I stood by the door at seven fifteen. My father had left early in the morning, oblivious of the fact that I was going to Busan. Even when I came home the previous night, I didn’t bother to inform him. Even when I was forced to join the dinner’s table, I didn’t utter a single word. Even when he walked into my room with his wife who told me that I had diabetes, I acted like it was the least of my concerns, because it really was, though I had to admit that knowing that I had such sickness at this age was terrible. How was I supposed to deal with meds and needles and a special diet? 

My all-black outfit made me look like a gothic cross-dresser; tight black jeans, plain black shirt, black leather jacket, black scarf, black shoes, and I didn’t even bother with my hair so I let it down, not really combing it because I wasn’t in the mood.

How the hell was I supposed to be in the mood when I was going to my brother’s funeral?!

The housekeeper, who was aware of my condition, tried to persuade me into eating something for breakfast, and though I was physically hungry, my appetite was long gone, so I was consent in having a bite of crêpes and some coffee—without sugar, evidently.

At seven thirty the bell rang. I grabbed my duffle bag and opened the door, finding Sehun standing with his hands in his pockets; black pants, dark gray dress shirt, and black jacket; dark colors did good to Sehun’s pale skin.

“Hi” he said, “ready to go?”

I nodded with a hum and he led the way to his car—I repeat, his car, a freaking BMW, all shiny and ready to roll.

He either was a gentleman at heart, or he pitied me, for he opened the door to the front seat and waited for me to slide in before closing the door. Seconds later he was sitting by my side, already starting the engine and driving off.

-

Two hours had passed and all I did was glance straightforward; I could feel Sehun’s eyes on me every now and then. He asked me couple of time if I wanted to stop to rest or something, but I politely declined, not wanting to waste time.

Moments later, we were driving through the suburban of Busan, passing by grand factories before we actually made it to Busan.

Things we passed were blurred to me as my heartbeat increased the more we got closer.

“Where should I head now?” the boy next to me asked and stopped at a red light. I hastily gave him the directions, sounding robotic. Few left turns here, right ones there, and he finally got into the neighborhood.

From afar, I could distinguish cars parked next to the house, and the closer we got the clearer I could make out black heads swarming their way inside the residence. Sehun parked the car, and we headed straight to the backyard, using the backdoor to get inside.

As expected, weeping and ugly sobs were the first thing that I heard; Baekhyun was loved by everyone, he helped everyone, forgave everyone … how could you not cry?

Not forgetting about the male towering over me, I grabbed him by his sleeve and dragged him silently to the main hall, where several guests were standing, some dapping their tears delicately with a piece of fine satin, some remaining poker-faced and obviously keeping the sadness and sorrow to themselves, and some offensively snickering while chatting in the corner clearly distant from the whole ordeal. I got immensely offended by that and walked up to a woman who was throwing her head back in a silent laugh, shamelessly grinning afterward and playfully slapping the man’s arm, a chubby -head who looked like a cactus.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked half-politely after I stood there, glaring at her viciously.

“You can help me by showing some respect while you’re in here. Somebody died for God’s sake and you’re laughing like a third-class hoe!” she gasped loudly, insulted by my non-filtered words. Sehun was right behind me, patting my shoulder while gently dragging me back, away from the less than considerate female who gained glances of disapproval from many people in the place.

Like on queue, Baekhyun’s brother showed up with his bloodshot eyes, engulfing me in his arms. When he pulled away, a single tear slipped from the corner of his and he quickly wiped it away.

“He had missed you a lot” he said with a shaky voice, on the verge of crying; his tears almost made me join him, but no, I didn’t want to cry in front of him or anybody else, and I would never, hence I had to change the topic.

“Where’s Mrs.Byun?”

“Upstairs, in his room” I nodded and glanced at Sehun who seemed to understand, so I left him with Baekhyun’s brother and jogged the stairs, walking through the familiar corridors until I reached the room.

How many time I stood in front of that door before walking in… but at that moment, it felt like the hardest thing ever. Only after taking few breaths that I managed to knock lightly before twisting the knob and pushing the door open, revealing the sight of an old woman, lying lifelessly on the bed, if it wasn’t for the soft weeping I would’ve thought that the woman was dead.

“Mrs.Byun?” I called softly, approaching step by step, “…Mrs.Byun?” it’s either she was totally oblivious of my presence even when I called, or she knew I was there but decided to ignore me. It was until I stood in front of her that she budged, making some space for me next to her. I silently lied beside her and wrapped my arms around her petite frame. She grabbed my hand and cried harder while speaking, her words almost sounding jumbled. Almost.

“He used to say that he missed you a lot, but you never came to see him” it was like I was hit by a fast train. Her words were true. I felt guilt and shame pouring down on me because she was right; I’ve never came to Busan since I left, and it was always him who called first. What a friend I was.

“He really missed you,” she continued, her voice clearer, “Now it’s us who’re going to miss him”

-

It was the first time that I had harbored a feeling about graveyards. I didn’t known what it meant to have someone important to me buried under the ground until Saturday afternoon.

Sehun was leaning against a tree, while I sat on the roots, observing the pathetic scene of burial; Baekhyun’s mother was barely containing her tears while her older son stood beside her and held her. And while they were covering the coffin with dirt, a priest was reciting jumbled words from his bible, looking fatigued as he hurried, swallowing the words, botching the dead to take another one before sunset; what a pantomime!

Before she left, Mrs.Byun came to me with Rob in her arms; a cute husky that seemed would never grow up.

“Here, take it with you, Baekhyun wanted you to keep it” she said and dropped the dog to the ground, hurrying to her son’s car. Rob barked frantically and hopped in my lap, relishing in the warmth of my palm as I run my fingers through it soft fur.

I started crying a short moment after that, choking on air. The dog jumped down from my lap and I bent down, hiding my face in my crossed arm that were resting on my knees as I bit my forearm to prevent the sobs from coming out, but I failed noticeably when I felt the sobs wracking my body heavy and awful, and the burning sensation in my stomach and lungs, blood pounding heavily behind my ears,