[FIC] Our Happy Ending
Title: Our Happy Ending
Length: one shot/3292 words
Author: xheartmindsoul
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance, AU, fluff, angst, tragedy, character death
Summary: "I came to realise that home wasn’t that little apartment we shared. ‘Home is where the heart is,’ they say, and mine was with Yunho. Home was wherever Yunho was."
My landlord, Mrs. Shin told me two things when she knocked on my door that morning. One was that she would kick me out if I failed to pay my rent on time; two, was that my new housemate would be arriving later that day.
He came at about half past three in the afternoon, with his suitcases and boxes of files and paperwork. Only after I helped drag his belongings into the room next to mine, did he properly introduce himself. ‘I’m Jung Yunho,” he said with a dazzling smile, right hand firmly gripping my own in a handshake. I couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were. Soft and warm, his touch made me blush a shade of light pink as I looked up to meet his gaze.
“Hello Yunho-sshi. I’m Kim Jaejoong. Nice to meet you.”
---
The first few weeks were rather awkward. I wasn’t used to having another person around. But then again we barely saw each other, for during the day we were both off to work, him to his law firm, and me to my little office a few blocks away.
Jung Yunho was a successful lawyer and a part time writer. I remember asking him why he wanted to be cramped up in this tiny apartment when he could’ve obviously afforded much more. “All that would be far too much for me,” he had said simply. When he wasn’t working on cases, he spent his time writing and typing away in his room. He didn’t write about power or wealth or about politics and the law like someone of his status was expected to. Instead his stories reminded me of the sun, bright, beautiful and inspiring. But what I loved most about them was that they always had happy endings.
“But Yunho-sshi, wouldn’t it be more interesting if you killed off someone at the end? I mean, you know…”
He laughed, that light laughter I had come to love just after a few weeks, and said, “I want to make people happy when they read my work, Jaejoong-sshi. The world outside is far too cruel. There might come a day when the only happy endings that exists are in between the pages of a book.”
It didn’t take long for us to become good friends. He was as beautiful as the stories he wrote. His warm brown eyes reminded me of hot chocolate on a winter’s day. His presence made me feel safe, secure like I’ve never been before. We talked often, usually about our day and the weather and the latest happenings in the world. I liked talking to him. His deep bass voice was pleasant to the ears, and he had a charming sense of humour that never failed to make me laugh.
As the days flew by I got to know him more and more, and discovered sides of him no one would ever guessed existed. He was such an enigma. One second he was the proud and authoritative lawyer Jung, and the next he would be whining and pouting up at me with the innocence of a child.
He woke me up every morning, because he knew I could sleep through a storm and often pretended to ignore the constant beeping of my alarm clock. Then he would prepare breakfast, usually cold milk and cereal, and complain that I was taking too long in the shower. He began coming home earlier and earlier each day. He told me it was because he preferred bringing his work home. I found out the real reason much later on though - it was because he wanted to spend dinner with me. I cooked for him every evening, knew his favourite dishes, what he liked and disliked by hard. We would dine together in the little kitchen every day at 7 o’clock. He would compliment my cooking, and I would beam at the sight of him wolfing down his food from across the table, then we’d argue about whose turn it was to do the dishes.
Soon, that handsome stranger that moved in became my very best friend. Our topics of discussion moved to more personal matters, like money, women and our dreams of the future. During that time, we both had our other halves. I had my fair share of relationships, and so did he. But that thin invisible wall between us eventually crumbled into ashes one Christmas Eve many years ago. My memory may be failing me lately, but how clearly I remember the falling snow, the chill-biting cold, and the warmth of his touch that very night.
I was supposedly on a date with my girlfriend, HyeoJoo. We were holding hands, walking down the snow covered streets like couples do. I took her to a fine dining restaurant, where I hoped we would spend a romantic dinner together. I had saved up last month’s salary for it, wishing it would please her, because with my monthly income I could barely afford to pamper her the way I had wanted to.
I pulled out her chair for her, and barely settled down myself when she told me that we needed to talk. At first I couldn’t understand what it was all about, but in the end I knew it meant that our relationship was over. “I’m sorry oppa. I really am,” I remember her saying, exiting the restaurant even before the waiter could come back to ask for our orders.
