SECOND

I thought about our last kiss. It had been short, soft, and barely even there. All because I supposedly “didn’t have the time” for a proper goodbye. She even told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back.

Suddenly Taehyun’s door opened and an angry mother hissed his name. “Taehyun I swear if you don’t come for dinner right this instant, you—” She looked down at her son and groaned. “You bought books? Again?”

When Taehyun didn’t even seem to have noticed his mother entering his room and talking to him, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Taehyun!”

At the touch, the boy jumped up. He held one hand over his chest, another still clinging to the book. His eyes lingered on his mother for a short moment as his brain was processing the situation. Seeing her rather annoyed expression made it easy for him to deduce that she probably called him a million times already and he didn’t respond once.

“Yes?” Slowly, and a little bit reluctantly, he closed the book.

“It’s dinner time. Put that book down and come join us.” She tapped her foot twice before sighing and pulling the door shut with a bang.

But Taehyun didn’t let go of the book. There was something that made him want to forgo dinner, and continue reading instead. So far he’d read the first twenty pages. The words told him a sad story, about one person attending a funeral and his thoughts during and after.

Usually, he didn’t fancy stories that would only bring him down, but just like how he had decided to keep the book despite the damage, he also couldn’t stop reading.

The words got to him. They travelled all the way to his stomach and wrenched it mercilessly. They tugged heartstrings he didn’t know he had, and they made him think about things, as well as life, differently. Not necessarily better, just differently.

To cater to his mother’s wishes, however, he figured one more page wouldn’t hurt, and he’d go down to join his family. He nested himself deeper in his covers as he resumed reading.

Today, Seunghoon told me he knew how it felt. I didn’t know what to say but inwardly I scoffed and wanted to smash his head against the wall. How dare he. How dare he compare my losing her over his parents divorcing?

“I know it hurts but you just got to get over it,” he said to me.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to blare my lungs out.

I just want to let go.

But that’s not fair to her, is it?

The further down the page Taehyun got, the harder the person had pressed his pen to the paper. He could feel the rage seeping out of the writer’s fingers through the ink and onto the paper. He felt the need to hug the book closely to his chest and regretted not being able to hug the writer instead.

A soft knock on his door pulled him out of it again.

“Hyung, seriously.” His brother frowned when he saw his brother all wrapped up in his covers as if hiding from the world.

“Coming, coming,” the older muttered as he carefully placed the book under his pillow. He then followed his brother down the stairs without uttering another sound.

“Looks like our highness has decided to grace us with his presence,” his father commented.

Taehyun didn’t retort, he simply pulled his chair back and sat down. He wasn’t hungry though. He was already filled with words, haunting him.

But that’s not fair to her, is it?

He wondered if the writer blamed himself, for some unknown reason, for the girl’s death.

But