➵ yoongi
it was a quiet funeral.
my parents didn't want to seem like they were disrespecting my brother, so they explicitly stated that only immediate family and close friends could attend. this meant that yoonho's friends from basketball couldn't come, but that didn't stop them from having their own private memorial with the coach. however, it did mean that my brother's girlfriend could come, and i silently wished the whole time that she hadn't been allowed.
hoseok came, and thankfully obeyed my wish of not trying to kiss me or anything unless i told him to. he simply stayed by my side the whole time, simply holding my hand and rubbing small circles on it in a comforting gesture.
the funeral was overwhelming, but then it came time to head to the graveyard for the burial.
jaehee ended up standing not too far from me. i was on the right side of the grave, while she was right at the top. she was soon unable to hide her loud, hiccuping sobs. nobody paid her much attention, for we all were no stranger to her frequent theatrics, except one of my aunts, who was currently standing by her side and rubbing her shoulders, whispering to her as she cried.
i, on the other hand, was unable to cry. it was like i was numb, frozen. and it made me feel even worse, because i was at fault for all of this. for god's sake, no parent should ever have to bury their child. it was all my fault, and i couldn't even show any kind of pain.
it wasn't like i didn't feel like shit at all, no, on the inside i was a complete mess. it was just that i couldn't express my pain and anguish on the outside, like jaehee was doing rather excessively.
my parents walked up to the hole to each shovel a pile of dirt onto the casket. my father did it stone faced, although i knew him too well to think that was true. he only wore a mask like that when he was in a great state of emotional distress. when my mother took hold of the shovel, she suddenly burst into tears, her shoulders shaking. my dad held her for a moment, helping her pick up the soil and throw it into the grave.
hoseok nudged my side with our entangled hands. "it's your turn, hyung," he whispered in my ear.
i took a deep breath and let go of him, solemnly walking up to my mom. i could barely look her in the eye knowing i was the one who had killed my brother. but i took the shovel and turned to the hole. the pile of dirt was at my right, on the outside of the grave.
i stepped closer, now able to properly see down into the hole. six feet into the ground lay a white casket sprinkled with dirt. my brother was in that box, not breathing and motionless. my little brother, who i'd shared my entire life with, lay in the box waiting to rot away.
all of a sudden my breath seemed to catch in my throat and i couldn't breathe. i backed up and threw the shovel on the ground. "i can't... i can't do this."
"yoongi!" my father and hoseok both called out as i turned and ran from the gravesite. i didn't look back. i just ran and ran and ran until my chest felt like it was on fire. hands on my knees, i stopped and flopped onto the yard of the house in front of me. my chest felt like there was lava being poured inside of it. i wanted to cry so badly, just to let it out and feel a little bit better. but the tears refused to come out and so i just lay on the damp grass, screaming until my throat grew scratchy and my voice hoarse.
my phone rang several times while i lay there, most likely my parents and hoseok trying to figure out where i was. i didn't bother answering. they were probably home by now; when i checked the time on my phone, i realized i'd been out here for nearly an hour.
begrudgingly i began the walk home. not recognizing the neighbourhood, i opened up my phone's map and routed my way home.
i must have looked like an absolute mess to anybody who saw me walking down the sidewalk; my black clothes were rumpled and wet from the damp grass, my hair was disheveled, my expression sullen and depressed.
when i opened the front door, my family was waiting in the living room. i noticed hoseok wasn't there. my mother heaved a sigh of relief, rushing over to wrap me in a tight hug. "my baby. we were so worried. are you...?"
"i'm fine, eomma. i just wanna be alone." as i passed him on my way to the stairs, my father caught my eye. he looked as if he'd aged twenty years overnight. his graying hair suddenly seemed almost silver and his entire body just screamed, "i'm tired".
i turned away before i started to cry. my footsteps thudded on the stairs as i hurried to my room. locking the door behind me, i strode to my desk, where i proceeded to climb on top of my chair so i could reach the ceiling. the second floor ceilings in our house were made of a flimsy tile that you could push upwards if you were tall enough.
it served as a great place to hide things that one wouldn't want their parents to find.
my fingers soon enclosed around the six pack of room-temperature beer, and as soon as i'd gotten a secure grip, i lowered myself down, set the beer on my desk, and replaced the ceiling tile.
***
how many beers was too many?
i didn't know, nor did i care. beer after beer i downed; i no longer wanted to feel. i didn't want to feel the anguish in my gut, or the guilt that wracked my brain, or the heavy weight that burdened my chest.
my blurry eyes were useless as my hand felt around for the beer case. where had it gone? i wanted another. i wasn't numb enough yet.
but even as i finished off what felt like my fiftieth beer, a little corner of my mind reminded me that no amount of alcohol would ever truly erase what i'd done.
my brother's death would haunt me for the rest of my life, and i couldn't drink enough beer to forget that.
