Xiumin sat alone on a bench and gazed into space. He was depressed, angry and so much more at the same time.

He looked down to his hand. He held a photo in his hand. On the photo was a handsome young men with blond hair and sparkling eyes. The name of this men was Luhan. Luhan was Xiumin's best friend, soulmate, lover; but Luhan was especially one thing: Luhan was dead.

Xiumin looked yearningly at the photo. He wished Luhan was here right now and hugged and comforted him like he always did when Xiumin was sad. But Luhan wouldn't come, Xiumin knew that.

Dead people couldn't come back anymore.

Never.