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Everything stopped.

The worry, the pain, the heart rate monitor, time in itself; it all clicked to a halt. Silence had always been deafening, loud in its own right, overbearingly heavy and completely abrupt, but this type of silence was different. Void of her voice, her breaths and her laughter; void of her completely.

The house was still, lost in a flurry of dusty books and items that had begun to be packed away. The carpets were cleaned, hardwood mopped, counters scrubbed clean and dishes placed into the dishwasher, leaving the space unlike how he usually saw it. It was no longer lived in, left without the clothes in the laundry tote, without the television on and without the curtains hung open, making way for a new cycle of life, one that began with a decision he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to make. For now, all he could do was sit and stare, wondering when the tide of his emotions would come crashing forth.

Don't let this darkness overtake the possibility of how bright you will shine, my little star.

Seonghwa turned his head, glancing at the open boxes to his left before leaning into his seat on the sofa, feeling an overwhelming surge of exhaustion sweep over his bones. He didn't want to do this right now, nor did he ever really think he'd have to. Yet, here he was, collecting and sorting through his mother's things, days after the home went completely still.

Everything felt dull, completely inept and amiss, darker than the world normally was. Even if it wasn't raining, the clouds remained gray and castover, completely blocking the blue skies and the rise of the sun, bringing forth a gloomy atmosphere to only further the depressed aura of Seonghwa's childhood home. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting here, listening to the dishwasher hum from the other room beyond a dividing wall, allowing his thoughts to run rampant, not bothering to stop them. The world itself seemed to be shutting down, just like his mind, all in the same way everything else had.

He wanted it to stop. The clock, the people outside, the cars and the planes that were inevitably around; he just wanted to pause, to breathe, to grieve without the pressure of feeling left behind as everyone else moved along without the bat of an eye. He just wanted peace, to feel whole again, to feel as if his heart wasn't shattering on impact every single time he dared to glance over his shoulder and peek into his mother's now-empty room, wondering if the weight of the world would suddenly engulf him whole this time. How long could one linger in a state like this? Left to figure out the world on their own, no longer having the comfort or guidance from their parents, forced to deal with the loneliness that came with every single reminder of just how quiet this house now was.

You'll learn to fly, little dove. Your wings may be broken now, but give them the chance to heal and they will carry you farther than you could've ever imagined.

Words seemed so simple back then, talking and conversing without worry. All this talk, speaking in tones of next time, see you soon, I'll be back; and for what? There was no next time. There was no more see you soon. They were empty promises, things that he had said on his last visit, promising to be back before the inevitable, but he had been nearly too late. He rushed here in the middle of the night, speeding through the city streets in a blur filled with tears and rain-streaked windows, quietly wondering if he'd make it in time to hear her voice one last time, or if he'd hear nothing. But, he was here as she lay weakly in bed, though awake nonetheless. They had spoke, calmly and quietly, murmuring words that felt like distant memories now. They were affirmations, declaring final sentiments before the world would go silent again.

Eventually, Seonghwa found himself listening as the nurse spoke, murmuring apologies and condolences, but he didn't want to hear them. His ears were ringing, his mind blank, eyes welled with tears that felt practically inevitable. As soon as he arrived, she had basically gone, allowing her time of pain to end, beginning a new journey, leaving behind words that Seonghwa couldn't help but hear repeated to himself. It was like a reckless, grief-stricken carousel, whispering the sentences back to him with each complete orbit around. He didn't bother to quiet them, at least, not yet. They were comforting for the time being, making this process of collecting her things, placing items into storage while getting rid of the others, a bit easier.

Hongjoong called every day, texted almost every hour or so, trying to keep in contact so Seonghwa didn't completely isolate himself, trying to speak about other things to simply draw his attention away from the reality that was settled ahead of him. Now, at the near-top of the hour, he was wondering why Hongjoong hadn't messaged him yet.

