MY ADDICTION | gongfourz ★

009

"america"

It had been four long years since Leehan had last seen Taesan. The ache in his chest had only grown sharper with each passing day, as the two boys had drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond fraying slowly over time. At first, it had been little things—Taesan not replying to messages as quickly, Leehan being left on read for days, then weeks. But when the silence turned to months, Leehan's heart began to sink. He sent texts, calls, and even emails, but Taesan never responded. It was like he had vanished from the world without a trace.

The last message Leehan had sent Taesan was a simple, heartfelt confession: "I miss you more than I can put into words. Please talk to me." But it had been met with nothing. Just silence. No explanation. Nothing. Taesan, the love of his life, was gone. And Leehan couldn't understand why. Every day he felt like he was drowning in a sea of unanswered questions. He missed him more than words could say, and the thought of never seeing him again was a weight that suffocated him every single day.

America had never felt like home to Leehan. He tried to adjust, tried to find a place for himself in the busy, unfamiliar world, but everything was always a reminder of what was missing. It wasn't the bright lights of the city or the towering skyscrapers that consumed his thoughts—it was Taesan. The quiet moments in their shared apartment, the laughter in the small café, the evenings where they would talk about their future together, and most of all, the warmth of his smile that Leehan could never forget.

The longer he stayed in America, the more he felt like a ghost walking through life. No matter what he tried to do, he was haunted by the memory of the boy he had loved, the boy who had once been his everything. He had to go back to Korea. It wasn't even a question anymore. He couldn't live with this emptiness for much longer. He had to find Taesan, even if it meant facing the truth—whatever that truth may be.

And then, one day, his mother called out to him.

"Leehan!" she said from downstairs. Her voice was bright, but there was an undercurrent of something Leehan couldn't quite place. He jumped to his feet, feeling his heart rate increase.

"Yes, Mom?" he called, rushing downstairs.

"I've decided..." she started, her smile barely contained, "You can go back to Korea."

It was like the world had shifted on its axis. For the first time in so long, Leehan felt a spark of hope—real hope, not just the fragile kind that clung to his memories of Taesan. He smiled, but it was a smile he hadn't felt in years, one that reached deep inside and filled the empty spaces in his soul. The wait would be over soon. He was going home.

—

The flight from America to Korea felt like an eternity. Leehan couldn't stop fidgeting, his mind racing with a million thoughts—would Taesan still remember him? Would they pick up where they left off, or had everything changed? Would he find the answers he'd been searching for?

When he finally stepped off the plane, the familiar sights and sounds of Korea hit him like a wave. It was strange, being back in a place that once felt like home, and yet, it felt foreign without Taesan by his side. The journey to the house was quiet. The only sound was the hum of the car and Leehan's heavy breathing as he tried to suppress the overwhelming emotions threatening to flood him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He hadn't seen Taesan in so long. How had things changed? He tried to push the anxiety from his mind, but it clung to him like a shadow.

When they finally reached the house, his heart sank. It looked different. The windows were dark, and the once-welcoming porch now felt cold and empty. The house seemed almost abandoned, as though it had lost its life, its warmth. The place where they had shared so many memories now felt like a distant dream. Leehan's heart hammered in his chest. Something didn't feel right. He knocked on the door, hoping against hope that Taesan would answer, but there was no response.

He stood there, waiting, but as the seconds stretched on, a feeling of dread settled deep in his stomach.

"Excuse me..." a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Leehan turned to see a man standing behind him, his face vaguely familiar. He bowed politely. "Uh, hello. Do you happen to know the resident who lived here?"

The man stared at Leehan for a moment, his eyes widening. "Wait..." His voice caught in disbelief. "Holy shit... Leehan?"

Leehan blinked, confusion flooding his mind. "Um... who are you?"

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking. "You don't remember me, do you? I'm Riwoo. I was Taesan's best friend."

Riwoo's face fell suddenly, and the use of past tense caught Leehan off guard. "Was?" Leehan repeated the word, his voice faltering as his heart skipped a beat.

Riwoo's face grew somber, and he looked down. "You didn't hear? Taesan... he passed away three years ago."

Leehan's world stopped. The ground beneath him felt like it was slipping away. What? His ears buzzed, and everything around him seemed to blur into nothing.

"W-what?" Leehan's voice barely escaped his lips, his chest tightening painfully.

Riwoo's voice cracked as he continued, his eyes filling with tears. "Yeah... it was a huge car crash. He... he didn't make it. A lot of people were killed... Taesan was one of them."

The words were like a knife to Leehan's heart, and he felt himself crumple under the weight of them. His knees buckled, and he stumbled back a few steps, trying to process the impossible truth. Taesan was dead? The love of his life, the boy who had meant everything to him, was gone—just like that. He had never gotten to say goodbye, never gotten to understand what had happened.

Riwoo reached out a hand, but Leehan could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. Without another word, he turned and walked away, the tears bursting from his eyes. His breath hitched, and he felt like the entire world had been ripped from under him.

—

Two months had passed since that devastating day. Leehan had returned to the house a few more times, but each visit left him emptier than before. He would stand in the quiet, cold space that once held so much love and life, and he would talk to Taesan, as if he could still hear him.

"I miss you," he would whisper, the words barely escaping his lips. "One day, we will meet again, my love."

He wasn't sure if it was a promise or a prayer, but either way, he found himself visiting the house every afternoon, unable to stop himself from speaking to the emptiness that had once been filled with Taesan's presence.

Leehan knew deep in his heart that he would never truly be the same again. His world had been shattered, and no amount of time would ever heal the wound. But in the quiet moments of his grief, he found comfort in the idea that maybe—just maybe—one day, somewhere beyond the veil of death, they would meet again. And when they did, he would tell Taesan everything he had never been able to say.

Until then, he would wait. And miss him. Every single day.