I remember how freaking angry I was. Angry, numb, frustrated, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the first number that came to mind. “Yeoboseyo?” Yunho. My best friend. My comfort. My solace. He was right beside me in the blink of an eye, wrapping a comforting arm around me as he held me close, and I teared up knowing he would come running for me no matter when and where.
---
“Cheers Yunho,” I said, as I held up the glass of soju. I had dragged him along to the street stalls just opposite our apartment building and asked him to drink with me. Alcohol was the best medicine for a broken heart, or so I believed. I whined and complained and he listened, not saying a word as I continued my angry blabber.
“She couldn’t have chosen a better time,” I grumbled, taking a swing of soju. “A few days ago she was all ‘oppa saranghae’ and now she’s telling me it’s over? Girls are so damn hard to understand.”
A low chuckle escaped his lips and my head snapped up to glare at him. “What’s so funny, Jung?” I growled.
“Nothing,” he grinned. “You’re so cute, Jae.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You drunk already?”
He took another shot of soju. “Nope, not yet,” he replied, still grinning, though I noticed his cheeks were already reddening.
We drank and we talked, about everything and anything, like we usually did at home. I came to realise that home wasn’t that little apartment we shared. ‘Home is where the heart is,’ they say, and mine was with Yunho. Home was wherever Yunho was. It also made me realise how attached I was to my friend, and to be honest it scared me a little.
I laughed loudly at the sight of a wasted Yunho. His head was resting on the table beside an empty bottle of soju, with eyes half open, and lips muttering the incoherent words of a drunken man. He couldn’t hold his alcohol as well as I, something I bragged about often. Though I was feeling a bit tipsy myself, with some difficulty and help from my next door neighbour, I managed to carry him back and tucked him into bed.
“Jaejoong…” I heard him whisper, as I unbuttoned his shirt that was reeking of alcohol, all the while shamelessly staring at his toned abs and tanned golden skin.
“What?” I asked, bending down to help him into a warm sweatshirt. I felt his cold fingers gripping my wrist. I tried to pry them away, but he wouldn’t let go. It was then that I realised how close our faces were. My heartbeat increased as I gazed down at his half-open brown eyes, perfectly chiseled nose and those sinfully tempting lips.
I don’t know what the heck I was doing when I dipped down to brush my lips against his. I knew it was wrong to take advantage of him at a time like this. But every single thought flew out of my head when I felt him responding to my kiss, tongue slipping through my parted lips, strong arms gripping my shoulders, and I gave in, almost instantly, snaking my arms around his neck as I kissed him back with equal fervor. He tasted like a mix of soju and heaven, and I was hungry for more. We stayed like that for some time, but eventually I pulled away because I knew I would lose myself in him if I stayed any longer. Though I was physically tired, I couldn’t get a wink of sleep. That night, the person that occupied my mind wasn’t Han HyeoJoo, but Jung Yunho.
The next day he woke up with a bad hangover and couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t want to admit it, but it did make me feel a tad disappointed that he had no recollection of the heated moment we shared the previous night. I made him hot tea and pretended like nothing happened. I would be lying if I said I regretted kissing him, because I knew it was a kiss I wouldn’t forget for as long as I lived.
We never talked about that night again. He did ask me what happened after he got drunk. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, so I lied and said nothing did. If only I had known... I wouldn’t have lied. I would have told him the truth, would have told him my feelings, would have kissed him again… too many would haves… but it’s no use regretting now.
Maybe it’s just me, but things never were the same between us after that. We grew even closer, to the point where the only secret I kept from him was my growing feelings for him. It was only a few days after that incident when he surprised me by wrapping his arms around my waist from behind when I was preparing dinner.
“I broke up with Seulgi,” he said quietly, hot breath against my neck as he nuzzled his face in my hair.
“Oh? What happened?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
“I just realised that what we had wasn’t love.”
I didn’t say anything, because I simply didn’t know what to say. Was he trying to tell me something? I couldn’t be sure. So I remained quiet, and focused my attention towards the task at hand, stirring and adding necessary ingredients to my stew, though all the while I was very well aware of the pair of arms around me and the pounding of my heart I hoped he could not hear.