He had handled life back at campus already, messaging his boss while also scheduling a substitute for the next week or so, unsure of if he'd return before winter break or not. Grief was something that only time could heal, and given the circumstances of his mother's passing, his boss thankfully understood. He had heard from everyone equally from his newly-forged friend group, messaging with Wooyoung a bit more frequently, to which he was thankful for. Wooyoung seemed concerned, though he wouldn't outright say it, trying to just talk about anything and everything, allowing their bond to grow without pressing too hard. Seonghwa liked Wooyoung's company, more than he'd probably admit out loud, but the male's presence was an overall comfort. He was jovial, happy and overly sarcastic, but those were traits that Seonghwa wouldn't trade for the world. He needed someone's levity and light to breach through his horrible trail of darkness, submerging him into an easier mood.

Seonghwa necessarily wasn't the type to speak about the things going on inside of his head, as he didn't wish to burden anyone with his own problems, but Wooyoung had a way of bringing that out. He wasn't prying, not really forcing Seonghwa to talk to him either, but there was something about him that made Seonghwa open up, little by little, relaying bits and pieces of his mental state just to relay how he was doing to someone who seemed concerned.

Hongjoong didn't pry either, and Seonghwa was thankful for that. Hongjoong, out of everyone else, had all the right in the world to pry into the details, to make sure that his partner was truly okay by himself, but he never did. He was a soft source of comfort, someone Seonghwa could sit with on the phone for just a minute or a number of hours, existing quietly, allowing the reality of their situation to bleed through the call without bothering to acknowledge it. It was comforting, to say the least. It was also something that Seonghwa had grown attached to, and oftentimes, looked forward to. He liked speaking to Hongjoong on his break, hearing him talk in ups and downs about whatever chaos Wooyoung had gotten himself into while shifting topic, discussing a new muffin or type of dessert he tried at their favorite corner cafe.

But, as he looks around his home, he finds himself trapped. Trapped in a sense that he feels unable to move off of this couch, to continue packing away items that hadn't been put away for years. He didn't want to eat, didn't really care much for sleeping, but at the very least, he took his medication and tried to make himself seem presentable for the people who came by with mounds of paperwork and words he couldn't bother to remember.

Funerals, Seonghwa has found, aren't easy. They're complicated, filled with the worry of not doing enough while also wondering if holding something smaller would suit the quaint life that his mother lived. He didn't know what she would've wanted, nor did he really ask, leaving him to trust the hands of someone who knew what they were doing with a little guidance. The funeral was approaching a lot sooner than he could really have anticipated for it to, leaving him to pull photos together, some older home movies, collecting memorabilia for the sake of the ceremony itself in the hope that he was doing enough.

He was out of his league, but then again, he had to remind himself that no one really ever becomes prepared for something like this. He just had to hope, in some sense of the word, that his mother would be proud, or at least, happy with everything he had accomplished in the wake of everything else.

Suddenly, the sound of his phone vibrating brings his mind away from the helpless trap of his own depressing reverie, encouraging him to reach towards the coffee table in an effort to grab it. Though, upon the sight of the name appearing on his screen, a soft smile breaches over his lips, causing all of his distress to melt away.

Hongjoong

Hey, just checking in. About to leave campus for the day and I wanted to see if you wanted me to come out there so you weren't alone?

Seonghwa sighs, letting his thumbs hover above the electronic keyboard before he relents, trying to remain stubborn in his decision.

Joong, I promise you that I'm alright. I just need a bit of time to gather some things, and eventually I'll make my way back to my apartment. My attention is needed here, but not for long. Just for now.

Hongjoong

I know. I don't want you to be alone, though. It's the weekend now, so I can come up for a few days, help you around the house, cook you dinner. . .

That's very sweet of you. But genuinely, you don't have to. I'm alright, and even if I wasn't, I will be eventually. Being here alone does help me think and process things, so I don't really mind the loneliness.

Hongjoong

I know you better than that, Hwa. You've been alone for some time, but I can see the way your eyes light up when you're around the others, or even just me. You like to be around people, maybe not all the time, but there is something deeper within you that wants to reach out.

