“Sometimes, when one person is missing,

the whole world seems depopulated.”

C H A P T E R  E I G H T

I hate myself. I’ve no idea what the reason is that actually makes me to

question myself whether the love I had for him was real or not. When he’s

there, right in front of me where I could see him with my eyes, I was in

doubt. But when he’s no longer here, it’s all answered. It was true. My love

for him wasn’t fake. Scratch that. I shouldn’t have used past tense. I knew

he’s still alive. At least, he’s still alive in my heart, my soul, my mind.

Because whenever I see his face, I want to tell him so badly of how much

I love him.

       But, now, I don’t know how to do that.

               It was still a crystal clear to Wooyoung from the first moment he met Taecyeon until the last time he saw him. Their first meeting was awkward and at that time, only one thing crossed over his mind, that both of them would never be able to end up being friends. But oh boy was he wrong.  They were introduced by Kimy, their ‘mom’ at the dorm and were told that they’re roommates. He was well known as the most talkative person, but only when he’s around with the people he knew. But when it comes for him to have a new relationship with a stranger, it’s his weakness. He’s really bad at doing this. Both of them sat still on the same couch and had a gap between two of them, a pillow, to be precise and what they did at that time was they let silence enveloped them for a couple of minutes until Taecyeon was the first one who’d attempted to have a conversation with him.

               “Hye.”

               The only reaction he did at that time was nod, and his mind was filled with full of admiration of his voice. To him, it’s mesmerizing. It was so sultry that even he who was a male had fallen for it. He cleared his throat and shook his head and then he turned his face towards his direction, and saw him doing the same thing.

               “I’m Wooyoung,” he spoke and lent his hand out, anticipated him to shake it back.

               And that was it. It’s the beginning of their friendship.

               Back when they’re living comfortably together as roommates, they had broken a couple of rules. But the one which he remembered the most was when they stayed up late, albeit they’re supposed to get in bed at 11PM and they had a group task on the next day. No, they didn’t sneak out to have a party with a lot of girls nor have drinks or what. But the only thing they did on that day was lie next to each other on the concrete floor and looked at ceiling, mesmerized by the power of nature. They loved seeing the lights of the Moon and stars painting the blank canvas, illuminating the whole room.

               “Hey,” he spoke and nudged him on the elbow.

               “What?”

               He turned his face towards his direction and remained staring at his face for awhile before he looked up and set his eyes upon the sparkling ceiling again.

               “If you could choose, what kind of way would you want to die?”

               As soon as he had fully finished his question, both of them let the silence enveloped the entire room. No words came out from their mouths, and he started to feel awkward and questioned himself was it a mistake to ask him a question like that? When he was about to open his mouth as his attempt to take back what he’d just asked, it was immediately stopped when he suddenly answered.

               “Falling,” Taecyeon stopped to in a deep breath and continued, “I want to fall from a high place. That’s all what I want.”

               “Why?” he asked while staring at his face.

               “Because it’s always been my dream to fly.”

               He nodded and agreed with him. On that night, he did something without Taecyeon knowing it. He secretly prayed to God to let Taecyeon die in a pleasant way, just because he loved him and didn’t want anything happen to him that could possibly hurt him.

               Innocence looked lovely on him at that time.

*     *     *     *

               For the first time of his life being a best friend of hers, he felt nervous and miserable. He felt stupid, cruel, selfish and ugly at the same time. He couldn’t spare his time to find any word that could resemble how he felt at that time. Only he and God knew how much he hated himself for not having the capable to fix things as they should’ve been at the first place.

               Currently, he’s sitting next to her in the waiting room. It would make him feel better if he saw a scene of her weeping and breaking down in agony and anguish but much to his surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she remained still and he couldn’t understand why she was acting like this because that’s just what he actually wanted to do at the moment but he had to sustain his wish, just because he thought he had to be strong for her. But when he put more thoughts on it, it’s probably one of his punishments— after what he had done. He was so confused of the things he should have done and should have not, and that was the main reason why he remained sitting still like a fool, not doing anything. He didn’t even think he was performing the act of inhaling and exhaling.

