BTS: HYYH The Notes (Complete ENG)

Seokjin

3 August Year 22

I opened the door and went inside the classroom. 'Our classroom'. In the middle of a summer night, the odor of fungi and dust were mixed with the humid air. I had flashbacks of many different moments at that time I remembered the shiny shoes of the principal, Namjoon's facial expression when he was standing outside the door, the day I ignored Hoseok and walked back alone. My heart started hurting and I got chills. I had this complex feeling that overwhelmed me with pain. It's hard to say how it felt like because it wasn't annoyance but it wasn't fear either. The sign was clear. I knew I had to get out of this place.

It seemed like Taehyung knew what I was going through and held my arm. "Hyung, try a little harder. Try remembering what happened here." Then I got Taehyung's hands off of me and turned back.

We walked through the heat for hours. We were as tired as we could be. The other guys looked at me as if they didn't know what to say to me. Memories. What Taehyung told me about our memories were just meaningless stories. That I did that. That it happened to me. Stories that we did things together. It's possible that it happened. I think we did that.

But, memories aren't something that you can just understand or accept. You don't understand experience through just hearing something. Experience is something that is deeply rooted in your mind, head, and soul. But for me, the memories I had about that place was only about the bad things. Things that made me painful and and made me want to escape.

A fight happened between me and Taehyung who stopped me from going back and leaving. But we were both tired. Hitting or avoiding, it both felt heavy and slow as if we were in a hot viscous liquid. It happened in a sudden when Taehyung and I tripped over each other. My shoulders bumped into the wall and I faltered as I lost my balance.

At first, I couldn't tell what happened. I couldn't open my eyes or breathe due to the dust filling up the whole place. I continuously coughed. "Are you okay?" I realized I fell after hearing that person. As soon as I tried to get up, Something that I thought as a wall crumbled. There was a huge space over the crumbled walls. No one moved for a second. Oh my world.

Someone said, "We spent such a long time in here..." yet no one has ever imagined there was a space beyond the walls. But what was that? As the dust settled down, we were able to see a cabinet in the middle of the empty space.

Namjoon opened the cabinet. I took a step closer. There notes inside the cabinet. Namjoon picked the notes up and turned to the first page. I instantly held my breath. The first page of the note seemed pretty old, and the page had an expected name written on it. It was my father's name. As Namjoon tried to flip another page over, I took the notes away from him. Namjoon seemed surprised and looked at me but didn't mind much. I went through the book shelf then old notes tipped over as if it was about to crumble.

This book written in my father's handwriting was a diary that my father had written about his experiences with his friends in high school. All the days weren't logged. Sometimes, the diary skipped a month and there were pages where there were covered with blood stains. I knew that my father went through the same thing as me. He also made mistakes in his life and tried to run and run to make up for his mistakes.

The things that was written on my father's note were the records of his failures. My father ended up giving up and failed. He forgot, ignored, and avoided it. He lost his friends. The last page only had a date written and the rest was covered with dark ink. The ink was stained into the next page and the page after where nothing was written on it. That stain seemed to show my father's failure like if it was some sort of an announcement, speech or an advocate.

Some time passed by and all my senses got blurry. I felt the cold wind blowing over the window and knew it was the darkest time of the day, the time right before the sun rose. My dongsaengs including Namjoon were scattered around sleeping. I looked up to the ceiling. I remembered seeing my dad's name written somewhere here.

Below that, there was a sentence written "Everything started from here."

I felt something from the tip of my fingers when I was about to close the notes. I saw letters written under the ink stain. I felt something out the window. I guess the sun was about to rise. But this night didn't end yet. The time wasn't night or past midnight.

As the darkness and blurry light intertwined, I was able to see the words on the line from the darkly stained page.

These notes had memories that were beyond something that were written. On top of the words, in the spaces in between the lines, the things that my father decided to forget and not remember remained on the pages. The color evaporated but the traces of how the pen was pressed onto the paper were left.

My father's time of fear and hopelessness. And his small, fragile hope and despair whirled around. My father's twisted map of soul was reflected and left on the note.

When I closed the note, I teared up. I looked at each one of them.

Maybe we had to come back here. Everything started here. I realized the joy of being together and being able to laugh together. The initial mistake that I committed, the mistake that I was never able to confess was left like a scar.

I think all these things are not a coincidence. At the end of the day, I had to get here. So that I will find out about the mistakes and faults that I have done and find the meaning of the pain and my agony.

And... perhaps take a step closer to finding a map to my soul.