𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 [ TRANSLATION ]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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are you going to sink in the water?
21 12 24

In the winter of his twenty-seven years, Choi Yeonjun owned everything the world had to offer: fame, wealth, good looks and that charisma that had always accompanied him since his debut in the music industry; which, by the way, had made him the rising star of his company. That evening, the last of the concerts of his world tour would be held in Seoul which, to his surprise, announced the year before, lasted much longer than he imagined. Under the care of his make-up artist, his eyelids threatened several times to close, but, just as he was about to indulge in sleep, one of his assistants placed his cell phone in his hands which, for a while, had started ringing without receiving any response. Snorting irritated, he accepted the call and his cell phone, soon, fell to the floor because of what the voice on the other side said. He jumped up, frightening the people around him, stopping for a few moments on the spot with his heart that gradually began to pump blood faster and faster and, drawing the attention of his manager, forced him to follow him out of the arena; where his fans were waiting for him, cheering loudly, behind the barriers, his name. Despite the calls from the man who tried to convince him to return, since soon the concert was supposed to begin, they reached the bridge of the Han River; busy, as always, but his attention, from the dark window of the van in which he was, was referred to the sidewalk adjacent to the road. It was there that, among the lights of the car headlights, he saw him, feeling his breath inside him.

— call 119, hurty up! — he said to the man driving, when he moved close enough to the position of the boy he started calling out loud — choi soobin.. choi soobin!!
The nominee turned to look at him and their eyes crossed. He smiled at him, despite the red eyelids and consumed by crying. A bitter smile, one of those that instead of joy, appeared regret and much, so much sadness.
— why are you here? — he asked him in a sharp voice.
— you called me, don't you remember? — he replied, close enough to him to notice that, even at that moment, between his ears, there were headphones tied to his old mp3.
— you can leave now.
— soobin, please give me your hand.
— go away yeonjun. — he said, letting it shine through by his vowel tone, the despair inherent in it. He wondered, why the other was so bad for not even being able, at that moment, to look at him. When he was close enough to him, he reached out to him, clutching his waist around him so he wouldn't fall. The other squirmed in his grip, while from afar, the sound of the sirens was present in space; a sign that, finally, the requested help had arrived. Raised, he sighed, and in a moment of distraction, the boy swirled, so much, from making him lose his grip on his body. And then he saw it. A smile, one like the one he had seen him put on just before. A bitter one, one of those who instead of joy, transpired regret and much, so much sadness. No.. he thought, as the heart accelerated the beats and, also protracting beyond the parapet, he tried to reach one of his hand to squeeze it to his own, succeeding. He gritted his teeth, feeling the tears running down his face. He called for help in a loud voice, looking around and noticing people quickly getting closer to their position, but nothing was useful.

— choi soobin, p-please.
— yeonjun-ah, forgive me.

Those were the last words he heard him say, before he smiled at him for the last time, before letting himself go into the void. His body, after letting himself go to the cold evening air, broke through the river's icy body of water. The waves welcomed him, leaving him at the mercy of them. He saw him floating for a few moments, before losing him through the darkness around him. Soon, he perceived his face more and more moist; the tears that first stopped at his cheeks, began to wet his neck because, without any strength to dry them, they slipped freely on his milky skin. He felt his breath missing and his legs gave way and, before he could even let himself fall to the ground, arms welcomed him, so that he could stand. He turned to the person next to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and crying. Desperate, he called that name and the sobs, soon, made his every next word incomprehensible to the ears of others.

— yeonjun-ah. — the man said, bringing a hand to his back to caress her.
— h-hyung, so-so-soob-in.. — he squeezed to him, rejecting the view of color that they should soon look for the boy's body — so-soobin is- he is-..
— it's okay, he'll be fine. —
— please, please come back to me.

Desperate, whining, those words came out of his mouth, while in one of his hands, he clutched of him, the only thing he had managed to save that night: the mp3 player which, however, did not seem to give any sign of life; as if it were broken, just like his own master. He felt tired, suddenly, letting himself go involuntarily into the arms of his manager in the meantime that in his mind a single thought revolved inside it, tormenting him until the moment before fainting: choi soobin was dead.

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