I

50 7 2
                                    

I heard someone knocking on my front door. I got up to check who it was. I was greeted by a middle aged woman, accompanied by who I'm guessing was her husband. The woman was on the verge of tears. she had a small cardboard box in her hands.

"Are you Min Yoongi?" The man asked. "Yes I am." I replied, not completely understanding the situation.

The woman handed me the box in her hands, only crying more once it was no longer in her possession.

"What is this?" I was so confused. "Our son, Jung Hoseok has....he attempted suicide and is in the hospital. We don't know if he'll make it. He left this behind. It was adressed to you. We haven't opened it." The man explained. "We....we....wanted you to open it......you d...don't have to......bu...ut we....." The women, probably Hoseok's mother stared sobbing uncontrollably, not able to finish her sentence. "We would like if you would share with us what is in the box but if you feel uncomfortable doing so then we understand." Mr. Jung finished for his wife. "Take your time. If you have anything you want to share with us here is our phone number." The couple walked away shortly after.

Jung Hoseok. Hoseok. Hoseok! The quiet kid who was always really timid and kept to himself. He's tried to commit suicide? Why? How? I decided to stop asking questions and to open the box.

It was filled with pieces of paper, all having a different message on them. I Picked one up and read it.

"You looked so cool today. I love watching you play basketball. I don't know if you know this but you get this look in you eye when you play. It's like your on top of the world. It's amazing."

I read another.

"Today you smiled at me in the hallway. Nobody ever does that. It made me really happy. Thank you."

soon I had read all of the notes. At this point I was crying. Hoseok did nothing wrong yet he had suffered so much. I wish I could answer all of his questions. I wish I was there to comfort him when he was crying. I wish I could tell him that his feelings were mutual.

the messages you'll never readWhere stories live. Discover now