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woosluv · 9 months

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indulgence — wooyoung

PAIRING . . . wooyoung x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS . . . life is hard and sometimes you just need to indulge in things you don't normally let yourself have. this time? it's wooyoung.

RATING . . . R / 18+

WC . . . 2.3 k

WARNINGS . . . SMUT. unprotected sex (☹️). reader and wooyoung are slightly intoxicated but consensual. heavy making out. hair pulling. neck kissing (idk if it was for their own pleasure or my own). oral (f receiving). fingering (f receiving). multiple orgasms. wooyoung calls reader a good girl multiple times. creampie.

NOTE . . . the smut is bad 😅 this fic was for the underworldnet elysium summer event day two (indulgence if you couldn't tell by the title). since the net closed down i'll just post it as is anyway :) @cultofdionysusnet @kflixnet

You gulp down the shot the bartender had just poured out for you, immediately looking back at him and eyeing the now empty glass you had in front of you. The music in the club is loud and the bodies around you paired with the alcohol in your system make your skin hot and sticky.

You needed this.

You throw this one back too, giving a tight smile at the woman who sat tall and perfectly poised next to you. As you turn your head back to your glass, you roll your eyes at the thought of coming to a place like this and just sitting there, only taking small sips of your drink as a particularly attractive man passed by. It personally wasn’t your idea of a fun night out and you couldn’t relieve your stress that way.

You deserved this.

You immediately down the third shot, a trickle of tequila dribbling past your lips and down your chin. It doesn’t really bother you at this point, already 3 drinks and who knows how many shots into your night, but you can see the woman who sat tall and perfectly poised next to you sending judgmental glares your way and decide to go and wipe your chin for both of your sakes. But a thumb that didn’t belong to you beat you to it, tilting your head to your other side as it wiped your chin, once, and then again, swiping across your bottom lip as you stared in confusion.

Your eyes trail along the arm until they meet the person attached to it and you’re immediately stunned at the man before you. A silver chain choker wrapped so nicely around his throat and a matching set of silver earrings dangled from his ears. His jet black hair is styled back aside from a couple strands strategically loosely curled outwards, looking so effortless and like he just pushed his hands through his hair and that was what came out. The simple white tank and leather jacket drove the idea home. Your eyes trailed his face as he looked down at where his hand connected with your chin.

He clicked his tongue as he shook his head, a mocking pout on his lips as his hand moved softly wiggled your chin side to side. “And what has you so tense and pouty today, pretty girl?” The question dances into your ears, his voice low and teasing. You scoff at his words as soon as you register the situation and cross your leg over the other in a weak attempt at calming the feeling that flooded your body when he spoke.

He pouted again as he leaned on the bar to look you in the eye. “C’mon, be a good girl and tell Wooyoung what’s weighing on your shoulders.” Your heart thumped at the look on his face. You cleared your throat to ease the lump that arose when you locked eyes with the pretty man you had now come to know as Wooyoung in front of you. “Just life.” You shrug lamely as you take a sip of the drink you had ordered. Wooyoung nodded as he brought the glass in his hand up to his lips for a sip of his drink.

You can’t help but watch as he does so. You couldn’t help the stare you gave the silver rings that adorned some of his slender fingers as he grasped the glass. His Adam's apple was bobbing with every gulp and his lips glistened from the alcohol he had just consumed. And when he brought the glass back down he looked out at the crowd, but you noticed a drip of alcohol sliding down his chin. Without another thought, you brought your hand up, gripping his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his head your way as you focused on wiping the liquid from his face. His eyes are dark when they lock with yours, piercing straight through you as you still, fingers still holding his chin. And you can read exactly what he’s thinking because there’s no doubt in your mind that the heat running through your veins is no longer from the alcohol flooding your system but from the man in front of you.

You dropped your hand from his chin but your eyes are still locked and the tension is thick. You’re just staring at each other when Wooyoung gets pushed towards where you sat, but he catches himself with one hand on the bar and the other on the seat you sat in. You gasp as your hands fly up and land on his chest to try to steady him as he fell forward. He’s a lot closer now and you can smell his cologne and see the sweat that has accumulated around his hairline since he got here. Your hands close around the fabric resting on his chest at the proximity between you two, your eyes still staring at him. But you can’t focus on anything anymore now that his lips are inches from yours.

You deserve this.

And that’s all you need to rationalize pulling him forward and smashing your lips against his. You can feel the goosebumps rising yet your body is hot all over. Your skin burns on your waist as his hands land there and clutches the fabric to pull you further into him. You sit a little higher in your seat, stretching your neck a little bit to reach his lips better as your hands travel up his chest and grip onto the hair at the nape of his neck. You sigh into the kiss, so indulged in how his tongue leaves the taste of vodka and cigarettes behind in your mouth and the way he groans every time you tug on his hair.

Wooyoung is still kissing you when you feel one of his hands leave your waist. Wooyoung chases your lips as you pull away to see what he’s fumbling around for, groaning when you successfully pull away only to see him slap some cash on the bar. His hair is a bit ruined from your hands and his lips are glossy and swollen and he looks so beautiful with the club lights shining on him. You can’t resist him anymore and grab his hand, pulling him away from the bar and out of the club once you hop off your seat and towards a cab that sat outside. You're quick to give the driver your address before you’re back to making out with Wooyoung.

The ride seems long but in reality you knew the drive was only 10 minutes to your apartment. “We’re here.” The driver pulls to a stop in front of your building and you pull away, throwing a quick ‘thanks’ as you stumble out of the cab and into the building. Wooyoung couldn’t keep his hands off of you, hands running up and down your body as his lips landed on your neck. You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you as his breath flowed over your skin. “Can’t you wait just a little longer?” The elevator doors open right then and Wooyoung replies. “Nope.” You let out a yelp as he spins you and picks you up, holding you by your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. “Which door?” You point at the door at the end of the hall, keys already in your hand for when you arrive.

Wooyoung’s lips are back on your neck when you finally arrive, busying himself by kissing your neck as you reach behind you to unlock the door. “It’s open.” You breathe out and Wooyoung pushes his way in, shutting the door as he pins you against it. “Finally.” Wooyoung’s lips slam against yours as your hands drop your bag so you could wrap your fingers in his hair. Wooyoung groans at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “Pull it.” He mumbles the words against your lips so you give it a tug, moving your lips down his neck as his head tilts back. You suck on his neck, licking each spot you left behind on his soft skin. Wooyoung pulls your bodies away from the door and walks towards your bedroom, dropping you on the bed once he gets there.

