When the surgeons walked towards us with ashen faces and anguished voices, the first three things that came to my mind frightened me. One, did Death come to claim Jungkook? Two, who called for Death to come, and three, what was going to happen to us?
I never got an answer for the last question, because it came so naturally that we accepted it as part of our grief. And I did something that the Kim Namjoon in the past wouldn’t have. I skipped the funeral, packed my bags and just... left. I could not bring myself to witness what Jungkook’s death did to all our friends, how he took the best in each of us along with him to his grave. And I couldn’t bear to see, how the mistake of my negligence, robbed the world of its sun.
The day before Jungkook died, I bumped into Seokjin-hyung, although he wasn’t quite like himself. He wore an immaculate blouse beneath an expensive suit and the way his feet struck the earth with finality suggested age. He looked at me in the eye and knocked the breath from my lungs. He didn’t speak to me at all, but turned to disappear down the street. If I had known that he was going to... I would have stopped him. But I didn’t and I hate myself for that.
I miss them all, terribly so. Especially Taehyung. He is the most persistant. He would send me messages, call me, and write to me on every possible surface Seoul could offer. I’m truly sorry that I will never have the courage to ask for forgiveness and that I will never have the capacity to give him the love that he truly deserves. How could I, when I lost the ability to love him the moment I let Seokjin-hyung walk away?