𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 [ TRANSLATION ]

𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓

⋆
21 12 25

— yeonjun-ah, how are you today?

The voice of the quiet tone of the woman in front of her, a doctor, called her name, making him turn to look at her. He did not answer her, as he had been for a year to that part of the rest; a year that had passed between fainting in his tears, ingesting drugs and locking himself up in a clinic to hide from the outside world. His agency, had published time before he would go on break, specifying that the reason for his absence at his last concert, had been for a physical illness that would have to be treated and placed under surveillance for some time. In doing so, he had spent days, weeks and months, looking out the window of his room at the changing weather; sometimes there was sunshine, sometimes the rain fell and, again, the snow, along with the hail and the wind that made the leaves fly away from the trees. He had no longer opened his mouth, if not to assimilate medicines. His loved ones, as well as friends, were at first often next to him, trying to distract him in some way, but after a while, they too, seemed to have lost hope of seeing his old self come back. Dead, as well as the young man who appeared to him every night in a dream. He dreamed of holding him in his own arms, while on the other hand he told him to let him go. And he smiled, he found himself smiling, through tears, once awake almost every day because the moment his eyes opened, the enchantment vanished and he found himself alone, in his quiet room.

The darkness of the night lay out its mantle much earlier, that evening, leaving a view of the stars that shone from a distance along with the full moon. Looking as usual outside the window, he picked up his cell phone in one hand, checking the time. It was midnight on a new day; only, it marked a very specific anniversary: the death of Choi Soobin. He bit his lower lip, strong, to try not to shed further tears and, that evening, after thinking about it, took his cell phone in his hands, dialing a very precise telephone number; on the other side of the field, a male voice answered uncertain, struggling to believe that he had received a phone call or in any case, news from him. It didn't take long before that same person caught up with him. Choi Wooseok, his manager, was the one who, after convincing the staff left for the night shift at the clinic, managed to get him out for what he said would be a "simple walk", despite knowing well where he wanted to go. When the man motioned for him to leave the room, he left his cell phone on the bedside table next to the bed and, picking up, from the latter's drawer, the music player he had kept with him without being able to use it, as it was apparently broken.

The journey inside the vehicle that had used to escort him everywhere only months and months before, left a certain hint of nostalgia in his body; to the thought of the fans that he had left behind and to his own passion that had pushed him to embark on an idol career. He did not exchange many words with the man who in front of him, drove quietly and thanked him, mentally, for his silence. Reaching the point of interest, he got out of the car, asking him to wait for him, before starting to walk along the sidewalk of the Han River Bridge. He wore the headphones in his ears, paying attention to the wires, one of which fit the highest button of the coat he was wearing. At a precise point, at which he noticed there were several commemorative notes and flowers, he looked at the parapet, looking first at the sky and immediately after those waters that, dark, intimidated him a little. I wonder, how you felt, he thought, shaking a hand around the edge of the double steel railing. Did you feel cold? He wasn't dressed heavily, I remember, he remunted, appearing the raven the moments before the accident. His body, then, moved on its own, causing him to find himself in the same position as the boy the year before. Weren't you afraid? His eyes merged with the sight of the waves of the river, as he listened to its sound in silence.

— yeonjun! What are you doing?!

The sound of a voice that in the distance called his name, distracted him. He closed his eyelids, at first closed, sighing. He turned to the spot, being careful to hold on and seeing Wooseok with that worried expression, almost made him smile. Then, like a bolt from the blue, someone began to sing in his ears. In one click, leaving the grip from the parapet with one of the two hands, he picked up from his coat pocket the mp3 player which, after a year, had resumed working. Soon, that voice singed an unknown song for him. Soon, he realized who he belonged to and, in the heat of wanting to turn up the volume to hear him better, his one hand that still kept him safe, lost his grip, leaving him blinking several times surprised by what was happening to him. One hand tried to catch up with him, but he couldn't. He saw the lips of the man who had called him before, open, as if at that moment he was screaming, but he didn't hear it. Choi Soobin sang in his ears, as if he were next to him intent on holding him in his arms. He then closed his eyelids once again, leaving behind all the sadness that had weighed on his back. I wish I could see him again soon. He wanted to listen to his laughter again, his complaints. He smiled to himself, before the impact with the water, froze his body and fainted shortly after, while between his ears the sweet voice of that dark-eyed, bright-eyed boy still sounded.

⋆