Wooyoung’s eyes lock with your own before he drops to his knees at the edge of your bed and pulls your legs towards his body. You lift yourself on one of your elbows to watch as Wooyoung slips out of his jacket and tank before he rips your jeans off your legs. He looks between your legs, staring at the dark spot soaking your panties. His eyes flit back to yours, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up your legs. “All this for me? I haven’t even done anything yet.” Your breaths are shaky as his cold hands reach the band of your underwear and pulls them off. “Now be a good girl and come on my tongue, ok?”

Your hands tighten around the sheets and your upper body falls back against the bed as his tongue licks a slow swipe, dipping into your sopping hole at first and then sucking on your sensitive nub at the end. “Woo.” You can’t even say his name as he begins to work his tongue. In response to your groans, Wooyoung dips his tongue into your cunt again, his hand reaching for one of yours to pry the sheets from your fingers and guiding it down to his hair. Your body is already so overwhelmed just from his tongue, your breath hitches and your fingers tighten around his hair when he pushes a finger in you.

Wooyoung groans when you pull his hair and you can feel the vibrations move through your body. He’s moving slowly. You can’t keep your hips from bucking into Wooyoung’s face in an attempt to speed things along. But Wooyoung wasn’t having it and wrapped an arm around your waist to pin it down. You tugged on his hair, another groan leaving your lips. You want to tell him to hurry up, you want to tell him to live up to his words. But before you can say anything, Wooyoung adds another finger, his pace picking up as he slurps up your juices.

Your fingers tighten around his hair as he picks up his pace, pumping both fingers into you, curling them right into your sweet spot every time. Your legs have closed around his head and your feet are pulling him further into your heat as he works his lips, sucking on your clit and lapping every drop that leaks out of you. “Woo.” Your voice has pitched into a whine and he knew you were close. His pace picks up and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed by the squelching of his fingers moving in and out of your hole because the pleasure was too much. With a couple more pumps and his lips sucking on your clit, you tightened around his fingers and came on his tongue just like he had requested.

Your thighs trembled around his head and your chest heaving with heavy pants as he continued lapping up your juices, his tongue prodding into your hole to get every drop. Finally, you could feel him rising from his knees and his face appeared above yours, his lips glossy from your release and his hair sticking out in every direction from your tight grip on the black locks. Wooyoung adjusted you higher on the bed as he leaned in close to your face. Your breath hitched at the proximity. “Such a good girl, let’s see if you can do that again, hm?” You didn’t even notice when Wooyoung had finished undressing, only realizing he had when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds.

A gasp leaves your lips as your hands come up to grab onto his biceps on either side of your head. Wooyoung smirks as he squishes your cheeks between one of his hands and moves your head so you can lock eyes with him. “You’re so reactive to everything I do.” You keep your eyes locked with his. You’re so entranced by his voice and his body that you’re taken by surprise when he finally thrusts his cock deep into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues the pace, pulling nearly all the way out before sharply thrusting back into you.

You’re both moaning and groaning each others names, so completely indulged in the others body and you made each other feel. Wooyoung’s cock is thick and you can feel your hole swallowing him every time he moved. “You’re so right.” Wooyoung’s hand travels down your thigh and pulls it a little higher on his waist so he could hit your sweet spot a little better. “Wooyoung.” Your nails start to dig into the skin of his back, latching on and refusing to let go as you got close.

Wooyoung could tell you were almost there and picked up his pace as one of his hands reached down to rub circles on your clit. Wooyoung grunted with each thrust and his hair slipped in front of his eyes. “C’mon pretty girl, cum for me.” Your cunt tightened around his cock as you came once again, the noises from your juices lewd as he thrusted up into you a couple more times before he shot his load in you.

You were both panting as he pulled out of you and flipped next to you, chest moving quickly as he caught his breath. You let out a quiet groan as your hole clenches at the emptiness and feel the combination of your and Wooyoung’s release leaking out of you. Wooyoung sits up and lets out a chuckle. “Feel better?” Your head lulls to the side so you could look at him better. “What?” Your brows furrow in confusion. Wooyoung leans down so his lips are by your ear and his hand trailing down to your hole. You shudder from sensitivity and let out a moan as he scoops up whatever leaked out of your hole and stuffs it back into you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

#kflixnet #cultofdionysusnet #🍄 my writing #[🐱] wooyoung content #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez wooyoung #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fic #wooyoung imagines

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moonjella · 1 year

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WHAT COMES AFTER — LEE JENO

pairing || boyfriend!jeno x fem!reader

synopsis || the death of your boyfriend was something no one expected. the most loved boy in town was gone in an instant and the world for you had ended. depressed and alone, you give it one last try. you find the ouija board stashed away in your garage and call out his name. but he doesn't reply and you decide it's time to finally move on. but then you receive a strange phone call from an unknown id, and on the other end is your dead boyfriend.

content || female reader, major angst, dealing with the death of a loved one, mentions of death, grieving, speaking to the dead, counselling, party and alcohol consumption, a guy tries to make a move on the reader, mild violence.

word count || 8.6k

author's note || for @/underworldnet’s halloween event : day seven — afterlife.

Your world ended the day Jeno died.

He was the sweetest boy in town. Everyone loved him since he was young. He was kind and affectionate, offering his assistance to anyone who needed it.

You often joked that there wasn’t a single person in the small town that didn’t know him because he helped so many.

Be it mowing lawns, carrying shopping, or in your case, saving you from bullies.

You weren’t even five when it happened, but you’ll ever forget how strong and brave he was when he shielded you from being hurt.

He stayed close to you since that day, easily becoming your best friend. And you lived close to each other. You played with him a lot, spent long summers together as well as cosy winters.

You walked to school together every day, ate lunch together, paired up in classes.

In any situation, you were always with him and when you weren’t, it wouldn’t be long until he found you.

It was always like that.

But there came a certain age when it became awkward for a boy and girl to be so close.

Your parents told you it was fine to be friends with him, but to be extra careful since you were now a young woman.

Jeno received the same lecture from his own parents because there was a period of total awkwardness for a while. But it soon became something you both would laugh about.

Puberty was an odd phase for everyone and when you both grew used to your new bodies and minds, you became close in a completely new way.

