Classic Comedy | Ding Zeren

Forty-third

Cold wind whispered gently in his ear, brushing his hair sideways and sending light chills down his spine. 

He looked at the fresh, red rose he placed on her grave. It was the only lively thing in the dull piece of land he stood in. 

It was his first time visiting and he didn't feel at ease emotionally. Suddenly, all the thoughts he kept in, spurted out of his mouth uncontrollably.

"It has been a full week since you left us. A full week since you left me. 

"You left before I could call you mine. I was scared I'd lose you, but you said that you'll always be there. Where are you now? 

"I know you're up there, looking over us, but I'm still hurt that you're not down here with us. I guess this world was too cruel for you. You fought hard. You are strong, and you continue to empower us down here. 

"I regret not being able to spend more time with you. I regret it a lot. 

"Today, our art teacher gave us our projects. Remember the one where we had to draw each other? I received what you drew me as. 

"The funny thing is that we both drew each other as roses. I drew you gentle and soft while you drew me menacing and scary, is that how we saw each other? I like to think of that as a sign that we were meant for each other. We were each other's roses. Isn't that right? 

"I miss you so much YuYan. Your empty desk near mine is a heartbreaking sight to see. I wish if you could just come back. I would've treated you better. I would've helped you get through it. 

"You'll probably say that it's not my fault, but I can't help but feel like I could've saved you if I tried harder. I can stop looking back at our short memories together. I would give up anything just to create more, longer memories with you. 

"It's useless to ask but, can't you just come back?"

For the first time in a whole week, he let all the tears he held in stream out of his eyes uncontrollably. 

He didn't want to cry. 

Not at the hospital. 

Not at the funeral. 

Not by her grave. 

But as he looked at her name engraved on the headstone, he couldn't help but feel everything again. 

The sound of dry leaves crushing under someone's footsteps alerted the boy to wipe away his tears. 

A figure came and stood next to the boy. He placed a small white flower next to the rose wordlessly. 

The two stood side to side, silently mourning. 

The boy saw small tears fall from the eldest's eyes slowly. He decided to leave him alone to have his private time with her. 

He bid her farewell and made his way out of the eerie graveyard. 

His shoes made loud clacking noises as he walked on the concrete ground. It was a cold night and the wind was blowing restlessly. 

A strong stream of cold air sent a paper flying directly into his face. 

The boy caught the paper and looked at it curiously. 

There was a picture of a rose. 

A beautiful rose with small thorns that could barely be seen. 

He flipped the paper over and there was a phrase written in clear black ink. He read it and a small smile formed on his lips as he looked at the sky. 

My rose, you were never menacing or scary to me.

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I'm sobbing at my own writing