A lukewarm cup of coffee creates a ring of darkness atop an otherwise spotless counter. With dead eyes staring at the rain falling outside, Youngjae thoughtlessly brings the mug to his lips every once in a while. His cheeks look hollowed and his eyes permanently bloodshot, with darkened circles residing beneath them. The spark has burned out and now these eyes that were once so bright fail to even maintain the glimmer of life.

He sighs to release the pent-up sorrow building in his throat before a lump is made that can no longer be repressed. Youngjae shakes his head softly and purses his lips. His eyes still watch the unmoving clouds and barren streets with disinterest and his hand remains situated around the coffee mug, fingers gripping the curves of the cup and his knuckles turning white. He’s desperate for something to cling to, a sign to show he’s still alive.

Youngjae wears long sleeves, but the shirt is loose now and the fabric gathers at his elbows. He wears his heart on his skin in the form fading scars and torn flesh aligned with his veins that course through a body filled with woe. I watch as his face changes from indifferent to broken. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes pleading, Youngjae looks away from the window and focuses on the floor. Slowly, I begin to approach his shivering figure and I wrap my arms around his waist from behind.

His body tenses beneath me at first then relaxes. Facing me, he puts on a sullen smile and returns the embrace. I can feel him flinch as his fresh cuts meet the curves of my body, but I pretend not to notice. As I hold him close to me I realize just how thin and fragile he has become in the last year. His cheeks used to be so chubby and child-like but have now taken on his new persona in the way of graying skin and sharp contours. He used to be healthy and jubilant. Now, he spends his days crying himself to sleep and staring vacantly out the window looking at nothing.

I feel his warm tears bleeding through my shirt and hold him tighter. He has forgotten his façade of happiness when he’s around me and will soon become introverted and immerse himself entirely into his realm of depression, a world alight by the withering power of a dimming sun

For the last year, I’ve been able to do nothing but watch as Youngjae slowly begins to fade into the background of our memories together, living alone in a world of his own thoughts and daydreams. However, I know that eventually even these dreams will become nightmares that will leave the inside of his mind and find a way into our own reality in the form of a strip of crimson across the wrist, a fleeting line of red amid a field of pale skin and scars.

Youngjae lets out a shaky breath that tickles my ear and sends a chill down my spine.

“Daehyun… I’m so sorry.”

My body tenses and automatically I feel my grip tighten. I smooth his hair back and whisper that everything will be okay. Upon hearing this, Youngjae pulls away shaking his head softly and I notice the tears that run parallel from his nose and lose themselves as they cascade down his neck and onto his chest. His shirt reveals his collarbones that now jut out from his body, skin spread tightly across them.

I look back up to meet his eyes. There’s something different about them this time, he looks afraid, truly afraid. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, just wisps of breath and hollowed sobs that create a cloud of anxiety that hovers just out of reach, waiting for the moment to release its tears in the form of rain. The cup of coffee Youngjae was holding drops to the floor and a loud thud of ceramic meeting wood echoes through the through the thin walls of his barren apartment.

The remainder of his coffee lies in a pool at his feet and I go to grab a paper towel. However, before I can leave his side, Youngjae pulls me back into his arms and buries his head in my neck. I feel him inhale, his breath warm against my skin.

“I just wanted to feel this one last time.”

I feel a smile reach my lips, but it is soon lost when I realize what he’s said. One last time. I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken as his breathing begin to slow. I pull back to find his eyes clouded over with a thin film of tears, remorse and apathy showing in his face. He looks at me with so much love and so much misery, tears falling and smile cracking.

“Youngjae. Youngjae, no. Please.”

My vision begins to blur as Youngjae kisses my cheek and caresses my profile.

“Daehyun, I love you. I’ll always love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t get better. I’m sorry I’m leaving you alone. Please forgive me. You’ll find someone new, someone better, I promise.”

My mind is filled with the memories that I will no longer share with anyone. All of those years that he’d struggled and all those years we were happy. He told me he was getting better and I believed him. I truly thought that in time I would see that glint of life replace his dead eyes and we’d walk the streets hand-in-hand, our faces illuminated by the light of the moon. If only I’d known that the last time I’d see his face would be underneath a fluorescent light with the shadows of yesterday infiltrating the depths of his heart.

“Youngjae, please. I’m begging you. Don’t leave me.”

His eyes are beginning to close for the final time. Those deep-chocolate orbs that drew me to him on that fateful day five years ago are now forever lost to time immemorial. Holding up his weakening body, his mouth opens and closes but no words come out. The sweet voice that used to hum lullabies as the night turned slowly to day will now become only a part of the wind that rustles the tree branches outside the windows of abandoned buildings.

One final intake of oxygen and his breath catches in his throat. That lump of sorrow had finally built up and blocked the passage of air. Youngjae’s grip on my hand loosens and I know he’s gone. My head feels light and my mind is blank. Holding him up, I still feel my grip tighten around him again, refusing to let go of the one person that I’d ever loved. I carry him bridal style into the bedroom and lie him down. On the bedside table I see an empty bottle of anti-depressants and a note, written in his delicate handwriting.

Someday we will go to the shore again. The sky will be overcast and the sand will be soft and cold beneath our feet. We’ll lay down our blanket and sit alone, just the two of us. Your arm will be around me and we’ll sit in silence, listening to the waves crash against the shore, the light of the stars giving us hope for a brighter tomorrow.

-----

The funeral was near-empty. Youngjae had always been shy, so he didn’t have many friends. The only other people there were the quiet man from the café that Youngjae used to frequent and the singer from the bar down the street. The room had been filled with bygone expressions and sleepless wonderings.

Now, I walk in solitude down lightless streets, the weight of the cigarette hanging heavily in my back pocket. Upon reaching the shore, I lay down a blanket and watch the water. Silently, I take the cigarette from my pocket along with Youngjae’s old Zippo lighter. Placing the wrapping between my lips, I watch the end catch fire, an orange blaze of heat in an otherwise lonely atmosphere. As I inhale, I no longer feel alone. Youngjae’s being invades my lungs and is then released into the sky. I watch as his soul drifts above my head and off into infinity.