And then came all the questions.

Are you guys dating?

You know guys and girls can’t be just friends, right?

How long have you been together?

Almost everyone you knew had assumed you were dating; you guys were inseparable, after all.

And you, being a young–minded and curious teen girl, asked him:

“Jeno, are we dating?”

You’d always remember the way he choked with wide eyes until the milk he was drinking sprayed out from his mouth.

“I mean, do you want to date me?” he replied.

You shrugged. “I’ve never dated before, but if I did, I’d probably choose you.”

He asked to be your boyfriend right then and there. You said yes.

Back then, you never understood the true intensity of being boyfriend and girlfriend but over the years you gradually realised how serious you and Jeno were.

You always had been the endgame.

He meant everything to you.

He was your first in every aspect and you to him.

It was like you were always meant to be together like destined stars.

He was always there.

Until he wasn’t.

The town sheriff came to tell you the news personally since his parents were too distraught to visit you themselves.

A car accident had taken Jeno’s life and just like that, he was gone.

You felt numb at first.

Like none of it was real; like it was just a bad dream.

You had that blinding buzzing feeling in your body for days as if you weren’t existing in the same realm anymore.

Everything lost its meaning.

You became furious with the world, yet at the same time, you felt nothing towards it.

Nothing but pain and longing and anger.

How could life be so cruel to you? How could life be so cruel to Jeno?

His death shook the entire town to the very core.

You waited and you waited for Jeno to call, to show up at your house and tell you none of this was real but he didn’t.

And then the numbness faded, replaced by pain.

Pain you’re still feeling to this day.

Months have passed and it still hurts as bad as it did back then.

It hurts to eat, to sleep, to breathe.

You can’t do anything without being reminded of his loss and how you can’t live a happy life without him.

He was always by your side.

And now you’re all alone.

Your parents try their hardest, urging you to go to school again. You haven’t attended for months and they tell you again and again that it would help you get out of your hole.

Every day you say “I’ll go tomorrow” but tomorrow never comes. All the days blend into one dreary nightmare without the love of your life right next to you.

Friends visited you, as did teachers.

Everyone felt for you but they eventually moved on without you.

You wonder if you’ll ever catch back up to them.

But you don’t think it’s likely since Jeno was your one in a million.

What life is worth living without the person you love the most?

You remind yourself every now and then that Jeno would never want this for you. He’d want you to carry on and do your best but whenever you try, it all comes crashing on you again and you can’t stop the tears.

The pulsating takes over, you lose control of your body, unable to breathe.

Everything around you turns grey and bland and your grasp on whatever reason you have left to keep going disappears into thin air.

The days slip through your fingers like water, like the tears that have begun leaking from your eyes.

You miss him so much.

***

Today is as dreary as ever.

But there’s one positive you can find, a silver lining, if you could call it that.

You haven’t cried today.

It’s Sunday. The weather is grim and wet but your eyes aren’t pouring like the sky.

Your parents are out shopping and you’re curled up at home in a blanket.

They left you while you were watching an old movie, one of Jeno’s favourite. While they did pressure you to join them on their outing, you refused with your eyes glued to the screen, watching the movements go by mindlessly.

It’s a trashy horror; you’ve watched it a million times. You probably wouldn’t have watched it at all if it weren’t for Jeno.

The specialness it held in your heart was now a patch of soreness.

Bitterness fills your body as you watch the stupid teenagers pull out an Ouija board.

You scoff inwardly as you’re reminded of all the times you told Jeno about the Ouija board hidden somewhere in your garage.

You always wanted to try it but didn’t for his sake. He was too terrified it would be real. Despite growing into a manly type of guy, he was a softie at heart. He put on a brave face even when he was more afraid than you.

For a split second, you think about it and an old, familiar feeling takes over your mind.

Curiosity.

Jeno isn’t here to stop you anymore so maybe you could finally try it.

Maybe you could talk to him.

It’s a ridiculous notion but you find yourself on autopilot, scrambling out of the blankets and into the chilly garage. You’re digging through shelves and old boxes and by the time your nose is filled with dust, you pull out the box.

It’s heavy from the wooden palette but you brush it off and scurry to your room.

You have no idea how this works, or if it works at all.

But just in case, you set some rules for yourself — don’t use it for too long and throw it away when you’re done.

You don’t want Jeno to be turning in his grave seeing you play around with the same thing he warned you about.

Setting it on the floor, you place the planchette in the middle and cross your legs.

This is it, you think. If it works, I can say goodbye. If it doesn’t…, I’ll move on. I promise.

You’re not sure who you’re making the promise to. Your parents, Jeno, yourself.

Either way, your embarrassingly sad attempt to contact Jeno feels like the only way to drag yourself out of this slump. Because no matter what answer you get, you can finally have some closure.

You place your fingers on the planchette.

“Jeno,” you ask, voice quiet and trembling. “Are you here?”

Nothing.

“Jeno,” you say, a little louder. “It’s me, YN. Can you hear me?”

Complete silence.

“I miss you so much, Jeno,” ah, the tears have come at last. “I’m right here, baby. Please talk to me.”

A void. Just like the hole he left in your life when he died.

You try a few more times more, calling his name louder and louder, allowing all of your grief and desperation to leave your body as you cry for him.

All the while gaining nothing in return.

You swallow grimly and finish your session like they did in the movie — a whispered goodbye and wiping your tears as you shove the board away.

It hurts more now than ever before, but there’s some sort of relief buried under it all.

Jeno’s gone. He’s not coming back.

He’s living peacefully now.

Maybe you can move on, too.

You take those few moments to ponder and let out your remaining emotions. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours and you’re finally broken out of your trance when you hear your parents’ car pulling into the drive.

You sit up, limbs shaking and your eyes are sore. Surely, your parents would know you’ve been crying but you make it downstairs in one piece while they’re hurrying inside from the rain with their shopping.

“Hey, sweetie,” your mom greets you at the bottom of the stairs. If she notices your red eyes, she doesn’t mention it. “How was the movie?”

“Good,” your voice cracks, coming out as a whisper.

Your dad comes in and pats your head before planting a kiss on it. “Did you eat?”

You shake your head.

“Good, because we brought takeout.”

You manage to stifle some food down. It doesn’t taste like flavourless mush anymore. Slowly, your ability to taste food returned but there was always a sick feeling in your stomach. It’s not so bad right now, thankfully.

