The quiet hum of the car engine accompanied Yibo as he drove back from the funeral, the roads stretching endlessly before him. Outside, the world carried on as usual, but inside, Yibo felt like everything had come to a halt. The image of Sean’s closed casket haunted his mind, and every glance at the empty passenger seat beside him twisted the knife a little deeper.
Sean was gone. Truly gone. The thought settled over Yibo’s chest like a heavy weight, making it hard to breathe. It didn’t feel real—none of it did. The Sean he knew had been so full of life, his laughter contagious, his energy boundless. To think that his friend was now reduced to photographs and fading memories seemed incomprehensible.
As Yibo pulled into his driveway and cut the engine, he sat still for a moment, unwilling to leave the car. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift to the beginning—when he and Sean first met.
It had been in their last year of high school, a time when everything was chaotic, with exams looming and futures uncertain. Sean had transferred in mid-semester, the new kid with a warm smile and a strange sense of calm that intrigued Yibo.
At first, they were nothing more than casual acquaintances—two students in overlapping circles. But something about Sean drew Yibo in. It might have been the way Sean always seemed to notice when someone needed help, quietly stepping in without being asked. Or maybe it was the way he listened, as though every word mattered.
Over time, they grew closer, and soon they were inseparable. Sean had become Yibo’s anchor—always steady, always dependable. Whenever Yibo felt overwhelmed, Sean was there, ready with a joke to lighten the mood or a patient ear when things got too heavy.
One memory stood out clearly in Yibo’s mind: a rainy evening when he had called Sean in frustration after a fight with his parents. Without a second thought, Sean had shown up at his door, drenched from head to toe, carrying two cups of hot tea. "Figured you’d need this," Sean had said, grinning as if the downpour hadn’t bothered him at all.
That was Sean—always thoughtful, always there.
As their friendship deepened over the years, Yibo realized just how much he relied on Sean. It wasn’t just the big moments—like celebrating promotions or weathering heartbreaks—but the small, seemingly insignificant ones. The late-night conversations about nothing in particular, the way Sean remembered his favorite snacks, the unspoken understanding that even in silence, they were never alone.
And yet, there was an odd emptiness within Yibo now, one he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the loss of a friend; it was as if something had been missing all along, some hidden piece of Sean’s life that he had never seen.
Yibo's thoughts wandered to the subtle moments he had overlooked—things that seemed trivial at the time but now gnawed at his mind. The way Sean’s smile sometimes faltered when Yibo talked about his relationships. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long during quiet moments. The way he always gave a little more, stayed a little longer, and never once asked for anything in return.
Had Sean been hiding something from him? Yibo shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. Sean would have told him if something was wrong... right?
But the nagging feeling persisted, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He began to replay every conversation, every shared moment, wondering if he had missed something important.
Yibo found himself thinking about the day Sean had given him white roses on his birthday. "They’re your favorite," Sean had said, a soft smile playing on his lips. Yibo hadn’t thought much of it at the time—just another thoughtful gesture from Sean. But now, that memory sat differently with him, stirring questions he didn’t have answers to.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes as fatigue settled over him. Maybe he was overthinking. Grief had a way of twisting memories, making things seem more complicated than they were.
Yet, deep down, Yibo knew that something about Sean’s absence felt... unfinished. Like a book left open on the last chapter, with the final page missing.
That night, as Yibo lay in bed, sleep eluded him. His mind kept circling back to Sean—his laugh, his voice, the way he always seemed to know what Yibo needed even before he did.
For the first time in years, Yibo felt truly alone. Sean had been the one constant in his life, and now that he was gone, Yibo didn’t know how to move forward. It was as if a part of him had been taken away—one he hadn’t even realized was there until now.
Staring up at the ceiling, Yibo whispered into the darkness, "I miss you, Sean." His voice cracked under the weight of those simple words, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
But even as the tears came, so did the questions. Who had Sean really been? And what had Yibo missed all these years?
He knew, deep in his heart, that the answers lay somewhere in the past—hidden in the memories they had shared and the moments he had overlooked.
And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t just grieving the loss of his friend. He was grieving the pieces of Sean he had never known.
