[closed.] @justimajin - Tumblr Blog

The Solace Window

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Namjoon)

Genre: Angst

↳ 15.8k / Older Couple AU

Summary: Kim Namjoon is no more, and you are left behind as a 75 year old widow. Stuck in between experiencing grief and mourning your late husband, your search for solace seems more and more far-fetched. That is until you stumble upon widowed Jung Hoseok.

*Warnings: Depictions surrounding death, grief, depression, spousal loss, miscarriage, fertility issues, illness, growing older, familial issues, mistreatment of the elderly, old age homes. This story will deal with heavy topics and reader discretion is highly advised.

A/N: After much contemplation, I have decided to write this fic. It is very personal to me, and one that I really wanted to share.

He’s gone.

Kim Namjoon is laid to rest in the casket in an eternal sleep. His gray hair has been carefully combed back against his wrinkled skin, and he’s dressed in an elegant black suit, arms folded and resting on top of his chest. He wears a content expression, brows smoothed out and lips tightly shut.

He’s gone, forever.

A handful of individuals surround him; namely a couple in their late thirties clad entirely in black. The wife clutches onto her husband’s shirt, thick tears streaming down her face and tremors shuddering through her shoulders.

“D-Dad…” She chokes out, burying herself further into her husband’s embrace as he wraps his arms around her.

There are two small children with wide eyes, glancing between their mother and father in curiosity. Their gazes then flicker over to the rest of the people who have gathered, before looking back at the older lady sitting on the side, who holds a somber expression and far too much anguish in her eyes.

You can only watch as the service is completed and you have to say your farewells. You can only watch as you keep the deep ache in your chest at bay, attempting to keep yourself from crumbling. You can only watch as your loved ones are a mess, sobs echoing from the room.

You can only watch as your husband departs from this world, leaving you behind.

You are silent the entire ride home.

When the multiple cars arrive at the large complex, you already begin to carefully shift out of the vehicle, not waiting for anyone to help you out. Your cane hits against the pavement and you place pressure on it, moving slowly with a hunched back.

You trail along the sidewalk until meeting the front steps, cautiously raise your feet and walk on them one by one. Weakly pushing against the door, you tread towards the staircase, having no desire to eat and wanting to head straight to your room.

A gentle hand on your shoulder halts you.

Turning around, the woman stares back at you with a swollen but intentful gaze. She’s inherited your eyes and Namjoon’s smile, her expression scanning your features.

“Mom…” She calls out, but you don’t have the strength to hear her words.

“I’m tired, Naree.” You quietly whisper, and she moves her mouth as if to speak again, but her own words fizzle out. She simply nods, swivelling away as her eyes brim with water.

You gradually ascend onto the steps, pushing your cane against the wood before hauling your shaking feet upward. After a couple of moments, you manage to reach the top, shuffling your feet into your bedroom.

The bedroom you once shared with Namjoon.

There’s a double-sized bed in the middle with two dressers, one of which has Namjoon’s medications carefully stacked to the side, a small lamp and a book with a bookmark that he was in the midst of completing. There’s two picture frames off to the side, a much younger you with a huge smile hugging a shyer and much younger Namjoon, the snapshot taken seconds before he had accidentally stumbled and taken you down with him.

You move closer to the other dresser, the one that contains all of your belongings. Setting your cane securely against it, you slip into the covers, bringing them up to your chest until you’re completely nestled.

As you stare at the ceiling, silence greets you. There’s the faint tick of the clock on the opposite side of the bed, the very one Namjoon had installed so it was easier for him to figure out the time without squinting and straining his eyes. It’s accompanied with a side that is now empty, his scent still lingering on the pillow that sits right next to yours.

The silence continues to greet you the longer you stare at the ceiling, and it’s absolutely deafening.

The tears rise before you can stop them, rolling down the crinkle of your eyes. The longer you wait, the longer you stare, the more it becomes inevitable with every passing minute.

He’s not coming back. There’s no him arising from the door, slowly parting it as he sheepishly admits he had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch downstairs, mind growing absent these days. There’s no dim light radiating out from your side, a pair of glasses on the rim of his nose as he carefully turns the pages of his book. There’s no familiar dimpled smile wishing you goodnight, no soft kisses against your forehead before he slips into the covers with you, pulling you into his warm and comfortable embrace.

There’s nothing anymore and it’s something that slams into you, being wide awake despite living in a walking nightmare.

A harsh sob rips from your throat, echoing against the silent walls.

You are numb.

You slowly peel open your eyes in the morning, the faint sunlight seeping through the same floral curtains. The side beside you still stays empty, as you continue to sleep on your own side. The belongings on the opposite dresser are untouched, small specks of dust long beginning to settle.

A year has passed since the tragedy, and you are still numb.

You rise onto your feet, your wrinkled hand reaching out for your cane. Weakly pushing yourself off the bed, your feet stagger as you pad through the room and head into the bathroom.

Setting your cane aside again, you turn the tap on and the water flows. Pooling it in your hands, you splash it over your skin, the water feeling tender against it. Glancing in the mirror, a low sigh leaves your lips.

The lines on your features have deepened and increased, small indents showcasing near the corners of your eyes and your mouth. Your cheeks have become hollow, bone beginning to surface and protrude out. The bottom of your eyes have darkened, skin sagging down.

There's a saying you’ve roughly heard in passing – one that Namjoon’s mother had echoed to you when his father had passed away and you were inquiring how she was.

She had said that for many couples, after your spouse passes away, the grief only seems to accelerate the aging process tenfold and that it wouldn’t be too long till her own day would come.

At the moment, the thought itself was devastating to hear. But you never thought a day would come when her words would be so utterly true, your face having aged more within one year compared to the last five years you had spent with Namjoon.

After washing up solemnly in silence, you pad back through into the desolate bedroom, before exiting and slowly descending down the stairs.

Naree’s voice echoes through the room.

“...–not eating on time and barely talks, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“It comes with age.” Her husband, Seojun, echoes, “You should know that she’s growing old.”

“I know,” She huffs, “But she won’t even go through my father’s belongings, instead she insists on keeping everything the same and it’s been so long–”

You quietly clear your throat, leaning against the staircase beside the kitchen. Naree spins around with wide eyes and both of them freeze, as if they had been caught.

“Mom–”

“I’m feeling tired.” You simply say.

“Let me make you some tea.” She brings up immediately and you nod, turning around with another word. Naree and her husband glance at each other silently, before she moves towards the kettle.

You walk over to sit down on the large couch at the side in the living room, the one that has enough cushions for your hunched back. Sitting down with a large heave, your gaze falls onto the window.

A small girl stumbles into the room.

Her wide eyes are bright, a familiar dimpled smile on her lips and a photo in her hands.

There’s a soft upturn to your lips and she beams, rushing over in an instant.

“Grandma!” she squeals, body falling near your legs and head landing in your lap. Another younger girl pads in quietly behind, following her older sister with curious eyes.

“Nayoung.” You reach out and tenderly stroke the eldest girl’s hair, who is around eight years old, before moving your eyes to the four year old behind her, “Dambi.”

The youngest smiles and you widen your arm, to which she pads closer and rests within your embrace.

You hug your grandchildren with all the love you have left to offer.

“Grandma!” Nayoung excitedly rambles, placing a frame into your withered hands, “Is the baby in this Mom?”

You take it and flip it around, eyes widening to find the picture of you, a small child in your arms and Namjoon’s hand resting on your shoulder. You’re smiling but your eyes are brimming with tears, as so are his as the baby stays rested within your comfortable embrace.

Your eyes gloss over for a split second, but you sniffle, bringing your attention back to your granddaughter.

“No, it isn’t.” You explain, “It’s my son…. your Uncle Haneul.”

Nayoung stares at you with surprise, glancing at the photo frame again. “Uncle Haneul?”

You slowly nod and she continues to stare with fascination, even glancing back at Dambi and pointing towards it like she had uncovered a hidden secret.

“Where’s Uncle Haneul?” Dambi ponders, and your eyes soften.

“Following in his father’s footsteps.” You whisper, “He became a professor, and he’s been exploring the world for his research.”

Ever since Namjoon passed away. – you want to add.

You take the frame from Nayoung’s hands, “This picture is when he was first born, before your mother was.”

Haneul and Naree. After years of love and even more years of building a life together – a relationship, a marriage, a home, you and Namjoon had decided that you wanted to have kids. Through the ups and downs, the panics of pregnancy to the bliss of becoming parents, you both were blessed with two children that you love dearly.

In return, Haneul had ultimately decided that becoming a parent wasn’t something he had desired, something both you and Namjoon had understood from afar and confirmed when he had brought it up to you. Instead, he wanted to travel and was inclined to be hungry for knowledge, much like Namjoon himself. You had to convince him to leave after Namjoon’s passing, insisting that life was too short and he should be living his, instead of fretting over the family.

On the flip side, Naree married her husband a couple of years back, and you had met your precious granddaughters, Nayoung and Dambi, within that time frame.

Within forty-seven years of marriage, you had seen it all, but it still comes racing back to you in a heartbeat, the memories still so vivid as you stare back at the single snapshot that captured it all.

Nayoung watches you with a smile, and Dambi mumbles something that has light coming back to your eyes.

“You used to be so pretty, Grandma.” The four year old states it so nonchalantly, resulting in her older sister gasping and whipping her head around.