It’s been a while since you’ve wanted to eat properly.

Your parents watch carefully as you eat. It’s the most you’ve eaten in a long time.

And when dinner ends, you gather the motivation to help them clean up.

They share glances between themselves, but they’re happy you’re feeling well enough to do chores again.

“Mom, dad…” you say, and their eyes fly to you immediately. “I want to go to school tomorrow.”

They’re both stunned and your mother steps forward immediately, stroking your shoulders.

“That’s great, baby but… are you sure?”

You nod fervently. “I want to go.”

They share one last look before agreeing with you.

“Okay, baby. How about you go take a shower and I’ll get your bag and clothes ready? Sound good?”

You nod.

“I’ll drive you in the morning.” Your father adds.

You smile and it feels good.

It’s not a smile because you’re happy. But a smile because you can finally feel things changing.

You can feel the chains of grief loosening around you and washing down the drain as you shower. The smell of your floral shampoo isn’t disgusting anymore, the hot water against your skin doesn’t burn you.

And when you look in the mirror, you feel a little less hopeless under your dark, rainy cloud.

You’re dressed and have dried your hair quickly, eager to get into bed after another draining day.

But tomorrow will be better, you hope.

Bzz.

Your phone vibrates in your hand.

The screen reads unknown caller.

You don’t usually answer unknown calls but something tugs at your thumb and it swipes the green button.

“Hello?” you ask.

It’s silent for a few moments and you’re about to hang up but a loud pant hits your ear. You wince at the sound.

Whoever is on the other end is breathing heavily. You’re about to hang up but then you hear it.

His voice.

“…YN…”

You heart sinks faster than your knees as you collapse. Your phone slips and clatters on the ground but your fingers scramble from it immediately.

You’re gasping, pressing buttons and swiping again and again but the call has disappeared. The call log is empty; there’s no trace of him at all.

But it was him!

It was Jeno.

You heard him clear as day. He said your name.

Or…maybe you heard a hallucination?

There’s no way it could have been him, right?

He’d dead.

You’re broken from your frenzied state when your mom enters the room.

“Honey, I heard something. Is everything okay?”

“Y–Yeah…” you pick yourself up as she enters. “I just dropped my phone.”

“Okay, baby. Be careful with it,” her warm arms wrap around your shoulders as she guides you to your bed. You slip under the covers and she places your phone on your bedside table. “Get some sleep, okay? It’s a big day tomorrow.”

You nod and swallow the fear bubbling at the back of your throat.

The only thing on your mind is Jeno and his voice and his breathing and how on earth he was on the other end of your phone but you manage to convince your mother that you’re okay and she tucks you under the blankets, switching off the lamp before leaving you in a dark and empty room.

Just when you thought you could start building it up once more, your world comes crashing down all over again.

***

“Have a good day at school, sweetie.” Your father kisses your forehead before you leave the car.

He drives away with a worried look on his face and despite you telling him numerous times on the way here, you’re fine.

Or so, you think you’re fine.

After last night, you’re not so sure you can hold it all in through the day.

Upon waking up, you realised the phone call must have been a dream, or even a hallucination because you longed for Jeno so much.

You were so close to telling your parents about it but you knew they’d have thought you finally lost your mind and that was the last thing you wanted.

You promised them last night that things would change.

Holding onto something bizarre like the phone call would only hold you back.

So, you hold tightly onto the straps of your bag and walk into school. A few looks are spared at you here and there — they don’t bother you too much but when you arrive in your class, the entire class falls silent.

It’s the teacher who first approaches you. You head up to their desk to discuss how far behind you are before the bell rings and you make your way to your seat.

You try so hard not to look at the empty seat beside it, Jeno’s seat.

It’s fine, you say to yourself. This is all fine.

Perhaps the self–convincing worked wonders because you make it through the morning without breaking down due to Jeno’s empty presence next to you. Sure, it was hard to focus and you realised how stressful it would be to catch up on all of your classes but you made it through.

Only minor conversations are exchanged with your friends; none of them dare to mention Jeno. They tell you to ask them if you ever need help or to hang out with them if you’re ever lonely but they don’t mention Jeno. And that makes you a million times more lonely.

It’s as if everyone has forgotten about him already, and even if they do remember him, they don’t dare talk about him, like he’s some curse.

You figure eating some lunch will take the bitter taste away from your mouth and you sit down with a small circle of people. You pull out the lunch your mother packed for you and your heart warms at the small I love you post–it note she tucked between your sandwich.

A smile attempts to creep onto your face.

It’s not so bad. It’s all fine.

You keep telling yourself that yet, fine doesn’t sound like a word that exists anymore when your eyes lay upon the red apple your mother packed in your lunch.

It’s just an apple but it feels like the end of the world.

Because it’s not your apple.

It’s Jeno’s.

You hate apples.

And Jeno loved them.

Your throat swells and your breath becomes stuck as if the apple itself had lodged its way in.

“YN, are you okay?”

You look up and everyone is staring at you.

The pity on their faces says everything. One look at the apple and one look at your glossy eyes are enough to show them that everything is not fine. Everything is, in fact, awful.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

You dart up, almost tripping over your seat while you rush to the nearest toilets. A few people are there but the make a swift exit upon seeing your tears. You don’t hear if they ask if you’re okay, nor do you hear if they say anything else.

You slam the door to the cubicle shut and wait for silence outside before you begin sobbing.

The pain in your chest tears you open and your whole body wracks with grief.

It hurts so bad.

Why won’t it go away?

Why did a stupid apple have to make you feel this way?

Nothing in this world is free from the influence Jeno had on you. Nothing will ever be the same without him.

“Jeno,” you sniffle. “Jeno…”

You’re catching your breaths in hiccups when you feel a vibration in your pocket. Assuming it’s one of your friends to check on you, you pull your phone only to see another unknown caller.

Time freezes for a second.

But you break it just in time to answer the call.

“Jeno…”

“…”

“Jeno… is it really you?”

“…YN?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, covering your mouth. “Jeno!”

“YN…”

“W–Where are you? Jeno, I miss you so much!”

“I’m… somewhere.”

For a moment, you cut off all your surroundings to focus only on his voice. It’s deep, plagued by fatigue with gentle trembles. But you only hear his voice. Nothing else.

No background chatter, no passing vehicles.

Absolutely nothing.

“Jeno, are you… alive?”

