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Seongwoo wakes up cold.
He is lying on the couch and his toes feel like they are going to fall off. He must have forgotten to switch on the heater. He curls himself up, bringing his knees to his chest, as if that will somehow chase off the chill that has creeped into his heart.
It's pointless, though. And Seongwoo knows that; he knows it's useless to even try to coax his heart into beating again because his heart stopped beating the moment Daniel's did.
Daniel. Even the mention of him is enough to send a fresh stab of pain through Seongwoo. It's been 3 months but to Seongwoo, it feels like just yesterday when he had gotten that phone call from the hospital. Even now, it still feels somehow surreal, like Daniel is going to come back to their shared apartment any moment now, burst through the door and envelope Seongwoo in one of his bone-crushing hugs.
It was an accident, they told him. A drunk driver hit him. He died on impact. They were sorry for his loss. Seongwoo can't really remember what else they said because he had shut down the moment they told him that Daniel was dead.
They say that you never really know how much someone means to you until they're gone. And that couldn't be any truer for Seongwoo because it's only now that Daniel isn't here anymore that he realises how big a role Daniel played in his life.
His bed seems too big for him when previously he always used to complain when Daniel sneaked in to cuddle with him because he couldn't sleep, even though he felt weirdly warm and happy when Daniel's arms were around him. Now, Seongwoo finds himself curled up on the edge, the empty space besides him expectant and cold no matter how high up he cranked the heater, as if waiting for someone to join him.
His bag is a mess, and all his notes are in the wrong folders because Seongwoo never really bothers to make the effort to file them properly. He just shoves them into the first folder he can find. Every time Seongwoo pulls out the wrong notes, he tries not to think about how Daniel used to chide him for being so messy even as he helped to organise and clear up Seongwoo's bag ("Aish, sometimes I wonder if you're really my hyung? Look at how messy your bag is! How can you even mix up the colours red and green?").
The fridge and cupboards are empty where there used to be countless cups of ramen and bags of jellies. Seongwoo feels his heart ache as he recalled their fortnightly trips to the supermarket together, when Seongwoo would have to stop Daniel from emptying the whole aisle of gummies.
("But hyung~ They're having a promotional sale! Look! Buy two free one!"
"Okay, so we'll just take three."
"Noooo~ The sale will be over by the time we come back again... Let's buy nine!"
"Do you want to get diabetes? Didn't your dentist warn you about cavities earlier this month?"
"I'll brush my teeth! And I won't eat them all in one day... Hyung, pleaseeee~"
"Fine. But you're paying for them."
"Yay! Hyung, you're the best~")
Some nights, when the memories get too overwhelming and Seongwoo wants to forget everything, he goes out clubbing. It usually ends with Minhyun having to haul him back to his apartment and dump him onto the couch. Seongwoo always wakes up the next morning cold and with a pounding headache. He tries not to think about it but he can't forget how Daniel would always drape a blanket over his sleeping form on the couch and he would wake up the next day to painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table.
Perhaps what hurts the most is knowing that Seongwoo himself is the one that had indirectly caused his own pain and suffering. It's the thought that has nagged at him nonstop ever since that day - the day of Seongwoo's dance competition.
He had asked Daniel to come watch him dance on a whim. The topic had come up suddenly, and Daniel had mentioned how he had used to b-boy, so Seongwoo just tossed the question out there: do you want to come see me dance?
Daniel had had a conflicting schedule, though - he had a part-time job and his shift clashed with the time of the competition. Seongwoo couldn't help it - he had deflated in disappointment (why? why had he done that?) and Daniel must have noticed because he was quick to reassure Seongwoo that he would try his best to make it for his performance.
Seongwoo should have turned him down. He should have told Daniel there was no need to rush and that there were plenty of other performances he could watch Seongwoo do.
But he didn't.
He didn't and, as a result, Daniel had been a lot less careful that night than he would have been if he hadn't been in a rush. It's all Seongwoo's fault and not a day goes by when Seongwoo doesn't think about it, doesn't wish that he could turn back time and slap himself for being so selfish.
And- ah. That's the all too familiar taste of saline on his lips. He's crying again, as if his tears mean anything, as if they could bring Daniel back. Seongwoo knows it's futile and hopeless, but- oh, what he wouldn't give to wrap his arms around Daniel again.
Maybe one day he'll get over it. That's a foolishly optimistic thought but it's all Seongwoo has to cling on to; it's his lifeboat out in the middle of this stormy sea, that the storm will eventually pass and Seongwoo will emerge a mess and in more pieces than he started out as, but he will still be alive.
Now, though, all he can do is to bite down on his trembling lower lip as another tear or two slips down his cheeks and let the sobs wrack through his small frame, hoping that he'll still be okay when this is all over.