A soft drizzle coated the street outside the funeral home, painting the world in a muted grey. People stepped out one by one, dressed in black, their expressions strained and tear-streaked.
Some leaned into each other for support, quiet murmurs of consolation exchanged beneath umbrellas.
In the midst of it all, Sihyun stood near the entrance, unmoving, lost in the scene before him.
Through painstaking effort, Sihyun had managed to find out that Jaeha's funeral was being held here.
He hadn't known—hadn't even imagined—that Jaeha wasn't completely gone when they were together. That all along, the boy had still been tethered to the world by the thinnest thread.
It was only after he and Mr. Kim revisited the neighbourhood Jaeha had once taken him through, retracing each memory, that the truth slowly came to light.
A few locals who still remembered, the shrine-like memorial set up near the road, the whispers of a young man who'd never woken up. Piece by piece, the fragments formed a picture that Sihyun could no longer deny.
Jaeha had been alive. Not living, but not entirely gone either. And now… he truly was.
He had been an only child, born to two tireless, loving parents. One evening, while returning home after an outing with friends, disaster struck. Their car had been involved in a crash.
Everyone else escaped with minor injuries but the same couldn't be said for Jaeha. He had taken the worst of it, the impact dealing a critical blow.
Since that day, he had never regained consciousness. Years slipped by with him lying silent in a hospital bed, until now—finally laid to rest.
Sihyun's heart twisted with guilt. If only he had known sooner… he could've visited. Maybe sat beside him and held his hand, even just once.
But it was too late now.
Regret, no matter how deep, couldn't turn back time.
He pressed a hand to his heart, trying to quell the overwhelming ache.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Sihyun stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the funeral home—finally ready to pay his final respects.
*
People stole glances as the young man in austere black attire moved down the long hallway, leaving a trail of whispered curiosity behind him. It was a face that was easily recognisable, often seen in ads and across television screens.
The man finally came to a stop at the entryway of a memorial room, but the muted murmur around him kept growing as more eyes turned in his direction.
The subdued stir caught the attention of a middle-aged woman seated beside the altar. Her eyes, sunken from grief and sleepless nights, slowly lifted toward the doorway.
She rose with effort, coming forward to greet the young man who had come to visit her son.
"What a surprise… seeing a well-known celebrity here. Did you know my Jaeha?" she asked, managing a tired smile, her body swaying with exhaustion.
Sihyun immediately reached out and helped to steady her respectfully. "As a friend, I had come to offer my condolences." he confessed.
The woman's line of sight instinctively landed on the silver locket around his neck, its cool, pale sheen standing out against the deep black fabric.
Recognition—or perhaps a subtle knowing—glimmered in her eyes, and she nodded without question.
"Thank you," she murmured. "Please… take your time."
Her husband joined her moments later, nodding gratefully to Sihyun before wrapping an arm around his wife and guiding her away.
Sihyun's gaze stayed on the two for a couple of seconds. There was a solemn dignity in the way they held each other, enduring their sorrow in wordless understanding. Jaeha really must've taken after them—both in spirit and in features.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sihyun turned toward the altar and slowly sank to his knees. He solemnly offered his prayers as silence wrapped around him like second skin.
Warm tears traced down his cheeks, dropping onto the fabric of his trousers, leaving behind deepened marks like tiny blooms of sorrow. His throat burned with the effort of keeping in all the words unsaid, every breath a shallow rasp.
The portrait of Jaeha met his blurry vision with a bright smile, his skin flushed with warmth and life – so unlike the grey, pallid face he had grown used to in memory. This version of Jaeha looked untouched by pain, forever frozen in light.
Perhaps this was the last closing of a door that had always been left ajar, the final farewell neither of them got to say. But even as time moved forward, Jaeha would remain a part of Sihyun's heart, fixed in place like a treasure too precious to ever be forgotten.