"When I thought you'd forgotten me."

"It felt worse than death."

_________________________

AHRIN

"Jimin?"

He stops tapping his feet against the grass. His voice is light and sweet, and I blink when he lifts his head off my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

The scar on the side of his head. It was like a reminder, from the car crash. And it wouldn't ever fade away.

"Did it— um. Did it hurt when you died?"

"For a second." He murmurs, going back to lean himself against me. "But after that, there was nothing."

Jimin locks his fingers into my hand.

"But it doesn't matter, 'cause I can still be with you. And that's all that matters."

I bite my lip.

"I'm still sorry."

"It's not your fault." He says softly, placing one of the fall leaves onto my hand. "Don't be sorry, okay?"

"It makes me sad, then."

"Okay," I swallow up the lump in my throat. "Then I won't be sorry."

He giggles.

Then he shyly presses a kiss against my cheek, but I can't smile when I look up at the sun setting in the skyline.

I know I need to leave him soon.

"Next year." He holds out a pinky, eyes glowing in the warm colors of sunset. "Same day, autumn. You'll be here, won't you?"

"Of course."

I wouldn't dare to miss the only day I could see Jimin. For the last three years, he was dead to everyone else except for me.

He pushes his lips together, and there's a desperation in his brown eyes that I know I'll never understand.

"Don't forget me."

_________________________

It's November, the 12th.

Three days before the 15th, the only day in the year that I could see Jimin.

And we were moving.

"Mom, I want to stay." I say firmly, planting my feet in the living room. She just scoffs, stacking another box into the truck.

"And I already told you no."

"It doesn't matter!" I yell, voice rising from panic. "You can't make me go anywhere— I'm over eighteen. That means I don't have to go with you."

"So you'll live in the streets?"

"Just until the fifteenth." I plead, putting my hands together. "Please. I promise."

And my mother sighs. For a hopeful second, I actually start thinking she might let me stay when she speaks up.

"Is it because of that boy again?"

"What?"

"Park Jimin." She says, crossing her arms. "That boy who— was it four years ago? The boy who died from a car accident."

I stutter.

"I just—"

"You need to let him go." She says, clicking her tongue. "Forget about him, Ahrin. It's been four years— you can't hold on to a dead person for the rest of your life."

No, no, no.

Jimin would be heartbroken if I didn't come on the fifteenth. He would be devastated— and I couldn't. I couldn't let him be that way.

"I'm staying."

"No, you are not."

________________________

The fourteenth.

I'm now in Seoul, more than two hundred miles away from Busan. And I'd had less than a day to figure out how I was going to run away from home and get myself all the way to Jimin's grave.

In the end, I couldn't come up with anything.

So I just go.

A small backpack over my shoulders, I silently make my way out of the house the moment the clock hits midnight.

My parents are asleep, tired from all the moving we'd done from the last few days.

It takes me an hour to walk over to the nearest train station.

But I can't find a way in.

"Hello?" I ask, tapping a stranger I don't know on the street. I never talked to people I didn't know, but this was an exception.

"I, um, thought that this train station operated at night. Where do I find a way in?"

The man makes a confused expression.

"Train stations here don't operate at this late at night."

Then he frowns.

"How old are you? Should you be out this late?"

"I'm eighteen." I assure him, but he looks unconvinced. And I start to panic, when he pulls out a phone.

I was eighteen, but I looked younger than my age.

So I turn and run.

He calls for me, but I just run until I don't see him behind me anymore. My breaths run short, and I stop at the curve of a street.

This was just getting worse and worse.

Then my eyes widen when I remember, another way to cover the distance to Busan before tomorrow.

Taxi.

I could wait for one of the late-night taxis.

So I stand by one of the larger streets, away from the man. It's dark, but there's still people walking around— there always seemed to be people in Seoul, even if it was this late.

And for the next ten minutes, I wait.

Then a car actually stops.

"Are you looking for a ride?" A man says, his brows furrowed when I start nodding. "To where? Are you getting home?"

I pause.

If I told him I was going to Busan, he wouldn't believe me. Or he would just try to report me as a runaway like the other man.

"Busan, please. I, um..."

I force an embarrassed laugh.

"I accidentally missed my plane— a few hours ago. And I needed to get home by tomorrow."

His expression looks like he's unsure.

But finally, I push down the urge to pump my fist when he signals me to get in. I'd actually got this to work out. And I'd brought enough money to pay—

"There she is!"

I freeze.

It's that man from earlier, and I suck in a harsh gasp when I see a police officer behind him.

No.

"I knew it." The taxi driver sighs, shaking his head. He grips me by the arm when I try to run away again.

"Go back home, kid."

"W-Wait, I can't." I stutter, but everything I say sounds like a feathery excuse. And I couldn't say the truth.

"We'll find your parents soon enough." The officer says, and I push down the harsh tears stinging at my eyes when I realize I'm done for.

I wouldn't be able to see Jimin.

I'd broken my promise.

_________________________

JIMIN

The sun's setting.

And the tears I'd held back from the last hours come falling out, streaming down my cheeks and into my pale hands.

It can't be like this.

She wouldn't do this to me.

I cry until the half of the sun disappears into the horizon. It's cold and alone here, quiet except for the sound of me crying.

Had she found someone else? Maybe now she'd gotten tired of coming every year.

I was going to celebrate her eighteen.

I'd even thought it all out, except now it didn't matter.

She wasn't coming.

I cry harder as I curl my legs into my chest, shaking against my own gravestone. And it feels like my entire body is breaking apart.

I was nothing without her.

Would she even remember me?

__________________________

AHRIN

This time, I know.

And it's perfect.

It's early in the morning when I leave, going straight to the train I'd ticketed a few days ago. The ticket's clutched in my hand, my parents asleep back at home.

Everything goes too smoothly.

"Thank you." The woman says when I hand her the ticket, opening the way in for me. She doesn't even blink an eye, when my heart's crashing in anxiety.

"T-Thanks."

And I'm in.

My phone's on silent mode, and I don't even think about looking at it during the two hour trip.

My parents had probably realized that I was gone by now.

The clock hits nine in the morning when I get off at Busan. The surroundings are familiar here, and I breathe— trying to calm myself down a bit.

I've been here before.

Jimin.

The excitement shows on my face as I break into a run, running towards where he was.

I'd waited so long to see him.

But I run too fast.

And because of that, I don't see the car turning around the corner.

The car doesn't see me either.

*END