I remember, for a start, a party. The dorm Head was preoccupied with the girls busy shoving their junk in his face and the other boys were simply shouting, drinking and dancing with some girls from the other dorm. At times, we would have a crossover in which girls from different Universities would come down and share a good laugh, some dancing and probably a night in bed. I was slouched over the bar; a few friends flanked my sides, sipping vodka from shot glasses. I shook my glass, watching the liquid swirl around.

“After this, the dorm Head would want to host crossovers any time,” a dark-haired boy said to my left. “He’s having the time of his life.”

“It’ll be over soon. It wouldn’t feel so good once he’s alone in bed the next morning,” another said in reply.

“What about you, Kim? Nothing out there for you?” the dark-haired boy waved his glass towards the tittering girls who were giggling, falling over each other. “They’re not bad.”

“I can’t,” I replied, though my eyes wavered to the girls.

True, they weren’t bad. But for them behaving that way, it would have gotten them tossed outside in the cold in a regular bar. Fortunately enough, the dorm Head knew the owner and as far as thing went, they were on a ‘friends’ basis. I personally found no gain in that when he suffered massive hangovers and had to resort to skipping morning classes and regular check-ups for STIs.

“Who are you waiting for?”

“No one in particular. I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“Is that so? Wanna stay clean for her?” his hot, steamy breath was in my face as he propped his elbows over the counter and stared at me through half-lidded eyes, almost like old friends would.

Thankfully, we were no such thing. I didn’t mind talking to him, though. He was pleasant, when he wasn’t intoxicated or in the presence of women. I learnt later on that he suffered from alcohol poisoning after too much beer blasts and shots.

“No, I want to stay faithful.”

That marked the end of our conversation as he got up, stumbling to one of the girls there and laughing as he pushed past a fellow student. I didn’t see him afterwards. His roommate was searching for him and I had told him that he was probably sleeping with one of the girls. I turned to Yuri, who had been silent all this while, staring at the transparent liquid in his glass.

“You’re staring at your drink,” I reminded him and he snapped out of it immediately, looking up from his glass to me.

It worked like that sometimes. I had to remind him that he was in the middle of doing something for him to fully realise that he had been spacing out that way. It didn’t take long for the much-awaited grin to curve up the corners of his lips.

“The party’s in full swing and half the girls and guys are gone. Sad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. Everyone’s doing fine,” I glanced around.

Truly, it was a sad sight. Half the girls were either vomiting into the toilet bowls or passed out at the stained cushioned seats. The other half would either be in rooms with men and what was left of them were now making their way back to the dorm before attendance was marked.

“How’s your girlfriend? Are you going back for the holidays?” Yuri asked, going back to staring at his drink.

“I’m not sure. Tiffany’s been busy with my Mom lately. Even with me gone, I think she’d be doing better. What about you?”

“I don’t know if I should,” Yuri had a displeased, disappointed edge to his voice.

“It’s your birthday soon. You should.”

“Hah,” Yuri sat up, his glass set on the table as he swung his long arms back, stretching. “I don’t reckon that’ll make a difference.”

“Of course it will.”

“A birthday only marks the end of one year for me, Taeyeon. I’m not particularly happy to celebrate that. Birthdays shouldn’t be celebrated just because everyone else blows candles on creamy cakes and receives presents on the day they’re born.”

“I always thought we should celebrate it for living through another ty year,” I mused and he chuckled lightly.

“I’d be lucky enough to make it through a day in that context.”

Yuri sat up and tossed a couple of bills to me. I had always assumed that Yuri had a lot of money, for he always seemed to have some spare change here and there. And that spare change was a lot, mind you. For someone who had been spending most of their childhood working and saving for a lengthy education, to watch someone else breeze into the area with unlimited bills stuffed in his pockets, it really stung. But then, these people had it easy. Or so I thought.

