One day in Seoul 🇰🇷

🇰🇷: 57

We were all standing outside the abandoned building, barely holding ourselves together. The paramedics hovered around us, trying to check our wounds, but none of us were in the mood for that. Bruises and cuts were nothing compared to the emptiness I felt inside. Wala na si Nathan.

John was sitting on the curb, staring into nothing, tears silently falling down his face. His body shook every now and then with sobs, but he didn’t make a sound. It was like he had lost his voice. He was broken. Daniel, on the other hand, was pacing nearby, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration. His lips were moving, cursing under his breath. I could hear the pain in every word. “Putangina, bakit ganito?” He kicked the dirt hard, as if that could somehow release the anger, the grief that was choking him.

And then there was me. I was standing, just standing, barely even breathing. My mom was beside me, her hands gripping mine so tight, as if she was afraid I would crumble without her holding me up. Her eyes were full of worry, but she didn’t say a word. What could she say? What could anyone say?

My dad stood a few feet away, his face etched with concern. He had been worried when we didn’t come home all day, and he’d followed us. Now, he just stood there, watching, probably wondering how he could fix this. But nothing could fix this.

The paramedics kept trying, asking if they could help with our wounds, but I didn’t care about the pain in my body. Wala ‘yon. It didn’t matter. Nothing hurt more than the fact that Nathan was gone. Gone.

I glanced at John again. His face was soaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. He lost his brother. Putangina, that thought just kept repeating in my head. Nathan was gone. Wala na.

Daniel stopped pacing, finally sitting down on the edge of the pavement. His head fell into his hands, and I could hear him muttering, his voice thick with anger and sadness. “Wala na siya, Francis.” His voice cracked, and he let out a frustrated growl, slamming his fists into the ground.

I couldn’t say anything. My throat felt tight, like it was closing in on me. I looked down at my hands, covered in dried blood—Nathan’s blood. My chest felt heavy, the weight of everything crashing down on me. Fuck, Nathan didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to die like that. Alone, scared. We were too late. We failed him.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles white. I could feel my mom squeeze my hand harder, but it didn’t help. Nothing could take away this hollow feeling. “Francis...” she whispered, her voice soft, but I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look at anyone. All I could think about was Nathan, his last smile, his last words, and the way he said he was fine even when we all knew he wasn’t. Even when he was dying in front of us.

Putangina, it felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I heard John let out a sob, breaking the silence. It was the kind of cry that came from deep inside, the kind that made your whole body tremble. His voice was hoarse, his hands trembling in his lap as he whispered Nathan’s name over and over, like he was trying to make sense of it. “Warren, bakit? Why?” His shoulders shook violently, and I could see the guilt eating him alive. He kept blaming himself, kept thinking he should’ve been there. He should’ve saved his brother.

Daniel slammed his fist into the ground again. “Tangina naman!” He stood up abruptly, pacing again, his fists clenched tightly. “Dapat hindi siya nawala! Hindi dapat ganito!” His voice was filled with rage, but underneath it, I could hear the sorrow. He was hurting just like the rest of us.

I didn’t know what to do. How do you move on from this? How do you pretend everything is okay when someone you care about is gone? I looked up at the dark sky, the stars blinking down at us, so indifferent to everything happening below. It felt wrong, like the world shouldn’t keep turning when someone like Nathan was gone. He didn’t deserve this.