Jiyong rolled over, the sky through his window as grey.  He couldn’t remember a time in recent days where the sky didn’t seem to want to drown him with its lack of colour.  He shut his eyes and sighed softly. Getting out of bed seemed almost impossible lately but he knew that he had to.

“Oppa?”  The voice rang in his ears and his eyes shot open.   Sitting up far too quickly he looked around and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “Chaerin?” He spoke softly standing and shuffling his feet toward the door.  He looked down the hallway, first one way and then the other, trying to clear the fog in his head.

“Oppa, what are you doing?”  Jiyong’s head whipped around, it was her, he was certain of it. He just needed to find her.

“Chaerin?” He called again, walking down the hallway.  He tried his best to clear his ears, slapping them and shoving his finger into the canal shaking it about.  “Chae, kitten, where are you?” He asked looking around as if he would be able to see her. Maybe he was going insane.  He was hearing her, he was certain of it, but it was impossible.  Chaerin, his best friend, the love of his life, was gone.   He was certain of it, he had watched it happen. 

Walking down the stairs he turned and walked into the living room, looking at the sofa where Chaerin had spent the last of her days.  She had wanted to be comfortable, unable to make it up the stairs anymore and stubborn to the end, refusing to let Jiyong carry her, he had made her a bed there.  A small part of him still clung to the memory, feeling as though he would see her blonde hair as he turned the corner.  The rational part of him knew that he wouldn’t.    With heavy steps he walked over and sat on the plump cushions, looking to the pillow that he had been unable to move since she had left him.

“Oppa. What are you doing?”  Jiyong’s head shot up again. 

“What am I doing? What am I doing?” He asked himself aloud.  He reached over and picked up the pillow pulling it to his chest and burying his nose in its casing. “Missing you.”  He spoke into it, eyes closed tightly as he inhaled, it still smelled like her.  A sweet mixture of vanilla and pomegranate and just a hint of peppermint, something to settle her stomach as the days went on.

“Why?”  Jiyong shook his head as her voice drifted to his ears again.  He was going crazy, his longing for her driving him mad, he was certain of it.  He squeezed the pillow closer, his stomach now aching. 

“Because you’re gone baby.” He answered her, figuring if he were going mad it didn’t really matter, no one else was there to see him.  “You’re gone but I can’t let you go.” His voice grew even softer, words mumbled into the pillow.

Jiyong leaned back against the sofa,  a harsh sigh coming from his lips as he let himself remember.  It wasn’t hard to remember before the tumor took over. He had videos, and letters, texts and voice mails saved. Pictures everywhere of their time spent together, rows and rows of clothes in his closet that matched hers. It was easy to remember before she was sick, but impossible to forget the time after.

It had started with headaches. Small ones at first, and then more and more pain killers. Anything to dull the pain.  Then the nose bleeds, and the blurred vision. His worried expressions and urgings to get her to go to the doctor always pushed aside until he had been there the day that she couldn’t force herself to stand.   He took her to the hospital himself and waited as they ran test after test, holding her hand as the results returned. A large inoperable tumor, pushing on the veins and nerves in her skull, and it would only get worse in time.  She didn’t cry, and in front of her, neither did he.  

“Jiyong?”  Chaerin’s voice was soft, the way it had been a few weeks ago, tired sounding almost and it startled him.  He looked over toward the arm of the sofa, where her head had rested only a short time before.  Whatever was happening to him, was certainly not fair. 

Closing his eyes again he decided to answer her, or at least her voice that played in his ears. “Yes kitten?”  He said, waiting for another answer, for his own mind to come up with something else to tell him.

“I told you not to be sad didn’t I?” Her voice responded, and Jiyong could almost make out her smirk behind his eyelids.

“How can I not be kitten?”  He asked, leaning to the side, and longing for the familiar feel of her body under his, though toward the end far too skinny, but still comforting.

“Because I told you not to oppa.”  Jiyong smirked, the answer obvious.

“You told me not to. Since when do I do what I’m told baby?” He teased, pulling the pillow to his chest tightly again and taking in another deep inhale.  “How can I not be sad when I miss you so much?” He continued on, his expression growing sad once more. “When I walk down the stairs and don’t see you waiting for me? Who wouldn’t be sad to not see your face every day Chaerin.”  He sniffled to himself.  Opening his eyes he looked around, as if waiting to see her face in front of him. 

He lay there in silence, waiting for another response, watching the air in front of him as if it would bring about her face.   “Don’t be sad oppa.” He heard, the tone the same as the last time she had actually spoken to him. 

“No promises.” He responded, in a matching tone.   The words playing out in his mind as the scene repeated itself in the back of his mind. Chaerin laying on the sofa, fingers in Jiyong’s hair as he rested his cheek on her leg.  It was the last time that they had spoken,  after that things became more difficult, words harder to understand,  actions slower.  He couldn’t promise her anything, not that he wouldn’t miss her, not that he would move on, and certainly not that he wouldn’t be sad. 

And truth be told, he was right to do so, getting out of bed was a chore, until this morning, her voice once again pulling him from his misery if only to drop him back in it, swathed in the scent of vanilla and pomegranate with a hint of peppermint.  “I miss you kitten.” He said softly, closing his eyes and curling into himself.

“I miss you too oppa.” He heard, the faint sensation of fingers in his hair lulling him into a feeling of longing, and eventually sleep once more.