I wasn’t the one who frequently bought an armload of vodka and whiskey to drink for the night. I wasn’t the one who was depressed for my girlfriend’s absence. Even if I did get homesick at times, I wouldn’t be the first to grab the flask by the table and head to the rooftop. I assumed that Yuri’s relationship with his distant girlfriend was failing, for she didn’t even visit at his birthday. All he got, or so he told me, was a message saying how much she loved him and wishing him a happy birthday. We had gotten drunk that night, singing loudly to the Beatles and A-Ha. A weird combination, I know, but we enjoyed ourselves, switching from peace-loving hippies and then to fast-moving electric guitars and thumping basses next. Finally, after smearing cake all over our faces, we switched on the radio and listened to local music from aged singers.

The next morning, we overslept and skipped all the classes we had for the day, spending most of our time sleeping off the massive hangover and humming traditional folk music by the beach in the cold winter. The water wasn’t frozen, but anyone stupid enough to step foot in the freezing waters would probably die out of hypothermia. A greyed retriever was curled up underneath the empty lifeguard post, sleeping. Yuri then turned to me and said something that brought forth many disturbing thoughts.

“If somehow, death comes and collects you, would you willingly go?”

“Death will take me when it’s my time. I don’t have to be ready for that.”

“I would,” Yuri said flatly, staring past the wooden planks that have been washed ashore.

Yuri kicked some sand over the used green lighter by the shore, burying it into the cold sand. There was an elderly woman seated on a bench a distance away from us, staring blankly at the small tides. She seemed lost, simply staring without any idea what she was staring at. It was sad, really, to be searching for something you know nothing of. It was similar to groping around for something precious in the dark. It was like it was there, but simply out of reach. And in that wonder, someone out there was doing just fine.

Yuri killed himself that night. The dorm Head found him sprawled at the foot of the dorm building, head split open and brain matter littered all over the pavements. The dorm Head vomited immediately, the strong scent of blood overpowering him. I saw Yuri that last time before they covered him up with a black sheet and carted him away into a blue van. The authorities came to ask questions and brought along a few suspects, but then ultimately decided the cause of death to be suicide since there was no one up there with him. Among the things that scared me was the bottle of whiskey found shattered by his side and his phone that had been broken into three pieces. He had been gripping something tightly in his hand and the police pried his fist open to discover his girlfriend’s crushed picture.

In this lonely place, there weren’t any guidance offered to people who were simply lost. I attended the funeral, which was held in the rural areas deep in Ilsandong-gu. The dorm Head was there as well, along with some other friends that I barely recognized. They all had their heads bowed and hands folded over each other. How easy it must have been to go for a drink after this or play pool. Some of them would discuss Yuri’s suicide over a cup of coffee. Whatever it was, I would be willing to bet that the dorm Head would be one of those people. Pale and trembling slightly, he waited for the funeral to end. I stayed behind to express my condolences. It wasn’t that I wanted to; it was because I felt like I had to. It was some kind of closure for me. Yuri’s guardians were cradling the urn, the female crying silently while the male only stared on helplessly. I would’ve have thought that they were Yuri’s parents.

Halfway through the funeral, I heard the soft apologies and sobs from a certain brunette that fallen to her haunches before the crematorium. It was a pathetic sight and I sympathized her. Long brown hair fell forwards, curtaining her face from the rest of the world. I couldn’t see her clearly, but she was certainly the object of Yuri’s affection. And I could see why. Beautifully intricate, her cries were the most heartbreaking pleas I have heard. They called out to me, igniting some flame in me, but I extinguished them for Yuri. Strangely, I felt nothing, only a sense of sorry loss that made up for the awkwardness I felt alone in my apartment. The person I drank and played pool with was gone. Admittedly, Yuri was the closest I had to a friend, but till now, we still felt like nothing more than strangers.

“I’m very sorry,” I bowed as soon as the funeral was over.

“Thank you for coming. It would have meant a lot to Yuri for you to be here,” the male said, anguish choking his constricted voice.

No, not really.

“I will be taking my leave now.”

I thought of many things that night, alone in my apartment for the first time in a long time. Truthfully, I was waiting for Yuri to barge in through the door and grab the bottle waiting by his study table and leave with the phone gripped tightly in his hand. It never happened.