“Hey! Grandma is still pretty.” Nayoung persists.

You deeply sigh, “I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?”

“No, no!” Nayoung furiously shakes her head, “You’re not– …well, you are old, Grandma, but still so pretty!”

A smile cracks onto your lips, long having forgotten what it felt like. Nayoung shifts, eyes growing uneasy.

“Grandma…a-are you crying?”

You sniffle, hurriedly wiping away your tears, The two children stare at you with rounded eyes and you softly chuckle, widening your arms.

“How about you help Grandma feel a bit better?”

Nayoung reacts immediately, launching herself into your arms as you bring her into your lap and rest your head against hers. Dambi crawls up the sofa and you pull her in as well, embracing the two with quivering arms.

Even in this bleak and lonely world, you are relieved to have them by your side.

***

Naree stands by the living room entrance, a cup of tea in her hands.

“Girls, it’s time to wash up and get ready for lunch.” She announces, and the two children glance up, before immediately rising to their feet.

They both give you a quick wave before they’re scurrying away upstairs.

Naree brings the cup and sets it down on the table in front of you.

“Mom.” She calls out and you turn to look at her. “Can we talk?”

A deep sigh leaves you and you sink back into the chair, knowing it was all impossible to avoid.

“I suppose.” You comply and she sits down on the couch opposite you, facing you directly.

“I was talking…to Seojun…” At the topic of her husband, you shift and she continues cautiously, “I know how you feel about Dad, and he does too.”

Your eyes downcast, “But we should really move his things into the storage room, Mom.”

“And what about me?” You chuckle underneath your breath, “Are you eventually going to move me too?”

“Mom.” She chides, letting out a long sigh. She looks tired, just like you. “It’s been a year since Dad passed away.”

And a year since everyone had forgotten about him.

You want to add, but keep silent, “I just think it’s really time to move forward…”

There’s a deep ache within your chest, that only grows with her words. You knew this conversation was inevitable, but how were you to explain?

How were you to explain that ever since Namjoon passed away, you’ve been consumed with an exorbitant amount of feelings that you could barely grasp?

Immense guilt that somehow through all this, you were still here while his death was so sudden. That you were still breathing and intact, all while he had struggled to do the same?

Utter anger that he had left you here all by yourself after spending nearly half a century together, how he didn’t just take you with him, instead of you waking up everyday, longing to see him again.

And of course – the grief. Perhaps the most painful of them all.

You can’t go through his things without breaking down, reopening the jarring wound his demise has left over and over again when you see his clothes, his shoes, his belongings. The last remains of his existence and the last things you can desperately clutch on, mimicking a supposed fabrication of him still being with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shaking your head with shut eyes.

“My answer is firm, Naree.”

“Mom.” She exasperatedly says, frustrated with your stubbornness that mimics her own. After all, she’s inherited your personality, except you’ve lived longer with all your experiences exceeding all of hers.

“I’m exhausted.” You simply state, willing your shaking legs to get up. Once they do, you grab onto your cane, trudging towards the staircase.

Naree is silent as she watches you struggling to get up, unable to explain how much grief has been brought to her. Everyday she’s forced to watch her mother fall into a slump, surrounding herself with past memories and unable to break out of her shell. She’s granted only the fleeting moment of your former self when you interact with her daughters, but a part of her always wonders if a part of you had died alongside her father that day, that she ended up losing both her parents in some twisted way.

She rubs her temples, feeling absolutely drained and tired beyond belief.

A week passes by.

There’s barely any change in your routine. You remain within your bedroom majority of the time, sleeping and occasionally being reminded to eat. You don’t speak much, carrying a solemn gaze and a deep frown on your lips.

You don’t see much of Naree or Seojun, both of them occupied with their jobs and not making any effort to speak to you for the duration.

However, one night you find them by the kitchen table, sitting opposite from each other.

It was late into the hours and you had suddenly woken, on your way down for a glass of water.

Naree stills. “Mom–”

“What were you talking about?” You question, and Naree knows.

She knows that you heard pieces of their conversation. The conversation about how drained she felt lately, work taking its everlasting toll on her, right before Seojun suggested taking a vacation and going out on a trip with the family. To the conversation shifting, Naree spilling out her worries and concerns about you, your old age and how much she could see your health deteriorating, to how much she can’t get through to you anymore, how much she’s just given up.

However, what’s caught most of your attention is the sudden mention of a certain kind of home, one that notoriously knows how to take care of the elderly properly.

“We should talk.” Seojun states, pulling out a chair for you. You reluctantly take it, slowly sitting down as your gaze oscillates between them.

Naree sucks in a deep breath, looking at her husband uneasily. “We were thinking…”

“That it might be time for us to try something different.” Seojun finishes, glancing at you intently.

You cut to the chase. “What are you trying to get at?”

There’s a pause and Naree fidgets, eyes focusing onto her hands.

Her next words have you freezing.

“Mom…how would you feel about moving into an old age home?” Naree mutters.

A rigid chuckle leaves you, “So this is what it’s coming to, huh?”

“Mom, please.” Naree insists in defense and if you weren’t so entrapped within your own thoughts, perhaps you would have noticed the fatigue running deep in her eyes or the stiffness in her shoulders, “It’s not an easy decision…but we’ve really thought about this.”

Correction – Seojun has thought about this. You vaguely remember him bringing it up once, much to Naree’s protests and he let it slip by then.

But now, you have grown older and gone through grief, which doesn’t make it implausible to bring up again.

Except this time, you’re alone, not having Namjoon with you anymore to see eye to eye with Seojun as he always did and convincing him that you were better off together.

You miss him so much.

“Your health hasn’t been the same, Mom.” Naree explains, “And both Seojun and I go to work, the girls go off to school and–”

She deeply sighs, eyes becoming glossy. “I know, Mom…I know you’re lonely.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Ever since Dad passed away, I think our relationship has changed,” She simply states, her next words driving a wedge through your heart “…and I don’t think we have the same capability to take care of you anymore.”

You sigh, glancing up to look straight into Naree’s eyes for the first time since Namjoon’s passing.

“It’s the trip too, isn’t it? The girls want to go, but you’ve resisted for a while.” You mention, “You kept saying that I needed you, and that you’ll eventually go, but you had to stay behind because of me.”

Naree winces at how direct you are, not missing a heartbeat of the reality you’ve been noticing since the past year.

Sucking in a breath, you ignore the deep ache residing within your chest, pushing it back into the farthest corner.

“Fine.” You solemnly state, barely having energy anymore. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.”

Relief breaks out onto Naree’s features and Seojun softly smiles. You suppose it was bound to happen eventually, better sooner than later, and perhaps it would do some good for you, to continue on somehow.

That is, knowing this will be your last days within the home you had once built with Namjoon.

The move happens within a couple of days.

Your bags are packed, with clothes and smaller belongings tossed in. Peering around, you stare at Namjoon’s side of the bed, ready to leave it as it is.

But you step forward, glancing down at the book he was in the middle of reading. It was another dystopian sci-fi book he was curious about, having heard good reviews about it.

You place it into your arms, giving the room one longing look before ultimately shutting the door.

Naree and you sit in the car in silence, as you gaze out the window and reminisce over the passing neighborhood.

You and Namjoon were incredibly young when you had first moved here, hunting down homes and furiously checking the pricing of the housing market. It had been only a couple of weeks since your marriage, both of you fresh out of college and in entry jobs when he had stumbled upon the location, coming up to you with bright eyes one day.

The nostalgia brims in your eyes, but soon Naree is tapping against your shoulder.

“We’re here.” She announces and you nod, before she proceeds to come over and take out your bags.

You glance around with a frown.

It's a small residential area, appearing more like a stretched out home with many windows, accompanied with a garden area at the front that spreads to the back.

Stepping inside, it doesn’t seem to get better.

The walls are a dull white, and sunlight pours in from the windows, nearly blinding you. There’s a reception area that Naree steps closer to talk to, but you stand with a frown still on your lips, peering into the room at the corner, where you can hear laughs and chuckles.

There's a bunch of chairs, with people around your age seated and conversing. They’re smiling alongside each other, while some others are knitting as well as playing cards. It takes you off guard for a moment, not accustomed to seeing so many closer to your age range after being around your own family members for so long.

The place seems to smit a sense of peace with a hint of melancholy, and you’re truthfully not sure about how you feel about it.

“They’re all set-up, Mom.” Naree walks closer to you and you turn, seeing her glance at her watch. “I need to get to work soon.”

You hum and Naree still stands in spot, as if deeply contemplating.

“Mom…I–”

“Have fun with the kids.” You mutter, “Take them to nice places, places they want to see.”

She nods, not lingering for a moment longer as she reluctantly turns around – leaving you all by yourself once again.

It's… unsettling.

Everything follows a schedule and each day repeats, constantly. You’re told when to eat, when to sleep, when to do something fun – as they would like to call it – and the worst part of it all, you’re surrounded by strangers who know each other all too well.

You, in the meanwhile, have been already quoted as being too quiet and solemn, something that makes you want to wrap up into yourself even more. You were never good at connecting with new people, regardless of where you were.

Namjoon was always the sociable one, effortlessly commanding a room with his charm and charisma. You would sheepishly stand next to him, but he would always manage to include you somehow, making you feel less cut off from others.