That night as I lay in the dark thinking of him and everything else that made my head spin, I heard the soft creaking of my bedroom door opening, and quiet footsteps making their way towards me. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep, as I felt the mattress beside me dip. I flinched when his cold skin came in contact with mine, and once again I found myself in his arms.
“Yunho?” I murmured. “W-What are you doing?”
“I’m cold,” he replied, snuggling closer to me.
“Hmm... Good night…” was all I said.
It was still snowing outside, and even though the heater was turned on it still got cold at night. So I didn’t protest when he slept over again the next day, and the next, and the next… But even when winter was over, he continued holding me to sleep throughout spring, summer, autumn and winter all over again.
---
“Your mind works in odd ways,” he used to tease. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
He often came to me for ideas and opinions for his writings, and didn’t mind one bit that I could sometimes be a tad too blunt and honest. I got to read his manuscripts even before his editor, something I enjoyed remarkably. Sometimes he laughed and made fun of my suggestions, but I knew he always took them into consideration, and somehow it made me feel appreciated.
He couldn’t write as much as he usually did when he was busy with cases. All the same, I liked hanging around him when he worked. He was either hunched over piles of documents or busy typing away on his laptop, with his eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in concentration, something I found extremely adorable.
“Doesn’t my presence bother you?” I asked, absentmindedly twirling a strand of his brown hair between my fingers, as I perched myself atop of his desk.
“No,” he replied simply, not looking up from his work. “Your presence inspires me.”
I noticed a hint of a smile on his lips, but I couldn’t tell if he was fooling around or being sarcastic, because to me he sounded like he was anything but joking.
---
“Hey Yunnie,” I called out, peeking into the room.
He jerked up, startled, and snapped shut the book he had been writing in.
“What is that?” I asked curiously, as he carefully tucked the thick black book into his desk drawer.
“Nothing,” he replied. It wasn’t like Yunho to be so secretive, and the spoilt child in me didn’t like it at all. He spoilt me, showered and gave me everything I wanted, even when I didn’t ask for them.
“It’s not nothing,” I answered. “What is it? A journal? A new project? Let me see.”
He chuckled. “You’re so nosy, Jae.” I continued prodding him about it for a few moments before he finally gave in, “I’ll show it to you someday ok? When I’m done with it, I promise.”
“Yeah and when is that? Ten years from now?” I pouted. “Fine fine...”
I stopped annoying him about it after that, because I was sure he would keep to his word, be it ten years, twenty years or even a hundred. Yunho never lied to me. It was one of those things I just knew. But I wrong to assume that. If only… if only… I wouldn’t have given up so easily that day.
We had been living together for so long, that sometimes I wondered what life would be like without Jung Yunho. I wondered if someday he would eventually meet his soulmate, marry her and start a family of his own. He wasn’t young anymore, and neither was I. I knew it was impossible to stay like that forever, but to me being with Yunho, just the two of us, was so damn perfect in every way I wanted this happiness to last forever, a selfish desire I harboured deep within my heart.
It all ended far too sudden, far too soon. It was just like any other day. He woke me up, made me breakfast, gave me a hug and left for work. Nothing seemed unusual, nothing out of place. How was I supposed to know… I was working that time when I got a phone call from the hospital, telling me that Jung Yunho had been involved in a car accident.
By the time I rushed to the hospital it was all too late. I never got to say goodbye, never got to tell him how amazing he was, never got to thank him for giving me all the happiness in the world, never got to tell him how much I really loved him. I hated life for playing games with me. Hated the fact they gave me my happiness and took it away without a warning or whatsoever.
It all felt like a dream, like a nightmare I would wake up from. I didn’t cry when the doctor told me the news, didn’t cry when his parents arrived, screaming and mourning at the lost of their only son. Knowing his parents weren’t capable of doing so at that moment, I took care of the funeral preparations, hugged his parents, comforted his sister, and consoled his friends.
Stay strong, Jae, I told myself. He wouldn’t want you to cry.
