“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”

— Brian Jacques.

They were friends.

Best friends.

They'd camp out in either of their back yards, and they'd always end up on the grass outside their little two person tent. She'd slip into his sleeping bag, and they'd count the stars until they fell asleep.

"Kwang," Jeon Hyosung whispered one night, laying in her backyard. Hyosung was eight and he was just a few months older than her, and even though he probably should have been hanging out with the guys in their grade, he'd always make time for Hyosung.

"Yeah?"

"We're best friends, right?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah," he answered, looking over at her.

"OK," she said simply. "Forever?"

"Forever," he echoed.

He held out his pinky, and she smiled as she looped her finger together with his. They each kissed the back of their thumbs - a real pinky promise, they'd always said - and they laughed together before looking back to the sky.

She fell asleep soon after, and he pulled the sleeping bag up to their chins. She was holding his hand between them, and he found himself frowning when she pulled it away.

They always woke with their backs to each other, and when Mr or Mrs Jeon came to get Hyosung, or Mr and Mrs Lee went to get Kikwang, they'd just smile and chuckle at the two kids.

Childhood was a beautiful thing but Hyosung's was cut a bit short.

Tuesday was always Mrs Lee's day to pick the kids up from school. She had an extra staff member stay on Tuesday and Thursday, and Mrs Jeon got the kids on Monday and Friday. Mr Jeon was in charge of Wednesday. Mr Lee covered any changes. It was a system that had been in place since they started school, and it worked well.

Usually.

Kikwang had cut his hand on a rusty nail that was for some reason on the playground, and in a panic, Mrs Lee had rushed him to the emergency room to have it tended to and given his tetanus shot - which she just hadn't gotten around to taking him for.

She'd called Mrs Jeon and regrettably said she wouldn't be able to get Hyosung from school, and she insisted it was no problem. Mr Lee was out of town or he would have helped out, but Mrs Lee could make it work.

Sirens were a rarity in that small town; emergencies didn't happen often, and when they did, everyone held their breath, waiting to hear who was the subject - no one liked the word 'victim'.

When Mrs Lee and Kikwang were leaving the hospital and they saw Mrs Jeon was rolled in on a stretcher, it was as though the world stopped.

Mrs Lee and Kikwang rushed to the car, her clutching his hand the entire time, and rushed towards home. They passed the scene of the accident, and Mrs Lee bit back a sob when she saw the two mangled vehicles. Her best friend was in the hospital, and she had no idea what to do.

She parked on the street just as Mr Jeon was running out of the house, and Kikwang watched as he took Hyosung in his arms, holding her tightly before setting her in his truck.

Kikwang watched his best friend, terror in her eyes, as he felt tears forming in his own.

Mrs Jeon died four hours after the accident. Surgery would have been futile, and so Mr Jeon and his daughter sat at that bedside and simply waited for the woman's heart to stop. Mrs Lee couldn't imagine anything more horrific.

Mr Jeon was a mess. A stoic, angry mess. He could barely take care of himself, let alone his daughter, and while he couldn't say the words, Mrs Lee knew he was thankful for her help and support. They all knew Mrs Lee was hurting, too, but she wouldn't let that little girl go unattended for.

Hyosung wouldn't talk to anyone. Not one word. Kikwang didn't know what to do.

He slipped through the fence after the funeral. It was late, but Mrs Lee was busy helping Mr Jeon, and Mr Lee was talking to a few mourners at home, and Kikwang needed to see Hyosung.

He walked past Hyosung’s father, and the man offered only a small, single nod, as though that were his approval that Kikwang trudge up the stairs to Hyosung's bedroom. As though he knew that Kikwang could help.

She was in her pajamas on her bed, clutching a worn brown teddy bear. It was quiet, and she had only her bedside lamp shining. Her hair was still perfectly braided like his mother had done for her that morning when both girls had tears in their eyes.

Kikwang was just eight. He didn't know what to say, or what to do, or how to act, or how to treat Hyosung.

So he just lay down on her bed next to her on his back, his hands clasped over his stomach. It was the same way she was laying. He thought she shouldn't have to lay like that alone.

They lay like that for a while. Just him and her in her room in their pajamas. Breathing in silence, breaths matching. She didn't move. She didn't put down her teddy bear. He used to make fun of her for still sleeping with it, but they both knew he was only joking.

"How's your hand?" she asked in a small voice, hoarse from crying.

"What?"

"Your hand. It looked gross," she said, looking over at him.

"It was. I had to have a needle. Six stitches," he explained.

"Ew."

"I know."

He turned his head and their eyes met, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep from crying. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed, and her cheeks were puffy. He hated it. He really did.

"I'm glad you're OK," she said as a tear fell from her eye.

He didn't know what to say, and so when she reached for her bed sheet to wipe her face and rolled onto her side so she was looking at him, he just nodded. He took her hand in his and clasped their fingers together, and he watched the ceiling as she watched him.

"Hey, Hyo?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"OK," she said softly.

They both cried then, quiet tears that stained her pillows. They didn't care. They just lay there together with their hands joined and their hearts breaking.

When Mrs Lee climbed the stairs to take her boy home, she just couldn't bring herself to pull the kids apart. There they were, sleeping on that big double bed, and she knew somehow that they were helping each other through it, just by doing that very thing. She covered them over with a blanket and tugged the door mostly closed, and she told Mr Lee to just send Kikwang home in the morning.

Kikwang stepped through the door about noon the next day, and both Mr and Mrs Lee sat at the kitchen table, mugs of coffee cradled in their hands. They looked at Kikwang, standing there in his plaid flannel pajamas, and he tried to smile. He just couldn't do it.

Mrs Lee was almost surprised when he walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her. Mr Lee bowed his head, and Mrs Lee teared up a little as she held her son.

"It's not fair," he said. Mrs Lee ran her hand over his hair and pulled out the chair between she and Mr Lee for Kikwang to sit.

"I know, sweetie."

"She's just a kid," he said.

He was almost crying again, but there was a stern anger in his voice. Mr Lee placed his hand on Kikwang’s shoulder, but didn't say a word. Both adults wanted to remind him that he was just a kid, too, but they knew what he was saying. He was just a little older than her, and she'd looked so fragile since the accident. And he looked out for her. She was his best friend.

And she really was just a kid.

"She'll be OK," Mrs Lee insisted. "We'll make sure of it."

He just nodded his head, and Mrs Lee stood, kissed his hair, and said she'd make him some cocoa.

When Hyosung stepped through the kitchen door just minutes later, Mrs Lee gave a sympathetic smile and gestured for the girl to take a seat. Mrs Lee doled out extra marshmallows, all of them laughing when Mr Lee insisted he needed some in his coffee and let Hyosung drop them into his mug, and they spent their afternoon talking about anything but the person they'd all just lost.

Hyosung was smiling for the first time in days. 

It'll get better soon. I promise you that, Hyosung. Kikwang smiled, too.

I promise.

AUTHOR's NOTE:

Hello there, fellow readers! Another simple update, and yes, sad. I am so bad, no? Can't help it if I'm being melancholic today. Hope you like it and thank you for reading!