Gone » 지나간

« Chapter Two; Mail

Sunday, 6:22pm

After college, all seven of us went separate ways. Many had jobs and lived their own lives. Though, I don't know if any other members kept in touch with each other, however I do know that I was close to one particular person.

Jung Hoseok.

I loved him, more than any word in this language can describe. More than the amount of stars in the sky on a cold cloudless night, more than anyone else. He made me a better person, and I'll always love him for that. I truly miss him...

- = ғʙ = -

It was dawn, I haven't slept in two days. My limbs were all spread out on our- my couch, with my baggy eyes and a lazily put on shirt with joggers which I've been wearing for three days straight. The living room was dark, I wouldn't dare open the curtains to reveal the wide windows because of the bright light that would gleam through the window would seem too inappropriate for him. Though the incident happened far back, my heart and mind won't stop bringing back memories of everything I've done and everything I could of done to him. Memories came flooding again, I was about to cry for probably the seventh time that day. But the wetness that formed on my eyes only meant one thing.

Lazily and cautiously, I stood up and grabbed the one thing that helps me keep somewhat content. Cigarettes.

I grabbed my lighter and cigarette box firmly with my two weak hands and headed over to my room- our room- where the smallest single window was open on the left side of the room, his side. It was the only place in this dark small house I'd let light fall in. Surely, I would assume that Hoseok wouldn't want this dark immense shade filled throughout the whole home. So, I kept a small bit for him; it reminds me of him.

I sighed, looking outside the small window while my droopy eyes squint, trying to adjust to the brightness. Suddenly, those same eyes started to tear up. "I'm sorry, my angel. I wish you were here, I really miss you," I whispered, my throat went dry and my words sent chocked up sounds instead of normal verbalized ones. Choking up I confessed, "I-I love you." I've confessed many times these past few days but, I need to let him know how I truly felt. Even if he wouldn't hear me, I still had to. See, I wish I'd told him those three words before he left me- us- everyone, for good. I bit my tounge and repeated myself, still trying my best not to choke up the words I'm trying to use to communicate, "I'm s-sorry, really sorry."

I held in my sorrow filled tears in my eyes while lighting up the cigarette and making my first small puff. My head slanted, directing it towards the tiny gleaming window.

I became calmer after seconds, my heart not as physically hurt. Ever since he disappeared, the only thing that has and have helped me are these poisoned filled sticks. I know they're bad for me, I know I shouldn't rely on them, I know. You don't have to scold me, just like Hoseok did.

The thought makes me snicker, it's pretty ironic if you think about it.

I clearly remember- every time we would head out somewhere, we would occasionally drop at some gas station for a quick snack. Then when we would pay, he'd always poke my side and say, "You aren't going to smoke the devil sticks, are you? I wouldn't want to kiss someone who smells like poison." And every time, I would reply the same. I'd squeeze his hand, which would always seem to be intertwined with mine, and bicker back at him, "I wouldn't-! Even if I did, you wouldn't dare resist these lips," adding a sly wink at the end. "Touché," he'd reply and smile that big mesmerizing smile he was so good at. We'd- well, mostly I- would try to hide our love from others, I was too scared. Too scared of what the world would think of us. Too scared to lose people who trusted me because of my own sexuality. So, we decided to keep it as a secret for as long as we could. Though, I don't quite remember if Hoseok had ever told anyone about us, which I eventually found out, he did.

We did it every time we'd encounter cigarettes that were being sold. The same conversation, the same lines, the same smile. I don't quite know why we did it. In fact, I don't know when it started or why it lasted, but I loved it. A weird quirk we had. Which obviously- I looked at the bright cigarette in my hand- something I didn't promise on.

I let out one more puff of smoke as I noticed that I was caught off guard by the memories of him that were flooding my mind as usual. Before falling any deeper, I heard a knock on the- what I'm guessing- front door. I didn't want to open it, and I surely wasn't planning on doing it anytime.

I inhaled another ball of smoke into my lungs while watching the clouds roll by through the window. Not caring who or what was outside of that door.

They knocked again, I didn't answer or move, instead I breathed out the smoke.

They knocked once again, but this time I could hear force being used. Still, like the stubborn one I am, I ignored it.

"Open the damn door!" I heard a what I'm guessing, a female high pitched yell, whoever was behind that door surely wasn't happy. I was contemplating on whether or not to open up the door to the mysterious irritating knocker or let it be. I sat for a few moments before my thinking was interrupted by the sound once more.

"Open the fucking door or I swear, I will break it down myself!" Another yell was shout out, followed by huge bangs on the not so sturdy door. I swear, whoever was behind that door was about to receive some kind of hurting, I'm not having it. I annoyingly sighed and put the lit cigarette out on the ash tray that was beside the window, it's not like I had a choice anyway. The ash tray was dirty- covered in all of the previous burnt cigarettes and dust from other nights.

The person behind the door kept knocking, it was obvious that they weren't a patient person. "Calm your ass!" I surprisingly shouted back given the little energy I have, "I'm getting there!" This stopped the pestering noise from happening, which thankfully gave me enough time to calmly stand up and walk over there. And that's exactly what I did, I stood up and walked slowly over to front door.

I opened the door, squinting my sensitive eyes and met face to face with an annoyed woman who seemed like a postal carrier- holding plenty of envelopes in her hand. She looked at me up and down and groaned out unpleasantly, "Check your mail, would you?" The woman pressed the handful of paper envelopes up against my chest. Though my usual self would have already been arguing back, I was too weary. So I let it all happen, not giving a single care in the world.

I nodded at the mailman, who was a woman, showing her my lazy smile. She glared at me coldly, scoffing. I pursed my lips up and grabbed the envelopes in my free hand, slamming the door shut in front of the lady's face. Which not surprisingly received me another loud, annoyed sigh that I could clearly hear through the door, also hearing the loud foot steps she took when walking away. Geez- how angry can a person get? It was only some mail, I'm sure it wasn't that big of a deal.

I turned around, back from the door, and appeasingly scattered the, what it seemed to be, millions of envelopes in my hand onto the nearest table. Glancing at the lightless white pile of paper, I noticed one thing that looked out of place. A light blue (which was a dark shade for me at the time because of the lack of light) envelope coat in the isolated from the letter clutter I've just scattered out.

Only one person I've known in my entire life would send, and has sent, these colored envelopes to me. Only one person would be this extra of spending so much time just to find these colors instead of sending out normal letters. And that one person was always...

- = ғʙ = -

This light blue envelope has probably lead me into the biggest change and discovery in my entire life. Even now that I've completed these sequence of events, I don't know if I regret it.

Bye for now, ready for another day of hell!

~Min Yoongi, 25