I don't know how long I sat there on the floor, staring blindly at the carpet, tears never ceasing. I couldn't fight it as memory after memory came crashing over me; all of the things that I had spent the last four years trying to bury, trying to forget.

Our mothers had been best friends their entire lives and when they had grown up and gotten married, gotten pregnant within 3 months of each other, they had promised that their kids would grow up together and be best friends as well...and that's exactly what happened.

I have almost no memories from my childhood that JK isn't in. Just like we have no memory of meeting our parents, they are just there as this constant figure in our lives, so was Jungkook for me. He was a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Our mothers had pictures of me a few days old infant cuddled up to 3-month-old Jeon Jungkook in his crib, of us sharing baths as babies, sharing playpens and toys as toddlers, learning to walk together, learning to talk together.

JK was the one constant in my life, the one person I had known would always be there for me...until he wasn't.

We were attached at the hip, you rarely saw one without the other. By the time we started 1st grade we had already started having sleepovers, by 3rd grade we were staying up all night scaring each other with ghost stories, eating junk food until one of us puked, sharing the same bed.

As we got older things changed and evolved. When our friends at school began to be wary of and nervous around others of the opposite sex, JK and I just got closer. We were never afraid to talk to each other about anything; JK was the one to run and get his mom when I woke up in his bed one morning when we were eleven blood all over his sheets, he held me as I cried from the unexpected pain of my first cramps. I stayed silent and tried not to stare when we would wake up in the morning long teenage limbs tangled together feeling his body reacting to my proximity in a way that he couldn't control, I helped him change the sheets on my bed without a word of ridicule when he woke up boxers and sheets sticky from his body's reaction to his dreams.

We never shied away from anything, never hid anything from the other. It just seemed like the natural progression of our relationship when at 14 years old we were each other's first kiss, front teeth clacking together, lips unsure how to move but still feeling the excitement and growing attraction to one another.

And more still it had just felt right when we had lost our virginity's, lost ourselves, albeit clumsily, in each other's bodies on a rainy stormy night just after my fifteenth birthday.

Thoughts of that night, memories of it; the feeling of Jungkook's hands and lips cautiously exploring all of the private sensitive areas of my body, the way his body shuddered when my lips locked around the sensitive spot on his neck, the way he lovingly asked for permission before slowly, gently pushing himself inside me, kissing away my tears as the pain stole my breath away, making sure that I got whatever pleasure I could through the pain even though I could tell he wanted nothing more than to chase his own release.

Visions of our life together flashed through my mind and finally the day just 3 months after my fifteenth birthday when JK hadn't shown up for school, my had parents had shown up instead and pulled me into an empty classroom, and said the words that had taken everything I had known in life and shattered it like glass.

I had denied it, for hours, shaking my head over and over again. My brain was unable to comprehend their words, there was no way he could be gone. I had just been with him 10 hours before when he had climbed through my bedroom window late at night and into my bed to make love to me. We had spent what felt like hours bringing the other pleasure with our hands and mouths, hands gripping bedsheets, and faces buried in pillows to muffle our moans of each other's names.

I hadn't exaggerated when I'd told Jungkook that I had had to go to therapy. When my parents took me into that classroom and told me that Jungkook had been hit by a car on his way to school and died, my entire world had come crashing down around me. I couldn't sleep, refused to eat, lost 20 pounds in a matter of weeks, and lost interest in school or anything else.

For weeks Jungkook's mother would find me curled up in his bed, his comforter wrapped around me like a cocoon, head buried in his pillow, replaying all of the moments we had shared in that bed, and crying so hard I could barely breathe.

I found myself in a similar position now. I had managed to clean up the glass through the blur of my tears and then had stripped off the shirt and sweatpants and climbed into the bed and underneath the covers. Instantly I knew he hadn't been lying, this really was his bed. I would recognize that scent anywhere, I had never been able to forget it.

That's how Jungkook found me when he returned to his bedroom; half-naked, hands bleeding as a result of small knicks from the glass, burrowed into his comforter. By this time I didn't have the energy left for full sobs. He found me staring up at the ceiling, tears silently streaming down my face.