Nothing was quite as heart wrenchingly difficult as having to climb into the driver’s side of Jongin’s car, start the ignition, and drive to its new home. The presence of Jongin was still fresh, lingering on the seats and the voiceless laughter in the air. Maybe he only realized it now, simply because he didn’t want to realize it now, that the interior of the car screamed Jongin’s name. An illustration of minimalism. Always spotless, with only a small trash bag rolling around in the back for water bottles and wrappers. Taemin (metaphorically) thought to thrash it a bit so it wouldn’t be a sharp reminder each time he had to drive it. Though completely overflowing with memories, it was empty.
Taemin didn’t cry. But he didn’t speak for a while. The lights of Seoul continued to shine their artificial reds and greens, instead of camouflaging in with the stars. A dusk-rose velvet sky enriched his soul with a sentimental sort of nostalgia, though it angered him he had to feel nostalgic at all. It was times like this Taemin would baffle himself with the thought life, of people, specifically this time of how influential and dependable people are on each other. He thought of Kyungsoo, and though he had never met him, he had felt sorry for him. He thought of Jongin, who did know Kyungsoo, and changed his life goals for him. How Kyungsoo had influenced Jongin, and how Jongin had influenced Taemin.
And how Taemin didn’t even know Kyungsoo’s family name.
~~
Taemin showered, though he didn’t necessarily want to since he would be washing away the last touches of Jongin. But warm water did his heart a cozy justice as the tiny droplets hugged his chest and slid down his stomach.
He stepped into his room with a towel around his waist and another combing through his soaked and overgrown hair. The night was scheduled as usual; dry off, get dressed, sleep, maybe dream, wake up. This all sounded sufficient, for if Taemin yielded from his narrow chores, his mind would drift, think, and remember.
However, his plan was interrupted by a glance from the corner of his eye onto a tan shirt lying on his bed. He paused his hair drying and thought for a moment or two. He then slipped on a pair of blue boxers, pulled Jongin’s large and silky t-shirt over his head, and dived head-first into the pillows. The husky and heavenly fragrance of Jongin once again overwhelmed him and gently kissed his body. He smiled a little. He couldn’t help it. Taemin hadn’t planned on going to sleep yet; he still had to wash up, clean the dishes, and at least bid his mother goodnight.
But the comforting and familiar memory of warm embraces and soft sheets rocked him into a soundless dream of what could have been.
~~
He opened his eyes to an unusually bright sun and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. After smacking his lips together for a few minutes he remembered he had forgotten to brush his teeth the night before.
The first few seconds of waking up is always beautiful. Pain is not yet remembered; the only focus for at least a moment is solely on the recollection of life and oneself. But the first few seconds of waking up is also dreaded, for the heartache rushes back at an unstoppable pace and everything is weighed down if not twice as hard.
Taemin blinked around the room, and yawned as he checked the time on the digital clock. Noon. He shut his eyes again. The urge to roll over into Jongin’s warm body and fall into another sweet dream was achingly desirable. Aching because in Jongin’s place lay only emptiness and sheets with no one to hug.
The grace of the sheets, the silkiness of the duvet, and the brilliance of the summer sky all reminded him of Jongin’s inner and outer characteristics. He quickly shook his head and fought the urge to slap himself. If he kept relating everything to Jongin, he may not survive.
