper, asking a more stupid question.

 

“Were you in his position, would you tell the truth?” Wonpil fixes him with a hard look, not blaming, but not forgiving either. “Even if you knew that such relationship is worth the highest level of punishment?” 

 

It feels like blades were tearing his heart, over and over again. Brian wondered if those blades were for real, would they hurt as much as they do right now.  

 

“Highest level of punishment?” He echoes back, too numb to be shocked anymore. 

 

Wonpil nods, “We call it the Extreme Punishment.”

 

Brian swallows down multiple times, hoping to clear a path for his voice. “Like- like death?” He manages to finally ask, the word tasting like acid in his mouth.

 

Hyeji shakes her head, “No, not death. More like exile?” 

 

If she aimed for that answer to be reassuring, then she’s totally failed at that. Brian doubts that anything they’d say would ease him down at this point. 

 

“So, he’s sent far away? To another place?” He questions, barely finding it in himself to be hopeful this time. 

 

“Yes and no.” Wonpil says, then starts explaining it slowly for him, “Yes, because the place he’s sent to is far away. No, because it’s not in the human world. Not even cupids know where is it or how to reach it.” 

 

Not in the human world. That means that Jae no longer co-exists in the same space as him. But Brian has long decided that Jae’s well being is more important than his location, and whether he can feel his presence or not.

 

“How bad is it?” 

 

Wonpil avoids his gaze, so he turns to Hyeji. She sight deeply, “Would you believe me if I said no one truly knows? All that we know about this punishment, is that they disappear for a long time.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Long enough that no cupid remembers them when they are back. Long enough that when they’re back, they don’t remember who they were before the punishment, or why they received it for in the first place. They come back too blank, that they don’t consider it as a punishment, just a rebirth.”

 

‘Long enough that you will be long gone by then,’ is what she clearly wants to say. Whether if it’s a decade, a century, or a millennium, Hyeji would’ve mentioned it. Not putting a label on the time span meant that it went more than that. It didn’t just go beyond the humans understanding of time, but even the cupids’. 

 

“Is it painful?”

 

Brian doesn’t know how to take the new information in, or how to process them. He just keeps asking questions, hoping to find a silver of hope in all of this misery. There are none, obviously, but he still needs to know everything. He needs to know what kind of hell hole he’s thrown Jae into.

 

“Cupids don’t use physical violence, no matter what, but,” Hyeji stops, looking apologetic, “but that doesn’t make it any less cruel.” 

 

Cruel is an understatement for what they made- are making- Jae go through. But who are they? The other cupids? How guilty are they of Jae’s punishment in comparison to Brian, the source of it all? 

 

All the frustration, the self-blame, and regret keep building up and up, and they suddenly turn into an eruption of fury. 

 

“Why didn’t you stop him?” He abruptly stands, sending them accusatory glares. “You knew about this, so why didn’t you try to stop him?”

 

They seem to notice how he’s only redirecting the blame in their direction out of helplessness more than anything else. Instead of defending themselves, they just stare at him in silence, sympathy and guilt written on their faces.

 

“We did, many many times,” Wonpil finally admits, “but the final choice was his to make.”

 

“Why would he? Why would he choose me over his life?” He questions, voice weak and defeated. And he doesn’t wait for an answer, because he has it. 

 

 

Jae said he’d give away anything in exchange of some extra time with him, and it’s not that Brian didn’t believe him. He’s never doubted a single thing he’s said to him, but he’s never, ever, considered the weight of those words. It didn’t cross his mind that Jae could really give away his lifetimes for him. It didn’t cross his mind that Jae was ready to face the unknown, and to endure it for so so long, to lose himself, just to be with him. Was he really worth all these sacrifices? What did he do to deserve them? 

 

The answer is that he did nothing, and he doesn’t deserve them, will never do.

