In Every Memory

It had been a few weeks since Heeseung’s passing, and the house felt emptier with each day. The silence between the four of them—the remaining brothers and lovers—was deafening, but the hardest part of all was what they had to do next.

Jay and Sunghoon stood in front of Heeseung's room. Their eyes didn’t meet—neither had the strength to speak. Both of them knew what they had to do, but neither was ready.

Jay reached out and touched the doorknob. His hand trembled, feeling the weight of everything Heeseung had left behind in that room. The walls, the books, the small things that made up Heeseung’s world—everything felt too fresh, too full of life, too full of pain.

“We can’t keep it open forever,” Sunghoon said softly, his voice cracking, though he tried to remain strong for Jay.

Jay closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “I know... But it feels like I’m betraying him. It feels like I’m really letting him go.”

Sunghoon gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not letting him go, Jay. We’re just... trying to heal.”

Jay nodded silently, though tears were already threatening to spill. He stood there for a moment, as if trying to memorize everything in that room, trying to hold on to the memory of the brother they’d lost.

Finally, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. The room was still the same. Heeseung’s favorite sweater was draped across the back of the chair, his books neatly stacked on the desk, a half-empty mug still sitting on the nightstand. It was as though Heeseung had just stepped out for a moment, and any second now, he would walk back in.

Jay walked in first, his feet feeling heavier with each step. He felt the weight of the room’s silence, the absence of Heeseung that seemed to echo off the walls. Sunghoon followed closely behind, both of them taking in the scene before them.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Jay said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon walked over to the desk, picking up a small notebook that Heeseung had been writing in not too long ago. “He was so full of life. It feels wrong to just... move on.” Sunghoon's voice cracked, and he paused for a moment to collect himself. He stared at the notebook, the last tangible piece of Heeseung’s world.

Jay wiped his eyes quickly, trying to regain control, but it was no use. The tears were unstoppable now. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling. “It’s too quiet... I miss him, Hoony. I miss him so much.”

Sunghoon stood beside him, the pain in his eyes matching Jay’s. “I know. I miss him, too. We all do. But Heeseung... He would want us to keep going. He’d want us to be strong.”

Jay nodded slowly, but the ache in his chest refused to subside. The idea of closing this door, of locking away the last remnants of Heeseung’s presence, felt like a betrayal. How could they move on when everything in this room was still so... alive?

“I just want him back,” Jay said softly, his voice barely a whisper as his shoulders shook with sobs.

Sunghoon, fighting his own tears, knelt beside Jay, placing a hand on his back. “We all do. But Heeseung wouldn’t want us to drown in this pain forever. He’d want us to remember him with love... and live the way he would have wanted us to.”

Jay's breath hitched as he struggled to hold back the tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone...”

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, together in the room, surrounded by memories that were both beautiful and painful. It felt like they could still hear Heeseung’s laughter, see his smile in the corners of the room, but it was all so far out of reach now.

Finally, Jay stood up and turned to Sunghoon. “It’s time, isn’t it?” he whispered.

Sunghoon nodded, wiping his own tears. He gave a soft, encouraging smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll keep him in our hearts. But it’s time to close the door. We’ll carry him with us.”

Jay walked over to the door, hand shaking as he placed it on the knob. One last look around the room—the place where so many memories had been made—and he slowly closed the door behind him. The click of the door echoed in the silence, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore.

They walked away together, but the grief was still there, hiding just behind their hearts. They’d locked away Heeseung’s room, not to forget, but to try and move forward. Their brother, their friend, would never truly be gone.

And as the door closed for the final time, they knew that no matter how many doors they closed, Heeseung would always be with them.