December 4th, 2013
I fidgeted with the two plastic cups of coffee as Seokjin held his phone to his ear. When I came back, he'd just ended a call with some girl. At first, it looked normal—just another conversation he didn't care much about. But then I noticed the way he tried to muffle the cough building in his throat, the way his fingers trembled before he lowered the phone.
And the look in his eyes.
Not the usual sparkle. Something else.
Something that made my stomach twist.
"Are you sick?" I asked, patting his back lightly.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just a cold."
But right after, he doubled over slightly, coughing harder. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down with each dry heave. That wasn't a cold. That was something deeper.
"Man, do you need water?"
I grabbed his backpack, digging through it like a thief, until I found the bottle tucked neatly in a side pocket.
But that wasn't the only thing in there.
Underneath the bottle was a small pack of pills—white foil, edges worn, clearly used. His eyes locked onto them, panicked, almost pleading. With instinct overriding everything, I tore open the foil and handed him two pills. He swallowed them with a large gulp of water, still breathing unevenly.
When he finally settled down, I spoke.
"Who was she? Do you like her?"
He tried lying. "No one..."
But then a single tear slipped down his cheek.
No one cries like that over "no one."
"You're ill, aren't you?" I whispered.
I'd suspected something for months. Now I was sure.
He looked down, tears dripping silently. "Smart, huh, Namjoon-sshi."
My mind drifted back to the start of the year—2013, the seven of us newly thrown into this school. One afternoon, Seokjin told a few of us about a girl he couldn't stop thinking about. Black hair, always pinned back neatly. A face that tried too hard to look innocent. A girl who made him want to attend class more, study harder, walk slower on his way home.
And eventually, I learned her name:
Xin Ae.
A girl from the classroom next door.
Wasn't that the girl he had just called?
So why had he spoken to her like that?
The pills. The tears. The cough. All of it meant something.
"How long have you been taking these?" I asked quietly.
He gave a tiny nod. "A while... My headaches... they've been getting worse."
"Let's go find the others," I said. "We'll talk together."
—
The seven of us gathered around a coffee table, a circle of worry and dread. Silence hung heavy. The youngest, Jungkook, wasn't handling it well. His fists were clenched so tightly they shook, and every now and then we heard a soft sniffle. His nose was turning red.
Then he suddenly stood and grabbed Seokjin by the collar.
"Yah, Jungkook," someone warned. "Watch it."
But Seokjin didn't fight back. He just slumped deeper into his seat, accepting the maknae's trembling anger.
"Don't worry, guys," Seokjin said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The doctor said if I take my pills on time, maybe... maybe I'll get another seven months?"
Jungkook let out a bitter laugh that cracked in the middle.
Seven months.
None of us could look up.
"Seven months aren't enough," Jungkook whispered. "Hyung... I want you to live and grow old with us. All seven of us."
"I'm sorry, maknae," Seokjin murmured. "There's nothing I can do."
Truth is cruel. We always think we want honesty, until it arrives and breaks something inside us. And there we were—hurt, anxious, scared of a reality none of us were ready to face.
"Death waits for everyone," I said quietly. "Some quicker than others... It's not Seokjin's fault."
But even as I tried to console them, something tugged at the back of my mind.
I cleared my throat. "Remember that girl... Xin Ae?"
All eyes shifted to me, but mine stayed glued to Seokjin.
"A few months ago... you really liked her, didn't you?"
The room froze.
Breaths were held.
We waited.
We already knew the answer. But hearing it—
that would change everything.
--
Don't think about it too much,
too much,
too much,
too much.
-Rap Monster
