Everyone fails to notice, and when they do notice, it is far too late.

He tries hard to write his farewell—blood and tears tainting the clean white paper. The words mom, dad and my beloved sister are boldly written in the paper, small scribbles of sorry's and goodbye's written after it. After he finishes writing the note for his family, he grabs another sheet of paper. This time the tears are already drowning his hands as he rubs his eyes to stop them from falling. 

For a moment, he feels uncertain of what he's about to do. But the thought quickly disappears as that vicious voice reminds him again: Nobody cares.

To Luhan, he starts and the next words follow. He puts down into words his feelings about the other's smile, his beautiful features and his captivating voice. He writes about the moments he had with his one and only, how it made his heart burst with alien feelings. I guess you will never know how much I loved you. Then, he adds the most painful part: of how Luhan never loved Minseok back. 

Don't blame yourself, he writes again, just like what he did with his letter to his family. But, maybe, they won't even think of blaming themselves. They don't really care.

(Don't they?) 

Before he takes another slash on his skin, he looks around his room. Maybe he would miss this, he's not really sure. He spent nights lying wide awake, staring at the pale beige ceiling above him, thinking of his worth—thinking about things he didn't have an answer to, asking himself questions that were always left unanswered. 

"Why am I alive if I'm going to die anyway?" he had asked thousands of time but silence is what answers him. 

He spent nights wondering why he is in pain, and how it would be better to stop breathing, to stop feeling anything. Sometimes, he feels safe and secure, but moments when he feels afraid and uncertain of the meaning life are more often. 

He hears light drops of rain dance on his rooftop and he smiles. At least the sky undertstands. Now it has finally come to this. He breathes in before he cuts another line on his pale skin, this time it is much, much deeper. Deep enough to make him bleed excessively. 

Fat. Fat. Untalented. 

This all ends here, he thinks. Tonight, he will sleep in peace—knowing that he won't be witnessing another sunrise. 

Nobody really cares.

The morning comes and she takes light steps towards her daughter's room. The morning is awfully cold and she feels like something's missing but she brushes it aside, focusing on the new day ahead. She knocks on the door and hears a grunt so she enters.

"Honey, wake up, wake up," she singsongs as she gently taps her kid's shoulders, turning her around. The latter smiles sheepishly at her before getting up, stretching her arms and proceeding to the kitchen.

An hour passes and she goes to bid her off, kissing her on the forehead. Her husband is with them, smiling and giving his daughter paper bills. Everything seems perfect, just like any other day. But that is proven wrong when she turns her heels to wake her son up. 

She knocks on the door but receives no answer. 

"Minseok?" she asks, knocking again.

Silence.

"Minseok? I'm going in," she says and turns the knob slowly. Her husband is getting ready to leave, and she can faintly hear the melody of their song being hummed. Just like any other day, the room is the same. A standard room radiating the golden shine of the sunlight with an empty beige wall with nothing on it: no picture frames, posters—nothing. But there is particularly one thing that is wrong with the room today.

And this makes her scream. She screams and drops to her knees, muffled sobs escaping her lips once she falls. It is too silent, with only her screams bouncing back off the walls. The birds stop singing, and even the whispers of the breeze cease. On the white plain bed lays a motionless figure—dry blood decorating the linen cloth—dry tears on this stranger's face. 

But the unmoving man isn't a stranger. It is her son.

She bawls, screaming his name, repeatedly screaming Minseok. It takes every ounce of strength she could muster to carry her body to the bed. Large chunk of tears escape her eyes as she squeezes Minseok's hands, as she looks at the body of who she knows is of her son. He looked so peaceful, she notices, and for a moment she thinks that he is so beautiful. It hurts her. 

She doesn't realize that her husband is now with her—not until he rushes beside his son, cowering in fear. The man who never cried is crying. 

He looks at Minseok and wonders why, how. Gently, as if the body is so fragile that it will easily shatter, he pulls the young one's body close to his and rocks it side by side. He drops on his knees, still holding his precious boy's body close to his, pleading for him to wake up.

They stay like that and cry for the broken soul of Kim Minseok. 

Once she regains her strength, she calls for emergency—even though she knows it is all too late. Her fingers are shaking and she is still crying, a million thoughts swirl in her mind. 

This is my fault. My fault. 

She thinks of those times she had forbade her son to do something, of those times she had accidentally shouted at him, of those times she failed to be a mother to her little wanderer.  

They are crying, blaming themselves, because nobody really cares, right?

