Storyteller | JHS ✓

Epilogue; Spring day

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Cherry blossoms are blooming

The winter is ending

I miss you I miss you

If I wait a little longer

If I stay up a few more nights, I'll go see you

I'll go pick you up

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It's unfair how spring came directly after his death. Well, "death." I wasn't sure if it would be the first or the second since the only Jung Hoseok I knew was the ghost version. But even so, it was incredibly unfair that flowers started blooming in his wake, that spring didn't even hold its breath to mourn him. The sky should be crying alongside me. The clouds should've screamed with me. There shouldn't be sunshine kissing the skin of citizens or a light fragrance to the air.

But, I know, this is what he would've wanted. So maybe, the universe is only listening to his wish.

And it occurred to me one day on one of those fine spring mornings that I realized no one else on this earth would know that side of Jung Hoseok. A quick googling would show no traces of his family backstory, and neither did it show his inner thoughts and struggles.

I, along with a few other people, would die along with Hoseok's true self.

It pained me. It pained me incredibly to suddenly carry the burden of keeping my mind in perfect condition so I won't get amnesia and lose parts of Hoseok. It pained me the most when I stumbled in the rain toward Namjoon's library, tears staining my cheeks and bawling out, asking what color his eyes were.

And after that, I was scared. I was terrified of the possibilities. What if I forget him? No matter how concrete a memory is, the minutiae of the scene would still start slipping away from your mind years or even weeks later...Would I forget his dimples? His laugh? His smile? I couldn't bear to think that. I couldn't begin to even think of forgetting even a slight, subtle detail.

Death never stops for anyone. More people in my life will die. Would my head have enough space for all of their details?

I didn't want to find out.

And so, I started writing a long letter. A love letter, possibly. Perhaps to the moon, or to the sun, or even to myself. And maybe even to him.

But then, after pouring every ounce of me into it, I would burn it.

And then I would write it all over again, like the tragic tale of the phoenix, setting itself aflame to die only to be reborn and suffer the same cycle all over again. It was the only way I could get over him. By subjecting myself to an endless sequence of reliving memories, it was the only way I could ensure the memories of him stuck with me.

Or at least, I thought it would be.

Hoseok's small cottage ahead comes into clearing as I take each step with careful consideration. Everything is the same. The flowers are still beautiful, the house is still immaculate, and it's like the world moved on.

The blue and grey road that took me here...how much did it change again? I can't recall. Maybe there a new spill there. Did someone decorate the edges with painted rocks? Or was it still unchanging?