 

And he’ll have to live with that guilt. Brian didn’t deserve to die. No. He’ll have to live for as long as possible. He’ll have to allow for the self-blame to eat him alive, day by day, until death eventually comes for him. Brian deserves to suffer for as many years as possible, and it won’t be enough. It would never be enough. 

 

And it won’t bring Jae back.

 

 

“Listen Brian,” Hyeji’s soft voice tears him away from his dilemma. She tries to take his hand in hers, but he pulls it away, not trusting her anymore. She doesn’t let it get to her, and resumes talking, “this was not an easily taken decision, Jae has thought about it for a long time. And till the very last second, he didn’t regret it. He never did.”

 

Brian hates how true those words are. 

 

“I should get going.” 

 

He nothing but runs out of that place, ignoring all of their calls. He runs all the distance to his apartment, bumping on people and stumbling multiple times. He runs, but never catching up with how fast his mind is running. He opens the door to his apartment with trembling hands, and as soon as he’s inside, he collapses against the wall. Everything comes tumbling down on him, and forcing him too to crash on the ground. 

 

That day, Brian cries for the first time. 

 

His inner self still doesn’t allow it, but the urge to let go is stronger than his will, especially with the knowledge that Jae is not watching him at the moment. He’s really, really, alone, with no one to pity him or judge him, with no one to comfort him or wipe away his tears. And he cries. He cries for Jae, for all he had to endure on his own, for all the burden he must’ve carried on his own, for the pain he has to face, for the future that awaits him. He cries for himself, for his stupidity, for his blindness, for his inability to do anything, for not being able to comfort the only person he’s ever, truly loved. 

 

Brian cries, and cries, for hours and hours to no end. Until his tears dry, and all energy leaves his body. He can’t even hold his body up, the wall being his only support. When he gathers enough energy to stand up, he drags his weak, helpless body to the bed, and drops himself there, like a dead weight, before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

 

At least the nightmares spare him this time. He doubts that any nightmare would be worse than his current reality. 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

It’s the 19th of December, Brian’s birthday. A day he never anticipates. A day he spends like any other day. It was never special, but this year, it’s different. Brian has made a promise, one that he’d never break. 

 

It falls on a Thursday, so he asks for the day off in advance. It’s been hectic at work recently, but his boss allows it without a single question, as if sensing the necessity of it, or maybe it was out of pity -Brian has not been in that great of a mood for a while. His coworkers must be really confused about his drastic behavioral changes. First, he became exceptionally friendly with them, and suddenly, he went back to being distant and sad, even worse that before. He highly doubts that he’ll ever get better. 

 

 

‘You should also dress nicely.’ 

 

Brian sticks to wearing a plain maroon turtle neck, black jeans, and a certain jean jacket. It was the first gift he ever got from Jae, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wear it on such a day. For the sake of not freezing, he ends up throwing a black coat atop of them. It looks acceptable on the mirror, so he considers that task accomplished.

 

‘Go somewhere you wanted to visit for a while, or a place you like, whichever works best for you.’

 

Brian does not wonder much about where he wants to go. He lets his legs lead him instead. If he ends up on a very high rooftop of a certain building, then it’s mostly a force of habit. He’s lost count of how many times he’s been here in the last couple of weeks. The head of security recognized him, and after listening to his story -he had to exclude a lot of details- he allowed him an unlimited access to the rooftop. Jae must’ve left a really strong impression on the man. He did have that effect on people, after all. 

 

Brian stays there for a while, the height barely affecting him anymore. The cold wind kind of paralyzes his restless mind, as thinking becomes a struggle, and by consequence, breathing becomes easier. Weird enough, being on this rooftop is not as lonely as he thought it would be, a distant happy memory keeping him company the whole time. 

 

When he finally comes down, his body is freezing, but his heart is warmer, just a little bit. 