You don’t dare to even breathe whilst waiting for his answer. These last few months are all a joke, his death wasn’t real and he’s really alive somewhere.

He has to be.

Or else why would he be on the phone with you right now?

“I… I died, didn’t I?”

A sob bursts from you and rivers pour from your eyes.

What the hell is happening?

“You can’t be dead if you’re talking to me. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“No, I… I remember the accident.”

“Wha—, then how are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know, I just heard you calling me. So, I answered.”

“No, you called me. I answered you.”

“YN, please…”

“Please what, Jeno? What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“I don’t know, it’s all…empty.”

This can’t be real. How can he be talking to you if he’s dead?

“What do you see?”

“Nothing. Everything is nothing. I can’t see anything.”

“Can you feel anything?”

“No…”

“Can you move?”

“My body… it’s like it’s not here with me. It’s just… me.”

“What about noise? Can you hear anything?”

“I hear your voice.”

You pant heavily. You can’t comprehend this. In no way is it possible to speak to someone who died months ago.

“YN?”

His voice is softer, like a child. You despise how vulnerable he sounds. You want nothing more than to find him and keep him safe with you forever.

“Yes?”

“…I’m scared.”

You could have bled yourself out with tears by now as the emotions erupt from you. If this is real or not, you don’t care.

You just want Jeno.

“I’m here, okay? Don’t be scared, Jeno. I’m right here.”

His breathing picks up on the other end and you can’t take it. if he really is dead, if this is his ghost speaking to you, you can’t imagine how terrified he must be.

“I’m right here, Jeno. Don’t hang up.”

You wipe your tears and clean your snotty nose, promising Jeno you aren’t going anywhere but the door to the toilets open and in flows the chatter of some other students.

Completely hushed, you look at the screen of your phone to make sure the call is still ongoing while you wait for them to leave but instead, a blank screen shows up.

You prod your phone, dissecting your call app to find Jeno but there is no longer an ongoing call. It shows up empty in the call log just like it did last night.

Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes to clear your vision and frustration fills every inch of your body.

Why is this happening? Why did he disappear again?

You can’t be dreaming this; his voice… it was real, it felt so real.

But he was gone all over again.

***

Jeno.

Every second of every day, it’s Jeno.

He consumes your body, your mind and your soul despite not being here to do it.

You parents have noticed your gloominess. They had hoped it would finally get better for you but it’s still the same. The only difference now is that you’re going to school.

Two weeks have passed since the phone call in the school toilets. And two weeks have passed since you last heard from Jeno; if it was really him.

Some days, you’re convinced it was all down to your mind playing tricks on you. And if so, you despise your mind for being so cruel.

The other days, you believe he really was speaking to you. It’s no doubt the Ouija board was behind his phone calls. It makes sense.

Today is one of the former days, however. Your morning was so and so — breakfast with your parents and then school. The afternoon was tiring and the evening is somewhat relaxing.

And lunch time has become your least favourite time of the day.

The daunting sight of the apples your mom packs in your lunch every day lingers even after the sky darkens.

It would be so much easier if you just told your mom that you don’t like apples.

But that would mean you and Jeno would no longer be the only ones who knew your little secret. Ignorance is bliss, you think.

If there’s one thing he took to his grave, you know it was this.

***

Bzz.

Your eyes fly to your phone immediately.

You’ve been jolty for days so your rapid movements don’t alert your parents who are used to it by now, and your heart swells when you see another unknown caller ringing you.

Just when you were thinking of him during the movie you were watching with your parents, he called again.

Or maybe he didn’t. It could just be a random call.

You close the bedroom door behind you and settle on the edge of your bed.

Taking a deep breath, you don’t wait any longer and answer the call.

“Jeno?”

“YN.”

You gasp. “Hi…”

“Hey…”

It’s silent for a few moments, nothing but a sea of emptiness.

“It’s so good to hear your voice, baby,” he says.

“Oh, Jeno,” you sob. “It’s so good to hear you. I miss you so much!”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he shushes you. “It’s okay. You don’t need to cry.”

He spends the next few minutes trying to settle your tears, all the while trying to hide his own shaky voice.

“There you go,” he praises you. “All better now.”

You hum with a nod, not that he can see you but you’re sure he can feel it.

“Good girl.”

Oh, God. You could melt in the ground from hearing his voice again.

“Now,” he starts. “you wanna explain to me what the hell is going on?”

You bite back sobs while trying to explain the last few months to him. About the accident, about his death, about the Ouija board. It terrifies you. How exactly is a dead person supposed to take the news that they’re dead?

But Jeno takes it all with a grain of salt.

In a way, he explains, he knew it all along.

“So, let me get this straight. I died so you played with the Ouija board and now you can talk to me.”

You hum. “That’s right.”

“Wow,” he huffs. “I didn’t think you’d actually have the balls to do it.”

“Hey, the only reason I never did it sooner was because you were too scared!”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“Yes, you were!” you exclaim, smiling as if you’re speaking to him right next to you. “You’re such a scaredy–cat.”

He grumbles. Because he knows you’re right.

“But it’s okay because you’re my scaredy–cat.”

It feels odd talking to him like normal, like he’s not dead. Like all those late night calls you spent together before the world you knew was snatched from you.

“I hope you didn’t say that at my funeral.” He mocks and you freeze up. It’s admirable that he can talk lightly about all of this, to pretend that speaking to you right now is normal but his words lock you up. “YN, you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Oh, I thought you’d gone again.”

A shudder slivers its way up your spine. He must be just as scared to hear your voice disappear as you were to his.

“I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again if it upsets you.”

“Hm, it’s okay. We can talk about it if you want,” you tell him. “But I don’t have much to say about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” you bite your lip. “I didn’t go to your funeral.”

You hear him inhale deeply, stealing the air right from you.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “It must have been so hard for you. Don’t blame yourself.”

Easier said than done.

You only have yourself to blame.

Everyone in the town attended Jeno’s funeral. Everyone but the girl he loved so much.

Tears build in your eyes again and as if he could see them, he says “let’s not talk about this, okay? It’s getting late.”

You sniffle, wiping away the wetness.

“Do you need to go to bed?”

“Yeah…” you whisper. “I have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, why don’t you get into bed, hm?”

You stretch your limbs while keeping the phone attached to your ear as you settle under you covers.

“Comfy?”

“Yes.”

