The phone rang softly in the quiet hospital room, its sound barely interrupting the stillness. Outside the window, the evening sun spilled long golden rays across sterile white walls. Machines beeped steadily in the background, a fragile rhythm reminding everyone that life was slipping away, one breath at a time.
"Hello," Yu-Jun answered, his voice calm, almost detached. His body, once strong and unyielding, now lay frail against the hospital bed. At just twenty-one years old, he stood at the edge of life—too young to face such an end.
He had fought—harder than most could ever imagine. Against the organization that stole everything from him. Against a destiny he never chose. Yet, in the end, even he couldn't defeat the one enemy that lingered above all others: time.
"Hey, buddy. How are ya?" came the familiar voice on the other end. It was light, playful on the surface, but Yu-Jun could hear the helplessness buried beneath. Ji-Hoon had always been terrible at hiding it.
"Yeah, good. What about you?" Yu-Jun replied, leaning back against the pillow. Lies came easily now. Even the simplest ones had become routine.
"Did the doctor… say anything?" Ji-Hoon asked after a pause, his tone careful, almost hesitant.
Yu-Jun closed his eyes, letting the silence stretch before whispering, "Yeah."
"What did they say?" Ji-Hoon pressed, a trace of anger in his concern.
"I don't have much time. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Even they don't know." Yu-Jun's gaze drifted to the ceiling, his words empty, his eyes even emptier.
Silence followed, so deep it felt as if the world itself had stopped. Then Ji-Hoon's voice returned, forced cheerfulness breaking through. "Do you know what's happening tonight?"
Yu-Jun blinked. "What's tonight?"
"The Gabrio meteor shower. It only happens once every seventy years. Let's watch it together. They say it's magical."
Magical? Yu-Jun almost laughed. In a world where technology bent reality and cities touched the skies, magic was just a word—an illusion of hope. But he didn't argue. Instead, he said, "Sure. Let's watch it."
"Alright. I'll see you soon," Ji-Hoon replied, his voice trembling despite his best effort to hide it.
"Yeah… we'll watch it together, Ji-Hoon. Just like we promised."
The line went dead. The room fell silent once more, the only sounds the faint beeping of the machines and the quiet ticking of the wall clock. Outside, twilight crept across the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of purple and orange. The world moved on, unaware his was ending.
Night fell. Ji-Hoon peeked nervously through the door of Room 387.
"Don't peek at other people, mister. This is a hospital," a nurse scolded lightly.
"Ah—haha—sorry," Ji-Hoon scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
"Don't peek, idiot. Just come in," Yu-Jun muttered, annoyed on the surface, though inside, warmth bloomed. His best friend was here.
"Hey, buddy. I'm here," Ji-Hoon said awkwardly as he stepped in.
"So, are we going to watch the Gabrio meteor shower?" Yu-Jun teased.
"Of course. Um… Miss Nurse, could you bring a wheelchair?" Ji-Hoon asked politely.
"Of course. Just a moment," she smiled. Watching them together, she couldn't help but think Yu-Jun was lucky to have such a friend.
While waiting, Ji-Hoon sat beside Yu-Jun's bed and grinned mischievously. "So, what are you going to wish for? A girlfriend, maybe?"
"No, dummy. I'll wish to become a girl just to dump you and make your life miserable. Hahaha!" Yu-Jun laughed, his eyes lighting up with rare mischief.
"Oh-ho, so that's your plan? You traitor!" Ji-Hoon pretended to punch him on the arm.
"Ouch! That hurts, idiot." Yu-Jun winced dramatically.
"Sorry!" Ji-Hoon panicked, but their eyes met, and within seconds, they both burst into laughter, like children again.
The nurse soon returned with the wheelchair. "Here you go."
"Thank you, Miss," Ji-Hoon said warmly.
"No need," she smiled.
Yu-Jun settled into the chair, and Ji-Hoon wheeled him toward the elevator. When the doors opened onto the rooftop, Ji-Hoon pushed the chair faster, spinning it like a rollercoaster.
"Wooo-hoo!" Ji-Hoon laughed.
"Idiot! We'll fall—hahaha!" Yu-Jun protested, his laughter chasing away the heaviness of the night.
"Don't worry. I'll fall with you!" Ji-Hoon grinned.
But then Yu-Jun tilted his head back and froze. "Wait. Ji-Hoon—look."
Above them, the heavens came alive. Countless stars streaked across the night, trails of light weaving like silver threads. The meteor shower spilled across the sky in brilliant patterns, a spectacle beyond words.
"Look at that," Ji-Hoon whispered, awestruck.
