Work Text:
Han Jisung died 1999 in a car accident. He was the first and last person that ever loved me.
Since 1999 I write in my diary everyday. Every sentence is about him.
For 26 years, his ghost has followed me like a shadow. Some people would say I'm haunted but is it really haunted if the curse is solely and exclusively me?
He doesn't let me go. I never wanted to let go. A red yarn, wrapped around my finger. A yarn with an ending.
My therapist said I have to leave the past in the past but is it really the past if I can still feel his warm breath on my neck. His low voice pounding in my ear and his strong grip around my wrist.
I close my eyes and it's 1999.
"No one is going to notice, just trust me." As if I ever did anything else. As if I was even able to do anything but hand him my bloody heart with bare hands.
"Don't be a loser.", he giggles and his eyes sparkle a little. The moon is reflecting in them, but sometimes I pretend they shine all by themselves.
I feel his body heat from where he's touching me, a little loose, as if he knows I'd do anything as long as he asks.
I nod slowly. It's a bad idea. You don't need common sense to understand that. I did it anyways.
I give him the hammer. He strucks. Shards spring out of the glass. A red drop runs down his face. Instinctly, I reach out my arm to wipe it away.
He climbs through the hole, I follow. We don't talk. We never really had to. I followed him anyways.
After ten minutes, we're sitting sweaty and jittery on the sidewalk of a poorly lit alley. It smells like gasoline and hurt. Next to him, I only smell his suffocating sweet perfume. It smells like life.
His mouth is smeared with the melting ice cream in his hands and I can't bring myself to look away. He's hypnotising. If he noticed, he doesn't mention it. We don't need words. The sparkle in my eyes says enough.
Life stops for a heartbeat. But maybe I'm just imagining it. I stopped counting the seconds since he took up all the time in my life. I stopped counting the seconds until I couldn't anymore. I stopped counting the seconds, afraid I'd reach the end. Not when I still have so many seconds left for him.
A blink of an eye.
He jumps up and knocks off the dust off his short skirt, one his mom would kill him for. But that's why we're always together. We became our home.
He laughs. A deep, resounding sound full of life.
He laughs so much, he laughs for me. I only blink at him. I don't want to look away.
He starts to spin, the adrenaline in his body like a drug. His arms spread out while his eyes gaze at the sparkling night sky. Sometimes I imagine, it's the stars that are a reflection of his eyes.
The last thing I hear is the squeaking of a car and a scream until my eyes snap open and I find myself lying in my bed, breathing heavily. 26 years later.
Han Jisung died 1999 in a car accident. He was the first and last person that ever truly saw me.
Since 1999 I'm carrying a picture of us in my wallet. When people ask me, who he is, I whisper "A friend." No one needs to know who he is. My own memory is enough. He had always shined too bright for everyone else. Maybe it's the black hole inside of me that needed this light.
Since 1999 is my apartment full of your favourite CDs. Full of the books you had begged me to read. I know them word for word. It feels like a part of you is still here with me. I can't let you go.
Since 2007 I work at the Traffic Police. It's the first thing after your death I saw appeal in. The feeling of power tastes the best.
And after 26 years, I'm still in 1999. I can't live without you. I think you know that the best.