               . . .  These words constantly filled his mind.

               Even though no one had answered his question of what was the main cause why he was killed, he knew it’s his fault. If he didn’t wish what he’d wished the other day, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s his fault after all. If she wished to seek for revenge, he’s all prepared because he knew he deserved it. If he knew this would happen, he wouldn’t bother to ask for that selfish wish. Instead, he would pack his things and move away, miles away from them to give them the happiness they deserved. 

               He turned his face towards her direction and his vision was filled with a sight of her natural face, as if nothing big had happened. Her face was exactly the same when she didn’t have any kind of feelings encounter herself when she woke up in the morning or when she’s cooking or when she’s spacing out. That’s how her face exactly looked like.

               Empty.  

               He closed his eyes and let the guilt rushed over his body for countless time ever since he found out about the incident. He knew that there’s no chance for Taecyeon to get through the operation alive after being told by the doctor of his condition three hours ago but he had no guts to tell her that because he knew she would refuse to believe it. There’s a strong feeling inside her, hoping and praying hard for him to stay alive. After hesitating for a couple of minutes, that’s when he placed his hand on top of hers.

               “Shinah—”

               “I’m okay,” she answered without moving an inch.

               He lifted his hand and brushed it over his face altogether with a sigh escaping from his mouth. He felt terrible. Even though he knew there’s no chance of Taecyeon to stay alive, but he wished he would come out from the emergency room with his heart still beating and see tears rolling down her cheeks in relief, happiness and sadness at the same time.

               But of course, it was not possible.

               Both of them stood still on the ground when the doctor who was assigned to operate Taecyeon came out from the emergency room. He could feel his heart pounded really hard that he thought it was going to come out from his chest. It was thumping so hard it felt so painful to him. He clenched his hands into fists in a way for him to lessen the pressure albeit it didn’t give any help at all as his preparation to hear the answer from the doctor even though he’d already known it.

               “I’m sorry. We did our best.”

               And just like that, he was caged in guiltiness and would never be able to escape from it.

*     *     *     *

               On the same day, he felt like he had lost his two best friends. Even though Shinah was physically breathing and living like a normal human, but there was no soul in her. He could tell there was no energy left in him to face situation another situation at the same time. Although he felt like storming out from her apartment and weep to himself in his own bed, he knew he couldn’t do that. He now, had a responsibility to take care of her after what he had done and that told everything. He had to be strong— for her sake.

               He thought the best thing he could do was to go home and leave her alone but never did he know he was wrong. Or probably it’s because of the positive impression people had upon him. The kind of impression that he was reliable to take a huge responsibility to take care of her after going through a bad day, oblivious of the fact that he’s the one who’d caused her lover’s death.

               “Only you can take care of her. Please. We’re begging you.”

               He was helpless. He couldn’t do anything but nod his head in agreement of what her parents wanted from him. They should’ve been the ones staying beside her but they had to run some errands, to cancel the invitations and the preparations of the wedding to avoid misunderstandings from occurring tomorrow.

               He slowly got up from the couch and stepped forward towards the master bedroom in leaden footsteps, because he was careworn and all but at the same time, he had never wanted her to be aware of the fact that he’s heading to her. When he’s a step away from the door of the room, he hesitated for awhile and wondered whether it’s a good thing for him to check her or not. A long but slow sigh escaped from his mouth and his hand was raised in a slow manner, carefully reached for the door knob and he took a deep breath and pulled his hand away. He had no guts to do so. He was afraid, not wanting to hurt her more. 

               He leaned his forehead on the door, tried to ask her to open the door but he knew it wasn’t the best thing he could have done. He turned his body to the other round and headed to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. He then leaned against the counter, spacing out by setting his eyes at the ceiling, having no idea what to do. After the doctor had confirmed his death, both of them hadn’t exchanged words up until now and he knew he couldn’t do anything about that. A long sigh escaped from his mouth and he took a sip of water, slowly, tried to feel the cold water flowing down his trachea and into his stomach.