You let out a sigh – perhaps the only time you actually feel comfort is through the night, tucked underneath the streets with a book wrapped around your cold arms, sniffling as you’re surrounded with unfamiliar things in an unfamiliar room and attempting to lull yourself to sleep.

Because moments like those are where you finally get to welcome his presence wholeheartedly.

You blink,squinting your eyes and raising your hand to block the sun.

Except it’s not the same hand you’re used to – rather it’s no longer wrinkled, with your veins popping out and hands no longer tremoring.

They feel strong, and you open and close your palm a few times astonished.

A pair of small legs tumble into your own and you gasp, glancing down at the boy who has the same features as your husband.

He grins widely, “Mommy!”

“Haneul?!” You harshly whisper, raising the boy before lifting him into your arms. He looks no more than four years old.

Haneul is four, which means can only mean–

You are thirty-four.

Glancing around, your eyes are snapping around frantically – taking in the expansive backyard which you barely would step in anymore, now littered with Nayoung and Dambi’s toys. The house that you left behind, just recently newly renovated upon your insistence. And your son, who looks up at you with wide eyes, as if you’re his entire world.

You attempt to hold him close, biting back the sobs that threaten to take over you.

A loud yelp resonates through the air.

Your breath hitches, knowing that voice from anywhere. Whipping your head around, your legs are stronger, and you take long strides without needing a cane, carrying your son in your arms.

For there’s a small shed in the corner of your backyard and if you’re right, if your memory doesn’t fail you.

The shed needs to be fixed and Namjoon took upon the task himself.

The door goes flying open and his back is the first thing you see.

“Not again…” He sighs, a hand planting against his forehead. There’s a bucket of paint that’s fallen to the ground, along with patches of the white colour sprayed against his ankles.

You slowly set your smiling son down, who giggles and runs to his father. Namjoon instantly looks down, his hand reaching out that Haneul eagerly takes.

Your voice comes out in a choked whisper.

“N-Namjoon?”

He turns with a huge smile and you’ve forgotten. Forgotten how crystal clear your memory once was, knowing his dark hair, crinkled eyes and dimpled smile anywhere. How much that smile hasn’t changed at all, fine lines maring around the corners instead, next to his grey strands of hair and weakened eyes.

How despite the years – he’ll always be the same man you fell in love with.

“Y/N.” He deeply enunciates, concern etching onto his features.

“You’re crying, what– …” He takes long strides towards you, whispering as his hand makes contact with your cheek, “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, the tears pouring down as you’re no longer able to hold them back.

Namjoon nearly stumbles back when you grasp onto him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He hugs you back, comfortingly resting his head against your forehead.

“I-I missed you.” You sob out, not wanting to let him go.

“Missed me?” Namjoon softly chuckles, threading his hand through your hair. “I’ve always been here, Y/N.”

He separates you from him, holding onto your shoulders as he tenderly looks into your eyes.

“I’m always here, Y/N.”

You’re suddenly pulled away, away from his comforting embrace and eyes as a white light flashes over your eyes.

You jolt awake, hearing only the faint sound of the heater echoing through the unfamiliar room. Reality crashes down onto you, painfully reminding you of your current location.

The other side of the bed remains cold and empty.

The days churn by, and you are as miserable as ever.

You sit quietly by the side and stare out the window, hearing a few others engage in conversation in small groups. There was something about doing a painting activity, but you had paid it no mind, too focused on the garden outside and grasping onto the book that sits on your lap.

“Before I came here, my husband passed away three years ago.” A voice from afar begins. It comes from a woman, who appears much older than you. “It happened so quickly, I-I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

There's a man sitting next to her, spotting a collared shirt and dark black hair. He looks younger than both of you, and he somberly listens to her.

“How long were you together?” He wonders.

“Fifty-five years.” The woman sadly chuckles, “We spent every day, every moment together…and then one day he was just gone.”

Your heart clenches, no longer staring out the window. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but you’ve learned it's difficult when you’re surrounded by so many others, stories from so many different phases of life pouring out effortlessly in a single room.

“I’ve heard it all,” She continues. “That he was in a better place, that I would heal with time, even that his time was bound to come soon….I-It hurt, a lot.”

You watch as tears fill her eyes and her sadness fills the small space you’re in, a lump in your throat starting to form. You attempt to pucker your lips, threaten to silence yourself as much as possible, but the words spill out with far too much ease.

“My husband…” You suck in a breath when her gaze falls onto you in surprise. “He…he passed away, about a year ago.”

Her features twist, understanding deep within her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You give her a half-smile and she presses forward, “How many years?”

“Forty-seven.” You state, adding with a sad note “We never got to fifty…”

She solemnly nods and something in her gaze is just too much, alleviating the tension that has been festering and brewing within you.

“He was kind, a little clumsy and forgetful, but still very kind.” You remorsefully chuckle. “Sometimes, it’s scary, like he’s never existed…and other days, I want to see him again, almost like–”

You silence yourself, eyes clamping shut as a deep ache within your chest just spreads and amplifies.

A voice tugs you out of your thoughts.

“Like what?” It’s the man next to the older woman, his gaze still on you.

Your voice comes out in an anguished whisper, “Like how he visits me in my dreams.”

It sounds strange and bizarre, you know this. But you’re startled when you glance up, only to find that woman giving you a kind look and the man softly smiling, as if he finds the notion to be pleasant.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He piques, “Seeing them again, as if they never left to begin with…”

You stare at him in bewilderment, attempting to muster words up.

But he beats you to it.

“Five years.” He informs, like he knew what you wanted to ask. “Since my wife’s been gone.”

You shake your head, not fully realizing his circumstance.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume–”

“It’s okay.” He lets out a low chuckle, “I look much younger than I actually am.”

You hum, acknowledging it right away. Alongside appearing younger, you notice his disposition appears to be the same as well, being much laid-back compared to anyone else you’ve seen here.

“What’s your name?” He asks, “I’ve seen you a couple times, but I think this is our first time talking.”

“I-I’m not one for talking much…” You note, but he quirks his head to the side, like he didn’t believe that. “And it’s Y/N, Kim Y/N.”

“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He introduces, gesturing to the woman next to him. “This is Lee Haewon.”

She directs a friendly smile towards you and you attempt to return it back.

“How old are both of you?” You wonder.

“I’m eighty-five.” Haewon answers, squinting her eyes at the man, “Last I remember, Hoseok is sixty-seven.”

“Seventy, Haewon.” He politely corrects, but with no malice. Almost as if he was expecting for her to get it wrong.

She deeply exhales, shaking her head in exasperation.

“My own name is going to be next.”

“Don’t worry about that.” His eyes flicker to you, “When the time comes, we’ll be here to remind you again.”

You nod in assurance and she warmly smiles, placing her cold hand on top of yours. You slowly grasp onto it and Haewon doesn’t move at all, instead ushering for you to sit closer to them.

For once, the weight on your chest feels a bit lighter.

The next day, you’re placed in groups again.

However, this time the head of the home brings out various board games onto the tables, to which everyone requests for different ones and are soon creating circles.

Despite the head asking for you to join this time, you sit in the same spot you had previously sat at, right beside the window as your eyes take in the others playing.

The loud sound of a chair screeching against the floor startles you.

Hoseok looks up with an apologetic smile, a packet of cards in his hands.

You watch with bafflement at how he sets up the deck before you, leaning over to hand you a couple of them.

You take them reluctantly, wondering why he was here when he could just play with someone else, observing him lean back in his chair and cross his legs with a furrow in his brows.

Now knowing his age, it was easier to spot his older features. How, despite having better functioning legs compared to you, his back is slightly hunched, shoulders beginning to cave in. How, despite having a majority of darker strands, there were noticeable specks of grey in his hair. How his eyes have to so occasionally squint to look at the cards, a hearing aid poking out from his right ear as he tilts his head.

You also don’t fail to notice how as his brows furrow in concentration, two small dimples poke out from the corners of his cheeks.

“Your turn.” He calls out, having placed a card down.

You quickly look down at the cards, reluctantly placing one down. He continues to stare at his own intently.

“You know, it was nice of you to talk to Haewon.” He mentions.

You shake your head, “It wasn’t much, I was just talking about my husband anyways.”

“It meant more to her than you think.” He exhales, placing a card down. “Most folks here either ignore her, or tell her to just move on.”

A knowing smile crosses him, “I think we both know it isn’t as simple as that.”

“It never is.” You quietly mumble, placing a card down yourself.

Hoseok hums at that, putting another card down. You glance around warily, wondering why you hadn’t seen Haewon yet.

“By the way, where is she?”

“Asleep, I overheard that she felt tired.” Hoseok does a half-smile, before it’s replaced with his usual nonchalant expression.

You nod, curious about their proximity, “Have you known her for long?”

Hoseok shrugs, “A bit, I just got to know her in the past couple of months. You know, the good ol’ chit chatting with one other while being in the same room.”

His straight-forwardness catches you off guard, shocked by how settled he was.

“You seem pretty comfortable being here.” You note, observing him as he glances up.

“I have to be.” He states with a lop-sided smile, “It’s the same for everyone here. After all, nobody came because they wanted to.”

You freeze, forehead creasing as you stare at him blankly. Hoseok’s gaze lands on you, confusion running through it.

“Y/N?” He ponders, wondering why you weren’t playing your turn. You snap out of your daze, placing your cards down.