Day after day without him made me feel as though life had lost its meaning. Every night I returned to the little apartment that suddenly seemed so empty, a place I could no longer call home. I lay awake in bed all day, waiting for my usual wake up call that I knew would never come, prepared dinner for two when I barely ate anything myself, and shivered in my blankets even though it was the middle of summer. I wasn’t crazy, but sometimes it was as though I could still hear the tip-tapping of the keyboard coming from his room, the rustling of paper and the familiar call of “Joongie I’m home! What’s for dinner?”
I sigh and stared up at the clock. 3am, and yet I was wide awake. I knew I couldn’t continue living like this. He wouldn’t have wanted that… I slowly crept out of bed, and made my way towards the room next to mine, somewhere I had never stepped foot in for months. It looked the way it always had. His scent still lingered in the air, and I felt a stab at my heart when I realised how much I missed him.
My tears started to fall. Tears I had tried so hard to hold back all this while. I ran my fingers lightly over his belongings, brushing off the thin layer of dust that had started to form. I let out a laugh when I saw his beloved Bambi resting on the light green bedspread. I sat down and cuddled it in my arms, like how Yunho used to cuddle me. I used to tease him so much for dotting on a stuffed toy that he accused me of being jealous. Maybe I was…
I poked through his belongings, everything that reminded me of him. I pulled open his desk drawer and found the thick black book he had refused to show me so long ago. “Yunnie-ah, you wouldn’t mind right?” I mumbled, taking it out and flipping it open.
It didn’t seem like a journal, or a novel, but the book was filled with stories, so many of them - stories of us.
‘He’s beautiful, inside and out… he makes my heart flip… never felt this way before… stole of my favourite t shirt… kept pestering me… so annoying… why do I love him… he’s odd… falling in love with him feels like the most natural thing in the world… dreamt of kissing him… tasted like euphoria… felt so real… wish he would feel the same way…”
Fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks as I read line after line of his familiar handwriting. Hours past by like seconds, and soon there was nothing more than blank pages. I searched through them, hoping to find a hint of writing on the white sheets. I was so tempted to fill them in myself, as though the words would bring him back to me, ending it all with a happily ever after.
“There might come a day when the only happy endings that exists are in between the pages of a book.”
But Yunho-ah… where is ours?
Length: one shot/3292 words
Author: xheartmindsoul
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance, AU, fluff, angst, tragedy, character death
Summary: "I came to realise that home wasn’t that little apartment we shared. ‘Home is where the heart is,’ they say, and mine was with Yunho. Home was wherever Yunho was."
My landlord, Mrs. Shin told me two things when she knocked on my door that morning. One was that she would kick me out if I failed to pay my rent on time; two, was that my new housemate would be arriving later that day.
He came at about half past three in the afternoon, with his suitcases and boxes of files and paperwork. Only after I helped drag his belongings into the room next to mine, did he properly introduce himself. ‘I’m Jung Yunho,” he said with a dazzling smile, right hand firmly gripping my own in a handshake. I couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were. Soft and warm, his touch made me blush a shade of light pink as I looked up to meet his gaze.
“Hello Yunho-sshi. I’m Kim Jaejoong. Nice to meet you.”
---
The first few weeks were rather awkward. I wasn’t used to having another person around. But then again we barely saw each other, for during the day we were both off to work, him to his law firm, and me to my little office a few blocks away.
Jung Yunho was a successful lawyer and a part time writer. I remember asking him why he wanted to be cramped up in this tiny apartment when he could’ve obviously afforded much more. “All that would be far too much for me,” he had said simply. When he wasn’t working on cases, he spent his time writing and typing away in his room. He didn’t write about power or wealth or about politics and the law like someone of his status was expected to. Instead his stories reminded me of the sun, bright, beautiful and inspiring. But what I loved most about them was that they always had happy endings.
“But Yunho-sshi, wouldn’t it be more interesting if you killed off someone at the end? I mean, you know…”
He laughed, that light laughter I had come to love just after a few weeks, and said, “I want to make people happy when they read my work, Jaejoong-sshi. The world outside is far too cruel. There might come a day when the only happy endings that exists are in between the pages of a book.”
