Namjoon
20 July YEAR 22
I lifted my head from scanning the magazine advertisements. A different face had been occupying the window seat of the library across from me for the past few days. The heavy book, large bag, and paper cup were the same, but it wasn't her. I looked back down at the magazine. I was reading the same page over and over again for an hour. My eyes weren't processing the words at all. Why was I still here? I couldn't fabricate an answer. Among people who were absorbed in their own worlds, I was carelessly reading the same page of a magazine. I felt impatient, as if something was supposed to start, but I knew nothing would happen.
I brought the magazine back and strolled between bookshelves. They were taller than I was, filled to the brim with books. An open window breeze carried the library's scent in the air. I reminisced my highschool years. The books I read in the company of my friends in that storage room had the same scent. Had the present me grown from the old me at all? I couldn't bring myself to be positive. It could've been because everything seemed to be frozen back then. I moved to a different bookshelf and picked an old book I studied from high school. I had to start over. I had to give everything up one at a time.
Namjoon
28 April YEAR 22
I knew something was going on with Taehyung for a long time. Although he pretended that nothing was wrong, his momentary anxieties gave it away. The fact that he didn't know how to handle it made it all the more obvious to me. He was in and out of the police station. He had wounds all over his body. He had nightmares.
I never pressed on the issue because I was waiting for Taehyung to bring it up himself. The reason I never confronted him was also because I doubted my own to right to hear about it. I wanted to be a hyung, an adult. But in the end it all comes to the simple fact that I couldn't help my friends when they were struggling. They praised me for being all grown up, but I wasn't really an adult. Faced with problems, I could only hesitate and ignore the reality before me.
Yoongi hyung died - Taehyung had that nightmare again today. I had to shake him from his sleep. He sat in silence for a long time staring into space. He didn't wipe his tears and he mumbled incoherent things. He mumbled about Yoongi dying and Jungkook getting in an accident and me being caught up in a fight. He said that he dreamed of those types of things everyday - that the traumas were so clear that they seemed real. "Hyung, don't go anywhere."
Namjoon
11 April YEAR 22
I finished pumping gas. I begun returning to the shop. Something brushed against my face and fell. Stepping back, a crumbled bill settled at my feet. Out of reflex, I reached down. The random people in the car laughed, and I stopped reaching down. Seokjin hyung watched me from a distance. I couldn't raise my head. What are you supposed to do when you make eye contact with people who drive expensive cars and ridicule others? You confront them. If you believe they're doing something unjust then you have to confront them. It's not a matter of pride or bravery or equality. It's something that you just have to do.
But I was a part-time worker at a gas station. If a customer threw trash I had to clean it up. If they cussed me out I had to listen. If they threw a bill at my feet I had to pick it up. My body shook with humiliation. I dug my fingernails into my palm.
At that moment, someone's hand reached down and picked up the bill. The car filled with people left as if the fun was over. I couldn't look up even after they were gone. I didn't have the courage to look Seokjin hyung in the eyes. It wasn't like he didn't know about my cowardliness, my poverty, my situation, but I still didn't want him to witness it. Hyung stood at the end of my gaze. He didn't move. He didn't approach. He didn't speak.
Hoseok
13 August YEAR 22
Jimin and she stood in the middle of the practice studio. The starting pose seemed endless. When the music flowed from the speaker, they begun the choreography I practiced with her not that long ago. I watched from my place on the floor.
When I first discovered that my ankle momentary prevented me from dancing, it'd been hard to swallow. It was stifling to simply watch other's dance. But overtime, as I taught and helped Jimin improve, I realized that not being able to dance wasn't that big of a deal. I could continue to be happy other ways.
I couldn't let even the smallest of mistake go overlooked when I helped Jimin. When he made a movement smaller or more subdued, I'd stop him and examine each movement individually. But when I returned to my place on the floor, almost like an audience for Jimin, I realized that Jimin's dancing was bigger that just the step to step movements. I viewed what I originally recognized as mistakes differently. The trivial mistakes and imperfections contributed to something greater, something unique. It was different than my own dancing, but Jimin had his own timing and his own expression. His dancing was bight and heartwarming on its own.
When the music ended, Jimin's dance did too. His face glowed with excitement and happiness. She stood next to him. She'd be going overseas soon. We locked eyes. She didn't look like my mother at all because I couldn't remember my mother's face. So why did I see my mother in her? My heart began to ache, and the pain in my ankle intensified.
Hoseok
2 March YEAR 22
I liked being around people. When I was still at the orphanage I worked at a fast food chain and was exposed to a lot of people. I'd always laugh and be cheerful. I liked that job. With my experience of being exposed to more bad than good, it was evident that I had few reasons to laugh and be cheerful. Perhaps that's why I enjoyed the job so much. It gave me the opportunity to laugh and smile and be happy. What does it matter if it was usually forced? Overtime I could trick myself into believing that it was all real. My mood became better when I let myself laugh and by treating people kindly I became a kinder person. There were hard days, like always, and sometimes taking a step forward would be too overwhelming. But even so, it was easier back then to withstand the hard days because I had friends. Things aren't the same now.
Sometimes I remembered my friends when I looked at the store of customers. Seokjin hyung, who transferred in, Namjoon, who disappeared one day, Yoongi, who wouldn't answer calls anymore, Taehyung, whose whereabouts we weren't sure of, and Jimin, who never returned after he went to the emergency room. I'd seen Jungkook in his school uniform through the window a few times, but he never frequented the store anymore. Perhaps those times had passed.
I heard the sound of a customer entering. With a cheerful smile, I greeted them.
Hoseok
12 May YEAR 22
I opened the emergency exit door and rushed down the staircase. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I swore I glimpsed the clear face of my mother in the hospital hallway. When I looked back, people from the opened elevator doors distorted my vision. I pushed through the people and followed where I'd seen my mother leaving through the emergency exit. Without rest and with an anxious heart, I ran down the stairs two at a time.
"Mom!" My mother ceased her walking. She turned around. I ran down another flight. Her face became visible. It was then that I lost my balance and my center of gravity fell forward. I closed my eyes, but a person's hand reached out and held onto my arm. When I looked back at my savior, Jimin stared at me with a shocked expression. Before I could thank him, I turned my head.
There was a woman with a surprised face. A young boy stood next to her with wide, unblinking eyes. The woman wasn't my mother. I remained at the top of the staircase staring at her blankly.
I didn't remember how I got out of that situation. I didn't ask how Jimin had managed to catch my fall either. My mind couldn't focus on such trivial details. The woman wasn't my mother, and somewhere deep down I knew that from the start. It's been more than 10 years since she left me alone in that theme park. She'd be older now. If I met her, I wouldn't recognize her by now. I could barely even remember how she looked all those years ago.
When I glanced behind me, Jimin was following me quietly. Back in highschool, Jimin told me that he had stayed in the hospital after being in the emergency room. I thought about how he looked at me, unsure of how to respond to the inquiry of whether he wanted to leave the hospital. Was Jimin trapped the same way I was, incapable of both holding on and letting go of old memories? I took a step toward him.
"Jimin-ah. Let's get out of here."
*to be continue