“I-I just remembered something I needed to do–” You quietly say, slowly rising to your feet and locating your cane. “Maybe you should play with someone else…”

For a split-second, Hoseok tosses his cards and rises to his feet, as if to halt your steps. But you’re already walking away and he falters, slumping back down into his seat

His eyes are tinged with an indescribable emotion.

You don’t know if you can be here any longer.

But there’s nothing you can do about it. The days pass by and no one comes for you, no one tries to see how you are, how you’re feeling and it dawns one simple resolution to you.

You’ve been abandoned here. Forever.

The next day arrives and you clench your jaw, stepping out of the suffocating room that has been starting to feel more like a decorated prison than anything else. You wonder if you should come up with some excuse of staying back, preoccupying yourself with anything else rather than the activity of the day.

But that’s until you’re informed you’ll be taken to the garden.

Taking a step outside, it’s absolutely serene. There’s handfuls of well-maintained roses, peonies and tulips flourishing, all lush and blooming around the home. It’s both tranquil and inviting, the head informing you that there were watering cans, shovels and new seeds to be planted for everyone.

You secure a can right away, propelling yourself forward with your cane towards the peonies.

A small smile lines your lips.

“Y/N!”

You spin around, in the midst of cooing and feeding your one year daughter as she babbles on her high chair.

Namjoon stands at the door, huffing with a wide smile on his lips.

He raises his hand, a single purple peony sticking out.

You gasp in astonishment, “You finally grew one!”

“I did!” He exclaims. It had been months since he had been trying, your home littered with his bonsai collection until he wanted to try his hand at outdoor planting.

He dashes over and scoops you in her arms, making you chuckle from his victory. Grabbing onto your hand, he edges you to follow.

“Come on, you need to help me water them!”

Laughing, you grasp onto Naree, letting him guide you.

The water pours out from the small canister, sprinkling delicately onto the small petals. You watch with so much fondness, for so much love for the flower, as your hands continue to tremble.

It slips from your hands and smacks against the pavement.

You watch as the water spills everywhere and with a huff, quickly attempting to grasp it. But your knees violently shake, and your hands tremor far too much. You attempt again and again to bend down, but your attempts are all futile, more and more of the contents emptying and spreading out.

Tears unknowingly prick at your eyes and your breathing is heavy, limbs aching from the sudden physical exertion.

The smooth metal gently glides across your fingertips.

You blink, confused eyes glancing up to meet Hoseok’s softened ones. You’re left frozen as he carefully tips it, his hand grasping the canister against yours and letting the water rain over the peonies.

You let him guide you, the water running through the remaining ones before it empties.

“Wait here for a moment.” He directs you to a bench, holding your hands as you carefully descend down onto it.

You observe as he saunters over to the hose, filling it with water again before letting out a satisfied hum. He then manages to grasp onto a handful of seeds and grabs onto a small shovel.

He returns to you, “You should plant some too.”

You quietly nod and he reaches his arm out, as if gesturing for you to hold on. You grasp onto him and he slows his pace, walking at yours.

Everytime, you point at a certain spot, he leans down, making a hole into the dirt before dropping the seed in and sealing it with fresh water. He does it along the edge of the garden, right where the window to your room should be.

He lets out a loud huff with the last one, chest rising and falling alarmingly.

Your eyes widen, having completely forgotten his condition of age.

“I-I’ll go get you some water.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to protest that he’s okay, but you’re already propelling yourself forward, cane frantically hitting against the pavement.

He wheezes, letting out a couple of coughs before you’re standing near him, a water bottle in your hands that he gratefully accepts.

“Are you okay?” You ask right away and he nods, turning to the flowers.

“They’re beautiful.” He states and you hum, the wind weaving through the air.

“I love peonies.” You quietly admit, and Hoseok grins, handing you the water bottle.

He takes a couple steps forward, drawing closer to the older batch. Among all the colors, he snatches onto a bright orange peony, handing it to you with a soft smile.

You bring it closer to you, the corners of your mouth upturning.

It reminds you of the warm hues of the sun.

Your hands tremor and shake, bone sticking out from your softened skin. It doesn’t help that the joints within your bones are incredibly stiff and deeply ache with each movement.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, and the needles looped in yarn falling down to your lap.

Hoseok chuckles, reaching out and grasping onto where you’ve left off, attempting his hardest to cross them, pushing one needle into one end and looping it around.

“You’ve missed a stitch.” You point out and he frowns, noticing the small hole he’s created instead.

“Now how did that happen?” He deeply ponders, and a small smile tugs on your lips as he carefully inspects the placement, staring at it up and down.

“You have to loop it carefully,” You softly explain, reaching over to place your trembling hand on his, “It should go through this stitch and then you let go of it to create the knot.”

He follows your instructions, observing as you slowly tug his hand away from the loop, letting it unravel into a perfect stitch.

Hoseok beams, throwing a grin in your direction and you look at him amused.

“I think we make a lovely team.”

You smile lop-sidely, “I don’t know, it’s more of me telling you what to do.”

“A very important role.” He notes, raising the yarn up in his hands, “After all, this is now our group project.”

You chuckle at that and he gazes at you fondly, eyes crinkling.

“Kim Y/N?” The sound of your name has both you and Hoseok glancing up, “There’s someone here at the front foyer asking for you.”

Your brows furrow, but then you catch the sight of a familiar silhouette.

You scramble up from your seat, vision fixated on the backside of the person. Hoseok notices, immediately rising to his feet and handing you your cane, observing as you attempt to hurriedly stride over to the desk.

“Naree.” You whisper, watching your daughter turn around wide-eyed.

“Mom.” She steps forward, and you don’t hesitate to reach out, enveloping your trembling hands tightly around her shoulders.

“You’re here, you’re actually here.” Your eyes are glossy. “I-I thought you left me by myself, I kept thinking about–”

You freeze, surveying the way Naree’s eyes downturn, face void of expression.

It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots.

Your voice cracks, “You’re not here for me, are you…?”

Naree sighs, “I was just on my way to work, and thought I’d stop by to see you.”

“That’s all?” You mutter, but Naree latches onto your arm.

“Mom.” She chides, but you don’t even want to look at her, “Isn’t this all better for you? You’re not lonely anymore.”

“You’re wrong.” You feel more abandoned than ever. “And this all isn’t better for me, it’s better for you.”

Your words are venomous and the corner of Naree’s mouth twitches.

“How can you say that?” Naree sharply rebuttals. The two of you don’t notice all the lingering eyes watching your interaction, including Hoseok’s. “I want you to come back, but I discussed it with Seojun and we agreed you’d be happier here.”

“And where was I in this decision?” You snap. “Or are Seojun’s words now more important than mine?”

Naree’s nostrils flare and she looks like she’s had enough.

She shakes her head, mumbling to coax herself. “Here I thought that dropping by was a good idea.” Her gaze is directly on you, hurt swirling in her eyes. “But now I’ve realized I made a big mistake.”

Naree turns on her heels, her fists clenched and rage enveloping every fiber of her being. You don’t make a move to stop her, simply staring at her backside and the growing gap each of her steps creates.

There’s a deep ache within the center of your chest, one that expands and spreads, consuming you completely as your daughter abandons you once again.

***

Everything feels like it’s crashing down.

You’re seated within your room, having dismissed yourself and leaving your knitting session with Hoseok behind. You desperately needed to be alone, mind plaguing over and over with the image of Naree leaving, disappointment and rage embedded into her being.

You wonder if you should have reached out, should have begged, for her to take you alongside with her. To take you back to the home you once shared with Namjoon and your family, wanting to feel the familiarity and the warmth that home contains.

A sci-fi book rests within your lap, fingertips clenching onto it. You wonder if he can see everything, hear everything about the family you’ve created leaving you behind, casting you away like a mere thought that shoulders over them.

Thick tears drop down, staining the paper of the book in your hands. Anguished cries leave you, shoulders shuddering as everything crumbles.

You want to see him again, want to wrap your arms around him as he holds you comfortingly, want to have him shield you away from all these terrifying thoughts, ones that are absent of him. You hate how fast he was taken away, and wonder why he couldn’t have just taken you along with him.

A soft knock resonates against the door.

You peer up, cheeks stained with tears and breaths coming out choked. You quickly set the book down, raising your sleeve to wipe away any existence of them.

Padding slowly through the room, you wrap your hand around the knob and carefully open it.

Hoseok stands in front of you, gaze downcasted and shoulders hunched in. It takes you by surprise, never having seen such a lack of optimism in his form.

He looks up, eyes welling with tears.

“Y/N.” He chokes, orbs widening at your appearance. “I-I can come again.”

Before he can turn, you reach out, barely managing to graze his shirt.

The expression he holds draws fear out from you. “I-Is everything okay?

He pursues his lips, like he was attempting to prevent himself from tearing up, before he breathes out the words.

“N-No, not really…” He sniffles, a lone tear escaping him. “H-Haewon…Haewon’s gone.”

Your breath hitches, features twisting. “S-She just passed an hour ago…in her sleep.”

His shoulders slump, eyes squeezing shut.

“I-I couldn’t say g-goodbye….”

You step forward, arms wrapping around him in an instant. Hoseok shrinks within them, harsh sobs shuddering through his body. Tears unleash from your eyes, fisting the material of his shirt.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped around in your collective grief.

You are dazed.