 

Next, Brian visits his parents. He’s never liked the graveyard, but at least he had somewhere to go to mourn them. At least he knows where they are. Brian sits between the two graves, and tells them about everything. He tells them about Jae, and he hopes that even if it sounds crazy to his own ears, they’ll believe him, because he knows that at some point, Jae was there. Jae was real, and Jae was his. 

 

He talks, and talks, and talks, until his throat goes sore, and his tears dry on his cheeks. It helps. He feels lighter now, like a dead weight has been removed from his chest. He’s never realized how much not talking about this has weighted him down until he let everything out. Probably, that wasn’t the most traditional way to start a birthday with, but at least he had to meet the people that mattered the most.

 

 

‘You have to treat yourself for a meal as well. Something delicious and heartwarming.’ 

 

 

Getting seaweed soup is a must on one’s birthday. Brian has no one to cook it for him, so he chooses to have lunch at a family restaurant he frequents. The owner recognizes him right away, and is happy to see him again. She asks him about the picky, tall guy he used to bring with him, to which he answers with a lie and a forced smile. When he tells her that it’s his birthday, she showers him with encouragements and gives an endless amount of rice and side dishes. 

 

Jae was right. Having a meal alone is not that bad. No one judges you for it, or pay you any attention. Brian enjoys the food and the atmosphere, regardless of his longing to have a certain special person at the other side of the table. 

 

 

‘You definitely should get yourself a gift! Whether it’s something you wanted to buy for a while or something you’re buying on impulse.’

 

 

Brian doesn’t have something in mind, but he still spends the afternoon shopping for a gift. What catches his eyes is a couple necklaces. One has an arrow shooting downwards, while the other holds a bow horizontally. They painfully reminds him of Jae, and their story. If he buys them both, it’s just a way to torture himself more. He’s even thinking of wearing them both.  

 

 

‘And of course, the cake!’

 

 

On his way home, he buys a small chocolate cake. A chuckle leaves his lips as he imagines what Jae’s reaction would be if he sees it. It dies somewhere in his throat when he remembers that Jae won’t be seeing it. 

 

His apartment is just as empty as he’s left it. It’s only darker now, as the night has fallen already. He washes first, getting into a more comfortable outfit. Midnight is still far away, but he’s tired, and he wishes for nothing more than to end this birthday of his. He places the cake on his dining table, and plants one single candle in it. He lights it, then sits down with a heavy sigh.

 

‘Just wish yourself a happy birthday, silently wish for something and blow the candles.’

 

 

“Happy birthday, Kang Brian,” he says, the words almost mocking him. His birthdays has been anything but happy, no matter how much he tried to pretend. Now, there’s only one thing left to do. He could’ve easily skipped the wishing part and went staring to blowing the candle, but there was a selfish wish he couldn’t ignore anymore, and would do anything for it to be granted. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together. 

 

‘I wish to see you one more time.’  

 

He pours his whole being, heart and soul in that wish, even though he knows that he’s wishing for the impossible. He doesn’t allow for himself to hope this time. A single tear slides down his cheek as he blows the candle away. He slowly opens his eyes, with a heavy heart, thinking about what to do afterwards. 

 

Brian is contemplating whether to stock the cake in the fridge for now, or cut himself a piece first, as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. His breath catches in his throat when he finally registers the sight in front of him. 

 

For a few seconds, he thinks that his eyes are playing a trick on him, that the despair and yearning have once more gotten out of control. But when he blinks repeatedly and the person sitting on the other chair does not disappear, Brian starts to think that his wish was really granted. For once.

 

 

‘Jae-’

 

 

“Happy birthday, Brian.”

 

-TBC-

---

(and that's why, ladies and gentlemen, soundproof doors where invented.. JK ^___^" )

One chapter to go Y'all !!!!!  What kind of ending do you think it will be ?? Please tell me your thoughts in a comment =D
I will try my best with the ending chapter (I'm really bad with endings tho) so be patient with me and hang on there for a while!! 

Thank you for always supporting my work, please be happy, safe, and healthy <3 <3 <3