Letters To Jisung

5

Changbin woke up from a restless sleep and took a peek in Chan's room. Ever since he found a blade on Chan's dresser, he made this a habit. Chan said he would never go through with it, but Jisung also said he was okay, and they all know how that turned out. He hated that he couldn't trust his leader anymore. He was no longer the problem solver of the group, he was just straight broken. In the long run it was for the better, Changbin tried to justify, as the rest of the group would have to step up and help. It's certainly not the best way for that to happen, but it was some way.

Knowing it was a miracle that Chan was sleeping at all, Changbin tiptoed ever so softly towards the older's bed. He saw Chan's curly and matted hair buried in Minho's chest and tucked tightly under the covers. They must have met at the bridge. The remaining elders of the group took turns making sure Chan didn't do anything stupid at Hangang Bridge. They didn't want to burden the younger members. On the nights Chan wasn't there, it gave them a chance to mourn in their own way. The rapper's main way of honoring Jisung's memory was to walk slowly by the photos, occasionally glancing at them to see the boy smile. He would imagine walking beside him, cracking jokes like they used to before the squirrel became lost in his mind. Some photos brought back vivid memories, and he would imagine them and let the laughs linger until the winter chill rudely interrupted him.

Moving his eyes away from the cuddling, he noticed a piece of paper folded in three, as if it was going to go in an envelope. The writing on it was definitely Chan's. The therapist in their group session a few days ago suggested they write letters to Jisung to try and find closure. Changbin assumed that suggestion was recommended to the other dorm too. He still wasn't sure if he would write a letter, and despite Chan saying the idea was 'stupid and fucking pointless if Jisung is already dead', the eldest apparently changed his mind.

Knowing Chan was at least safe until Minho left, he walked to the kitchen to make some food. He bought most of the groceries nowadays, since Chan never ate and Hyunjin was on a diet. But Dwaekki-ah was always hungry, and he was relieved that recent events didn't change that part of him.

"Hey Binnie," Minho whispered.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Changbin responded.

"No, I was starting to wake up anyway. I let Chan go back to sleep." A moment of silence fell between them as Changbin continued to get breakfast ready.

"The folded piece of paper..." Changbin decided to ask, "Was that a letter?"

"Yeah," Minho sighed, "He's in really bad shape. Like, really bad shape."

"How bad?" Changbin was scared to hear the answer. Having lived with his leader for a while now, he knew most of Chan's life at home was either in the studio, or curled up in his bed faintly sobbing, which you could only hear if you got close enough to the door.

"It's 'maybe I'll just go to the bridge one day and never come back' bad."

Changbin let out a low whistle. That was not good. That was not good at all.

"So what do we do about it?"

"I'm not sure we can do anything unless Channie-hyung actually wants help." Changbin showed frustration on his face.

"That's bullshit. He could hurt himself, does that not count?"

"Does what not count?"

Both boys turned towards the new voice, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was only Hyunjin. He looked a little confused, as if he was interrupting something which, to be fair, he kind of was. It's not like it was a completely private conversation, but the bunny duo didn't want Chan to hear what they were saying, at least not yet.

"Chan's letter. He let me read it and it's pretty bad."

"How bad?" Hyunjin echoed Changbin's earlier question as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"'Maybe I'll disappear and never come back' bad."

"How is that bad?" Hyunjin was confused, or perhaps he was shaking off his sleepiness and couldn't understand.

"You pabo," Changbin whispered intensely, "that means jumping off the bridge like Hannie did."

"Oh." Hyunjin's face fell flat, now understanding the gravity of the situation.

The three of them sat there in silence, trying to figure out what to do. If they weren't making music or watching dramas or movies, this is often how they spent their days with each other. Jisung was the comedic and conversational glue that held them together. They were starting to get better about joking around again, but it was hard. Changbin sat next to Hyunjin, stabbing his chopsticks in his breakfast out of frustration.

"I'm going back to Chan's room. Make sure he's still okay." Minho said, waving goodbye to the two roommates as he walked away. Hyunjin halfheartedly saluted, then turned towards Changbin.

"I was planning on visiting the babies today, want to come with?" He hasn't visited his maknaes in a few days and wanted to take a break from the photo collage he was working on.

"No thanks, I want to make sure Channie's okay once Minho leaves."

Hyunjin grimaced quickly, hoping Changbin didn't notice. When it became obvious that Chan stopped taking care of himself, Changbin became his caretaker. Whether it was being in the studio with him, or making sure he had an official (or unofficial) chaperone, it was starting to get on Hyunjin's nerves that his hyung didn't trust Chan. Given the new news of the letter, it made sense, but suffocating Chan with attention might only drive him further inward, and that's where they got in trouble before.

Everyone was afraid of everyone else reaching the point of no return. It was an underlying current of paranoia, stronger than the world's most deadly tides. Every Stray Kid, oldest to youngest, would be lying if they said otherwise.

Hyunjin bid his hyung farewell as Changbin put his leftover breakfast in the fridge. He took one more peek in Chan's room before returning to his own after being satisfied. He sat down at his desk and looked at the journal he used to jot down song ideas and lyrics in. Their therapist suggested they hand write the letter instead of just typing it out. Something about the act of physically putting pen to paper was supposed to have a bigger impact. If any paper would be appropriate to write on, it would certainly be this.

Changbin took a few deep breaths, opened the book three-quarters of the way open, grabbed his favorite pen, and started to write.