               He quickly turned his body to the other round to face the kitchen sink and placed his both hands on the counter top and that’s when he threw up in disgust of himself. He brushed his hand over his mouth, felt like a knife was plunged right inside his chest. His body brushed over the counter in a slow manner until he ended up sitting on the floor with his back leaned hard against the counter. He pulled his legs into his chest and embraced them, and stuffed his face in the space between his knees and his chest.

               And that’s when he wept.

               “I’m sorry………I’m so sorry.”

               He kept on saying these words, meant for both Shinah and Taecyeon because of his selfishness that had brought them such a disaster in their perfect lives when they’re so close to meeting their happy ending.

               “I’m sorry.”

               He apologized once more, and his voice evaporated in such a quick manner and vanished right away as if his apology was meant to be heard by only him.

*     *     *     *

               She waited until she could no longer hear the television in the living room. She then rolled onto her side to watch the LED acrobatics of the digital clock. When it’s 3:00a.m, she thought it was safe and pulled back her covers and got out of bed. She crawled towards the DVD player and rummaged through the stacks of DVDs for the one she wanted— the one she didn’t want to be caught viewing. Then she the television, muting the sound so low she had to sit right on top of the screen and its built-in speakers to hear, in order to avoid Wooyoung from suspecting.

               The first person she saw was herself. She held up her hand, blocking him who was videotaping and giving her a laugh. Her hand was raised on its own and covered , holding herself from breaking into tears. The laugh. The other she who was so happy, the smile she had was so bright, full of happiness. Her long hair falling over her features like a screen of silk but somehow, she wondered why her hair didn’t look alike like the one in the video. The camera fuzzed out for a moment, and then that was when her vision was blurred and her tears immediately streamed down her cheeks.

               She knew what was coming. She remembered what happened at that time. The camera panned back and there was he, his arms around her as she sat on his lap on the carpet in the living room. He had taken off his shirt because they’d decided to take a bath together, and she still remembered that his skin had been warm where it pressed up against hers.

               How could you be so alive one moment and then have everything stop, not just your heart and lungs, but the way you smiled slowly, the left side of your mouth curled first before the right?

               I can’t live without you.

               He used to say that, and now she realized he wouldn’t have to. She couldn’t stop sobbing, so she pushed her first into to keep herself from making noise. She watched him on the screen the way you might study the animal you had never seen before, if you had to memorize and tell the world what you’d discovered. His hand splayed across her bare stomach, grazed the edge of her half tank top. She watched herself pushed him away, embarrassed.

               “My cute kitten,” he said in a playful manner, showing his full teeth.

               She slipped her hand underneath her pajama top and she spread her own hand across her belly. She edged her thumb up like he had, to the curve of her . She tried to pretend it was him, by closing her eyes but it was different. She knew it wouldn’t feel the same.

               She pressed the pause button and the screen was filled with a close-up of his smiling face. That smile. That lips. That face. She reached her hand until it touched the screen of the TV, got a tiny electric chock and then she placed a soft peck on his lips. It wasn’t warm. Instead, it was cold, flat and hard, not like the one she would feel whenever their lips brushed next to each others.

               At that time, she knew. She would never kiss him again. She would never hear him laugh. She would never feel the print of his hand on her waist or felt his lips tracing her body or feel her heart beat into his hand when he ed her shirt.

               She turned off the TV and hoped he’d remain suspended like that, alive.

*     *     *     *

               Ok Taecyeon’s memorial service was held in a church that wasn’t large enough to hold the grief of its mourners. Colleagues and parents and family friends packed into the pews, stood along the walls, spilled out the doors.

               Shinah and Wooyoung were sitting somewhere in the back, but that didn’t keep her from feeling that everyone was staring at her. She wasn’t sure if that was because of they all knew she was Taecyeon’s fiancée or because they could see right through her, how broken she was.

               “Blessed are those who mourn,” the pastor read, “for they will be comforted.”