It didn’t take long for us to become good friends. He was as beautiful as the stories he wrote. His warm brown eyes reminded me of hot chocolate on a winter’s day. His presence made me feel safe, secure like I’ve never been before. We talked often, usually about our day and the weather and the latest happenings in the world. I liked talking to him. His deep bass voice was pleasant to the ears, and he had a charming sense of humour that never failed to make me laugh.
As the days flew by I got to know him more and more, and discovered sides of him no one would ever guessed existed. He was such an enigma. One second he was the proud and authoritative lawyer Jung, and the next he would be whining and pouting up at me with the innocence of a child.
He woke me up every morning, because he knew I could sleep through a storm and often pretended to ignore the constant beeping of my alarm clock. Then he would prepare breakfast, usually cold milk and cereal, and complain that I was taking too long in the shower. He began coming home earlier and earlier each day. He told me it was because he preferred bringing his work home. I found out the real reason much later on though - it was because he wanted to spend dinner with me. I cooked for him every evening, knew his favourite dishes, what he liked and disliked by hard. We would dine together in the little kitchen every day at 7 o’clock. He would compliment my cooking, and I would beam at the sight of him wolfing down his food from across the table, then we’d argue about whose turn it was to do the dishes.
Soon, that handsome stranger that moved in became my very best friend. Our topics of discussion moved to more personal matters, like money, women and our dreams of the future. During that time, we both had our other halves. I had my fair share of relationships, and so did he. But that thin invisible wall between us eventually crumbled into ashes one Christmas Eve many years ago. My memory may be failing me lately, but how clearly I remember the falling snow, the chill-biting cold, and the warmth of his touch that very night.
I was supposedly on a date with my girlfriend, HyeoJoo. We were holding hands, walking down the snow covered streets like couples do. I took her to a fine dining restaurant, where I hoped we would spend a romantic dinner together. I had saved up last month’s salary for it, wishing it would please her, because with my monthly income I could barely afford to pamper her the way I had wanted to.
I pulled out her chair for her, and barely settled down myself when she told me that we needed to talk. At first I couldn’t understand what it was all about, but in the end I knew it meant that our relationship was over. “I’m sorry oppa. I really am,” I remember her saying, exiting the restaurant even before the waiter could come back to ask for our orders.
I remember how freaking angry I was. Angry, numb, frustrated, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the first number that came to mind. “Yeoboseyo?” Yunho. My best friend. My comfort. My solace. He was right beside me in the blink of an eye, wrapping a comforting arm around me as he held me close, and I teared up knowing he would come running for me no matter when and where.
---
“Cheers Yunho,” I said, as I held up the glass of soju. I had dragged him along to the street stalls just opposite our apartment building and asked him to drink with me. Alcohol was the best medicine for a broken heart, or so I believed. I whined and complained and he listened, not saying a word as I continued my angry blabber.
“She couldn’t have chosen a better time,” I grumbled, taking a swing of soju. “A few days ago she was all ‘oppa saranghae’ and now she’s telling me it’s over? Girls are so damn hard to understand.”
A low chuckle escaped his lips and my head snapped up to glare at him. “What’s so funny, Jung?” I growled.
“Nothing,” he grinned. “You’re so cute, Jae.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You drunk already?”
He took another shot of soju. “Nope, not yet,” he replied, still grinning, though I noticed his cheeks were already reddening.
We drank and we talked, about everything and anything, like we usually did at home. I came to realise that home wasn’t that little apartment we shared. ‘Home is where the heart is,’ they say, and mine was with Yunho. Home was wherever Yunho was. It also made me realise how attached I was to my friend, and to be honest it scared me a little.
I laughed loudly at the sight of a wasted Yunho. His head was resting on the table beside an empty bottle of soju, with eyes half open, and lips muttering the incoherent words of a drunken man. He couldn’t hold his alcohol as well as I, something I bragged about often. Though I was feeling a bit tipsy myself, with some difficulty and help from my next door neighbour, I managed to carry him back and tucked him into bed.
“Jaejoong…” I heard him whisper, as I unbuttoned his shirt that was reeking of alcohol, all the while shamelessly staring at his toned abs and tanned golden skin.
