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Mingyu has lost count on how many times he has circled around the city; the car burning gasoline into the air, a hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift—suppressing the yawn that almost left his system.
Empty.
That was what he felt.
Empty... at least as of the moment.
With one last trip around what seemed to be a jungle made of concrete, he made his way to the nearest 7/11 and straight to the refrigerator. The bottles cold against his skin—fighting the warmth of his palms. The store’s blaring lights almost unbearable to his barely awake and bloodshot eyes as he placed the drinks on the counter and waited for the cashier to finish before making his way back into his car.
“Don’t drink and drive,” Jun reminded him in which he gave a gentle smile in return and placed the drinks in its proper place in his car before driving home. "I know," he answered.
The ride home was serene—that’s how Junhui likes it. The thing with Mingyu is... he never really liked silence. It always deafened him. At first, he didn’t approve of it—suggesting that they play music as he drives, but after a few rides home, he grew to love the comfortable tranquility.
Reaching their house, the tall one turned off the engine, but stayed inside the car for a few moments—gripping hard on the steering wheel as he rested his head on it. "Get a hold of yourself, Kim Mingyu," he whispered to himself before grabbing the bottles of beer from the backseat and beelined straight to their front door.
It was painful to look at Junhui. His beaming smile reached Mingyu. He had to look away...
and so he did.
Swallowing the wretched pain in his gut and it burned his insides. "Stop it," he whispered to himself again... and again... and again until he found himself seated on one of the kitched chairs with the bottles of already opened beer laid out in front of him.
"Kim, that's already too much," Junhui nagged.
Kim.
"Here we go again."
He got him pissed again. He sealed his eyes shut and covered his ears. "Shut up. Please." He begged, on the brink of tears.
The alcohol clearly wasn't helping. He swallowed again. Only this time, it wasn't only pain that he was trying to shove in his guts, but also tteokbokki that he had for dinner and the now alcohol that managed to seep into his system. He hiccuped—trying to brush it off as he reached for another bottle, but he ended up hugging the toilet seat as he retched. Tears falling down his cheeks as he hurled, emptying his stomach. Even after there was no more to let out.
"I told you not to drink too much..." He heard Junhui's voice again.
It made him sick. God knows how much he loathed hearing it.
His hand reached for the towel resting on the counter. Junhui put it there on purpose so it was easier to get whenever Mingyu is dead drunk.
Mingyu crawled himself out of the bathroom and onto their bed—crashing on the soft mattress, covering himself with the blanket as he sobbed. He kept his eyes shut—refusing to look at his husband. He felt the older join him. His hand on his arm as if he was comforting him. It only made him cry harder, sobbing in the pillow and clutching his aching heart; praying—begging God to help him. To make it stop. The pain in his chest getting heavier until he passed out from exhaustion.
The very next morning, he woke up with a throbbing headache and no Junhui beside him.
'Of course.'
He showered and dressed himself up. In the kitchen were bottles of beer from last night—empty, untouched, and no Junhui in sight.
'Of course.'
There was no Junhui. So, he cleaned up after himself. Not like it was his husband's job to begin with. Still, there was no Junhui nagging at him.
He made himself breakfast. Pancakes with bananas and chocolates. Just like what Junhui loved. Only, there was no Junhui. So, he ate them all up by himself and cleaned up right after.
After breakfast, he changed clothes—ready to meet someone; grabbing his car keys right after and drove to the flower shop down Seventeen Street with no Junhui beside him. "The usual?" The owner asked. Mingyu gave him a small smile and nod. The shop's owner, Jeonghan, handing him a bouquet of lilies. "Junhui's favorites," he commented and the taller one had to swallow a lump on his throat again. "Yeah," he replied as he paid.
---
Mingyu had done this several times before. Even he can no longer count how much he has done this yet here he is: knees buckling and hands shaking, the flowers gently rattling in his arms as he approached. There was still no Junhui beside him.
He gently placed the flowers on top of a pavement that has a little moon with a cat sitting on it. A joke Junhui made one time that Mingyu took seriously.
Kim Junhui
1996-20XX
An angel gone too soon.
"Happy 5th anniversary to us, Baobei."
There was no Junhui. Not anymore.