Namil treaded his way through the cemetery with a single Lotus in his hand. He felt a heavy depression settling in and honestly he wanted to be as quick as possible with his visit.
Once he made it to Kaia's tombstone, his stomach turned. His eyes began to burn with tears welling up in them and his throat began to hurt, along with his head. The male's eyebrows would draw themselves together as he tried to maintain his emotions.
He would kneel down and gently place the Lotus onto the ground and stand up. He remembered how much she really liked flowers. Their conversation about flowers was his favorite memory.
The male closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Now that he was there facing what eventually became his fear, he finally decided to stop holding onto his feelings and just let it all out.
Tears streamed down the boy's cheeks as he stood there only reading the girl's name and glancing at the flower he had given her.
Memories began swirling around in his mind. Everything from when they had first met in elementary school, all the way up until that day when it was the last time he'd hear her say that she loved him.
After Namil was all cried out and the gentle breeze had dried his eyes, he would removed one of the two black beaded bracelets that Kaia had given him from his wrist and placed it beside the Lotus.
"I just don't believe that this is real." He mumbled finally. Namil sat down in the grass and would take a hit from his vape, hiccuping shortly after because of all of the crying he did.
He wouldn't speak anymore after that. The male sat quietly, hugging his knees and listening to the sound of nature that surrounded him.
When Namil believed he had sat there long enough, he stood up and wiped the tears that began welling up in his eyes again before staggering away.
The boy would arrive back to the car where his mother had been waiting and opened the door. The silence was loud and it couldn't go unnoticed.
"It was my fault . . . I should've just let her go home instead of saying come back with me." Namil muttered, breaking the silence. "I messed up, didn't I?"
"No, Namil. None of this is on you. Don't even think of it that way." The woman would place her hand on her son's head, fixing the curls that twisted and overlapped on his head.
