December 22nd, 2014
Namjoon led the way up the narrow path, and before I could decide whether this was a terrible idea, Channette tugged on my arm, pulling me into the house after him.
"Namjoon-ah... tell me we're not trespassing."
"We're not," he whispered. Then he stepped aside, reached into his pocket, and held out a palm-sized portrait.
Of me.
My breath hitched. The memory flashed open.
"Smile, Xin. You know how to smile, right? Look here!"
I remembered freezing. My mind buzzing with questions. Why was Jin taking my portrait all of a sudden? Why a DSLR, why so serious? If he wanted a picture, couldn't he have taken a normal one with me... together?
But he had smiled at the screen like the sun had cracked open for him alone.
"Is there something on my face?" I remembered touching my cheek.
"No. I'm admiring my skills."
That ridiculous confidence of his earned a silent laugh back then. And this photo lying cool in my hand now—early 2013, the beginning of everything.
Namjoon slipped me a folded note.
Xin,
I'm sorry for doing this out of nowhere... but please listen to Namjoon.
And cherish Channette. They're really good people.
The loops of his handwriting tightened something in my chest. I didn't understand. I didn't even want to. Why was I always the last to know?
My eyes drifted to the nameplate on the door.
Kim Seok Jin.
Of course. His house.
"When did he write this...?" I murmured.
"Are we supposed to go in?"
Channette nodded.
I twisted the doorknob. The door groaned open like it hadn't been touched in months. As I slipped inside and shut it, I noticed another note pinned to the back.
Find a box with a white safe drive in it.
And be quick, princess.
Princess? Since when?
Namjoon pointed down the hallway. "His room is there."
I sprinted, stumbling, heart clanging like a loose hinge. I tore through drawers behind his door, paper and pens clattering. My mind screamed questions I didn't dare voice.
Nothing.
I dug deeper, fingers brushing metal. A tin box.
Inside: a white flash drive. And another note.
Just a reminder.
Don't regret anything and smile while you can.
Take the flash drive. It's yours.
I'll see you later, okay?
See me later? The words tasted wrong.
Unease plunged straight into my stomach. I grabbed the drive and raced downstairs.
The living room was empty.
"Namjoon? Channette?" My voice cracked at the edges.
Only silence, until—
"Xin-ah... we're here."
They emerged from the corridor, arms full of Jin's things. If the moment weren't so heavy, they might have looked like amateur burglars.
But their faces... their faces said everything.
Something cold unfurled inside me. "Something bad happened to him, right?"
Channette held his books—one in particular, the exact one I once asked Jin to lend me. My vision blurred.
Namjoon swallowed hard. "He... felt the same way about you."
I stared at him. He blushed, absurdly, as if this were some schoolyard confession instead of grief dressed in truth.
"But he thought that... since he didn't have enough time... he couldn't tell you."
My heartbeat plunged.
"He wanted you to hate him. So you wouldn't wait for him." Namjoon's voice thinned. "He thought it was better that way."
My mind threw me back to that night—
"I never liked you, and I won't ever like you.
So do me a favor and forget about me."
Those words hit me again, sharp as the first time. I shook my head, refusing the memory, refusing him, refusing everything.
Another flashback cracked open.
"I was planning to do that anyway."
Then another.
Then another.
I couldn't breathe.
Channette's voice drifted toward me, trembling. "He said he shouldn't be selfish... to keep you by his side. So he let you go. He wanted you to move on too."
Something inside me collapsed.
All the fragments of his behavior, the distance, the contradictions, the mysterious notes, the portrait, the absence—
They clicked together.
And for the first time, the truth stopped hiding.