Maybe.

Maybe you're right. I don't know. Being alone is comfortable. It's easy. That's what I'm used to. Maybe I have some habits to change in the new year, maybe I don't. I just don't have answers right now, Joong. I've just come to realize that that's okay.

Hongjoong

It's perfectly okay. I never said it wasn't. There is no right or wrong to the way you're handling everything, and even if there was, I'd say you're doing a commendable job. You're strong. So, so strong. I just want you to lean on me a little more, just so that you don't have to shoulder the weight of everything.

I want to.

Hongjoong

Then let me come up for the weekend. Please?

I'll think about it. Go home, go rest. I have to pack some more books away and look through photo albums. I just don't think I have it in me to sleep later tonight.

Hongjoong

Promise me that you're okay?

I'm fine, Joong. I promise. Call me later, okay?

Hongjoong

Alright. I'll call you in a bit.

Truthfully, he was okay. Depressed, but okay.

He sets his phone down, taking a breath inwards as he sets his phone back down, eyeing the time carefully. It was late, but not terribly late, but as for why Hongjoong stayed at campus for so long was beyond him. He should've been home a while ago, but he digresses. He very well could stay late at campus too, and he didn't really want to meddle in Hongjoong's decisions. He was already in a toxic relationship once, and he would do anything to keep the peace of this one intact.

Standing from the couch, Seonghwa made his way out of the living room and towards his mother's bedroom, listening as his steps creaked against the floorboards, carrying himself further and further towards a room that he's since avoided. With a careful hand, he pushes the door open, listening to the hinges shift as the door swings open, slowly coming to a halt as it hits the door stop. With a breath, Seonghwa takes a look around, trying to hold in the emotions that seemed to be running amuck.

The room was barren, left with a made bed, fluffed pillows, a few boxes askew to the right of the bed. It was obvious that the nurse had helped arrange things like Seonghwa had asked, mostly because he couldn't bear to do it himself, but he didn't expect this. It felt like a complete change, a more sterile environment that held little warmth. The pictures were all the same, along with the mound of paintings that his mother had kept in her room, scattered in a nearby bin or hung on the wall, untouched by the cleaning that had been done previously. He wasn't oblivious to knowing that his mother loved to see everything that he created, even framing some paintings while picking and choosing which ones to display. She was always so proud, and Seonghwa seemed to blossom beneath her eye. Now, without her here, a broken part of himself began to question if he should even bother moving anything out of this room. Removing the paintings, taking down the pictures, putting her clothes into boxes; it felt like a step too far.

The subtle sounds of knocking stirs Seonghwa into walking towards the front door, spotting a familiar figure through the opaque glass on the front door. He opens it, trying to offer a smile as a familiar face smiles back, her voice warm and polite.

"Sorry to bother you, Seonghwa," the nurse says, brushing a strand of her hair back. "I've just come to get the remainder of my things, but also to check in on you."

"Yeah, please come in," Seonghwa says, stepping aside. The nurse shuffles in, adjusting her light jacket before she turns to Seonghwa, wetting her lips.

"I really did not mean to intrude more than I already have," she explains. "I wish I could change the outcome for this–"

"I know," Seonghwa interrupts, taking a deep breath inwards. "I just. . . don't know what to do with myself now."

"I understand," she says empathetically. "The transition to life after has never been easy. I've been with several clients over the years that I've been a hospice nurse, but your mother was the kindest. She was always so attentive to you, and even when I was supposed to be doing my job, she insisted that I sit down and watch movies with her. She was so kind, Seonghwa–"

"That was the best thing about her, you know?" Seonghwa lets a breath roll through his lips as he turns, walking further into the house. The nurse follows, listening diligently. "Even despite everything that she's gone through, she never let that deter how nice she was to other people."

"That's the kind of person anyone would be lucky to have," she says with a gentle smile. "I could tell, even in the short time I had with her, that she was unlike anyone else I had ever met."

