And yet, life goes on.

There are some days I feel like I just can’t make it. I curl up into a ball in my room and lose myself in grief. I relieve the jolt that shook Zelo’s body as the bullet went through his brain. I witness my parents’ bodies lying in their caskets. The lifeless look in Himchan’s eyes as he sat unmoving on that barstool for months on end, drowning himself in liquor. If you collected all the tears we have shed in the last two years, you would create an ocean that would flood the world.

But then I think of the girls and boys in my house who tell me about their dreams and kiss me good night. I think of the night Sora finally forgave me for the death of her brother, and how wonderful she is. I think of Officer Hwang- Mirae, Hyo, you really need to kick that habit!- and her glowing beam when the pastor said, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Yongguk gave her a kiss that made me cover my kids’ eyes. I think of the way Jimin and Jandi look at each other.

“Five minutes,” I mumble, burying my head in my pillow.

“Hyo, I want cereal nowww. Please!”

“What the heck, Solbi,” I groan. “Why’re you up so early?”

“Uh, it’s 11 AM.”

“God.” I let out an enormous yawn and stretch my arms- almost hitting Solbi in the face. “Ooh. Sorry.”

“Why do you always get up so late?” Solbi asks.

“Because I go to sleep late. Don’t do that!” I hastily add.

Solbi rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m not 7. You don’t have to do the whole ‘good role model’ thing.”

I gasp dramatically, slapping a hand on my chest. “What? You’re not 7? Sora! Guess what? Solbi’s not 7!”

“Ugh!” Solbi huffs, getting up. “I hate grown ups. Just please get milk! I can’t eat cereal without milk!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh. “Jeez, I get no love in this house.”

“Morning!” Dajin grins when she sees me stagger downstairs. “You’re up early today!”

“Solbi woke me up,” I grumble. “Hyun, how’s studying going?”

“Not good,” Hyun mutters, his face a distinct shade of green. “I think I’m going to fail my calc exam.”

“Whoa, whoa.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, okay? When I get back from the grocery store, we’ll go over everything again. Okay?”

“Okay...,”

“Trust me, calc isn’t that bad once you get the hang of it. It’s kinda fun!”

“Says the calc god,” Sora snorts, walking into the room. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up. Let me live.”

“Go buy groceries. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up some more batteries for Moonkyung.”

“More? What the hell is he building up there?”

“Who knows. But I’m excited. He said he’s 60% done with his project.”

“He said that three months ago.”

“Hey. Don’t crush the kid’s dreams.”

“Alright, alright.” I stand up. “I’m going, okay? Text me if you need anything else.”

As I walk out the door, I knock on the metal-plated sign that reads Soho House. It’s been a sort of ritual for me ever since Sora and I bought this house with the millions in settlement money we received. On top of that, we are partially funded by the government, since we serve as a sort of foster home for preteens and teens at risk.

The months after that fateful New Year’s Eve party were a hazy blur. There was so much litigation- all these court hearings I could not bring myself to attend- and so much news coverage. Kim Sangyoon was sentenced to 40 years in prison without parole, while Joonmyeon was sentenced to 20. BTS, however, fought hard to escape lengthy prison sentences, under the argument that the CRP had allowed felony offenders to undergo reformation. Thus, they were sentenced to a six months in jail and a lifelong commitment to perform community service. There was controversy over the leniency of their sentence.

Many citizens wanted them to spend life in prison. But Sora and Jimin had planned BTS’ case well in advance. Their lawyers had strong evidence and arguments to use. In addition, Sora had coincidentally failed to release many documents that stated the exact crimes BTS had been tasked to perform. Thus, the court did not have enough evidence to prove that BTS had actually committed those crimes.

We played the same scummy moves as so many corrupt officials before us.

I resented myself for it.

But, if I really wanted to talk about justice and fairness, I should be in prison right now, too.

It’s such a beautiful day outside. I tip my head back, taking in the crisp spring air. Everyone really missed out by not coming, you know. It’s their loss they couldn’t go buy groceries.

Heh.

My phone suddenly buzzes with a text.

Jin: taehyung wants me to ask if he can come over to drop off papers

I roll my eyes.