You find out that aside from being widowed, Haewon only had one son who was in a different country. He doesn’t come to the funeral, and it’s simply attended by a few individuals she had the opportunity to connect with at the old age home.

Which includes you and Hoseok, standing next to each other in black clothing as you watch her casket be buried alongside her husband. Hoseok is silent the entire time, eyes empty.

You knew you weren’t as close to her as Hoseok was, but Haewon was a woman that had given you compassion when you had been desperately searching for it, not even hesitating to listen to your story. She shared the experience of having lost her husband and you recall Hoseok mentioning that she wanted to see him again, even if it meant being in the next life.

You didn’t speak much to Lee Haewon, but she was such a crystal clear reflection of you – a woman dwindling with so much grief that she could barely hold.

Her casket is completely buried and you reach out as Hoseok shudders, a tsunami of emotions hitting him all at once. Your wrinkled hand slides in with his, clutching onto it. He squeezes back tightly, as if you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

You quietly part together, bidding her your final farewell.

Something is never the same in you after Haewon’s passing.

It’s difficult to explain, the tightening sensation that coils around in your chest with no means of stopping. Your mind flashes back to instances with her, the kind and friendly smile she would always adorn. Or the way her hand was cold but still so warm, ushering you to come closer to her.

It’s crushing, unable to bear with how fast life moves, clutching onto those whose time is no longer needed on earth.

And it’s coupled with another feeling, one that is more erratic and rapid, making you nearly hyperventilate the more you sit in your room, the more you stare at the unfamiliar walls encasing around you at all four corners.

It feels like it’s all you’ll be left with, bidding your own time goodbye within them.

Which is why you leave, heading out your room door and into the garden. You don’t want to follow a schedule, or do activities, simply asking for permission to escape for a brief moment so you feel like you can breathe once again.

And it seems like you’re not the only one with the same idea.

Hoseok sits on a bench a bit farther from the garden and house, his backside facing you and against the sun that begins to rise, peeking through the grass and illuminating its rays through the orange sky.

It draws you in, and you walk forward in a daze.

You slowly sit down, back resting against the wood and setting your crane to the side. Hoseok’s attention flickers over to you.

You quirk up a soft smile, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He blinks after a moment, shaking his head with a sigh.

“No….no, not really.”

You hum, knowingly. “The sunrise is beautiful.”

He nods silently.

You sit in silence, enjoying the breeze wafting through the area and the way the clouds move rotationally, drifting through the clouds. The orange hues morph into the briefest of purple, light spreading over your skin and remaining within your irises.

You suck in a sharp inhale.

“Kim Namjoon.” You state as Hoseok turns to look at you, “My husband, who left me a year ago. He was followed by Kim Naree, my daughter, who left me a month ago.”

His eyes find your own. “And then followed by Lee Haewon, who left us a week ago.”

Your voice breaks. “I-I don’t know if I can handle anyone else leaving me...”

Hoseok’s hand reaches out, placing it on top of yours.

The corner of his mouth remorsefully curls up. “Don’t count me out so easily.”

You smile, for the first time in weeks, and the sunrise takes over the sky.

Taking up the opportunity, you vocalize all your innermost thoughts, “I’m not sure if I exactly belong here…I know I feel less lonely at least, but I don’t know if I can stay anymore.”

“You want to leave.” Hoseok states, like he understands.

Your words hold an infinite amount of weight, “I-I’m just…terrified. Terrified that I’ll be spending my last days here.”

“Where do you want to go?” He genuinely questions.

“Home.” You let out a low chuckle, “If that’s even possible anymore.”

“It can be.” Hoseok softly smiles, two dimples showcasing on his face.

You reach out, clasping onto his head. “Come with me…please.”

You know it’s a completely selfish request, especially when he seems to be much more comfortable here.

But you forget that Hoseok has lost as well, defeat encasing the man more and more as the days draw out. It seems like you’re still his anchor, drawing him back before he’s completely gone.

His hand tightens his hold on you.

“Let’s go home,Y/N.”

You stand in front of your home.

It wasn't easy coming here. You had to be granted permission to leave the vicinity and it wasn’t the simplest task for Hoseok either, needing to prove the two of you would be functional to do so. You suppose you could have laced it over with a visit, but you couldn’t stay any longer, not there anymore.

A shaky exhale leaves you and Hoseok reaches out, lacing his fingers with yours and having a comforting smile.

You knock against the door.

The door comes swinging wide open and you’re confronted with the sight of your son-in-law.

Seojun stares at you blankly, as if you were a mere ghost, glancing between you and Hoseok in disbelief.

“Nice to see you again.” You state, stepping into the household. It looks the same – the same couch, the same curtains and the same memories. It’s almost like you never left to begin with.

“You’re back.” A voice acknowledges from the staircase, and you look up.

Your eyes lock onto Naree’s, who stands in the long hallway, arms crossed and holding a hardened gaze.

“You look like you’ve been well.” You reply with a smile, but her gaze is concentrated on the man standing with you.

“Who is this?” She questions, and your eyes widen.

Hoseok immediately steps up with a friendly smile, “My name is Jung Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.”

Naree stares at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, not moving to shake it or say anything back. After years of raising her, you know exactly what her response means.

She’s inspecting him, wondering why you showed up out of the blue with a man near the same age as her father.

She doesn’t say another word, simply turning her back and walking into the kitchen. It makes you want to almost laugh, how it doesn’t take her much effort to easily disregard you at this point, so much that it doesn’t even hurt and you simply just expect it.

Seojun glances between the two of you, clearly taken aback with the situation and unsure of how to react.

You walk past him, heading up the staircase with Hoseok.

“I’ll be in my room.” You declare, the door shutting behind you.

***

All of it has been moved.

Despite the house not changing, the people have changed, and so have the contents of the room you once shared with Namjoon.

All of his belongings are gone, stowed away in airtight boxes.

Like he never even existed to begin with.

Your shaking hands reach out. “No…no, no–”

You stumble, collapsing onto the ground.

“Y/N!” Hoseok reaches forward in an instant, steadying you.

“Everything’s gone, Hoseok. They moved everything–”

Tears are streaming down your eyes and Hoseok is clutching onto you as you sob.

“Shh, it’s not gone.” He coaxes, reaching out for one of the boxes. His hands are tremoring but he still claws at the tape, unraveling the plastic back and tossing it aside. The box unfolds and he shifts it over to you, wanting you to see your husband’s things first hand.

You catch sight of one of his jacket’s.

Reaching out, you gasp onto the material, staring at it in awe. It was one Namjoon used to love to wear, tossing it on when you would ask him to go out on walks with you, or consequently the one that was placed on your shoulders when he noticed you shivering in the wake of fall.

You wrap it around your arms, the amount of comfort from the action easing your heart a bit.

Hoseok softly smiles, shifting over another box. He opens it to reveal a stack of books, distinctly looking similar to the one you always carried in your lap.

“Did he like to read a lot?” He ponders, and you nod, curiously looking over his shoulder.

It all snaps – and the excitement washes over more quickly than you can stop it.

“He did.” You lean over, grasping onto a title, “This was one of his favorites, he used to read it all the time. And this one,” You pick up another title, “He used it for his final thesis back in college, and asked me to read it with him.”

You chuckle, tears still streaming down your eyes. “He was always so smart, but asked me to check over everything he did.” You turn to Hoseok, who has softened eyes, “He was just an overthinker, you know? And I knew I always had to calm his mind somehow, so I would make him tea often when he was working.”

Hoseok simply watches. Watches at how much love you pour out for your late husband, how much adoration is in your voice and the tenderness in your eyes. It’s something he’s only had the pleasure of experiencing once in life, and it’s not something he’s found easily in others.

Namjoon is truly your soulmate.

“H-He would ask what magic I would p-put in it….all the time.” Your voice cracks at the end and Hoseok’s eyes shoot up into alarm.

“Y/N?” He shifts closer to you.

“I-I….” You squeeze your eyes shut, the realization donning faster than you can stop it. “I-I just can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t.” You gasp out. “Namjoon, he’s….he’s everywhere.”

You can see him everywhere – in the things you hold, in the memories you’re left with, in the hopes and dreams you once had together. Your entire life had been constructed around him, and it’s something you didn’t notice until you were sitting in that very same room you shared, surrounded by his entire essence.

It's like you’re experiencing the grief all over again, except this time it’s worse because you’ve realized what you’ve truly lost.

Hoseok feels his own heart shattering into pieces. He can’t explain how much he knows exactly what you’re going through, how much letting go was an impossible task when you’ve had years and years, an entire timeline spent with someone after an eternal promise of forever.

A tear streams down his own eye and he moves closer, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head against yours.

“H-Hoseok, I-I can’t….” You whisper, “I can’t live the rest of my life here. In only the memory of Namjoon and with a family that just doesn’t want me anymore….I-I just can’t do it.”

Hoseok shudders, letting out a small hum as you spill all your fears out to him.

“I-It’s okay, Y/N.” He manages to get out, “It’s okay to feel this way. I-I can’t even explain to you how normal it is to.”

– or how familiar. – he wants to say.

You sob and he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as he cups your face.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He earnestly questions. “What is your heart telling you?”

“I just want to leave….and go somewhere far, far away.” Far from here.

It almost sounds like a ridiculous fantasy, but Hoseok nods.

“How far?” He seriously ponders, “Like can we get there by bus? Do we need to take a train?”

The corner of your mouth curls up.