“What?” I asked, bending down to help him into a warm sweatshirt. I felt his cold fingers gripping my wrist. I tried to pry them away, but he wouldn’t let go. It was then that I realised how close our faces were. My heartbeat increased as I gazed down at his half-open brown eyes, perfectly chiseled nose and those sinfully tempting lips.
I don’t know what the heck I was doing when I dipped down to brush my lips against his. I knew it was wrong to take advantage of him at a time like this. But every single thought flew out of my head when I felt him responding to my kiss, tongue slipping through my parted lips, strong arms gripping my shoulders, and I gave in, almost instantly, snaking my arms around his neck as I kissed him back with equal fervor. He tasted like a mix of soju and heaven, and I was hungry for more. We stayed like that for some time, but eventually I pulled away because I knew I would lose myself in him if I stayed any longer. Though I was physically tired, I couldn’t get a wink of sleep. That night, the person that occupied my mind wasn’t Han HyeoJoo, but Jung Yunho.
The next day he woke up with a bad hangover and couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t want to admit it, but it did make me feel a tad disappointed that he had no recollection of the heated moment we shared the previous night. I made him hot tea and pretended like nothing happened. I would be lying if I said I regretted kissing him, because I knew it was a kiss I wouldn’t forget for as long as I lived.
We never talked about that night again. He did ask me what happened after he got drunk. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, so I lied and said nothing did. If only I had known... I wouldn’t have lied. I would have told him the truth, would have told him my feelings, would have kissed him again… too many would haves… but it’s no use regretting now.
Maybe it’s just me, but things never were the same between us after that. We grew even closer, to the point where the only secret I kept from him was my growing feelings for him. It was only a few days after that incident when he surprised me by wrapping his arms around my waist from behind when I was preparing dinner.
“I broke up with Seulgi,” he said quietly, hot breath against my neck as he nuzzled his face in my hair.
“Oh? What happened?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
“I just realised that what we had wasn’t love.”
I didn’t say anything, because I simply didn’t know what to say. Was he trying to tell me something? I couldn’t be sure. So I remained quiet, and focused my attention towards the task at hand, stirring and adding necessary ingredients to my stew, though all the while I was very well aware of the pair of arms around me and the pounding of my heart I hoped he could not hear.
That night as I lay in the dark thinking of him and everything else that made my head spin, I heard the soft creaking of my bedroom door opening, and quiet footsteps making their way towards me. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep, as I felt the mattress beside me dip. I flinched when his cold skin came in contact with mine, and once again I found myself in his arms.
“Yunho?” I murmured. “W-What are you doing?”
“I’m cold,” he replied, snuggling closer to me.
“Hmm... Good night…” was all I said.
It was still snowing outside, and even though the heater was turned on it still got cold at night. So I didn’t protest when he slept over again the next day, and the next, and the next… But even when winter was over, he continued holding me to sleep throughout spring, summer, autumn and winter all over again.
---
“Your mind works in odd ways,” he used to tease. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
He often came to me for ideas and opinions for his writings, and didn’t mind one bit that I could sometimes be a tad too blunt and honest. I got to read his manuscripts even before his editor, something I enjoyed remarkably. Sometimes he laughed and made fun of my suggestions, but I knew he always took them into consideration, and somehow it made me feel appreciated.
He couldn’t write as much as he usually did when he was busy with cases. All the same, I liked hanging around him when he worked. He was either hunched over piles of documents or busy typing away on his laptop, with his eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in concentration, something I found extremely adorable.
“Doesn’t my presence bother you?” I asked, absentmindedly twirling a strand of his brown hair between my fingers, as I perched myself atop of his desk.
“No,” he replied simply, not looking up from his work. “Your presence inspires me.”
I noticed a hint of a smile on his lips, but I couldn’t tell if he was fooling around or being sarcastic, because to me he sounded like he was anything but joking.
---
“Hey Yunnie,” I called out, peeking into the room.
He jerked up, startled, and snapped shut the book he had been writing in.
“What is that?” I asked curiously, as he carefully tucked the thick black book into his desk drawer.
“Nothing,” he replied. It wasn’t like Yunho to be so secretive, and the spoilt child in me didn’t like it at all. He spoilt me, showered and gave me everything I wanted, even when I didn’t ask for them.
