the one that got away ; jenyong

eleven

15 years ago...

The funeral hall.

This was my first time attending one.

   I looked at the situation going around me. There are a lot of faces that I noticed, some of them were the ones I usually see at school.

"Youngho," I walked towards Youngho who was seating on the floor. He rested his whole body against the wall. His hands were coiled around his leg as he squeezed himself into a hug.

   Youngho noticed my presence, as he signalled me to seat with him. I did, I settled my body on the floor and stay with Youngho throughout the funeral.

"Taeyong is not here anymore." He suddenly said.

"I guess he's in a better place now, right Jennie?" He looked at me, and I looked into his teary eyes. I swallowed my empty throat as I nodded my head. I pressed my lips into a thin line.

   A few hours passed, and Youngho decided to head back home. There's no reason for me to stay here anymore. The number of guests is starting to get smaller.

People come and pay respect, talked with each other, and leave. I know that because that's what I do during the three days of the funeral.

   Looked at people.

   I walked toward the funeral room. I didn't walk into it, I just stood up outside the room and look at the picture of Taeyong.

The picture of Taeyong sitting there surrounded by beautiful flowers. And in between those beautiful flowers, his beauty is not getting outshined.

   There's only one person inside the room. And it was someone I assumed is a very important person to Taeyong. A woman in her 40 sittings there looking all torn out.

She was the one with the most crying I remember. I remember walking out of the funeral room on day 1 because I couldn't bear listening to the sound of his mother crying her lungs out. She was screaming, kneeling in front of Taryong's picture.

   And on the second day, I captured her crying again repeating those same sentences again and again inside the funeral room.

"Bring back my son,"

   That's what she said.

   "Why are you not heading home yet?" Suddenly I heard a voice of a man right behind me. I assumed that the question was pointed at me.

I turned my back, and it was a man old enough to be Taeyong's father. And turns out he is.

   "You've attended for three days straight. Who are you to our Taeyong?"

Who am I to Taeyong?

I don't know too.

   "I was one of his classmates," I answered.

   I was a classmate of his that hold a huge amount of love for your son.

But I won't admit that.

Because in anyone's eyes, both of us are strangers to each other. No one knows about the stories that happened to the two of us.

   "Only a few of them came through. Even the closest one to him didn't stay here longer than you." He said, with a sad smile on his face.

"Thank you for staying toward the end of the funeral. Taeyong would appreciate it." He said, before walking away from me.

   Taeyong would appreciate me.