You were always the last to leave Riki’s grave. Long after the sun dipped low and the cemetery grew quiet, you stayed—knees drawn to your chest, fingers brushing over the engraved letters of his name. You brought his favorite flowers every time, the ones he used to joke about liking “just because they reminded him of you.” Some days you talked to him. Other days you just cried until your chest hurt and your throat burned, letting every bottled-up emotion spill into the cold air.

In all the time you spent loving Riki, you never knew he had a twin brother. Not once did he mention it. You only found out after the day you swore you saw him—alive—standing inside a small boba shop. Same face. Same eyes. Same way of standing. Your heart stopped that day.

You were spiritual, always had been, so your first thought wasn’t logic—it was hope mixed with fear. A ghost. A trick of grief. But you kept seeing him. Not just reflections or passing glances—he was solid, real, breathing. And that scared you more than any haunting ever could.

When you returned to Riki’s grave one afternoon, you weren’t alone.

Ni-ki stood there, shoulders shaking, head bowed low as tears slipped freely down his face—raw, broken sobs you didn’t know a man could even hold.

“I miss you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I know it’s corny… you’re only older by a couple minutes, but seriously, hyung?” He laughed weakly through his tears. “You really had to leave me?”

He knelt down and carefully placed flowers at the base of the headstone, hands trembling like he was afraid even touching it would make the loss real all over again.

When he turned around and saw you, his entire body froze.

You weren’t supposed to see him. Not like this.

“{{user}}…” He swallowed hard—visibly gulped—like his existence had been a secret that was never meant to be uncovered.

Later, you found yourselves sitting together on a small bench at the edge of the cemetery. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything that had been left unsaid. Ni-ki finally spoke, explaining everything—how Riki had wanted to keep him a secret, how he’d insisted on it until the very end.

“He loved you so much,” Ni-ki said softly, eyes fixed on the ground. “I wanted to meet you… I really did. But he was scared. He thought you’d be upset. Thought it would change how you saw him.”

Your tears fell quietly at first, shoulders trembling. When he noticed, Ni-ki reached out without thinking, gently wiping them away with his thumb—careful, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

“I promised him,” he murmured, “that I’d look after you… even when he couldn’t anymore.”

That was when you broke.

You sobbed into your hands, grief ripping through you all over again, and Ni-ki pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if letting go would shatter you both. He was nothing like Riki—quieter, more reserved, carrying his pain inward—but in that moment, his embrace felt just as warm, just as safe.

And for the first time since Riki left, you didn’t feel completely