The streets of Daegu is crowded now that it is the afternoon of Friday. Different forms of strangers hustle in and out of your peripheral vision. Students coming out of school,  vendors pursuing you to buy their products,  tourists,  grandfathers and grandmothers.

Each and everyone of them walked with a purpose no matter what direction they turn to. Heck,  even the homeless seemed to have more purpose than you.

Atleast they're not dying at an impressive pace.

Even the street dog who barked at you earlier lived a better life than you. What's wrong?  Where did you mess up?  When did you let your guilt consume you?  How long have you been like this?  Don't you want to stop? 

Questions hang in your head. You stopped walking even though you're at the middle of a busy alleyway. Has the news of death finally buried themselves in your pulsating veins?  Maybe it is,  because you feel every nerve you got,  every inch of your skin tingling with the desire to stay alive.

You can't die like this. You can't just cease into oblivion without doing anything to change the world. That was your motto back then. You have to complete your promise to yourself.

No,  you don't have to transform into Batman or J. K. Rowling or Joan of Arc to do such thing. You just have to accomplish something,  and that one thing must mean something.

You were still caught on those train of thoughts when a middle schooler- you knew because of the uniform,  Daegu High- bumped into you. She spurted a bunch of cuss words before bending down to gather her things.

You wanted to scold her for being mannerless, but you don't have any energy left to do so. Instead,  you helped her grab the books sprawled on the ground. One particular book stole your attention.

It was a photo book from an album. The cover was pink and had butterflies around it. The title said Hwayeonyeonghwa: Part Two. You have completely forgotten about the student as you skim through the photobook. It appears to be new,  judging from the distinguishable smell it emits. The pages continued rustling one by one. It's his photobook. After several flicks,  you found him.

Min Yoongi looked ethereal, though seeing him in person is a hundred times better. You can just tell by the looks of it that the photo has been digitally enhanced. He wore expensive clothes and he was smiling. 

The student realized what you were doing. She tugged hard in order to release it from your grasp.

"Are you nuts? " she shouted at you. She was gone in an instant,  probably frightened of your peculiar behavior.

Not long after,  you saw a bus pass through the main road you are about to cross. It was one of those rented buses where rich fansites can spend their money to promote their idols. It has Yoongi's picture,  all bright and gleeful. It carried with it the encouraging words telling the Pride of Daegu worked hard and he deserved his success. It was heading to Seoul.

Then,  you heard music blaring from the boy in front of you. The sound in his earphones must be turned to the highest volume. You can clearly hear the voice of the singer. At first,  it sounded like a clutter of melodies until you were able to single out the electronic chorus. It was his song again. You know,  because during those nights you can't sleep,  you give in to the temptation of searching his name in the internet.

Hoping. Hoping for something to came up.

The women behind you was talking about buying the new album of the rising superstars,  Bangtan Sonyeondan. You choked. You turned to your right and saw a poster of him advertising a famous clothing line. Unto your left,  a commercial of him eating spicy chicken with his bandmates have attracted an audience.

The streetlights turned green but your feet are rooted on the