“It’s not nothing,” I answered. “What is it? A journal? A new project? Let me see.”
He chuckled. “You’re so nosy, Jae.” I continued prodding him about it for a few moments before he finally gave in, “I’ll show it to you someday ok? When I’m done with it, I promise.”
“Yeah and when is that? Ten years from now?” I pouted. “Fine fine...”
I stopped annoying him about it after that, because I was sure he would keep to his word, be it ten years, twenty years or even a hundred. Yunho never lied to me. It was one of those things I just knew. But I wrong to assume that. If only… if only… I wouldn’t have given up so easily that day.
We had been living together for so long, that sometimes I wondered what life would be like without Jung Yunho. I wondered if someday he would eventually meet his soulmate, marry her and start a family of his own. He wasn’t young anymore, and neither was I. I knew it was impossible to stay like that forever, but to me being with Yunho, just the two of us, was so damn perfect in every way I wanted this happiness to last forever, a selfish desire I harboured deep within my heart.
It all ended far too sudden, far too soon. It was just like any other day. He woke me up, made me breakfast, gave me a hug and left for work. Nothing seemed unusual, nothing out of place. How was I supposed to know… I was working that time when I got a phone call from the hospital, telling me that Jung Yunho had been involved in a car accident.
By the time I rushed to the hospital it was all too late. I never got to say goodbye, never got to tell him how amazing he was, never got to thank him for giving me all the happiness in the world, never got to tell him how much I really loved him. I hated life for playing games with me. Hated the fact they gave me my happiness and took it away without a warning or whatsoever.
It all felt like a dream, like a nightmare I would wake up from. I didn’t cry when the doctor told me the news, didn’t cry when his parents arrived, screaming and mourning at the lost of their only son. Knowing his parents weren’t capable of doing so at that moment, I took care of the funeral preparations, hugged his parents, comforted his sister, and consoled his friends.
Stay strong, Jae, I told myself. He wouldn’t want you to cry.
Day after day without him made me feel as though life had lost its meaning. Every night I returned to the little apartment that suddenly seemed so empty, a place I could no longer call home. I lay awake in bed all day, waiting for my usual wake up call that I knew would never come, prepared dinner for two when I barely ate anything myself, and shivered in my blankets even though it was the middle of summer. I wasn’t crazy, but sometimes it was as though I could still hear the tip-tapping of the keyboard coming from his room, the rustling of paper and the familiar call of “Joongie I’m home! What’s for dinner?”
I sigh and stared up at the clock. 3am, and yet I was wide awake. I knew I couldn’t continue living like this. He wouldn’t have wanted that… I slowly crept out of bed, and made my way towards the room next to mine, somewhere I had never stepped foot in for months. It looked the way it always had. His scent still lingered in the air, and I felt a stab at my heart when I realised how much I missed him.
My tears started to fall. Tears I had tried so hard to hold back all this while. I ran my fingers lightly over his belongings, brushing off the thin layer of dust that had started to form. I let out a laugh when I saw his beloved Bambi resting on the light green bedspread. I sat down and cuddled it in my arms, like how Yunho used to cuddle me. I used to tease him so much for dotting on a stuffed toy that he accused me of being jealous. Maybe I was…
I poked through his belongings, everything that reminded me of him. I pulled open his desk drawer and found the thick black book he had refused to show me so long ago. “Yunnie-ah, you wouldn’t mind right?” I mumbled, taking it out and flipping it open.
It didn’t seem like a journal, or a novel, but the book was filled with stories, so many of them - stories of us.
‘He’s beautiful, inside and out… he makes my heart flip… never felt this way before… stole of my favourite t shirt… kept pestering me… so annoying… why do I love him… he’s odd… falling in love with him feels like the most natural thing in the world… dreamt of kissing him… tasted like euphoria… felt so real… wish he would feel the same way…”
Fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks as I read line after line of his familiar handwriting. Hours past by like seconds, and soon there was nothing more than blank pages. I searched through them, hoping to find a hint of writing on the white sheets. I was so tempted to fill them in myself, as though the words would bring him back to me, ending it all with a happily ever after.
“There might come a day when the only happy endings that exists are in between the pages of a book.”
But Yunho-ah… where is ours?