The Letters He Never Sent || Minsung

38

"You made it." He runs up and gives me a hug.

I pat his back, and he pulls away after a few seconds. I nod my head at him. "I almost didn't."

He purses his lips together, the edge of his mouth going up a little bit where he's almost smirking, but in a way that would be described disappointed. "Yeah, your way late. They already started speeches."

I let out a sigh— to which Hyunjin pats my back because of. "It's okay, I know how you must feel." He says. "Let's head over to the big room, yeah?"

I nod and follow him down the quiet halls. The marble tiles remind me of a hospital, and I get a sick feeling just looking at them. We enter the main room, and there is a crowd of people, along with an older women on the stage.

"Thank you." She says with her raspy voice, causing the people in the room to clap.

Everyone goes silent, and I'm confused as to why as I look around.

"Would you like to say a few words, Minho?" A voice says from the stage.

I raise my head— seeing Jisung's mother. She has an unsatisfied look on her face. "Since you were his—" she looks down on me. "—Boyfriend." She says, in a very mocking manner.

People in the room snap their heads to me, and I raise a brow at her. I'm guessing she must have found out, maybe through his phone. She absolutely without a doubt went through his bedroom. I stand up on my feet, tightening my tie.

"I would actually." I say.

I start to walk down the aisle, to reach the stage— but Hyunjin grabs my arm abruptly stopping me. "You don't have to, Min. She's just being bitter."

"No." She says. "I'd like to hear a few words from this man. After all, he was my sons silly little boyfriend."

I turn my head away from Hyunjin, pulling my arm away as well. I continue my way to the stage, whispers being heard from behind me as I walk. I reach the podium, and clear my throat.

"I don't even think I really need to introduce myself." I say, earning an eye roll from his mother— and a couple scoffs. "I don't even really know what to say, it's all so... it all feels fake."

"The emptiness is heavier than its even been." I start. "I keep trying to distract myself, trying to convince myself that this is not real— and he's going to text me goodmorning when I wake up tomorrow."

I turn my eyes to his mother, and she raises a brow at me. "But sure. I'll pretend I don't feel the emptiness. I'll pretend that I don't know him, or that his death doesn't hurt me more than anything else ever has— just so you can deny your son was in love.. with a man." I speak.

Her brow falls, and her face drops too. She already is drooping from age, and her facial expression doesn't help. She looks at me like I just told her she isn't real. I can see the tears she is hiding back behind her piercing gaze.

"I'll pretend, that I don't know his favorite color. That I don't know his hopes, his dreams, his middle name, the reason he was the way he was, I'll pretend that I know nothing about him, just like we pretended he was okay. That he didn't need help."

The words that are coming out of my mouth feel so foreign. The tone of my voice, the room I am standing in— it all feels so foreign. I ball my fists together, breaking my skin with my fingernails.

The room is silent, aside from the sniffles every now and then. I don't know if they are crying because they care, or because of what I'm talking about. But one cry gets me so angry, that I feel blood on my balled up fingers.

"And you don't get to cry." I stare directly at her. "You don't deserve to sit there and mourn, you don't deserve to cry and yearn for him. You don't deserve to cry, just like he didn't deserve to die."

I look at the closed casket in front of me. I haven't gotten the guts to lay my eyes on it, but when I do I thank god for having it be a closed casket.

"He didn't deserve to die." I say, holding back my own tears. I refuse to cry in front of these people. I refuse to let myself be vulnerable in front of them. I refuse— I will not let it happen.

"Oh how terrible it is—" I slowly raise my head back up, my eyes looking at every single person in the room. "To love something, that death can touch."

"Get out." A feminine voice suddenly speaks up. "Get out, you don't deserve to be here."

My eyes go to the one who spoke. "Just go." His mother says. "Leave!" She yells.

Everyone turns their eyes to me, then back to her. She continues to yell, which causes more people to yell. Some even start to cry. The wails in the room, the eyes darting from me to them, the voices.

My ears begin to ache. The rush of all the different voices and cries, loud and quiet. My head begins to hurt, my eyes begin to water, my body begins to numb, my feet begin to move, my forearm begins to ache— and everything's quiet again.

I blink a couple times, looking down at the hand holding my arm. "Are you okay?" A voice snaps me out of it.

I get my senses back, and I'm now in a bathroom. I raise my head, meeting Hyunjin's eyes. "You didn't look so good and everyone was fighting so I just grabbed you and ran." He explains. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." He says.

I stare into his eyes, and i don't even speak a word. There is a lump in my throat, and an ache in my chest. I begin to feel my cheeks wet as I start to sniffle. I sink to the floor in Hyunjin's arms, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry—" I sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I say, over and over— hoping whatever is against me right now will forgive me.

"It's okay, I'm here." He shushes me, pulling me into his lap on the ground and holding me closer. "I'm here Minho, it's okay— you'll be okay."

I don't remember much of what happened that day,
And I don't want too.

I choose to make this one of the days that I will forget, for all my life. This day will be in the back rooms of my memories, never to be remembered again.