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It’s a week after Aejung’s birthday that Jimin shows up out of the blue. 

I open my door to see him, all wet and shivering from the pelting raindrops outside, and quickly usher him in without another word. “What the hell, Jimin?!” I exclaim while grabbing a towel from the laundry room and throwing it towards his face as we make our way to the kitchen. 

He holds it gratefully against his face and starts wiping himself down. I put some water to boil, grabbing two mugs from the counter and placing them on the small coffee table at which he’s now seated, shivering like a lost puppy. His hair spikes up in clumps, his fringe stuck to his forehead while he tries his best to stop his teeth from chattering. Words cannot describe the confusion that’s sending my thoughts racing through all directions, but whatever his reason for coming, it’s not a topic that he can talk over the phone. My reply to his email suddenly comes back to me in full force and out of instinct, my grip on the countertop tightens. 

What is he here for? What is there for us to talk about? 

I busy myself with pouring tea into the mugs, bringing them over to him and placing one in front of him. He makes a grab for it by cupping his hands around the porcelain, sighing in relief when warmth dissipates into his palms. All the while, I keep my eyes trailed over his form, wondering why in the world has he bothered showing up at my front door after all this time, after everything that’s happened. 

Truth be told, I had wished in the deepest parts of myself that I don’t have to see him for the rest of my existence. 

But clearly that’s not happening now. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask him when I’ve collected enough courage to speak out loud the array of blasting thoughts roaring through my ears. 

Jimin seems to debate with himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he makes it a must to avoid my gaze. Finally, his eyes lift up to meet mine and in his brown orbs I see a turmoil that I’ve never seen, a battle of emotions that seems to be eating him up on the inside. 

“I got your reply.” He blurts out. I blink at him for a few beats of silence, unsure how I should be replying in such circumstances. 

“Oh.” I say, the memory of his letter’s contents suddenly rushing back to me. His apology, his regrets, everything. It’s a weird feeling, to realize that there’s been half of the picture that’s unknown to you until you think you can brush over it and go on. But then it comes biting you back and you realize you’ve never really known anything in the first place. 

“I wish…” Jimin falters and his sentence trails off, before he picks it up again, “I wish we could start again.” His brown maroon orbs flutter up to mine, irises swirling with a pin I can’t decipher, a pain that goes beyond my knowing. “I miss you.” 

It takes a moment for me to digest all this new information, all the words that has escaped his mouth. I’m part surprised and partly happy, a guilty pleasure of mine that he actually feels the guilt gnawing away at him with such bold presence that he had to come over to tell me this, to get it off this chest. 

But then again, he’s not the only one feeling all the pain. 

“You can’t expect everything to go back to how they were before” I barely recognize my voice. It’s shaky but bold and strong qt the same time, “you can’t just play around with someone’s hopes like that.” 

I look straight into his eyes when I utter the last few words, a sob echoing through my throat, “especially if you’re not gonna follow through with it.” 

I watch his lips press together into a thin line. His fingers twitch in his lap, and I feel a surge of power from knowing the fact that he’s now twisting in pain, drowning in guilt, trying his best to make up for everything he’s wrecked. 

“I never, for one second, thought that you liked me,” Jimin says as he rakes a hand through his still-damp hair, “I always thought there was something between you and Taehyung, to be honest. I was surprised when you told me the contrary. But I was stupid and foolish. I didn’t realize it back then.” His hands clench, as white as sheets in his lap, “I was lusting after superficiality. I just wanted the perfect girl you know? The girl that would always be here, the girl that was pretty and cute and kind and funny at the same time.” His voice shakes more and more the longer he speaks, but I appreciate what he’s saying. I appreciate him pushing back his ego aside to take into consideration how I had felt during that time. 

“But I was wrong,” he declares, “she didn’t exist, of course she didn’t. But when I realized that, it was too late for me. You were already long gone.” 

“Stop trying to justify yourself” I fiercely answer back, “what’s done is done. You can’t get back what you’ve lost.” 

He looks at me then, with pain swimming in those maroon swirls and almost making me pity him. Almost. “That’s the only thing I can do, Kim.” He murmurs softly, “justifying my actions to you, apologizing, it’s the only thing I can do at this stage.” 

I say nothing because there is nothing left to say. I guess I have to be grateful that he has realized the grave mistake he has done. 

“I still love you.” 

My head whips up at his profound, clear words that keep ringing like a tune on repeat through my brain. I can’t process his intentions as I blurt out, “what?” 

His face is intense, gaze pinned on mine with full concentration, filled attention. 

“I still love you,” he repeats, slower this time, “it’s okay if you don’t. I totally understand, whether you hate me or dislike me. I just—“ he stops in mid-sentence to emit a bitter chuckle, “I had to get it out there, I guess” 

His eyes flicker over my expression, which is frozen on my face, “I’m selfish, but what I’m saying to you is the confession you didn’t get to hear, back then” 

Nothing changes much in the days to come. But then, why am I expecting such changes in the first place? 

Jimin’s confession is a few day’s old now. Time passes uncontrollably fast when you want it to slow down so that you can collect your thoughts. It’s a matter of pulling and pushing the ropes so that you’ll tread through life at a good, reasonable pace. The memory of his words ring back to me as clear as though he’s just whispered it through my ear. It keeps haunting me in my sleep, causing me to be restless at night, tossing and turning in hopes that sleep might claim me once and for all. I had never been a good sleeper, had always been thinking too much especially when my head hits the pillow, but the circumstances just make it worse, I can hardly stop my brain from thinking altogether. 

It’s a good question to ask myself: whether I love him or not. 

I haven’t told Taehyung anything about the events that had just occurred, for fear that once again he’ll snap at me for being so inconsiderate and stupid about handling these kinds of situations. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to solve my own problems, I need someone to guide me. And from what I’ve observed from Taehyung’s behavior, he seems to get touchy when it comes to that particular topic. So I’ve kept it to myself, letting the worry gnaw at the base of my stomach, letting my brain be beaten up by the interpretations and the meaning of Jimjn’s words. 

I have no doubt that he’s expecting some kind of answer, but I have no idea how to approach the topic without making it seem awkward. 

Taehyung messages me late one night, the night just before my twentieth birthday. 

What time are you going to sleep?

I glance at the clock only to realize that it’s past ten o’clock already. I look down at my phone and type in a reply: 

Probably soon. Why? 

His answer comes in a few seconds later: 

Just making sure you’re not going anywhere. 

I snort and type: where can I possibly go at this hour? 

Oh I don’t know. The bubble tea shop? 

True, I actually want bubble tea now, I chuckle to myself as I see him typing. 

Keep your phone with you. He types. I frown, pondering over his words before replying: 

What? 

Just keep your phone with you. 

I roll my eyes but then reply, okay fine. Goodnight. 

Night. 

I pull my covers and was mere seconds from jumping into bed when my phone starts blasting Twen