Soul Heaven-BTS Reverse Harem

51. Day 5

"I'm so sorry Cinta, your dad couldn't make it."

"Your dad passed away, just a few moments ago."

"Dad has cancer?"

"You're gonna be okay, Silver.. Strong people will fight even after they fall."

"I'm pregnant."

"What.. a.. slut! I had no idea Bighit is hiring a prostitute!"

"Miss?"

"I may be kicked out from my band, but losing Army would be the best revenge."

"I love you, S."

"You're my home.."

"Agassi?"

"Cinta, where are you?"

"Agassi, gwaenchanayo?"

I inhale sharply as I open my eyes.

Bad dream? No. I couldn't sleep.
I was only closing my eyes as my mind is too loud with the voices in my head since that night.

Right, it's day 5.

Five days since the night where it happened.

"Agassi, gwaenchanayo?" A male patrol officer woke me up. I'm surrounded by people I don't know.

He lifted me up slowly as other people gave me space. The officer called paramedics through his radio before asking my condition one more time.

"Gwaencahayo, geunyang pigonhaessoyo." I told him I'm okay and I was just exhausted. The paramedics came and did a quick check up on me before I'm off to my flight to London.

I didn't check on my phone again. I was scared to be reminded of what Melanie said. Scared to have panic attacks if I cried. Scared to have everyone near me thinks that I'm a weirdo.

I held it, I held it all until I'm finally landed. It was 6am and Daisy and Derek picked me up.

I didn't cry when I saw Daisy's face. I always cried to her every time bad things happened to me.
But not this time. Is it because I held it so long that I can't cry anymore? Or does my father's death doesn't really upset me? But if so, why did I had a panic attack just after Melanie told me?

I feel nothing. It became too much that I feel numb.

Daisy asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital to see him, cause that's where it happened. My dad died in his hospital bed. He stayed there several days ago before his death. I told her I wasn't ready, so we drove straight right to my house.

She tried to comfort me in anyway she could. She cooked for me, made me some tea, unpack my suitcase for me, drew a bath for me. But I wasn't ready to do anything. I refused her kind effort. I just wanted to be still. I wanted silence.

I couldn't sleep. I was just closing my eyes for a while then I would open them again on repeat. I thought that maybe when I see him, I would able to accept this. I would finally move on. Unfortunately, it was impossible to see his body until the funeral, so the following night I visit his house.

I was in his workroom, looking through his works. The scent of the room is still the same as I remembered. It smelled like an old wood and an oil paint along with the smell of cigars he liked to smoke. I could still feel his presence there. I could still remember the way he paint. His brush strokes and how the texture of the paint felt expensive on the canvas. How he thinks and how he sees things even if it's completely different than mine. I could still imagine him being serious when he's painting. How he doesn't like to be disturbed while he's working.