A fatigued smile lingers on your face. Just like all the times he slept over, it feels like he’s right here with you.

“Jeno?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Can you stay here with me?”

“I’m right here, YN. Not going anywhere.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“That’s not up to me.” He says, somewhat bitterly.

“Then… can you at least stay until I fall asleep?”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Until you fall asleep.”

***

A sleepy smile finds its way onto your face. You’re freshly washed and tucked under the covers with your phone pressed to your ear again.

Some time has passed and you’ve been talking to Jeno at any chance you can get. The calls only happen a few times a week, but they have become your number one source of sustenance. Especially when he calls before you go to bed.

It feels so good to hear his voice again.

“Did you have a nice shower?”

“Mmh,” you hum. “It was nice.”

“I bet,” Jeno chuckles. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you tell him. “I went to see the cats today.”

“You did?” he asks with a hint of excitement. “How are they?”

“They’re good.”

“And… my mom? My sister.”

“They’re good, too.”

“Just good?”

You swallow nervously. It’s not the first time he’s asked about them and it’s not the first time you told him plainly that they are good. You figured he’d start pressing for more sooner or later.

“Yeah, I mean, they’re as good as they can be.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, we don’t talk much anymore. I only speak to them when I go to see the cats but I think they’re doing okay. They don’t really mention anything, they just get on with life.”

“Hm,” Jeno murmurs. “Do they ever… talk about me?”

“I’m sure they do. They just don’t do it when I’m around.”

“Oh…”

“They’re doing well, though. I promise. I heard your sister joined a sports team. And your mom’s still going to work.”

“Good, that’s what I want,” you feel a pin stabbing your heart. “I don’t want to hold them back. I don’t want to hold anyone back, not even you.”

“I… I know,” you mutter. You don’t know if it’s Jeno holding you back, or your refusal to let Jeno go, but you are miles behind everyone else.

“I’m sorry, I ruined the mood.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say while trying to conceal the swelling of your throat. The only good thing about him not being here is him not being able to see you tear up so easily.

“Let’s change the topic,” he says. “How are classes?”

“They’re fine. School is still a pain in the ass, though.”

“I trust you on that one,” he chuckles. “I’m glad I don’t need to go anymore.”

“I’m glad you’re happy leaving me to suffer alone in Mr. Kim’s algebra.”

“Oh, is someone being sarcastic now?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “Maybe not.”

“As secretive as ever.”

“Don’t you know it,” you giggle. “And speaking of secrets, my mom’s still packing apples in my lunch.”

“Ah, I miss your apples.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby.”

You hum sweetly, fatigue slowly taking over your body once more. He puts you to sleep soundly every night.

“You should go to bed, now.” He says.

“I don’t want to. I wanna keep talk to you.”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” he sniggers. “What else do you want to talk about?”

“They’re showing your favourite movie at the cinema,” you tell him. “You know, that super cheesy horror you made me watch a million times.”

“Aww, no way! I’d drag you to go see it again if I was there.”

“I’d rather you not,” you giggle. “I’ve seen it way too many times.”

“And each time is a blessing.”

“A blessing? Absolutely not, Jeno. The movie is awful.”

“How dare you? That movie is one of the best ever made.”

“Don’t make me laugh, Jeno or I’ll never fall asleep at this rate —”

“Hey, YN. It’s late, are you in bed?” your mom enters your room. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Didn’t know you were on the phone.”

Your eyes widen, hand on your heart to relieve the shock. But that only makes you seem suspicious to your mother.

“Who are you on the phone with?” she whispers.

“No one.”

You bite your lip and wait for her to leave so you can continue talking to Jeno, but she doesn’t.

“Who is it?”

“No one, mom.”

“It’s certainly someone, YN. Is it one of your friends?”

“It’s none of your business, mom.”

You regret the attitude in your tone but you need her to leave or your connection with Jeno will disappear again.

“Are you seeing someone new?”

“Mom, what?!” you shout. “No! I’m not seeing anyone!”

“Darling, getting angry is only making me more worried. Who’s on the phone?”

“It’s no one.”

“You promised to talk to me, okay? You can tell me anything.”

Your teeth gnaw at the inside of your lip. Despite you flipping out on numerous occasions and closing yourself off from your parents, they’ve been nothing but supportive. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her, right?

“I… I was talking to Jeno.”

You don’t understand what emotions cross her eyes in that moment but you’re sure they aren’t good.

“What do you mean, sweetie? Talking to Jeno?”

“Yeah, I… I played with the Ouija board a few weeks ago and we’ve been talking since. Look.”

You hold your phone up to her, waiting for her reaction. But she doesn’t give you one.

When you flip the phone to face you, your heart sinks into the depths of your stomach.

“No! No, no, no!”

You gasp, eyes filling as you scramble with your phone.

Seconds.

That’s all it takes for him to be snatched away from you. Your mother shushes you, trying to ease your tantrum.

“It’s fine, baby. It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not okay! Nothing is okay anymore!”

You’re frantically swiping your phone, prodding it so hard with your finger that it hurts. The sight of you obsessing over your phone like you’re about to die without it terrifies your mother.

“YN, please calm down.”

“I am calm,” you seethe.

“Take a deep breath, okay? You don’t need to behave like this.”

She wraps her arms around you as an attempt to console you but you shove her away. She made Jeno disappear and you look like nothing but a crazy fool talking to a ghost.

But you don’t care.

You only want to hear his voice again but when your phone refuses to connect you with him, you throw it to the ground, scaring your mother.

She’s silent for a few moments, trying to comprehend what the hell is going on with you.

“Baby… do you need to see a doctor?”

“No.” you grumble. Your head is in your hands, fingers nipping at your scalp. You didn’t get to say goodbye to him and who knows, tonight could well be the last time you hear from him. “I want to see Jeno.”

“But you can’t see him.”

“I was talking to him,” you yell, standing on your feet to pick up your phone only to throw it away again when you see he hasn’t called you back. “I was just talking to him, mom! You made him go away!”

Pacing around the room frantically, you unsure of what has come over you but your fists fly to your hair. You mom begs you to stop but you keep screaming the same words again.

He was here.

He was talking to me.

It’s your fault he’s gone.

“YN, stop this nonsense! Jeno is dead!”

You freeze, looking her in the eyes with nothing but anger.

“Get out.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Get out! Get out of my room! Go!”

