Work Text:
i lived long enough to get used to your nonexistence—although it still hurts me, phuwin.
the grave in front of his eyes is now gently touched by pond. he presses a kiss to the headstone—hoping the one inside can somehow feel the warmth pond wishes to give, the warmth phuwin once longed for.
“if God heard my sobs and prayers on those nights,” pond’s voice trembles even more. quiet whimpers and cries escape him as his fingers scatter flowers in the favorite colors of phuwin.
“you should still be here with me, right?” pond’s breath comes out hurried. all of his energy has been drained, poured entirely into his grief.
“by now we should already be married. happy with those children we once dreamed of. right?” pond remembers everything. phuwin’s image appears in his mind. his phuwin—the one whose soul has been taken away, yet still lives within him.
because after his heart left, the cemetery was no longer a frightening place to visit. pond is no longer afraid. pond no longer—actually—can no longer hide behind phuwin.
phuwin, you’re proud of me, right?
phuwin, you’d watch me over, right?
i hope our paths cross again.
phuwin, people don’t understand. they don’t know, and they will never know how much it hurts.
when you left, i died, phuwin.
but nobody noticed.
because it wasn’t me in the casket. because it wasn’t my name written, it wasn’t my picture framed.
do they not know?