Page 2 of Scarbound

Noeul parked in silence and remained behind the wheel for several minutes. He wasn’t ready. The realization almost made him turn the engine back on.

He forced himself out of the car and let his steps lead him almost mechanically to the grave. Soon, he stood before the carefully crafted headstone shaped like an angel. The weight of lost years pressed down on him: words never spoken, memories of the four of them gaming, sharing secrets, making plans that once felt eternal.

“I’m…” he began. Now, standing before the grave, he couldn’t remember any of the things he wanted to say.

“I don’t deserve to stand here, Haneul.” The words escaped before he realized he had spoken them.

He could picture his friend’s face with painful clarity, the bright smile, the way he used to scold them whenever he and his brother fought.

His eyes settled on the carved name.

Haneul Lee.

The letters looked terribly ordinary. He knelt, letting his fingers trace Haneul’s name carved into the stone, following the letters as if they might grant him some fragile sense of closeness.

He had spent months convincing himself that coming here would make something easier. Instead, all he could think was that he had arrived two years too late.

“I should have come sooner,” he said, his breath unsteady. “I thought about you often, but… I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” His voice faded, the rest of the thought catching in his throat.

He crouched slowly, placing the flowers beside the stone.

“I’m sorry.”

The words sounded small.

Sorry for what?

For surviving?

For disappearing?

For not visiting?

For what Gong had done?

For what he himself had failed to do?

A cold breeze stirred the trees behind him. Without thinking, he reached into his coat pocket and found the packet of Haneul’s favorite snacks. His hand froze halfway.

“You’d probably tell me to stop blaming myself.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “You always did.”

Silence answered. His fingers tightened around the unopened packet.

“But you weren’t there.” The sentence came out more bitterly than he intended. His breathing became uneven. “You weren’t there when everything fell apart.”

He closed his eyes immediately.

“No… that’s not fair.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m still looking for someone to blame.”

He stood there for several seconds, unable to breathe properly. His hands clenched, then loosened, as he remembered the nights after Haneul’s death, when he and his brother had tried to fill the void only to hurt each other more.

Then he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

He picked up the unopened packet, turned away, and walked back toward the car.

The silence followed him.