Night Sky Bloom

9- Tulips

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Jisung spent the night painting tulips and roses black. He didn't know something could be both pretty and bleak at the same time. She passed on a full moon. If it had been someone else, she would have smiled softly and said that the person was blessed in the afterlife. A full moon symbolizes completion, absolution.

Jisung didn't feel complete. He didn't feel absolved.

He felt like his world was ending.

He didn't know that he'd be planning a funeral at fifteen. With trembling hands, Jisung rose from his bed and made his way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There, amidst a sea of papers and half-finished sketches, lay the funeral plans he had spent his time painstakingly preparing. His mother's final farewell, a somber tribute to a life cut short by fate's cruel hand.

As he traced the lines of her name on one of the parchments, tears trickled down his cheek, cascading gently upon the paper, staining the ink. He had never felt so alone, so utterly adrift in a world that seemed intent on tearing him apart. But amidst the darkness, a flicker of determination threatened to burn within him, a stubborn refusal to let his mother's memory fade into the abyss.

With each stroke of the pen, Jisung poured his heart and soul into the arrangements, determined to honor his mother's memory with every fiber of his being. He already took care of the flowers- dyeing the petals artificially black to symbolize the shadow cast over a life that was too beautiful to lose, to symbolize the smile he'd have to put on for years when people asked him how he was doing, or brought up his mother in conversation. He chose music that felt like whispered prayers begging for solace in the face of despair. He had picked out a simple, charming urn to keep her close to him.

He couldn't imagine burying her in the ground- never having anything physical to look at or hold. He was honestly terrified that he'd forget how she looked, or how he felt when she held him. With an urn and a portrait, he thought he could keep some of those memories and feelings in tact.

He had talked to the Bang family, who were trying to figure out what to do with a now-parentless fifteen year old child. He didn't want to live with another family or go into any system. He wanted to stay where his mother had raised him- where her bedroom could stand still as if she'd never left. Much like the funeral, that required an enormous amount of paperwork that he simply didn't want to fill out.

As he neatly stacked the papers and tucked them into a folder, a gentle knock sounded at his bedroom door.

"Come in," Jisung called softly, hurriedly wiping the lingering tears from his cheeks.

The door creaked open and Seungmin entered, his face etched with concern. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled Jisung into a tight embrace. Jisung melted into his best friend's arms. It was all he could do, all the energy he could muster. They stayed that way for several minutes, Seungmin providing a pillar of silent support as Jisung's body shook with suppressed sobs.

Seungmin sat with him throughout the rest of the day, making sure no one talked to or bothered Jisung while helping him get through the paperwork.

He realized he needed more Chrysanthemums in his garden.

On the day of her funeral, the sun shone brightly. It felt wrong- offensive. This was not supposed to be a bright, sunny, cloudless day. The clouds weren't covering the sky in hues of grays and blues, and there was no rain to conceal his tears. He felt like he was living in a haze, simply going through the motions day after day.

A gentle knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," Jisung said softly.

Seungmin entered, dressed in a simple black suit. "Hey," he said, giving Jisung's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "The car is here whenever you're ready."