“Maybe by train. Buses are horrible to sit on for long hours.” You note with a sniffle.

Hoseok frowns, “You make it sound like we’re so old.”

“We are old, Hoseok.” You chuckle and he grins at the sound of it.

“Really? Say that again for me, I didn’t hear you the first time.” He turns his head, showcasing his hearing aid. You lightly hit his chest, before resting your head against him.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Y/N.” He whispers in reassurance.

Reaching his hand, he lifts you up, ensuring your balance is okay. You keep your hand in his, tightening your hold on him.

***

You regain yourself, and Hoseok carefully holds onto you, taking you slowly down the stairs. He matches his steps with you, watching as your foot slowly descends down one step before planting his own down, your cane granting you the momentum.

Naree stands by the door, arms crossed and appearing to be waiting for someone.

Hoseok glimpses at you tenderly and you nod, alerting her attention to the sound of your cane against the ground.

She deeply sighs, “I have time to drop you back once you’re–”

“I’m not going back.”

Her brows furrow “What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving, Naree.” You declare, and that’s when her eyes snap onto yours and Hoseok’s interlaced hands.

There’s disbelief in her eyes, “You’re leaving with him?”

You nod and Naree shakes her head, as if her entire existence is being questioned.

“Mom, how could you?” She spits, “It’s only been a year since Dad passed away.”

“Naree–”

“I know you were feeling lonely, but out of all things this?”

The door suddenly widens and Seojun emerges, two little girls by his side.

Nayoung's eyes light up, “Grandma!”

“What’s going on?” Seojun interjects and Naree squeezes her eyes, shaking her head.

“Oh nothing, just my mother betraying my father.” She snaps, and his eyes widen.

He pushes Nayoung and Dambi away, “Girls, go upstairs.”

Nayoung begins to protest “But Grandma–”

“Go.”

She doesn’t say another word, simply downcasting her gaze. Dambi follows, but you can feel their gazes linger on you, and there’s nothing more you want to do in the moment then to bring the two girls into your arms.

“Naree, don’t do this.” You whisper, but her clenched fists are enough of an answer.

“Don’t do what? Be upset that my mother found someone else that isn’t my father?” She huffs, “How could you do this, Mom?”

She turns to Seojun who comforts her and you shift uncomfortably, wanting to disappear.

“With all due respect–” A previously silent voice pitches in, “I think you’re being incredibly unfair.”

You stare at Hoseok, who still holds a warm look in his eyes. “I’m not replacing your father, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Y/N still loves him very much, just like I do my wife.”

“But it wouldn’t hurt to consider that your mother has been by herself for quite a while and that hurts.” Hoseok sadly smiles, “Much deeper than you could possibly imagine.”

Naree looks at him startled and Seojun is baffled. There’s a silence that lingers and Hoseok tightens his hold on you, slowly heading towards the door.

“It was nice meeting all of you.” He simply responds, before leaving altogether.

There’s a multitude of words ready to tumble from you.

“Hoseok, I–”

“You don’t need to explain.” He insists, but then he shakes his head, as if suspended in disbelief. “I just can’t believe how they were treating you...”

You wince, finding yourself agreeing with his words. It seemed like all your doubts, all your fears, were cemented right in front of you and now you know.

You don’t belong there anymore.

You’re about to turn and tell Hoseok that you should collectively leave now, the desperation of going far away reaching a complete high, but that’s when your eyes catch onto movement.

“Hold on.” you quietly say, and Hoseok sends you a confused look. You carefully trudge your cane forward, slowly walking to the side of the house.

You freeze.

There's a silhouette of a tall man with dark hair standing by the garden, right next to the peonies and with a giant bag slung over his shoulder. His backside gives you so much whiplash at how distinctly familiar it looks and as if in a trance, you continue to move forward with furrowed brows.

You pause, the disbelief sinking in. He snaps his head around at the sound of your cane, narrowed eyes widening.

You whisper out his name, breath coming out shaky.

“H-Haneul?”

You had almost forgotten just how strikingly similar he looks to Namjoon, just how much he could easily be mistaken for a younger version of the man.

He widely smiles, expression brightening at the sight of you.

“Hi, Mom.” He takes long strides towards you, embracing you immediately. You wrap your arms around him tightly, a joyful smile on your lips.

You separate from him, attempting to get a good look at your son. “I-I can’t believe you’re here…”

He warmly grins, eyes flickering over to Hoseok. You immediately turn, a bit flustered.

“T-This is–”

“Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok outstretches his hand with a smile.

“Kim Haneul.” He states, shaking his hand with a similar smile. He gestures to you. “I’m her oldest.”

Hoseok nods understandably, “It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.”

He grins and you’re a bit taken aback at Hanuel's gesture, naturally giving back the same courtesy that was given back to him.

He hasn’t changed one bit.

“Could we talk?” He mentions, gesturing between you. You nod immediately and Hoseok politely smiles, stepping towards the front to give you some privacy.

Haneul holds your hand as you slowly walk, guiding you onto the bench in the backyard. He waits as you sit down, taking a spot by you.

As glad as you are to see him, you’re curious.

“How are you here, Haneul?”

“I came by to visit.” He explains, “I managed to get a couple of days off.”

You nod, “Naree… she told me you were in an old age home.”

“I see….” You fall into silence and Haneul quietly watches you from the corner of his eyes.

“Was it your choice?”

“At first, it was.” You exhale, “But then Naree never came for me, and when she did, she wanted me to stay–” Your words grow smaller, “And now, I just can’t go back anymore….”

Haneul lifts his hand, placing it on top of your wrinkled one as you heave, eyes getting glossy.

“His name is Hoseok.” You sputter out, wanting to rid him of any worries, “We met at the care home and got closer. I feel better with him around, and he understands me, but I’m not trying to replace your father in the least–”

“Hey, hey.” He softly says, “Who said anything about replacing Dad?”

“Naree did… and I don’t blame her.”

Her words have you thinking twice, wondering if everything you were doing was just wrong.

Haneul frowns, “Mom, Naree’s husband isn’t dead.”

“Don’t say such things, Haneul.” You chide.

“Mom, listen to me.” He fully turns to you, taking your worn out hands in his stronger ones. “Dad’s gone, and you’re all by yourself now. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not at this age.”

He knowingly grins, “What was the advice you had given to me before I left?”

The memory is still crystal clear to you. “That life was too short…and that you should be living your own, without fretting over the family.”

“And you told me this after Dad’s passing.” He persists, “Why can’t you give yourself the same consideration?”

You slowly nod, taking in his words. “You’re right…”

But then an amused chuckle leaves you and his eyes widen.

“You know, you sound so much like your father that it’s actually terrifying….”

He looks amused, “Well, he was one heck of a wise man.”

He laughs and so do you, feeling your chest grow a bit lighter.

Haneul exhales, something in his gaze abruptly changing.

“Mom, you’ve gotten older. The last time I saw you, you weren’t this weak.” He admits, “I just really want you to leave while you’re still able to.”

You look up at him, water welling up in your eyes. There’s an unsaid message sent between both of your eyes, one that you unfortunately understand very well.

This very well may be the last time you see him.

You advance forward, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders. He leans down, holding onto you in a loving embrace.

It makes you wonder where time went, where the boy that was running around the house with giggles and helping his dad with fixing the shed went, becoming a fully fledged adult who you could express your deepest concerns to, and lean on as you grew brittle.

***

Haneul walks you back to the front, exchanging a smile with Hoseok who had been patiently waiting for you. He reaches his arm out and you hold onto it.

Haneul enters the house again, insisting to bring the bags you had packed. You discuss with Hoseok about your plans moving forward, but the door comes bursting open.

Two young girls come forth, tears in their eyes.

“Grandma!”

Nayoung launches herself at you, embracing you immediately. Dambi is behind her, eyes flickering all over your form.

A small chuckle leaves you and Hoseok smiles at the interaction, watching at how you comfortingly rub their backs as they sob into your floral dress.

“U-Uncle Haneul says you’re leaving…” Dambi mumbles out.

A sigh slips out from you and Haneul emerges with remorse on his face, appearing like he attempted to keep it a secret but couldn’t to no avail.

“I am leaving.” You’re completely honest with them. “I know it’s hard, and I’ll miss the two of you greatly, but I….I need to go.”

Nayoung and Dambi look at you thoughtfully, nodding their heads, “And I won’t be alone either.”

You turn to Hoseok who smiles, causing both of the girls to be captivated with his appearance.

“Will you be looking after Grandma?” Nayoung wonders and he softly nods, a certain fondness in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

“I will be.” He says, “Someone has to remind her not to be so stubborn.”

You exasperatedly shake your head with a chuckle as Hoseok grins, but Nayoung moves closer to you, a dimpled smile on her lips.

“I’ll miss you, Grandma.” She whispers, hugging you. “Please be happy.”

You’re astonished at her words, wondering just how obvious you had been. You know the saying that children have a tendency to see everything and there’s something that shines in Nayoung’s eyes that makes you sniffle, hugging the girl tightly in your arms.

Hoseok helps you with your cane and you clutch onto him, afraid that a part of you will never want to leave if you didn’t. You watch as the two girls wave their hands at you, huge smiles on their lips. Haneul stands by the door, leaning against it with a grin.

You wave back at them, even noticing Naree by the window, sticking her eyes out despite her crossed arms. You want to chuckle, amused how obvious your daughter could be at times.

