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Joshua leaned against the lamppost, his voice echoing into the quiet streets. "You promised you wouldn’t leave me," he muttered, his words dissolving into the rain.
He remembered the last time they stood there together, Seokmin’s hand warm in his.
"If I ever disappear, don’t cry for too long, okay?” Seokmin had teased with a laugh, ruffling Joshua’s hair.
"Don’t say things like that," Joshua had replied, frowning. "You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”
Now, Seokmin was gone, and Joshua felt helpless. No amount of yelling could bring him back, and the void Seokmin left behind was suffocating.
Joshua clutched Seokmin’s favorite sweater, still faintly smelling of his cologne. He closed his eyes, remembering a lazy Sunday afternoon when Seokmin had insisted on taking silly pictures in that very sweater.
"Come on, Joshua, just one more! I need to look good for you," Seokmin had joked, pulling Joshua into the frame.
"You always look good," Joshua had murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Seokmin’s cheek.
Joshua stared at the sky, wondering if Seokmin was watching him from somewhere. He remembered how Seokmin used to reassure him during tough times.
"Even if I’m not around, you’ll do great," Seokmin had once said, squeezing his hand. "You’re stronger than you think, Joshua.”
Most nights, Joshua lay awake, staring at the ceiling, whispering to the shadows. He could almost hear Seokmin’s voice.
"You’re overthinking again, aren’t you? Just sleep, silly," Seokmin had said during one of Joshua’s restless nights, pulling him close. "I’ll be here when you wake up.”
But now, the bed was cold and empty.
Joshua often caught himself glancing at crowds, hoping for a glimpse of Seokmin’s bright smile or the sound of his laugh.
Once, he even ran after someone wearing the same jacket Seokmin used to wear, only to stop short when he realized it wasn’t him.
Joshua carefully set the needle on their favorite record, the one Seokmin had bought him for his birthday. He could still hear Seokmin’s voice singing along.
"You have to admit, this is the best song ever," Seokmin had declared, twirling Joshua around the living room.
"It’s perfect because you’re here," Joshua had said, laughing as they spun together.
Joshua swayed to the music, alone in the dim light of their apartment. He closed his eyes, pretending Seokmin’s arms were around him, guiding him through the steps.
The memory of their last fight replayed in Joshua’s mind.
"You’re always pushing yourself too hard!" Joshua had said, frustrated. "What if something happens to you?"
"I’ll be fine," Seokmin had assured him, brushing it off. "You worry too much.”
Joshua hadn’t known it would be their last conversation. He never got the chance to apologize or tell Seokmin how much he loved him.
Friends told Joshua to move forward, but how could he when everything reminded him of Seokmin?
Even the simplest things, sunsets, coffee shops and old movies felt incomplete without him.
Joshua sat on the edge of their bed, their bed, not his, never just his, running his fingers over the creased sheets that still faintly held Seokmin’s scent.
The thought of falling in love with someone else felt impossible, like trying to paint over a masterpiece.
Seokmin had been everything. His light in the dark, his laughter on bad days, his anchor in the storm.
"You deserve to be loved, even if it’s not by me," Seokmin had once said, his eyes warm as they lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.
"Don’t say things like that," Joshua had replied, shaking his head. "I can’t imagine loving anyone else."
He meant it then, and he still meant it now.
But now the words felt cruel, like Seokmin had known he would leave first, leaving Joshua behind with a love too big to carry alone.
Seokmin had always smiled through the pain, hiding the truth behind his laughter.
His heart was failing him, piece by piece.
Maybe he had known all along that his time was running out, that one day, Joshua would be left alone.
But love doesn’t vanish with absence, and neither does grief.
Joshua’s hands trembled as he picked up the framed photo on their nightstand.
It was taken on their anniversary, Seokmin holding Joshua in a bear hug, his eyes crinkled in that way that always made Joshua’s heart ache.
It was a time when trust had come effortlessly, when love had been a steady river flowing between them.
Now, trust felt fragile, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. The world had taken Seokmin away too soon, shattering Joshua’s belief in permanence.
How could he trust the universe again when it had stolen the one person who made it feel safe?
The nights were the hardest. Joshua would lie awake, staring into the dark, his chest hollow.
Sometimes he’d whisper into the void, asking questions no one could answer.
"Are you happy where you are, Seokmin? Do you miss me like I miss you? Do you think I’ll ever be okay without you?”
The silence was unbearable, but the thought of sleeping and waking up to another day without Seokmin was worse.
Joshua closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to a lazy summer afternoon. They’d been lying on a picnic blanket under the shade of a maple tree, the sunlight dancing on Seokmin’s face.
"What if we can’t always be together?" Joshua had asked quietly, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through.
Seokmin had turned to him, his voice soft but firm. "Then I’ll be wherever you are. Even if you can’t see me, I’ll find a way to stay close.”
The memory hit Joshua like a wave, and he pressed the photo to his chest, tears spilling over. "You lied, Seokmin," he whispered. "You’re not here. I can’t find you.”
The record player spun softly in the corner of the room, filling the silence with their song.
Joshua stood, his legs trembling beneath him, and let the music guide him. He reached out, imagining Seokmin’s hand slipping into his, warm and familiar.
"You always step on my toes," Seokmin had teased during one of their first dances.
"Then stop leading so badly," Joshua had quipped, laughing as they swayed awkwardly in their tiny apartment.
Now, as he moved across the room alone, Joshua whispered, "I don’t care if I step on your toes, Seokmin. Just come back. Please."
His voice cracked, and he sank to his knees, the music wrapping around him like Seokmin’s arms once did.
He stayed there, letting the tears fall, his heart aching but strangely full. In every note of the song, every beat of the melody, he felt Seokmin’s presence, faint but undeniable.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But it was all he had left.
"I’ll keep dancing with you, Seokmin," Joshua whispered, his voice barely audible. "Even if it’s just with your ghost.”
:)