At Blue Hour, I Fall In Love [BEOMJUN] ✓

twenty

I’d thought that I would never go to an amusement park alone for a second time, but here I was.

The eyes of the people looking at me didn’t bother me.

I headed straight for the queue outside a thrill ride.

It was a weekday, and the amusement park wasn’t crowded.

I told the employees that I would pay the price for two people and asked them to leave the seat next to mine empty. They argued with me a little, but I explained my circumstances to them politely and honestly, and they allowed it.

The rollercoaster slowly reached the top. I felt the same unpleasant situation that I hadn’t become accustomed to. It didn’t seem like I would ever come to like rollercoasters in my life.

In the next moment, the rollercoaster began plummeting downwards.

I let out a wordless scream.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Dear Choi Yeonjun,
I wonder how you will feel when you listen to this voice recording. I can’t even begin to imagine. I actually wanted to write a letter or make a video recording, but I don’t have the strength, so it was impossible. I made a voice recording because it seemed like I could still manage to record my voice while lying down.

“I actually wanted to go somewhere with you, just the two of us. But I thought that it would hurt you if I said that out loud. No, I would have been hurt more than anyone, so I was too scared to say it.

“Yeonjunnie, I wanted to go to an amusement park with you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Back then, I was working hard on a small item.

On that night at the hospital, I’d received the notebook that had all of the things that Beomgyu had wanted to do before he died written in it. He’d told me that he was giving it to me because it would be embarrassing if his parents saw it one day. When I went home and looked at it carefully, I’d seen that there were still some things written in it that I hadn’t done. There was one that had particularly caught my eye.

I want to make a new snow globe.

The notebook contained a doodle depicting a certain scene of life. It was difficult to call it artistic, but I was well aware of what that picture was.

I bought clay and tried to reproduce Beomgyu’s picture with it, but I’d always been clumsy to begin with, so it didn’t go well at all. I continued using trial and error, driven by my desire to make it happen.

That’s when it happened.

Late at night, I received a call from Park Jinyoung’s cellphone.

Several days ago, Jinyoung had stopped fearing the debt collectors and started spending a lot of time in Beomgyu’s hospital room. It was partially because Beomgyu’s death was near. And the large reason that he’d feared the debt collectors turning to Beomgyu’s mother was because of Beomgyu’s treatment fees. And so, Jinyoung had started frequently visiting Beomgyu’s hospital room, and while I felt relieved, I also had somewhat conflicting emotions. Because this was also indicative of how close Beomgyu’s death was.

“Beomgyu says that he wants to see you one last time,” Jinyoung said.

I hurriedly got into a taxi and went to the hospital.

But I was too late.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, Beomgyu had died.

So, they really do put white cloths over people when they die, I thought like an idiot.