March 21, 2018
Weight. Breath taking, knee weakening, body aching weight. Exhaustion is the heaviest in the current moment as I step out of my steaming bath, small waves washing over my body as I stand. Water drenches the velvet carpet beneath my feet. I stand there for several long minutes just until I'm dry enough to not puddle water with every step I take.
I don't bother in dressing in the silk pajama clothes resting on the seat of the toilet. I don't bother drying myself or dressing in undergarments either. I slide on the long red robe and spritz the fabric with passion fruit perfume before I leave the bathroom.
It was his.
I don't clean up my mess.
"Do you feel any better?" I hear as soon as I enter the bedroom. Haneul, Mirin, and Hana sit crisscross on the floor and on my bed.
That's his spot, move. Get off of the bed, you're taking his scent away and I need it to be there to help me sleep.
Feet dragging across the floor, I fall on the bed and shrug.
It was Hana's idea for me to sit in the bath.
"Look at how much of a wreck you are, Jaeun. Maybe take a bath, bath's are my therapy and they may help you."
It didn't help. It did nothing for me except allow my mind to wander back to that day. New Year's day. What a fucked way to start 2018.
"Jaeun, let's go out. Come with us somewhere, you haven't left your house in weeks." Haneul pleads. "Just us girls. We can go get our hair done, nails done. A change in scenery will be good for you."
"I don't want to." I say. "He likes my hair natural and my nails natural."
Mirin lets out a breath. "Jaeun.. I know you're mourning. I can't imagine how you're feeling, how much more pain you feel because you watched him die. But you have to accept that he's gone."
"I have accepted it."
"Did you hear what you said just now?" She asks.
Confused, I don't respond. My gaze is fixated on the textured wall and I swear I can see him looking back at me.
He's smiling.
It isn't a happy smile.
Why do you look like you're disappointed in me?
Because he is.
His words from right before his seizure replay like a broken record in my mind every time I reject the girls' offers to leave the comfort of our bedroom. My bedroom. I haven't washed my sheets in months, scared that if I do, I will be washing away what I have left of him.
His makeshift face in the popcorn wall repeats the words from my thoughts. "Please don't stop your life. I want to look down at you and be proud of the woman you can be without me."
Fuck you, Jungkook. Screw you for saying those things. Did you know you were going to die? Why would you say such haunting things to me? You knew that I would struggle with your death. How can you be okay, be at peace in heaven knowing that I'm suffering and struggling to move on?