Hyo: what papers

Jin: does it matter he just wants an excuse to see sora

Hyo: god whatever fine

Hyo: im not home rn

Jin: lol taehyung will be happy about that >:)

Hyo: THE KIDS ARE HOME

Jin: wont matter for taehyung at least u wont be there to strangle him

Hyo: i think sora would be more likely to strangle him tbh lol

Oh, Taehyung. He is so in love with Sora. Sora, on the other hand, isn’t ready for a relationship at all. She had a brief thing with Himchan, but after he moved to Brazil for a new start, their romance fizzled out.

Taehyung said that he will wait forever for her.

I really hope the guy catches a break.

A soft sigh escapes my lips, and as always, my mind wanders to think about him.

It had only been a week into Joonmyeon’s prison sentence when the report came in: he had escaped from prison. The security guards suspected that he used criminal connections to break out, but they weren’t sure- all footage of the prison from the whole day he disappeared had been wiped.

None of us know where he is.

At least I had the chance to spend that final, perfect day with him.

I will cherish him as a part of my past, just as I cherish Zelo and the gang world.

Is it possible to miss something that caused you so much pain? I didn’t think it was possible until all this. It’s not really the thrill of the underworld that I want back- it’s the friendships I had with everyone involved in it. Most of the old gang members who came back to support me returned to the new lives they had created through the CRP. But the newer gangs are still in Seoul, thriving like all criminal organizations do in big cities.

I used to go back to the Galmegi a lot- it’s some kind of hip mod bar now- but as time passed, my visits grew less and less frequent.

I am moving on.

But sometimes....

Sometimes I wonder.

The wind blows through my hair. My grocery bags swing from my hands as I leisurely amble through the streets. There is no one around except for a pair of middle school-age boys ogling some colorful fruit tarts in a bakery window and a tall man in a brown tweed coat with his back to me.

The day’s just begun and I already feel great. Maybe I’ll treat myself to some of those tarts.

“Hey, guys,” I say, tapping the boys standing outside the bakery on the shoulders. They turn to me with wide eyes. “What say we go make ourselves sick on sugar?”

They look up at me with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“I’ll treat you two.”

Their faces light up in surprise and joy. “Wait, for real?” one of the boys exclaim.

“Yup. I’m just in a really good mood.”

“You’re awesome!” the other boy shouts. “Thank you so much!”

“All you have to do is hold my groceries. Deal?”

“Deal!”

In their haste to grab my bags, they accidentally knock a can of milk onto the ground.

“Sorry!” one boy yelps. “I got it-,”

“No, it’s okay-,” I say, bending down-

A firm hand wraps around the carton and picks it up.

“Oh, thanks,” I say, looking up-

My jaw drops.

It has been three years, but I can recognize the man standing in front of me in an instant.

Joonmyeon.

Oh my god. He was the man in the tweed coat.

My eyes lock with his warm brown orbs- that ever-so-familiar gaze- and we stare at each other for centuries. Everything else around me disappears. There are questions arising at an exponential rate in my mind but the only thing I can think is that Joonmyeon is standing in front of me right now. Kim Joonmyeon.

Is this a dream?

Slowly, I reach out to his face and pinch his cheek.

The dazed expression on his face disappears, replaced with a scowl.

“Ow,” he says. “What was that for?”

“Oh my god,” I whimper, and wrap my arms around him in a crushing hug before he can say anything else.

“You know, this was a pretty stupid idea,” Joonmyeon points out as we sit at a table inside the bakery. The two boys are currently wolfing down pastries at an alarming rate. I still feel like this is some sort of dream- no, this definitely has to be a hallucination of some sort-

“Hyo. Hyo.”

I snap back to attention. Joonmyeon is staring at me with a bemused look on his face.

“What?” I utter.

“I mean, your milk is going to get spoiled while we’re here. You need to put it into a refrigerator.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I respond sarcastically. “I definitely want to be talking about milk with you right now! Especially since we haven’t seen each other in three years!”

One of the boys looks up from his plate. “You guys haven’t seen each other in three years?” he mumbles through a mouthful of peach kolache. “I thought you two were dating.”

Joonmyeon and I exchange a knowing look.

“We’re not,” I say.

“Yet?” Joonmyeon jokes, and I throw a balled up napkin at his face.

“So are you going to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Malta. It was beautiful.” A wistful smile curves his lips upward. “The architecture, the beaches, the history... you would love it.”

“Really.” I swallow. “And how did you get to Malta?”

