I probably read Yoongi’s letter at least ten times, my mind numb and my eyes dry. It was surreal to be holding that little book- what had been so sacred and so valuable in his hands. I couldn’t count the number of times I had sat at Yoongi’s bedside while he scribbled away, writing lyrics, thoughts, and memories. My heart was torn whether or not to keep reading. Between the pages of lyrics and offhanded notes, I saw journal-like entries. I had seen similar notebooks tucked away under Yoongi’s bed, and wondered how many he had filled in his time at the compound. The book in my hand seemed to have started shortly before I had arrived. I continued to mentally struggle with what to do with it. On the one hand, reading Yoongi’s memories was the only connection I had left with him, and I wanted nothing more than to hear his voice in my head as I scanned the words. Another part of me felt guilty. Yoongi had given Jimin the book to give to me, but was it just for the letter? Had he expected to die out there? I feared that reading that book was an admission that he was gone.

The decision was made for me when a quiet and hesitant tapping sounded at the doorway. When I lifted my head, I locked eyes with Namjoon, leaning on a single crutch. My mouth opened to speak, but my throat was completely closed off, my determination to hold back my tears preventing me from doing anything else. I felt tense all over, as if I were encased in a thin shell of glass, and any disturbance would shatter it. Namjoon’s eyes drifted down to the open pages in my hand, and then back up to my face. He must have read me like a book. With a heavy sigh, he hobbled over to my bed, very gingerly letting his injured leg take just a little bit of weight, aided by the crutch. He collapsed rather ungracefully at my side, pulling me to him. The glass shattered, I felt my chest begin to shake with the sobs I had been holding back. The notebook closed with the familiar little thump as I clutched it against my chest, my face burying into Namjoon’s side. “Oh Zoey,” I heard him murmur as he my hair, the gesture only making it worse. With every coo and hug from my friend, I felt my grief overwhelm me.

“Namjoon,” I finally was able to choke out his name, mustering up the strength to push him off of my. I wiped the tears roughly from my eyes with my sleeve before looking up at him squarely. It took a deep breath before I was able to speak again, “How’s Jin?”

His face was understandably a healthy mix of confusion and concern, but thankfully, he played along. “He’s alive,” Namjoon spoke hesitantly, “Judging by the commotion earlier, I’m guessing Taehyung and Jimin were awake?”

“Just Jimin,” I clarified with a rather unladylike sniff to clear my sinuses, “And only for a little while.” I raised the little book in my hands and gave it a little wiggle, “Yoongi’s at that hospital in China. Hobie and Kookie are still in Korea.” I kept my words as blunt and simple as possible to avoid getting emotional. He would almost certainly get a more detailed explanation from Jin as soon as he was able.

Namjoon was quiet for a while, simply watching me. He drew a short breath before speaking again, “I have something that might make you smile, at least.” I couldn’t help but frown slightly at him. It seemed like a strange moment for him to be cheering me up, and not the other way around. It was his Jin who lie bleeding on the bed just a few doors down. Regardless, I stayed quiet, my voice still strangled behind a knot of despair. Namjoon reached into his deep sweatshirt pouch, and pulled out a slim little book-sized case. Confusion took over as I reached for it- a DVD case.

“Speed?” I managed to ask, looking between the dated 1994 cover and Namjoon’s gently smirking face. The cover was so typical 90’s- mostly Keanu Reeve’s red-washed face with the overly dramatic backdrop of a flaming bus. But why? And then I remembered.

Namjoon beat me to the revelation, his voice unnaturally high and squeaky as he mocked me, “Relationships based on traumatic experiences never work!”

A slight smile finally cracked my face, my chest relaxing slightly. “Is that supposed to be me?” I asked with a little huff, turning the DVD case over in my hands.

His horrible impression didn’t let up, “There’s no way I’d fall in love with any of you!” He batted his eyelashes for dramatic effect, causing me to roll my eyes with a heavy sigh, though I could feel the laughter begin to bubble up inside of me.

“Alright, alright, you were right,” I finally said with a little chuckle, waving him away dismissively. When I looked back down to read the credits, I felt the bed shift slightly as Namjoon moved. Looking back up, I saw that he was facing me, legs folded under him. “This is different!” I finally objective, trying to hide my little smile. “These two hook up after one day.”

“Excuses,” Namjoon’s voice finally returned to normal, his smile widening to show off his little dimples on his wide face. “Anyway, I thought we could watch it together. I did promise I would, after all.” He reached out to take the case from me, giving it a once-over himself, “Amber dropped this off for me yesterday,” he explained absently. I had to admit that I was touched that he not only remembered his inconsequential promise, but went so far as to ask a friend to go and fetch it for him.

I hummed happily, turning to mimic Namjoon’s posture so we were face to face. “That would be nice,” I mused quietly, reminiscing. The movie had a rather ridiculous premise with a bus being rigged with a really stupid program that would go off if the vehicle dropped below fifty miles per hour or if anybody tried to leave. At some point, Keanu Reeves, a SWAT officer, hits on the lady impromptu bus driver, Sandra Bullock. She rebuffs him by saying that relationships based on intense experiences never work out. And then I remembered the ending. Embracing on the ground as the disarmed bus skids away, the male lead teases the girl, reminding her that relationships based on intense circumstances never work. And then she says… “You know what,” I spoke suddenly, trying to contain the panic in my voice, swiping the DVD away from Namjoon as if it were about to kill him. All grief had been temporarily been replaced by embarrassment as the last lines of the movie replayed in my head. ‘Okay, we’ll have to base it on , then.’ I gulped as I stood up, startling Namjoon, “We should totally watch this- later. I forgot I have to go talk to Mira. I’m sure she’s dying to know what happened and all that. She might even have Ellen’s report or something,” I stammered, rambling quickly as I backed up and out of my room, trying to look casual as I tossed the movie onto the desk, only to have it slide right off, clattering to the floor.

“Zoey?” Namjoon’s voice was concerned as he called after me, but I was edging out the door. There was no way I would ever live it down if Namjoon and I watched that scene together. Taking a deep breath, I briefly fanned my face in an attempt to bring my skin’s temperature down.

In the family room, Taehyung and Jimin were still completely wiped out, so I stepped carefully wh