What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you,

And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK

I'm falling to pieces, yeah I'm falling to pieces

They say bad things happen for a reason

But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding

'Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving

Jihyo stood outside Sana’s door, grocery bag in one hand. She used her other hand to knock a few times and waited for an answer she didn’t really expect to get. After a full three minutes of waiting, she reached into her pocket and got the key that let her into her friend’s apartment.

“Sana?” she called out. No reply. She might be sleeping, Jihyo thought.

The korean singer then glanced around in mild disbelief. Sana, I left you alone for two days. How did you create such  a mess? she thought. The kitchen was littered with coffee cups scattered all over the countertop. Some were half-filled with coffee, some with tea, some with water, and some had a suspiciously strong smell of alcohol. There were also half-eaten bags of chips, chocolate wrappers, and used spoons and chopsticks and bowls everywhere. A carton of chinese food sat next to the sink. For how long, Jihyo didn’t want to think about it.

Jihyo sighed and began unloading the grocery bag she brought into the refrigerator and cupboards. She would clean the kitchen later. She reminded herself to keep track of how much time she spent doing it so she could charge Sana for it. She figured ten thousand won an hour was a fair wage for her very personalized service. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself at her own funny antics.

After Jihyo was done unloading the bag, she made her way into the living room, where she was unsurprised to see that it was in a similar state of disarray as the kitchen, she saw another batch of empty food cartons and a carton of cereal upside down in the center table, with some of it's left over scattered over to the floor. She didn’t see the japanes anywhere. She did see a half-finished painting on the easel, with open jars and tubes of paint and paint brushes scattered on most of the surfaces of the room, staining everything a countless of colors, from the counter to the center table to the lamp shades. If Jihyo didn't have to think about what a pain it would be to remove all the paint later, she would admit that it was a rather unique, vibrant decoration of Sana's apartment.

In the midst of her survey of the living room, all of a sudden, she saw something move on the floor at the far side of the couch. It startled her for just a second before she saw the flash of blonde. Jihyo inched closer and closer and when she finally made her way around the coffee table, she saw Sana lying there on the floor, on her side, with her back against the bottom of the couch and her legs stretched out in a right angle to her body. She was in the same clothes as when Jihyo last saw her. Clutched in her hands was a blue book, which she held close to her chest. She was awake – well, her eyes were opened anyway – but she didn’t acknowledge her friend even as she stood over her.

Once Jihyo was sure that Sana wasn’t hurt (which took a second, because no movement came from the japanese except for the rise and fall of her chest and the blinking of her eyes), the korean singer sighed and made to sit down right next to her on the floor. Her feet were used to push the coffee table farther away to give the two of them more room. She then reached over and, holding on to her friend’s shoulders, pulled her into a sitting position, resting the blonde’s head on her shoulder. She kept her arms wrapped around her.

Sana didn’t resist at all, leaning into the embrace of her friend, burrowing her face into her shoulder.

“Oh, Sana.”

Jihyo slowly ran her hands through Sana’s hair, untangling the many knots that had formed to her long blonde hair. She intermittently patted her head in a “there, there” manner. She gave her kisses on the top of her head and leaned her own cheek against the blonde’s head. They stayed like that for long minutes, with neither saying a word.

Finally, Sana’s stomach rumbled, breaking the soothing silence. She groaned and Jihyo chuckled, though neither made to get up.

Sana lifted her head from Jihyo’s shoulder and pulled back to finally look at her.

“Jih, I think I really messed up. Big time. ed up. Big time.”

To Sana’s surprise, Jihyo didn’t look even mildly taken aback at her confession. She just looked at her sadly.

“Yeah, Sana. You kind of did.”

There was no harshness or blame in her voice, no anger or pity in her gaze. There was simply agreement. And maybe an unspoken promise to share whatever pain will come from this realization.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you mean,?”

Again, Sana saw nothing but kind and patient eyes, imploring her to continue.

She thought about what she wanted to say, as she was herself unsure of how to express what she really meant. It had been two days since she found Dahyun’s book. Two days since she learned that Dahyun had bought a ring because she wanted to propose. And two days since she had been lying on the floor in the position Jihyo had just found her in, having not had the energy or will to do much more than re-read Dahyun's handwriting over and over again, even though every time she read it felt like another knife stab through her heart.

