Someone is watching me.

I know everyone here is watching me, wondering how I am, how I’m coping, whether I’m going to break down, whether I’ll finally let them comfort me, but these eyes are different as they study me. They are concerned, they are curious. Trying to read me, what I’m thinking as well as feeling; trying to burrow into the hidden places of my mind.

Every day I wake up, lying on his bed. I sleep in his room, with his favourite sheet, one I used to have on my bed –scrunched comfortingly under my cheek. I don’t sleep under the covers, I’m too warm to do that. I need to be in his room for as long as it smells of him. I want to capture every molecule of his scent before it evaporates into the air of time.

I hardly speak with anybody. They know that I will be in his room, with the door shut, curled on a single bed, pretending to myself I can sleep. Even though I know I will see him again when I die and that I will one day find him in my dreams, I cannot sleep for long enough to find him. I drift in dreamland for that half an hour at most, and then I’m awake again until dawn. As I close my eyes, I always hear him ask why he doesn’t have a large bed like me. “Yunho, I want bigger bed. I need lots of space, too,” he always said in my head. “Just because I’m smaller than you, doesn’t mean I don’t need space."  I will say, “You can always come and sleep in my bed if you want bigger space.” He will smile at me. How can I forget that?

Every day I return to an empty house, one that echoes with permanent loss. I sit alone in the kitchen, pushed food around my plate for what feels like hours and seconds at the same time, then scraped the food into the bin. I sit alone in the living room to watch television by staring through it, my thumb pressing buttons on the remote control until I get to a channel that doesn’t hurt my ears and my brain and then I stare through it.

Every day, every day, the news is still happening, newspaper are still printing. People are still talking about him.  Every day, I wonder if anyone realizes that time has actually stopped and they’re fooling themselves that it is moving forward.

This is my life.  My life without him.

I want to go back to that memory on the beach. I want to go back to our happiest memory.

We held on to each other as we slipped, slid and clambered down the steep bank of pebbles.The sea lay before us. Foaming and fizzing as it gushed towards us, bubbling as it was back. We kicked off our socks and shoe, stood beside each other, our feet cold, waiting for the sea to try to gobble them up, seeing who could wait the longest before running away.

The sea went away, he and I stood firm, shivering in the cold, our legs close together, giggling with anticipation, waiting for the tide to come to us. And then it was racing towards us. The tremors of excitement thrilled between us as the water came and I was squealing, running backwards. I was the one who caved first. The chicken. He stood his ground. Let the sea come and come, until his feet completely submerged by the foamy water. His face grimaced at the coolness of the water, and he screamed in delight and didn’t move. He turned towards me, to see where I was when I should have been beside him.

I should have stood beside him.

Time is standing still.

Only for now, though. It will start ticking again. Something will happen to make my life start ticking again. I know I will fall asleep and find him again and I will want to go out in the world again. But for now, nothing can rouse me from where I am.

 I wish I still had him.

But I know, I’ll see him again. I’ve always believed that and I believe it even more.          

Please don’t worry about me because I promise you, I will be all right. And I promise you, we will meet again.

We will meet again.

The end

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading.

Hope you'll like it.

*bows*