“YN!” she yells and your entire body tenses; she’s never raised her voice like this before, especially not at you. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

You purse your lips, fighting back your tears though the effort was all for nothing as they slip down your cheeks.

“What has gotten into you?” she squeals. “How long do we have to wait for you to be normal again? We’re trying so hard to be here for you but you keep pushing us away! And now… now you’re talking to Jeno?”

“I was talking to him.” You sob, begging her to believe you but it’s a lost cause. No one will ever believe you.

She pulls you down to sit on the edge of your bed with her and this time, you don’t push her away.

“Talk to me, sweetie. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I promise, I’m not lying. I really was talking to him.”

“Okay,” she mutters. “Okay.”

As much as she says it, you know she doesn’t understand your words, but she goes along with it.

“What else, hm? Whatever you need to get off your chest, just tell me.”

You take the tissue she hands you and wipe your sopping face with it.

“I hate apples.”

“What?”

“I hate apples. I hate them so much!”

“I thought you love apples.” She squanders.

“No, I hate them.”

“But you always ate them when I packed them in your lunch.”

“Jeno always ate them for me. He always traded with me,” you sob. “He always ate my apples for me.”

“Oh, baby,” she kisses your temple. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s not her fault. In fact, it’s yours for never telling her but it feels like an ocean has been lifted from your shoulders after finally telling her.

“I won’t pack you apples anymore, okay?”

You nod.

“Now, what else?”

You shrug. You don’t have many words left to say but the tears keep coming.

“Would it help if you went to see him?”

“What?” your heart skips a beat. “See him?”

“You… you haven’t visited his grave yet. Maybe if you went — ”

“No!”

“YN…”

“No,” you repeat. “I don’t want to go.”

“Please sweetie, if you keep pushing him away, you’ll never get over this.”

“Pushing him away?” you cry. “I’m not pushing him away. I’m holding onto him. I’m the only one who’s still holding on to him.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’re not the only one who’s hurting. Think about his parents, his sister. Hell, even I’m still hurting but we just have to move on.”

“Yeah, move on and forget about him,” you scoff.

“No one is forgetting him, sweetie,” she strokes your hair. “He’s still here in our hearts and our memories but we can’t let his death make us lose our minds like this.”

“I’m not losing my mind, mom. I really was talking to him.”

You could tell her a million times and you know she still wouldn’t believe you.

Maybe you are losing your mind.

She picks up your phone from the ground; it’s a miracle it’s still alive.

“I’m keeping this for now.”

“But, mom — ”

“No buts.”

“What if he calls me again?”

“Then I’ll answer him.”

You want to argue more, you want to snatch the phone right out of her hand but you’re too exhausted. Everything is going to go downhill from here and right now, sleeping seems like the best way to escape all of the pain.

***

“She’s getting better,” the school counsellor tells your parents. They let out a sigh of relief.

The three of them speak like you’re not sitting right there with them.

“Her grades are improving and her teachers are saying her attitude in class is better. I also heard you joined a few clubs, is that right?”

They all turn to you and you nod slowly.

“That’s great,” you mom exclaims and grips your hand.

Yeah, it’s great. It’s all great.

You’re just like everyone else now.

You’re moving on.

Seeing a counsellor was just the beginning of it all. You’ve been seeing them for a month or so, several times a week. Who knew grievance counselling would work so fast?

Well, who knew you were faking it the whole time?

You hated it at first, putting up a front with the counsellor but you figured things would move faster if you just showed everyone what they wanted to see.

Your phone has since been confiscated so you spent most of your time these past weeks studying and getting your grades higher. You spent some time socialising with close friends and you even took part in extra–curricular to really put the cherry on the top.

Fake it till you make it, or so they say.

“I think it may be a good idea to give her the phone back,” the counsellor says, catching your wandering mind. “Of course, it is still up to you as her parents but it would help her feel normal again.”

“What do you say, YN?”

You shrug. “Whatever.”

Of course, you want your phone back. You want every chance to speak to Jeno again but an entire month has passed since you last spoke and frankly, you’re scared to hear his voice again.

Or worse, you’re scared you’ll never hear it again.

After a few minutes, you leave the office with your parents. The rest of the day goes on as normal and you act as if everything is fine.

And when you get home, you eat dinner quietly, silently gnawing at the skin of your lips until your parents finally return your phone.

“I want it in our room at bedtime,” they say. “You can have it back in the morning.”

You nod and take it from them solemnly.

At this point, you’re not confident that life feels immediately better having your phone again but you want to at least try one more time.

You race up to your room and close the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of your mattress and glare at the phone in your hand.

“Jeno,” you whisper. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing happens.

“You can call me again now. Please…”

Hours pass by in a moment while you wait for his response, calling his name again and again but he doesn’t return your call.

That last time was the last time.

He never rang your phone again since — although your parents had possession of it, they answered every call and none of them were from Jeno.

Everyone had convinced you it was all hallucinations. You were grieving so bad that your mind conjured up his voice to act like he was still here.

And you’re beginning to convince yourself of that too.

It’s not so bad to admit it.

Life isn’t so bad without him. It still hurts but you’re being carried along with everyone else instead of constantly wallowing in your sea of self–pity.

Besides, life is a distraction.

The more you focus on mundane things, the less you think about Jeno and as guilty as it feels, it’s the only way to mask the painful longing for him.

You exhale slowly and deeply.

You’ve tried so many times to let him go.

Maybe this will be the last.

***

Letting go of Jeno is great.

Perfect, in fact.

Or so everybody tells you.

You’re surrounded by sweaty bodies that are completely out of their minds.

Despite their cheers and loud singing, you feel nothing but frustration.

You were surprised when your parents allowed you to go to a party. The only reason you asked them was to show them how well you’re getting on with life and you were fully ready for them to shut down your request.

But instead, they pushed you to go.

“It’s fantastic,” they gleamed. “You’re doing so much better without him.”

Just like everyone else says.

“It’s so good to see you here. Letting go of Jeno is the best thing you can do. Let’s go get a drink.”

Well, it’s not that you’d fully let go of him yet. That is still to come.

But you act like it. You act like everything is fine and although it’s not bearable, putting on a front numbs the pain.

A different type of pain distracts you in this moment, though.

The loud music causes throbbing in your head and you regret coming instantly. Jeno always said parties are a sham and he was never wrong. Why else would the two of you always ditch weekend raves to do something else?