               Shinah shivered. Was she mourning? Did mourning feel like a hole in the middle of you that got wider and wider every time you tried to plug it up? Or was she incapable of mourning, because that meant remembering? And then she felt Wooyoung’s hand rested on top of her hand, and he gave her a squeeze. She shut her eyes.

               In the front of the church was a coffin. She knew it wasn’t open, rumours had flown about that. It was hard to imagine that Taecyeon was inside that lacquered black box. That he wasn’t breathing, that his blood had been drained out and his veins were pumped full of chemicals instead.

               “Friends, as we gather here to remember Ok Taecyeon, we are beneath the protective shelter of God’s healing love,” the pastor said. “We are here to pour out our grief, release our anger, face our emptiness, and know that God cares.”

               The pastor looked out over the congregation. “The death of a loved one can shake us to our very foundations. When the person is so young and so full of potential and skill, the feelings of grief and loss can be even more overwhelming. At times such as this we turn to our friends and family for support, for a shoulder to cry on and for someone to walk that road of pain and anguish with us. We cannot have Taecyeon back, but we can rest easy knowing that he’s found the peace in death he was denied here on earth.” 

               The pastor moved aside, and Taecyeon’s father stood up. He stood up and talked about the first time he’d cradled Taecyeon in her arms, how overwhelmed he was with Taecyeon’s first word. In the front row, Taecyeon’s mother began crying. Loud, noisy sobs—the kind that splattered against the walls of the church like paint.

               Before she realized what she was doing, she’d gotten to her feet.

               “Shinah!” Wooyoung whispered, fierce.

               She was shaking so hard that her feet did not seem to touch the ground, not as she stepped into the aisle in the black dress she had taken out from her closet, the one she had worn on their date dining in the expensive restaurant he had taken her to, not as she moved towards Taecyeon’s coffin, magnetically drawn to a pole.

               She could feel Taecyeon’s father’s eyes on her, could hear the whisper of the congregation. She reached the casket, polished to such a gleam she could see her own face reflected back to her, an imposter.

               “Shinah,” his father said, coming down from the podium to embrace her. “You all right?”

               closed like a rosebud. How could this man, whose son was dead, be asking her that? She felt herself dissolving, and wondered if you could turn into a ghost without dying, if that part of it was only a technicality.

               “Did you want to say something?” his father offered. “About Taec?”

               Before she knew what was happening, Taec’s father had led her up to the podium. She was vaguely aware of her parents, who’d gotten out of their seats in the pew and was edging their way down towards the front of the church— to do what? Spirit her away? Stop her from making any mistake?

               She stared out at a landscape of faces she recognized and did not really know at all. She loved him, they were all thinking. Her breath caught like a moth in the cage of her lungs. But what would she say?

               She felt her lips twist, her face crumple. She started to sob, so hard that the wooden floorboards of the church bowed and creaked, so hard that even in that sealed casket, she was sure Taecyeon could hear her.

               “I’m sorry,” she choked out to him, to his father, to anyone who would listen. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

               She did not notice her mother climbing the steps to the podium, wrapping an arm around her, leading her behind the altar to a little vestibule used by the organist. She didn’t protest when her mother handed her tissues and rubbed her hair back behind her ears, the way she used to when she was small, she could barely remember the gesture.

               “Everyone must think I’m an idiot.”

               “No, they think you miss Taec. I know you believe this was your fault.”

               Her heart was pounding so hard it moved the thin chiffon fabric of her dress. She reached for another tissue, and pretended that her mother understood the fact that she had said those words to him.

               Go die.

               It was still a crystal clear when she said this to him on the same day he died. She didn’t mean it. She knew she didn’t mean it, and yet, her unintended wish had been granted. If she didn’t utter those words, would it happen the other way round? Would she now, walking down the beach with her bare feet, clinging her arms around his neck, kissing  him— never wanting to break the kiss in their honeymoon? Would it happen, if she didn’t say those words?

               Because she knew that after all, she was guilty.