Seonghwa smiles at that, walking further until he turns, stepping across the threshold to walk back into his mother's room. "I appreciate that, more than I can say. You've been an angel to my mother, and I could tell that she was grateful for you everyday that you were here, even when I couldn't be."

She bows her head slightly, brushing her hair back again. "You're too kind."

"I'm just being honest," he replies. "I don't know what I would've done without you throughout all of this."

"You don't need to thank me, Seonghwa. I want to be there for the families of those who are affected. I want to be a place of comfort, when I can be. In being there for your mother, I was reminded of how much I love my job, but also of how heart breaking it can be. The time I spent with your mother will forever be cherished, and those memories cannot be replaced." She takes a step closer, placing a delicate hand on Seonghwa's arm. "But the other part of my job, is making sure that those closest to my patients are also taken care of. Your well-being is just as important."

Seonghwa nods, accepting her words as he glances towards the stack of paintings, trying to avert his attention elsewhere as the nurse's words find a deeper place within his core. She was being genuine, and he was thankful for that, but nothing could truly alleviate the pain radiating from within.

"Those paintings," she begins. "She always wanted to see them. I would choose one for her and we'd look at them for a long time. She'd try to find a meaning within them before tracing her finger over every single small detail. Your paintings were her comfort, and even if you weren't here, these pieces of your work were connections to you that she favored so much."

"Shouldn't I have been here?" Seonghwa asks, his voice a fragile murmur, lip slightly quivering. "Shouldn't I have dropped everything and stayed, even when it was hard?"

"Maybe," she replies. "Or, maybe not. Grief is a long path that no one can pave for you. You have to make the decisions, regardless of how easy or hard they may be. She understood why you were doing everything. Moving away, meeting new faces, teaching classes; she understood, even if it took you away from her. I don't think there was a single moment in time where she resented you for taking care of yourself, for prioritizing your peace of mind in an attempt to move on. You're coping, Seonghwa. No one can judge you for that."

He nods, albeit hesitantly, clasping his hands together in front of him. The room felt less dizzying now, less burdensome, allowing him the peace of mind to simply just breathe. He knew moving on would be hard, but deep down, he had always known that. Packing things away, preparing himself for a life after his mother had gone, as well as adjusting to his new normal; they were all things that were never meant to be easy. He just needed time, simply because time was meant to heal all wounds, both superficial and emotional.

"Thank you," Seonghwa says quietly. "I needed to hear that. I. . . keep wondering if I wasted time in starting this new job, in not being here with her, but I don't think she would've wanted me alone in this house, taking care of her. She never wanted me to stop chasing after the things that made me happy."

"You know," the nurse begins, a faint smile curling on her lips. "She did mention to me that you had found someone, or maybe went on a date?"

Seonghwa's lips curl into a soft smile before he hums. "Yeah. I did. We're together now, and I know she wanted something like this for me. My last partner was awful, and she knew that. In having Hongjoong now, I have a feeling that she was telling the universe to send him to me, even in her darkest times."

"It gave her a lot of comfort," the nurse replies, gesturing to the paintings. "She knew you had your outlets and the things that made you happy, but after hearing about Hongjoong. . . I think she began to realize that you'd be okay. Someone was looking out for you, loving you, taking care of you. . . those were all things that I could tell she was worried about."

"Typical of her," Seonghwa muses quietly, chewing on his lip. "Always too worried about me to even begin focusing on herself."

"That's a mother for you. Dedicated to their kids, even in the darkest of times."

Seonghwa nods, offering her a softer smile, feeling as the heavy burden of his emotions finally settled into something easier to manage. "Yeah."

"I won't be long," she says, adjusting the strap of her purse that hangs on her left shoulder. "I'll be just a moment to grab the rest of my belongings before making my leave. But, please, do not hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything at all, even if just an ear of someone who understands. I'm just a call or message away."