Luhan stiffens as the school principal enters the room, and everyone goes silent. The old man looks agitated, he takes note, ready to tell Minseok that once he arrives so they can both laugh about it. Minseok is pretty late today, he sighs. 

"Kim Minseok," the man says in an anxious voice which causes Luhan's head to perk up, "Kim Minseok, is.."

"What?" he asks, a strange feeling of dread creeping his body because of his principal's uncomfortable stare lingering on him.

Once he hears the words dead, suicide and Kim Minseok, every part of his body stops functioning properly. He lets out a frantic laugh and turns his face to the man in the vintage suit that tries to make him look younger, telling him to stop lying. But he isn't lying, Luhan knows. 

He feels different emotions eat up his soul. Anger. Fear. Pain. He is lost, and everything turns hazy. It feels like his body has turned into ice, and every drop of tears stings his cheeks. No. No, he repeats a thousand times, No. 

For once he feels like he is in a foreign world, being watched by strangers. Minseok is gone; he is alone. 

He ends up shouting at everyone, shouting incoherent words he alone could understand. He blames himself—for not being able to protect Minseok from the people who would say malicious things to him; for not being able to reciprocate the love his best friend gave him; for not being brave enough to tell him that he loves him too;for being too scared of what other people would think about two boys being in love with each other. He blames himself. 

But he's not the only one blaming himself. The students who used to call Minseok fat are crying, whispering things to themselves. And that big bully who always treated Minseok like he's different looks lost, almost pitiful to Luhan's eyes. Even their teacher is trying hard not to show her weakness to the them. 

Still, no one cares, right?

When she gets home, she finds her parents sitting on the living room. 

"Is Minseok-oppa home?" she aks as she sets her things down and sits in front of her parent who are sitting like puppets on the sofa, "Is something wrong?" 

She regrets asking, though. Everything is happening so fast. Last night, she had just told her brother to treat her to something so that she'll finally forgive him for breaking her favorite mug. The night before she had told him to disappear, and now she regrets it. Because he actually did. 

"You're not supposed to do this, Minseokkie. Now how are you gonna treat me to ice cream?" She asks out loud, running outside the house to shout at the sky. 

"That's so unfair! You still have to treat me! Go back here, you idiot!" she shouts and points at the night sky. "Go back here.. Come back," she shouts, her cheeks now covered with cold tears, and the last words coming out as a whisper. 

She drops and scrapes her knees once it touches the rough asphalt. The pain from this cannot even compare to how devastated she is.

Her brother: Gone.

Do you still think no one cares?

"It has been a month, Minseok. How are you? Are you doing fine there? Wherever you are," Luhan asks with a melancholic chuckle, "I'm not okay, obviously. I'm still not sure why you needed to leave me. I'm still mad at you, to be very honest. But maybe it's my fault."

Luhan walks away from his best friend's house. It's going to rain soon, I should hurry, he tells himself as he hears a loud rumble from the sky. It seems that the sky is the only one that understands how he's feeling these past few weeks.

"I just wished you stayed for a little bit longer because I don't know what to do anymore."

"Dinner time, come quick," she says with a tired voice but her daughter only shakes her head. 

"I'm waiting for Minseok. He'll come, I'm sure," she replies as she looks at the closed door of her brother's room, waiting for it to open even though she knows it will never do so.

She nods and proceeds to stand in front of the door of his son's room. She hasn't entered it since that time for the fear or reliving back the moment. No one dares to enter it, not even Luhan, Minseok's bestfriend. Sometimes, she is afraid to sleep, because in her dreams Minseok is there, asking her things she can't comprehend: 

This is your fault, mother, do you know that?

Her husband doesn't talk that much, and he tries to put on a facade of bravery but she knows he is hurting. Everything will be alright, she tells herself, remembering what her son told them on the letter. 

My body may be gone, but I will still be here.. somewhere. I'm sorry. Everything will be alright.

"Your funeral is next week, I still can't believe this is happening," Luhan writes on a paper. He has been doing this ever since then - sending Minseok letters. I hope you read them, he thinks as he puts another one in an envelope and keeps it in a treasure box. 

Under his pillow there is a letter. A letter smudged with blood and dry tears; it is the most important letter he holds. 

A letter that resulted to a lot of painful things. Devastation. Guilt. Pain. Regret. Misery.

And because of this, Luhan knows now how important life truly is.

He might be lost right now, but he knows Minseok is there. If Minseok wasn't able to get his happy ending, then Luhan will be the one to attain that for him.

He will do it because he cares. 

Somebody cares, you just fail to notice.