HIDDEN EMOTIONS,

Three weeks had passed since May had stopped Yeonjun that day on the bridge, and the two had started to grow fond of each other's presence since then. It was almost as if they were friends, though Yeonjun refused admit it. He had promised himself not to put so much trust in other people and he planned to keep that promise until the very end.

It was oddly sunny for a Thursday in late March. Usually, Yeonjun wouldn't have bothered to even look up at the sky, but things had changed ever since that night with May. He thought back to the way she had stared at the dark sky, remembering the way her eyes shone with tears and he how they fell from her eyes, one by one.

It bothered him how much he was starting to care about the tiniest details of the girl since that night.

Yeonjun sighed and shook his head, hoping that he would stop thinking about it. He wasn't supposed to care — it was unlike him. Pulling his hood over his head, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked in his usual slouched position to wherever his feet would lead him.

They led him to the cemetery.

It wasn't exactly where he wanted to end up, but he couldn't just leave either. Despite his cold front, he was still the same respectful boy he was when he was young. He pulled down his hood, revealing his recently-dyed dark hair, even messier than the day before. He walked farther into the cemetery until he reached an isolated area where few grave stones were seen. He liked how it wasn't crowded there — she was easier to find that way.

Yeonjun stopped in front of his mother's grave, staring down at it with teary eyes. Even after all these years, he was never quite able to get over her death and move on like the rest of their family had. At this rate, he didn't think he ever would.

"Hi, mom," he spoke, sniffling. "It's been a while since I've visited you. Sorry about that." A small smile appeared on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, blue box with a white ribbon tied on it. He held it in his hands, playing with the ribbon. "I know this is sudden," he continued, "but I almost gave up, even though you'd always tell me not to." His voice cracked. "You always said there was something waiting for me on the other side, that I'd be glad I endured because the end would be worth it. But I thought about it recently," he spoke, pausing to make sure she was listening. (She wasn't. Yeonjun knew that, but the thought comforted him.) "What if there's nothing waiting for me?"

Ever since his mother's death, Yeonjun had never been the same person — which would've been understandable if you'd been in his position. His mother was a hero to him, someone he admired greatly. To have a child's role model suddenly disappear from their life is like killing a part of them, cutting a hole through their heart and letting it decay with time.

"What if I have no one waiting for me once I reach the end?" he asked, closing his eyes. "What if I never had anyone to begin with?" His grip on the box in his hands tightened, holding back tears. He wasn't going to cry, even if it killed him. "I tried to kill myself, mom — did you know that? You were watching from heaven, weren't you?" He sighed, "Do you think that if I had jumped off that bridge, I would've seen you again?"

The silence ate him alive but he waited, as if waiting for his mother to answer from her grave. He stared at the words written on the stone, a small, yet bitter smile appearing on his lips. He looked at the blue box in his hands once again before setting it down in front of her tombstone. "Nevermind," he mumbled with a sad smile.

"Happy birthday, mom."

He turned around and started to walk away, finally letting his tears fall as he stepped farther away from the place his mother had been buried. As he walked away with his head hanging low to prevent anyone from seeing his tears, he felt the urge to turn around and look at the gravestone on more time. But he forced himself to keep walking. For his own sake.

Yeonjun was a few steps away from the gates when something caught his eye. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves and stared at the girl who set flowers down on the tombstone she stood before. She didn't say anything, only staring down in silence. Then she turned to around, getting ready to leave the place. She made eye-contact with Yeonjun, her eyes full of shock and his full of sadness.

It was May.

• • •

"Your brother died, didn't he?"

May nodded, her expression sad and pitiful. She knew that he would find out sooner or later, but she didn't intend for him to find out this way. "Yeah," she said.

Yeonjun felt guilty for mentioning it so nonchalantly, but May had never said he couldn't. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It happened a while ago. It was just a matter of time before I told you anyway."

"You didn't have to say anything if you didn't want to." He turned his head to look at her, "I wouldn't have asked if you had said so."

"Since when did you start caring?" she asked, amused. "You don't seem like the type."

"I've always cared. I just don't want to get hurt, so I prefer not to express my feelings." He paused, "You're like that too, you know."

"I know," May said, her voice growing quiet. "It's what I hate the most about myself. I just wish I didn't have to hide myself from everyone."

When she'd stopped talking, Yeonjun stared at her. Her hair was in her face, but she didn't care enough to move it away. "You don't have to hide yourself from me," he said quietly. May looked at him.

"Only if you'll do the same," she spoke, turning to him with a smile. Yeonjun smiled back — a genuine smile, one that May hadn't seen before. But it was also a sad smile, a hurting smile. She knew he was in pain and she wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how.

She looked down and spoke, taking a deep breath. "My brother was killed by our father," she said, pausing for a moment. "He was an alcoholic, though he wasn't always like that. Still, that's no excuse for the way he treated us, how he treated him."

Yeonjun could tell that she was angry by the way she spoke of her father. He could also tell she wasn't over her brother's death. And he was right. She couldn't get over it, just like he couldn't get over his mother's.

"It used to be me," she said, "the one that would take the hit. I only endured through it to protect him. He was still too young anyway. Everyone would do the same." May paused, making sure she was okay before continuing. "But I failed to protect him from that man." A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it harshly. "As a sister, as a person.

"He died three years ago today," she said. "It was all my fault." More tears fell from her eyes, but May didn't bother to wipe them. She didn't care if her promise had been broken — it'd been so long and she had never properly mourned for him. She saw this opportunity as her only chance to mourn.

As Yeonjun watched the girl cry, he couldn't help but feel guilty once again. He had told her nothing about his past and she had just opened up about something so personal. He needed to say something, he needed to share her pain.

"It's my mom's birthday today," he said in a quiet voice. "She died ten years ago. I've been trying to kill myself ever since, just so that I get to see her again. But every time I try, someone's always there to stop me." She listened quietly as Yeonjun continued. "I looked up to her," he said, "and I loved her more than anyone in this world. When she died, I felt as if a part of me had died. I hated the universe for taking her from me, the only person that had ever understood me, and I hated myself for not being there when she had died."

"I guess we're more similar than I thought," she said, looking up at the sky.

Yeonjun looked at her, his once angry features softening. "I guess we are."