She was surprised that the pain felt just as sharp as the hundreth time she read it as it did the first time. But despite the pain, she continued reading it. Because she felt like she deserved it. She cried in anguish some of the times, screamed in anger other times, and a few of the times, laughed bitterly at how the universe had decided to mock what little remained of her life after Dahyun.

She pulled away from Jihyo and sat back leaning against the bottom of the couch, no longer looking at her friend. She began, cautiously.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. Mina. . .” She swallowed thickly. It's hard to speak, with a lump in .  “Mina died. Because of me.”

“Sana,” Jihyo interrupted, shaking her head, “not because of you. How many times will we tell you, it's an accident. ”

Sana nodded, catching herself before she regressed on the progress she had made in dealing with her death.

“I know. But she died. And I lived. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she was gone and all I had was a broken leg. It felt wrong for me to be alive, let alone warm, happy, and surrounded and loved by family and friends and especially Dahyun.”

Sana paused, staring down at her hands as she felt her emotions start to well up inside her chest, building up the tears.

“So how I could go on living my beautiful life as it was? I felt like a fraud, living a life that was not mine. And sooner or later, everyone around me would see that, and realize what a horrible person I was. And then they would leave me, and I would finally get what I deserved.”

Sana looked up at the ceiling in a futile attempt to prevent tears from falling. Jihyo’s heart ached, painfully, as she just now learned what Sana had never shared with them - the extent of her anguish. Her own eyes watered as she imagined Sana lying alone in bed, feeling herself undeserving of love. Of life.

But she didn’t say anything, patiently giving Sana the time and space to continue her thoughts.

“And then there was Dahyun. Good God, Dahyun. I don’t deserve her even if I am the best person I can be, ten times over. She was just so . . . Dahyun. She gave me everything, Jihyo.” Sana looked at her korean friend, to make sure that she understood this very important truth. Jihyo nodded. She did.

“But, the more understanding and caring Dahyun was, the more undeserving I felt. And my damaged mind wouldn’t separate her voice from that ing accident. Every time I saw her, I was reminded both of the accident and of how undeserving of this life I was.”

“You don’t feel this way now, do you?” Jihyo finally spoke.

Sana wiped at the tears finally falling down her face and shook her head. “No, it’s okay, Jihyo. You and Momo and Euigeon, and my family . . . you all helped me understand how lucky I was, both to have survived the accident and also to have people who care about me so much. I mean, I still don’t think I deserve you guys, but that’s just because you are all too wonderful.” She smiled at Jihyo and received a shy smile in return.

“But Dahyun . . .” Sana turned somber again. “I tried to push her away. Tried to speed up the realization she would inevitably have one day that I was not the person she thought I was. That I was this fraud. But she never gave up on me.”

“Dahyun loved you so much, Sana,” Jihyo said. “She would have waited forever for you to realize that.”

It was the truth, Sana knew. She had hidden it in her subconscious underneath her turmoil during the breakup, had refused to acknowledge it during her recovery, and was then harshly smacked in the face with it when she read Dahyun’s note to her in the book. But now, when Jihyo finally said it out loud, the weight of that truth came crashing down on her, stripping her of all her excuses and defensive mechanisms and false bravado. That was the truth. Dahyun loved her unequivocally, and she ed it up.

"Do you know I can't remember the last time we kissed?" Sana blurted. "Cause you never think the last time is the last time. You think there'll be more. You think you have forever, but you don't." Sana said while looking at Jihyo for the first time since she got there. 

Jihyo replied, unaware of the beating she was inflicting upon Sana’s poor heart. “You remember those days, several months after it happened, when you wanted to go out drinking every night with Momo and me? And you wouldn’t let Dahyun come, even when she asked? She probably just wanted to look after you. Well, you would always end up amazingly drunk, and we would have to help you back.”

Sana closed her eyes as flashes of broken memories came rushing back at Jihyo’s words.

“And every night we brought you back, Dahyun was there, ready to take you, no matter how late it was. And she never complained. Not once. She was never angry