**FEATURED ON WATTPAD**
Kim Taehyung - considered to be the idol of idols in the k-pop industry, the epitome of perfection, the object of envy for many, and the role model for every idol in the Korean music scene. He was the face of k-pop, the soulf...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
╔═━──━▒ ۞ ▒━──━═╗ WISHING ON A STAR ╚═━──━▒ ۞ ▒━──━═╝
Yi-Seo
“Se-Young-ssi,” I walk around the bench and go down on my knees to meet his downcast eyes. “I’m so sorry for not showing up, but how could you even think that I’d forget you? You’re like among the only two people who actually care about my existence,” I place the pack of candies on the bench and carefully take his fragile and bony hands in mine, holding them gently.
His pale and thin lips curve into a weak smile as he brings one hand to caress my head.
“I missed you so much, you know?” His words are punctuated by a few violent coughs, and I have to admit that he looks a lot weaker than he was a few months ago. Even his voice seems to have rusted a little.
Se-Young is fifty-two years old, and he looked his age until the last time I met him, but now it suddenly looks as if his body has advanced by another twenty years or so. His hairline has receded drastically, his skin has become blotchy, and he looks like a human-sized prune—shriveled and dry.
“Are you unwell? You seem to have lost a lot of weight too,” my voice gives away the worry that’s starting to invade my mind, and I rise from the ground to sit down beside him on the bench.
“Yi-Seo,” he holds my hand safely inside both his hands, turning around a little to sit facing me as he begins to talk softly. “I know you’ve told me never to talk about this, but I can see it coming. I don’t think I’ll live too long,” a kind of defeated smile manifests on his lips as his gloomy eyes lift to look at me.
My shoulders drop, as does my heart upon hearing his words. I’ve always believed that death never presents itself too suddenly, at least not to the one who is about to experience it. To the world, it might seem like someone passed away too suddenly, but I’m a strong believer that the instincts of those whose death is impending—irrespective of their age—would always tell them what is about to come. Their inner self knows, maybe not too vividly, but it at least gets a blurry hint that things are about to come to an end for them in the physical world.
It is what my mind believes, but I still can’t tell him that. All I want to do now is give him some positivity in his last days and not add more darkness to his already dismal thoughts.
“Se-Young-ssi, do you want to talk more about it? I mean, only if you’re comfortable,” I curl my fingers and hold his hand back in a supportive manner, and he nods his head a few times, looking away into the distance.
“I keep getting these strange visions and hallucinations these days, you know, very scary images,” his tone is grave, and his grip around my hand tightens a little, and it is making me worry a lot.
“I’ve committed a lot of sins, and I haven’t at all lived righteously,” he continues after taking a deep breath and coughing twice while I listen to him with rapt attention. “I’ve done things recklessly and done a lot of harm to innocent people, but look what I’ve got now? It’s only you and a cartload of health problems, and all my money is being spent on these,” he pulls out an inhaler from his shirt pocket before replacing it in its place.