Taking one look back, you see all that you’ve built with Namjoon. Your house, your children, your grand-children, the years and years of your lifetime all showcased within your field of vision. You smile, wondering if the man was still alive, how he probably would have been standing alongside them, ushering you to be on your way already.

Turning around, Hoseok holds onto your bags, a smile on his lips.

You take his hand with your own.

The next couple of days are a bit of a blur for you. You find out Hoseok had booked a train for you into the nearby city, one that wasn’t luckily drawn out for too many hours. He calls a cab to pick you up and you’re soon in front of train tracks as he holds you, slowly helping you on.

You spend the rest of the duration looking out, watching at how buildings, greenery and the life you once knew whizzes by. It makes you wonder when the last time was when you’ve done something like this, recalling the last trip you ever took was with Namjoon and years before the two of you had started finding it difficult to do.

You arrive after a couple of hours, your joints aching a bit which prompts Hoseok to seat you down onto a bench, attempting to find a water bottle for you to drink. It amuses you a bit to see others glancing at you, seeing a much older couple traveling together rather than a youthful one. Instead of energy and fresh eyes, they see peacefulness and serene ones, and it all the more makes you want to smile once more, no longer feeling like you were being trapped or held back somewhere.

You arrive at a small residence that Hoseok took care of.

He turns to put the bags away and you clasp onto his wrist. “Hoseok.”

He glances at you and you sincerely look at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”He warmly smiles.

“What should we do now?” You ponder, “Everything I said was completely on a whim, but I still don’t know–”

“Hey.” He softly calls out, slipping next to you and placing a hand on your own. “Don’t stress too much about it. I’ve booked us this place here to stay for the week, and you can take your time before officially deciding where to go.”

You stare at him in surprise, feeling so grateful that he is here with you.

“Okay.” You quietly say and he gets up with a grin, moving to unpack a bag.

That night, you lay awake on a bed adjacent to Hoseok. He doesn’t sleep next to you, but still remains in the room, the sound of his soft breathing echoing off the walls.

Your mind is brimming with endless possibilities, and for the first time ever, you fall asleep with a smile on your lips.

You desire a home.

A home. A place of comfort – a place that welcomes you with open arms and loosens the tightness in your chest, a place that allows you to breathe easier and fills you with warmth, a place full of solace, one which soothes your aching heart.

It’s not much, a small house out by the fields and close to a meadow, far out from the city and next to an expansive lake. The wind ever so breezes over the numerous flowers collecting in the open fields and the sun is always shining over, reflecting over the pools of water. You have your occasional neighbors, mainly families that harbor residences nearby to spend their idle time. It’s always interesting when they run into you, assuming an entire family to be inside only to find an elderly lady smiling back at them.

It was something you didn’t get instantaneously, searching around for the exact spot you wanted. In a way, you still thank your late husband for always advising you to keep money on the side, indicating that you would need it one day for when he was gone and you would always chide him not to bring the bad thoughts into mention. It led you to a place you would have never in a million years thought you would have ended up at, and never with the amount of pure joy it’s brought.

You desire a home, and somehow, just somehow, you find one in Jung Hoseok.

He takes you everywhere you desire, whether it is walking down the borders of the lake, to watching the skyline of the far city. He’s always two steps ahead of you, picking up your cane when it stumbles and interlacing his hands with you, letting you lean your weight against him. He assists you with your gardening and sets up two rocking chairs outside of the cabin, sitting down for hours with you as you read.

He’ll joke that his legs are getting too shaky when he walks with you, or that the tremors in his hands are always at a constant beat. He’ll smile with fine lines marring his forehead and the creases of his eyes when you chide him, just as he insists that he has no reason for his constant remarks around you. He’ll look at you tenderly, watching as every word spills out of you, even after you recall an eternity of memories with someone else.

There comes a point where your small thank you’s disappear altogether, and you clasp onto his hand instead.

“It’s so beautiful.” You whisper, watching the rays of the sun descend, catching a warm hue of orange all over the meadow. It transcends over the horizon, illuminating the delicate lines on your face and specks of your irises.

Hoseok hums next to you on the bench, your arm around his. He watches as the sun slowly dips into the horizon, the orange submerging before a cool blue takes over.

“It is.” He murmurs, “Kinda makes you think how small you really are.”

You let out a soft laugh and he grins in your direction.

“You always have such a way with words.” You remarks.

“Well, I think it’s one of my best qualities.” He retorts, “Aside from knitting, of course.”

You shake your head as he chuckles. The sun completely disappears and he glances at you.

“Say, how about we head in and I brew us some hot tea?” He suggests, slipping his warm hands within your cold ones.

You stare at him for a second, expression impassible. Hoseok frowns, a deep crease forming between his brows.

“Y/N?” He ponders at your silence.

“I’m so lucky to have met you.”

Hoseok blinks, but the words tumble out much faster than you can stop.

“I was so, so alone, and absolutely terrified that the rest of my life would be like that.” Water surfaces in your eyes, “But then I met you and I never realized how much I missed this feeling of…being alive.”

A bright smile stretches on your cheeks, “I’m so happy, Hoseok.”

You don’t have a chance to swipe away your tears, his arms coming to encase around you in an instant. A gasp leaves you, but Hoseok tightens his hold and you lean against him, arms slipping around his back.

“Y-You don’t understand…” He whispers, voice cracking that makes you stiff with alarm. “You don’t understand how much I feel the same way.”

He separates from you, irises glossed over. It’s a look you’ve noticed before in his eyes, a look that speaks volumes compared to his usual warm and cheerful disposition, a look that even terrifies you to a certain extent, encased within anguish and longing.

You wonder if it’s the same look he had been seeing in you the first day he met you.

***

You’re seated on Hoseok’s bed, watching him filter through his cabinet.

You’ve been here a handful of times, mostly nights where you weren’t able to sleep and he sat by your side until you did. Or moments where you would ponder about him, coming by to say good morning or wondering if he had eaten already.

However, you’ve never been here in the wake of the night, watching him open up his belongings with an unwavering gaze in his orbs.

He halts after a couple of seconds, treading slowly towards you before planting himself beside you on the bed.

Sharply inhaling, he hands you the photograph in his hands.

A young woman immediately flashes before your eyes, a kind upturn to her eyes and a warm smile on her lips. She appears to be within her late twenties, curly locks falling to her shoulders and dressed in a bright orange dress.

Even through the lack of light, you don’t fail to miss the ring that sits on the third finger of her left hand.

“Jung Euna.” Hoseok somberly confirms, “My deceased wife.”

Your eyes widen instantly.

Aside from the first time you were alerted of her presence, Hoseok has never spoken about her. You had never questioned him either, knowing better than anybody else the sheer grief that came with losing your sprouse.

And in a way, a part of you always knew, being painfully aware of it since the moment you’ve met the man.

His warm smile has always seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“She was really pretty.” You add with a smile, peering up to see tenderness in Hoseok’s expression.

“She was.” He hums, “I had actually liked her since high school, but I was always too nervous around her to confess my feelings.”

You nod, and he continues. “But then one day, I was working at a department store and she walked in. Recognized me within seconds.”

“–I knew I couldn’t let the chance slip away from me again, so I asked her out. To my surprise, she agreed right away, as if she had been waiting for me to ask.”

He beams, “She was stubborn, but very loving. Not a day goes by without me thinking about her.”

Your brows lift, wondering if this is how you sounded when you talked about Namjoon. If you held so much love in your eyes, so much nostalgia in every word you spoke, so much sparks of joy in your expression.

“We…we never had kids.” He brings up, as if he knew what you were wondering. “Rather…we couldn’t have kids.”

Shock crosses your features and Hoseok grimly smiles, “Euna…she had a miscarriage. And then we found out she couldn’t have kids anymore, and it was devastating.” He sighs, recalling the memory like it was yesterday, “We fought, a lot. She kept telling me to divorce her, or to find someone else, because she knew how much I wanted to be a dad and have kids of my own.”

“But you see, I’m just as stubborn as my wife. I told her I wasn’t going anywhere and that it didn’t matter at the end of the day. That I didn’t vow to be with her in sickness and health at the altar for no reason, and that my desire to be with her was stronger than she thought.”

“Euna cried a lot. She would always cry in moments like this, not realizing how clear it was that she was suffering. So, I stayed with her and we were together for years, until her death.”

You let out the breath you hadn’t known you had been holding, “C-Can I ask….”

A small smile curls on his lips. “Of course you can.”

You dart your gaze at the photo, knowing this isn’t easy to talk about. “Euna…how did she…?”

Hoseok harshly swallows, all his wounds reopening before him. “She got diagnosed with stomach cancer. We luckily caught it right away, but Euna…she got sick, very quickly. It soon turned into going back and forth into the hospital, getting treatments and scheduling surgeries, and she got better. She looked so healthy, even started smiling again and–”

Hoseok shudders, raising a hand against his eyes. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around him as his body trembles, sobs escaping him.

“Hoseok…” You whisper and he glances up, agony pouring out from him.

“S-She was better, Y/N.” He chokes out. “I thought it was all real. I thought I could take her out of there, bring her back home and everything would snap back into place again, but then it s-spread…”

You hug him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

“She was gone...” You complete, “…in the blink of an eye, like she never existed to begin with.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond, still within your arms and he knows he doesn’t need to. Not when you understand his pain so well, not when his feelings mimic yours, not when the gap in his heart that his wife left is so similar to your own, feelings of loneliness dispersing everywhere.