Yu-Jun's gaze softened. He didn't believe in magic. Not anymore. But in that moment, even he couldn't deny the beauty. Something deep within him stirred.
"You should make a wish, Yu-Jun," Ji-Hoon urged gently.
Yu-Jun hesitated. Then, softly, he whispered, "If there's a second life… I just want to live a better life."
The words lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable, as though the universe itself had heard. Ji-Hoon didn't reply, but silence spoke for him.
Later, back in the room, Ji-Hoon hesitated. "Can I… sit beside you tonight?" His voice trembled with sadness.
"Yes. I want that too," Yu-Jun smiled faintly.
Ji-Hoon climbed onto the bed and sat close. Yu-Jun whispered, "Can you hold my hand? Just for tonight. It feels cold."
Without a word, Ji-Hoon took his hand, gripping tightly.
"I want to tell you something…" Ji-Hoon murmured, resting his head beside him.
"Yes? What is it?" Yu-Jun's voice was heavy with sleep.
"…Nothing. I'll tell you tomorrow." Ji-Hoon's throat tightened.
"Okay. I'll wait," Yu-Jun whispered, drifting into sleep.
Morning.
"Mr. Ji-Hoon, wake up!" A nurse shook him urgently.
His eyes fluttered open to chaos—doctors, nurses, hushed urgency. His gaze landed on Yu-Jun. Still. Breathless. Gone.
A doctor looked at him solemnly. Just three words: "He's no more."
The world fell silent. Ji-Hoon's vision blurred. His chest tightened until he couldn't breathe. A single tear slipped down his cheek, falling onto Yu-Jun's lifeless face.
"Who… told you to go this early, you bastard?" Ji-Hoon's voice cracked, breaking into sobs. "Didn't you say you'd wait for me to tell you what I wanted? I… I love you, you dummy!"
He clung to Yu-Jun as nurses tried gently to pull him away. But grief rooted him, unshakable.
The Funeral
The hospital released the body after Ji-Hoon signed the papers. His hands shook as he wrote Yu-Jun's name for the last time, each letter heavier than stone. There was no one else to do it. No parents. No relatives. No one left in this world who cared for Yu-Jun except him.
The funeral home prepared the coffin—simple polished wood, lined with white cloth. Ji-Hoon paid with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of money he didn't even care about. What use was money now, when his only reason for earning, laughing, and living lay cold inside that box?
When the day came, the church was almost empty. No crowd. No family in black. No wailing relatives. Only silence. Only him.
The priest, kind but distant, spoke softly, his words echoing in the hollow space: "Though he leaves this world, he does not leave our hearts. May his soul find rest in the arms of the Lord."
But Ji-Hoon barely heard. His eyes never left the coffin. A lone photograph of Yu-Jun sat on top, smiling faintly, as though mocking the cruel stillness of his body inside.
Candles flickered weakly on either side, their flames swaying in the draft. White lilies were placed on the altar, but their beauty felt wrong, too alive in this house of mourning.
Ji-Hoon sat in the front pew, his fists clenched so tightly his nails cut into his palms. The silence of the empty church screamed louder than any sobbing crowd could have. It was unbearable.
When the time came, the priest asked gently, "Would you like to say a few words?"
Ji-Hoon rose on unsteady legs, his throat dry. He stepped to the coffin, laying a trembling hand on the polished wood. His voice cracked as he began.
"Yu-Jun… you had no one but me. And I… I only had you. You were my brother, my friend, my home. And now…" His voice broke into a sob. "Now you've left me alone in a world that feels so empty without you."
Tears blurred his vision, streaming down his cheeks. He lowered his head until his forehead rested on the coffin lid. "I don't know how to live without you. I don't know if I even want to."
When the service ended, Ji-Hoon followed the coffin to the graveyard. Only two gravediggers stood waiting. No family followed. No friends. Just the sound of crows in the distance and the crunch of his shoes against the gravel.
The coffin was lowered into the earth. The priest's voice carried: "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes."
Ji-Hoon picked up a handful of soil. His hand trembled violently as he let it fall. The sound of dirt striking the wood was like a knife twisting in his chest.
"Goodbye, Yu-Jun," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You were everything to me… my only love. If there is a next life… wait for me there. I'll find you."(If I had told him then, maybe the burden would've lifted. But I stayed silent. It became my greatest regret—that I never told him I loved him.)
The gravediggers worked silently, shoveling soil until the coffin disappeared from sight. Each thud of earth made Ji-Hoon's knees weaker, until finally, he fell onto them, sobbing into his hands.
There, in that lonely graveyard, with no one else to witness it, Ji-Hoon mourned the only person who had ever truly been his world.