I open your page in
my book of memories
I am there inside,

I am with you

Joonmyun looks outside from his glass window, letting the penetrating warmth from the sunlight touch his pale. It’s warm, he marvels, even though there are only a few days before Christmas. He wonders why snow seems to be betraying the weather report. It almost seems as if someone is controlling them, that is against nature that the weather forecasters could foresee.

He closes his eyes and remembers.

After all, that’s all he can do now – remember.

Joonmyun watches as she plays with the snow, looking so ethereal – innocent but not naïve, pure but not ignorant. She’s making snow angels and Joonmyun could forsake all angels there is except for this one making wings with snow.

She turns to look at him and as she smiles, he feels his heart flutter.

“Oppa~” she calls. “Oppa~”

It’s completely out of ordinary how her simple utters sounds like the world to Joonmyun.

“What?” he calls back as he walks towards her.

“You should make a snow angel, too, oppa,” she says with that crooked smile of hers that he loves.

“Am I not too old for that?”

She stands up and playfully pushes him to the ground, to the soft bed of probably ten inches of snow. She laughs as she falls above him, tucking her brown, wavy hair behind her ears and looking down at Joonmyun.

“Nobody’s too old for snow angels, oppa,” she says, falling back on the snow beside him.

He smiles. When was the last time he made snow angels?

“Now, let’s make brother-sister snow angels, oppa,” she tells him, turning her hear slightly on the right to look at him – missing the slight quiver in Joonmyun’s lips.

He turns his face slightly to the left to look at her and smiles at her.

“Have you called him?”

It’s an unwarranted question but it has always been like that between them. He asks and she answers because she never tells – not even when her whole world is falling or has fallen apart.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I have you, don’t I, oppa? I don’t need him.”

Joonmyun almost believes her.

“I’m your older brother…”

“Yes, you are. You’ll always be, oppa.”

She turns to look at him again and smiles crookedly, some brown locks falling on her face. Then, she proceeds on making another snow angel. Joonmyun looks at her for a moment as he clutches an envelope on his pants’ pocket. He’s her brother. He’ll always be her older brother.

What more can he ask for?

In his dining table is an opened letter. It says:

To my angel:

I love you.

Love,

Oppa.

“Can you tell me how can one miss what you never had?” Joonmyun puts the letter back on it’s envelope, already crumpled and faded, as he wonders how one can move on from a love that never was, from a relationship that was never there.

‘It’s true that people can move on but you can’t deny the fact that only death and amnesia erase memories.’

“I miss you.”

Six days before Christmas.