“I have offshore bank accounts. And a good amount of commodity holdings, a good investment in bitcoins, and-,”

“I meant, how did you get out of prison.”

The two boys look up at Joonmyeon in alarm. He gives them a reassuring smile, like this is all one big joke.

“I have my ways,” he tells me. “That’s all you’re going to get out of me.”

I glare at him in silence as he calmly continues eating his chocolate mousse cake. I hate how he’s being so casual about all this. Does he not understand how much I missed him? How I have thought about him every single day? He cracks the smallest smile and I can tell that he knows I am staring at him.

ing .

“Why did you come back?” I ask bluntly.

His face softens. “I had to wait, Hyo,” he says gently. “I couldn’t come to you immediately. I was a wanted crimin-,”

“No, why did you even want to come to me?” I snap. “You seemed to be having a great time in Malta. Why didn’t you just stay there?”

There is a serene expression on Joonmyeon’s face as he gazes at me for several moments. It takes all my willpower to angrily glare at him back. We are quiet. The two boys sitting at our table watch our interaction with eager eyes.

And then Joonmyeon says, “I want to show you something.”

He pulls a black leather-bound journal out of his bag and hands it to me. I eye it skeptically.

“What-,”

“Just read it, Hyo.”

I flip to the first page. The boys crowd around me.

Day 1.

    I finally arrived in Malta. Getting here was truly an ordeal- we had to travel by boat without stopping. I never want to see a large body of water again.

    “Does this mean you stopped taking baths?” I ask.

    Joonmyeon scowls. “Just keep reading.”

    I knew this would all happen someday, of course. I wouldn’t have taken precautionary measures if I was foolish enough to believe that I could sustain KCC’s criminal empire for so long.

    But , I underestimated how much I was going to miss her.

    I miss her so much. I want to wrap my arms around her and feel her underneath me. I want to bury my face into her neck- god, I could just breathe in her scent forever- and I-

    “Okay,” I blush, covering the boys’ eyes. “Nope. Nope. You guys can’t read this part. Wait, why are you both still even here?”

    “We came for the sweets and stayed for the drama,” one of the boys informs me. I sigh and continue reading.

    I cannot wait until I can return to Seoul. I want to contact her so badly, but I know that would just put both of us in danger.

So I will wait.

I love you, Hyo.

The entries continue for months- no, years. There are over 600 of them. They document his daily life, strange occurrences, delightful things. I can practically hear him speaking through the pages. I can feel the hardships he went through in a strange new country with no one he knew, a criminal back home and a foreigner in this new place. Some pages are blank. Some pages have dried splotches on them from his tears. Some pages have been ripped out and taped back in.

But all the pages are signed off with, I love you, Hyo.

My throat begins to well up. I feel tears starting to form in my eyes.

Slowly, I look up at Joonmyeon. He is staring at me in nervous trepidation. Utterly vulnerable. Utterly defenseless.

Utterly in love with me.  

“I love you, Joonmyeon,” I murmur. My hands clasp his tightly. “I love you so much.”

In one large motion that nearly knocks all our plates onto the floor, he reaches across the table and clasps me to him in a firm embrace- so close I can feel his heart pounding through his shirt.

“I’m never going to let you go,” he swears. “Never.”

“Me neither,” I sigh. My arms squeeze him as tightly as they can. “God, Joonmyeon, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.”

And this is it.

I am not forgetting about my history, or trying to repress it.

I am coming to terms with it. Forgiving the misdeeds that others committed, and preserving what I loved.

This is the final signal that has told me that I have put the past behind me.

This is it-

“Um, excuse me?”

Joonmyeon and I look up. The boy are awkwardly staring at us.

“Uh... thanks for the food,” one of the boys says. “We-we’re going to go. Um, have.... fun... doing... whatever you guys are doing.”

“Can we take this for research purposes?” the other boy asks, holding up Joonmyeon’s journal.

Joonmyeon and I stare at them for a few moments.

And then I say, “No way,” and pry the journal out of the boy’s hands as Joonmyeon wearily rubs his temples.

    “Why does this kind of stuff always happen to us?” he grumbles. “Ugh, middle schoolers. I never want to see another one again.”

    I blink. “Wait. Do you not know what I do now?”

    “Huh? Oh, I know that you own property called the Soho House. Is it a bed-and-breakfast? Are you renting out rooms?”

    “Joonmyeon... there are a few people you need to meet.”