That night, you lie down next to Hoseok.

Your head rests against his chest as his breaths even out, his hand clasped onto yours. The tears have long dried but the anguish is still there, a deep furrow to his brows as he sleeps.

Peering upward, a soft smile lingers on your lips at the photograph he holds close to his heart.

You lean down, handing Hoseok a warm cup of tea.

His hands reach out in an instant, a kind smile on his features.

“Thank you.” You return it, before sitting yourself down on a chair opposite to him with your own cup.

It had been roughly a week since that night, and Hoseok looks brighter, almost more optimistic, if it were even possible. You weren’t sure after the second night passed, his eyes remaining swollen and a somber aura surrounding the man. You hadn’t left him alone for a split second, even as he continuously insisted he was alright, accompanying him on morning walks and holding onto his cold hand.

Hoseok had chuckled when you pushed him over, sliding into the opposite end of the bed and draping an arm around him. He smiles gently when you rest your head against his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. His eyes turn tender when you dreamingly question about Euna, curious about her likes and dislikes, the way she spoke or the way she laughed, using him as your source to an individual you’ve never met, but feel like you know everything about.

And he does the same for you, asking for you to show him a picture of Namjoon one day. You pluck onto an album you had kept safely stored away, one Hoseok already knew was yours from how tidy it was kept and it was always situated next to your books, the very ones Namjoon would read.

Hoseok sees everything. Pictures of you and Namjoon smiling, much younger and with so much excitement dwelling in your eyes. Photographs of a new ring settled on your finger, bursting with so much happiness. Photographs of you crying, holding your nearly born son in your arms.

Hoseok sees your entire lifetime before his eyes, peeking at a question that has your eyes sparkling.

“Do you think we could have met?” He glances at the photograph of you in dark robes, a wide grin on your lips as you hold your college degree. “Like bumped shoulders at one point?”

“I don’t know.” You truthfully confess. You had lived such different lives, never once bumping into the man. It makes you wonder if you would have ever met him, having not gone to the old age home.

“We’re what? Five years apart?” He marvels, deep in thought, “What if you were revisiting college? And you just happened to stumble into me, freshly into college?”

You fondly smile at the sentiment. You can imagine it so clearly – a younger Hoseok, appearing curious with his surroundings as he glanced around, attempting to locate his classes. You, a couple years older, coming back to meet with one of your professors.

“You would be lost.” You state, playing into his fantasy. “I bet you would try to ask everyone around you for directions…”

“–until I encountered you, your confidence taking me away.”

You laugh, smile stretching. “I would wonder why you would be asking someone like me–”

“Someone who would be too stubborn to say no.” He grins and the image flashes before you can help it.

“E-Excuse me?” The man mumbles, appearing to be in his early twenties. “I’m supposed to go to the Art building, but I’m not sure which way that is.”

You turn in surprise, not having expected to be approached. In fact, your gaze was concentrated forward, attached to the office before you.

“O-Oh.” You’re caught off guard. His eyes are flickering everywhere and you muse he could really use the help. “Of course, it’s the black building just down on the right.”

“Thanks.” He kindly smiles, and turns in the direction of your instructions.

You widely grin, “It wouldn’t have been anything big. Just a couple of words exchanged.”

Hoseok halts, swiveling with wide eyes.

“Sorry, did you say something?” He ponders, and you softly shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it.” You mutter, “I do hope you find your class, Hoseok.”

He nods, peering at you in confusion. You watch as he departs, whispering underneath your breath.

“See you in a couple of years.”

Hoseok is leaning back in his chair, a soft smile on his lips.

“A tad unrealistic?” You were amused that he let you stray so far off, not halting the train of thoughts coming to you.

“A bit,” He chuckles, “but I didn’t want you to stop.”

You share a knowing look, holding onto your tea cups.

A soft knock resonates against the door.

Hoseok gets up first, gesturing for you to continue drinking your tea. You watch as he slowly pads over to the door, revealing a woman standing with a young girl before your eyes.

You recognize them immediately as a family that lived nearby, noticing them frequenting one of the homes during the summer.

The young girl looks to be roughly seven to eight years old, eyes flickering around and hands fidgeting. At the sight of her mother eyeing her, she speaks up.

“Um…m-my ball. It went into your garden.”

Hoseok softly smiles, leaning down to gently pat her head.

“Let’s go retrieve it, shall we?” He implores, and the little girl follows behind, slowing her pace to keep up with his steps.

You walk outside to the garden, standing next to her mother. Fondness spreads through you as Hoseok looks around with the girl, a tenderness to his eyes that has you smiling as he gives the ball back to you.

Her mother draws your attention. “I’m so sorry about this, I didn’t think it would end up here.”

“It’s quite alright.” You reassure, “Hoseok doesn’t mind either.”

“I’ve seen you around a couple of times.” She inquires, “Did you come here recently?”

You nod, “I wanted to move away from the city.”

She hums understandably, “That’s nice. Both you and your husband seem very loving.”

Your eyes flicker. It had been so long since you had heard such a statement, long having buried it with Namjoon when he passed.

“He’s not my husband…” You correct, and the woman’s eyes widen, like she hasn’t been expecting that response from you.

You pursue your lips. You truthfully, never had an answer. Not when Naree had accused you of replacing Namjoon, not when you would encounter the other neighbors and they would inquire about you, not when there was no envy on either one of your parts when Namjoon or Euna were mentioned, just understanding of the deep love you both still hold onto to.

Namjoon is your husband. He will always be, keeping a special place in your heart that no one else can ever fully take or replace.

Hoseok is your radiant sun.

His smile is comforting. His arms are warm. His presence feels so reassuring and makes you feel less lonely in this world that only has you left behind.

He's your solace – the embodiment of your pain and understanding at the same time.

“Hoseok…” You whisper, “He’s…he’s my partner.”

Through the thick and thin, through the laughs and the tears, through the comforting embraces and the anguished recollections. You are glad to have met him, to have experienced these new memories with him, and to have created a new path, one in which you will spend the rest of your life in together.

Hoseok glances up with a grin, the little girl holding her ball and giggling at something he said. His eyes lock on yours and it’s almost like he knows, he knows what is dwelling inside them.

He’ll always be your partner for eternity.

Time is the most valuable thing to exist in the world.

It can be a matter of a mere seconds, spinning away like loose strands without any control. It could be a matter of a few years, spanning across months at a subdued pace.

Time is so very valuable, and you’re grateful to have spent it with Jung Hoseok.

“Hoseok….”

It’s your voice, weakly calling out to him. He’s by your side within a matter of seconds.

“Y/N.” He whispers, a smile spanning on his lips with many lines creasing.

He’s gotten much older, the dark strands of hair turning completely gray, a deep hunch caving in his back more. He wears hearing aids on both ears, enough to still hear your low murmurs from your bed. His eyes have gotten weaker, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his long nose.

He still looks like the man you’ve spent so many years with.

And what years they were. You had basked in each other’s presence, being so utterly peaceful with him staying by your side. You weren’t lonely, you weren’t numb, you weren’t terrified anymore, you were simply content.

Even when your legs had started losing their ability. Even when your memory began to fade, panic settling in on not being able to recall anymore. Even when your skin paled with time and you had become bed ridden.

Hoseok held onto you. Hoseok reminded you, pulling out albums for you to see. Hoseok lied down with you, letting you rest your head against his chest. He coaxes and consoles you, keeping you in one piece even though the years were threatening to crumble you.

Even as he watches your chest slowly heave, voice growing weaker by the minute.

“Hoseok…” You croak. He’s leaning in right away, despite having machinery that allows him to hear. “T-Thank you…Hoseok….”

He chuckles, eyes glossed over. So many years had passed and you still had the need to express your gratitude

“I should be thanking you.” He brings up, “Thank you, Kim Y/N. For all these beautiful years.” He whispers, as if singing you a comforting lullaby “For letting me into your life and staying by your side.”

His voice cracks, but he still smiles.

“F-For letting this old man be your partner, for the rest of the time you had left.”

You slowly smile, and he squeezes your hand, like he knows you feel the same way.

“Hoseok….” You heave out, “I-I’m…I’m a little scared…”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours and shaking in your grasp.

“I-I wanted to go….” You croak, “For so long….I-I wanted to see him….”

A low chuckle escapes you, “But not anymore.... strange, isn’t it….?”

Hoseok is sobbing, shudders escaping through his body. His hand is clasped around yours, eyes filled with water

But he keeps them open, wanting to encapsulate your last image into them.

“You’ll be okay.” He chokes out.

A warm smile graces your lips. It’s the most content he’s ever seen you, and it makes the center of his chest ache infinitely.

A moment of silence passes as Hoseok recollects himself, leaning back to gaze at you.

He calls out for you.

“Y/N?”

Your lips barely move, the shallow breaths leaving you all too soon. But you keep your gaze concentrated on him, letting him know you are still listening.

A tear manages to slip from Hoseok’s eyes, but he still smiles, like he always does.

“Say hi to your husband for me.” He whispers.

It’s the last thing you hear before a brightness filling your eyes, his hold on you being the strongest it’s ever been. It rushes in, pulling you away like a tide.

Your hand slips through his hold, and your eyes shut forever.

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