“Lighten up, buttercup!” one of your friends says to you. She’s completely wasted but she’s having a good time.

You take a cup from her make your way up the stairs. It’s a little bit quieter and much less busy. You collapse on the floor outside of a room.

With your knees pulled up to your chest, you watch as others flutter around you.

You wonder if getting drunk would help. They all seem to be having a good time and you know alcohol is a way to escape reality.

The smell of alcohol isn’t appealing but it’s masked with the sweet smell of coke. As is the taste when you swallow it. You don’t know how much is in there but you down the full cup.

So much for promising your parents you wouldn’t drink.

You rest your head against the wall, feeling the vibrations shatter through your mind and in no time, you feel the drink take over.

Your body is abuzz, the vibrations don’t stop and you feel your conscious swaying back and forth with your body. Giggling, you make it to your feet and stumble around, holding onto the wall for much needed balance.

“Who knew you were such a lightweight?” someone chuckles and you spin around.

“Jeno?”

“Nope,” the guy sips from his cup. “He’s dead, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” you mumble. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nods his head in the opposite direction.

You mutter a thanks and start stumbling towards the bathroom but you feel a presence behind you. The guy is following you but your mind is slow to react. Upon getting to the bathroom, he enters with you, shutting the door behind you both.

“What are you —”

There’s a grin on his face and you feel your skin pricking when he touches your sides.

“Stop it!” you shout and flail your arms to push him off. “Stop!”

You kick him in his shin and he keels over.

“Ow!”

Serves him right. You kick him again but this time he backs up. Both of your bodies stumble drunkenly and when he dives for you, you brace yourself for the impact.

But it doesn’t come.

He stops in his tracks when ringing fills the air of the small restroom.

You feel it in your pocket, the vibrations and you pull out your phone.

You’re about to heave at the sight of it.

Unknown Caller.

The guy tries to snatch your phone but you kick him away, almost sobered up just from seeing the screen of your phone.

You duck under his arm and run out of the bathroom, down the stairs and out into the night.

Terrified, you look at your phone again.

He’s still calling.

You place and hand to your chest to calm your beating heart and answer the call.

“YN!”

“Jeno!”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I… I….” you can’t finish your words.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, repeating it a second time for yourself. “I’m okay.”

“What happened? Why are you out of breath?”

“I was running.”

“Running from what?”

“Just… a guy… at a party.”

“What did he do?!”

“Nothing! He just tried making a move on me but I stopped him.”

Jeno sighs in relief.

“God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jeno. Are you?”

You collapse onto the grass and lay down, staring at the shimmering stars.

“I’m fine, I just feel like I’ve woken up after a really long time.”

You bite your lip guiltily. All these weeks of you calling out to him, he never answered and you thought you were finally done with it all.

But you must have called him subconsciously during the event in the bathroom. And he saved you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I never did.”

It’s all your fault.

Jeno would have passed peacefully if you hadn’t have called him back. From the Ouija board to the phone calls; every time he called, it was because you needed him.

And the fact is, you will always need him.

But Jeno deserves better.

He deserves to move on even when you don’t want to.

“You saved me, tonight, Thank you. And I’m sorry I keep calling you,” you say to him. “It would be so much better if you were still here.”

Jeno sighs.

“I can’t always be with you. I can’t always save you like I did tonight, like I did when we were five years old. That’s why I need you to be brave. I need you to look after yourself no matter what.”

“Jeno…”

“I need to go soon. I’m so sorry I can’t stay with you longer but know that I love you. I’ll always love you even when I’m not here.”

“No, don’t go,” you sob. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I need to go, YN. I can’t stay like this forever. You can’t, either.”

“But —”

“YN,” he speaks. “Listen to me. I promise I will always be watching over you. But you can’t keep calling on me to be with you. I’m not meant to be in your world anymore.”

“Jeno…”

Your entire body shakes with sobs. You’ve pushed away the truth for so long and to hear him say it, to hear him say he’s not yours anymore, it breaks you on every level.

“It hurts, Jeno.”

“I know. I know it does, baby but it’ll get better, I promise.”

“It won’t, Jeno. I’ve tried for so long and it still hasn’t gotten better. It still hurts so much.”

“It will,” you close your eyes and imagine his arms around you. You’ll do anything to make yourself believe he’s here with you. “It will get better.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I’m not scared, YN.”

“But I am. I’m scared to be alone again. I’m scared of what’ll happen to you. I’m scared of what comes after.”

“And that’s okay,” he shushes you and you can feel his breaths against your ears. “It’s okay for you to be scared. But you’re a strong girl. You’ve held on for so long. Now it’s time for you to let go.”

His words are like a melody to your ears and your soul shatters knowing this will be the last time you’ll hear his sweet voice.

You don’t want to, but you have to. For both of your sakes.

“Okay, Jeno” you sniffle. “I’m letting go now.”

***

When people tell you the grass is greener on the other side, you would never have thought you could feel those words as strongly as you do right now.

They sink deep into your bones.

The cemetery gives a dullness to the air but you’re certain the grass is greener than whatever lays beneath it, Jeno included.

You wonder if he passed peacefully, if there was another place he could go to. One where green grass still exists.

Your first time in a graveyard… it feels surreal. Much like the last half a year. Being here feels like a second awakening, like you finally have control again. And it starts with seeing him, speaking to him. The real him.

The grass guards many a grave and you weave your way through the headstones with a flower bunch in your arm. You read the names of them, none of them engraving in your memory until you see his.

Lee Jeno.

Your heart tenses, chest swelling with emotion.

All of your senses turn go into overdrive.

His presence surrounds all of you, engulfing all of your senses in the feeling of him like the days when he stood right next to you.

With trembling knees, you fall to the ground and let your fingers sink into the mud. You’re here, you’re finally here.

The entire world has convinced you that it would be so much easier after you visit his grave but you’re struggling to understand how that could happen when it hurts so much.

Letting go of Jeno was never going to be easy, you know that.

But you at least thought the pain would grow more bearable with time.

It’s been weeks since you heard his voice and you want nothing more than to have his strong arms wrap around you and hear his whispers of comfort, promises that he’d never let you feel an ounce of this pain again.

But you know it won’t come.

It never will.

This pain is something you need to live with now.

You place the flowers on the soil, letting your hand linger over him, too afraid to touch but too afraid to let go.

“Jeno,” you whisper. A single tear drops onto his grave. “It’s me.”

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