Sumin

 

61 days, 23 hours, and 47 minutes. That's how long he's been gone. Every night, I try to shut my eyes, and go to sleep, but the image of him plays over, and over again in my mind. And tonight, was no different. 

 

I stared at the picture frame sitting on my desk, with a necklace dangling from it. The two of us, taken on our 100 day anniversary. His arm was draped around my shoulder, kissing my cheek, while my cheeks were five hundred different shades of red. That was the night of our first kiss too, when those already evident sparks just grew brighter. 

 

The necklace dangling from the frame, he gave it to me for my birthday earlier this year, with the promise that next year, he would add another charm to it. Pabo, you lied. 

 

In my dark room, with the only source coming from my small desk lamp, and streetlights outside the window, I spent yet another midnight, raveling my mind over past memories of him.

 

I still blame myself no matter what anyone says, he would still be here if I didn't nag him to come over in the pouring rain. He would still be alive and breathing, instead of buried six feet beneath the ground. His parents wouldn't be mourning over the fact that they lost their son, and his friends wouldn't always feel someone missing in their life. It was all because of stupid ing me. 

 

The usual tears were falling again, it almost seemed routine now. 

 

He was the best person ever, caring, nice, funny, better than anything I would ever amount too. And now, why is my heart still beating when his isn't? Why didn't I walk to his house that night? Why?

 

In two weeks, it would have been his twentieth birthday, November 23rd. But no, because of me, he didn't even get another loving day with his friends and family. The scary part is, last year, when he was celebrating his 19th birthday, he didn't even know that it would be his last time with a birthday cake. And I didn't know that it would my last time singing happy birthday to him.

 

My subconscious was talking to me again, teasing me for being the trigger that caused the car to speed on the wet road. 

 

Stupid, stupid Sumin. You didn't even deserve him you know that. Heck, you weren't even a good girlfriend. He could have lived a full life, with a perfect girlfriend, but of course, you always have to ruin things right? His parents may seem like their alright, but we all know that they hate you underneath. Confess, even his friends think your a unworthy that took their best friend away from them. You have one friend in this world, who had already found his love, with a girl that won't wreck him. And then there's you. The girl who with a every fiber of her being, can't do anything right, and screws everything up.

 

I couldn't take it anymore, these thoughts were pounding against my distraught head, tearing down every nerve. I clenched hair, with my elbows rested on the desk, begging for them to just stop. Please,stop. 

 

I dig in my closet, looking for my hidden box of prescriptions. My body shatters even more, when I look past his old jackets, that I haven't even washed since the last time I wore them. When he was still on this earth. The ones that he always would let me wear, but I would never give back. I ousted everything off the little compartment, looking for that damn box. Where is it, I put it here last time. I should have checked every night, but I held myself back last night. where is it, I can't take this anymore. Everything hurts, I can't even be numb. My temple starts throbbing, as I dump everything onto the floor, searching for it. 

 

I fall to the ground, as the stack of polariods laid in that draw. Dozens and dozens of pictures of us, scattered on the carpet. 

 

First date, fair, movies, dinner, anniversary, birthday- EVERYTHING WAS WRONG. 

 

"HE SHOULD STILL BE HERE DAMN IT." I shout mindlessly, clutching onto my knees and weeping, wishing for this pain to stop. My parents weren't home, they haven't been for three months. All I get from them is money in the mail. Where is the box, I need this to be over. 

 

I bang my head against nightstand, even though I might have passed it last night, tonight I lost. 

 

 Myungsoo

 

I budge the drawer back into it's socket, closing it silently. I look down, to see a left behind polaroid stuck under her nightstand. Looking at it, my heart melts when I see her soft smile. I haven't seen that smile come from her since Byunghun died. Only fake chuckles that she mustered up with all of her remaining energy. Her spirit died, when you did, Byunghun. As if he could hear me though. 

 

After slipping the picture back into the drawer, I turn around, looking at her shivering, even in her warm bed. Se couldn't find her pills, I knew it. Was it wrong for me to hide them, I just couldn't see her overdose, I really couldn't. I sit down on the side of the bed, ever so softly, making sure that she still stayed asleep. 

 

"Sumin-ah, please don't do this yourself. It's not your fault." I didn't realized that I had already locked my hand with hers, while just looking at her in her slumber. "Byunghun would kill me if he knew I was letting you do this." I whipper, while pulling a hair back from her face, which was dripping with sweat beads. 

 

I knew what she was dreaming about, Byunghun and the moment she got the phone call to go to the hospital. She spent a whole hour with him, before the doctors made their sympathic face, and closed the curtain. The heart monitor didn't have ridges anymore, just a straight line. I remember sitting beside you, not sure what to do about your endless tears. I don't know if you know this Sumin-ah, but I was jealous of Byunghun for a long time. Cursing him in my head every time he held your hand. 

 

Now I'm the one holding it, but I wish he was instead. At least then you would be happy again, and I wouldn't have to hide things from you. 

 

I look at the bruise on her forehead, which was probably from the nightstand I found her leaning against. I knew something was up again, from the mount when I called you and it went straight to voicemail. 

 

"I can't be here for you every night, Sumin."

 

It was a must for me to make a key duplicate after her first breakdown. The night of the funeral, she was everywhere, clenching her head and begging for the pain to stop. 

 

"You were like that tonight too." I'm her best friend, but what kind of friend am I to let this happen?

 

She started shuffling her bed, and I let go of her hand, getting up to go to the kitchen for some water in case she woke up.