Seonghwa nods, allowing her offer to settle into his skin, accepting the idea that he didn't have to carry this alone, and that he was never meant to.

"Of course," he replies. "Thank you for everything, Ms. Nam. I'll leave you to it."

She smiles at Seonghwa before stepping further into the room, leaving Seonghwa to exit a moment later. Truly, he was grateful for everything that she had done not only for him, but for his mother. She was a kind and delicate soul, giving up her time to comfort his mother in the last moments of her life. She never had to, and yet she chose to, and for that, Seonghwa was eternally grateful.

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After Ms. Nam had left, Seonghwa found himself settled on the couch, indulging in an incredibly cheesy k-drama, sipping on some red wine that he had bought for himself a day or so ago. He made his usual comfort food, pasta, twirling the noodles around before taking a bite each and every time, almost mindlessly trying to convince himself that he was worth the effort, and that he needed to take care of himself.

The k-drama was sappy and overly dramatic, as he truly didn't expect any less, but at some point, he found himself overly invested, listening to the words exchanged between the main protagonist and antagonist, wondering how their romance would ever eventually bloom. They were in an arranged marriage, for better or for worse, hateful towards one another until something clicked with the help of a few drinks. Things seemed to be getting easier, but Seonghwa had a feeling that the show was only just beginning, leaving more twists and turns to come.

He had talked to Hongjoong a little bit ago, explaining everything that he was eating to the male so he didn't have to worry before going to sleep. Hongjoong seemed persistent on coming down still, but Seonghwa insisted otherwise, letting him know that he'd be okay, and that in a few days, he'd think about coming back to campus. He just needed time.

Now, with a glass of wine settled in his stomach, the worries about tasks that needed to be done floated away, leaving him to focus in on his show, twirling pasta absentmindedly, almost in the hope that he'd eventually force himself to sleep, somehow. He was tired, but not tired enough.

But, he relents. He continues watching his show, eating his pasta, sipping on his wine every now and then before a wave of exhaustion pulls at his bones. He can feel it become rooted, almost as if the throes of sleep were calling to him with a calming, bittersweet siren song, beckoning for him to just come closer, to just sleep. Even still, he forces his eyes open and continues his show, taking in a deep breath to steady himself as he leans further into the sofa, ignoring all pleas to simply rest.

Though, the sudden buzzing of his phone causes his gaze to drift, spurring him into leaning forwards toward the coffee table, setting down his bowl that was nearly empty before reaching for his device. Pulling it towards him, he glances down, spotting a message from Hongjoong, which slightly catches him by surprise.

Hongjoong

Open your door.

Curious, Seonghwa reaches for the remote, pausing his show as he rises off of the sofa, heading off towards the front door with hesitant, slow steps. Upon reaching the door, his hand hovers above the handle, clicking the door open before pulling it towards him, revealing the sight of someone he simply hadn't expected.

"Hey," Hongjoong says, his eyes laced with obvious exhaustion, yet alight with all of the affection he could possibly muster. "I hope this isn't crossing a line or–"

There Hongjoong stood, wearing a hoodie, carrying a bouquet of deeply crimson roses, a small, almost embarrassed smile on his lips. He was wearing his glasses, matched with a beanie, his jeans a deep blue that somehow matched the sneakers on his feet. He looked so innocent, so tired and so pure all at once, which made Seonghwa's heart whir and melt all at the same time.

Seonghwa reaches for him, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong's neck as he leans into him, almost crushing the roses in the male's hand before he carefully guides them out of the way, slowly beginning to wrap his arms around Seonghwa.

Seonghwa swallows his tears, burying his face deeper into the male's shoulder, soaking in his warmth and his sheer presence, doing his best to hold it together. But, Hongjoong tightens his hold, pressing a delicate kiss into Seonghwa's hair, allowing his words to grace the space around them in a soft murmur.

"I've missed you."

Seonghwa smiles shakily, hugging him tighter.

"I've missed you, too. More than I can say."

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