Jimin was beginning to feel that Jungkook had changed; he had seemed a bit mature, he talked little; he had directed no childish questions so far.

Little did he know, it was just the calm before the storm.

Jimin had barely swallowed his first spoonful, when Jungkook leapt up from the chair as though something had jumped into his lap. The fork in his hand went flying and hit Jimin, who sat next to him, straight in the face. He kept himself seated, not knowing what was happening. Jungkook was yelling something, but it was hard to tell over his mom’s screams. Mrs. Jeon was beside herself, expecting a rat to come scurrying in her way any minute. She jumped onto her chair.

“What is it? A rat? Is it a rat?”

“The girl!”

“What?”

The second Jimin registered what Jungkook was driving at, he brought his spoon down on the table loudly and even over the racket the sound of his chair being dragged back was loud enough that his mom and Jungkook turned to him—Jungkook still pointing under the table and his mom holding onto the chair like a little kid afraid of losing balance. They both stared at him like he had all the answers.

As he trotted up the stairs he heard his mom calling after him and alternately telling Jungkook off. To his surprise Jungkook had the audacity to explain himself. He caught quite a bit of Jungkook’s mumbling before he reached the landing. “She bumped into my leg and— ” Jimin shook his head and stalked off towards his room.

* * *

Jimin was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he realized the soft knocks on his door had gone unnoticed by him for a while. Apparently, he had more on his plate than just his half-brother; his girlfriend. He decided to deal with his girlfriend later and he put his phone aside, got to his feet and switched off the lights before moving to the door.

 “Mom,” he said opening the door just a crack.

“Jiminnie come down and finish your dinner,” His mom said pushing the door wider, seeing the room pitch black. "Were you sleeping?" A slice of light entered the room and Jimin stepped behind the door. He pretended to stifle a yawn. "Yeah,"

"All right," and then there was a long pause during which Jimin thought his mom had turned to walk away. Doubtful, he peered from behind the door. She was still standing there as if turning something over and over in her mind and she pursed her lips like she used to do when she was about to say something which cannot be put off any longer.

Jimin came into the light cast by the open door, feeling a bit apprehensive that his mom could see he had not been sleeping at all; he even had his shirt and jeans still on. But while half of her face obscured by the shadow, she kept staring into the space in front of Jimin then all of a sudden her eyes came into focus and looked at Jimin. He knew what was coming.

"Jiminnie...I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how he is...a bit immature but he wouldn't want to annoy you—he's too fond of you. Don't be angry with Jungkook okay? He is awfully sorry for what he did tonight."

None of the things Jimin wanted to say would be an appropriate reply so he held his tongue. He wanted to tell his mom that he wouldn't put it past Jungkook not to pull the same off, right then and there if he were given a chance.

So he just mumbled "I know," and wished her a good night.

As soon as he slipped back into the room and turned the lights on, he picked up his blinking phone. A new massage from Minji.

Don't call me till 11.

He quickly tapped a reply.  Till 11?

And then he waited for a reply till his patience ran out, before dialling her number.

Her voice caught him off-guard. He had expected her to be annoyed but her tone was all sweet and melodic; the kind of voice she used whenever she was around people. He knew she was not alone, not just by her voice, but he could hear laughter in the background which was too familiar to mistake for anyone else than Minho.

"Are you with Minho? I thought you said you were going to tutor—"

"Sorry what? It's not clear. My brother has the TV on."

And then no one said anything for a second or two. Then loud and clear he heard Minho's voice, this time clearing his doubts.

"What bro—?" Minji shushed him and went on pretending to not hear Jimin, inexpertly pausing between every two syllables trying to indicate there was a network problem.

"Jimin—can't—you—hangingup—"

Jimin stayed frozen for a while, his phone sandwiched between his hand and ear even long after the line went dead. Then he sighed and lay down on the bed waiting for sleep to creep into him. He just wanted to fall into oblivion now than anything and maybe when he wakes up the next day he might have a clear mind. and think things through. But sleep never came.
 
The time read 9:20 on his phone and he had a long night ahead. He got up from the bed, trying to find something to keep his thoughts occupied even for a minute. He glanced around the room and that was when he remembered the beads.

He moved in front of the wall, shifting from one foot to the other, looking at them.  Just below the beads, the surface of the wall rose a little, almost imperceptibly. But Jimin was quick to notice the wooden board attached to the wall and it ran the length of the wall and disappeared behind  a book rack in the corner. On the edge of it, a bead had fallen and wedged between the board and the wall. Without giving it much thought, Jimin tried to pull it off, prying the board with a finger and saw the bead slid further down. As he started to withdraw his finger, something scraped against his skin. Blindly, he slid his finger up and down until it touched the object and he knew it was paper by the texture of it and brought the corner of it all the way up using his finger, and then, between his thumb and forefinger took it out of the gap in one motion. Dust and what not flew out of it, as he held it at arms length squinting at the thin bundle of yellowish paper, its corners dog-eared with small cuts and tears all around the edges.

By the time, he was able to get round to sit down and take a look at it closely, after dusting it off against the window ledge it must have been way past ten. He was wider awake than before, curiosity washing over him like waves. He leafed through the pages written in a tiny writing which he found almost illegible not only because of its minute letters. The letters on the paper had started to fade as if the handwriting was seeping through the paper and some parts were already in a blur. Even though this wasn't the effect of a day or two, Jimin thought he ought to start reading them or else they would fade out right in front of his eyes. He returned to the first page and glanced at the first words scribbled at the top.

February 16, 1867
Dear Diary,

I've kept you waiting, and blank for over a year but here I'm today, ready to vent my feelings between the lines of this book.

It's February 16, and I've just turned fourteen. I don't feel any different than yesterday except the urge to leave home is growing on me like I can't endure another day here. If not for my father and Joy, I would've left this place a long time ago.

Yours
Seulgi

February 18, 1867
Dear Diary,

Father's not doing well. His health seems to gradually dwindle and I'm so scared something might happen to him if this goes on. There's not much we can do except pray for him. Doctor said there's not much that medication can do to cure.

Mother has already started treating him as if he's already dead; she doesn't bother to check up on him and I'm afraid mother's indifference is enough of an illness to him.

Yours
Seulgi

March 20, 1867
Dear Diary,

It seems father is getting better though very slowly. We—Joy and I have taken it upon ourselves to care for him to the best we can. And I'm glad our ministrations however little is contributing to his recovery. I hope we see him in full health again very soon.

Yours
Seulgi

March 29, 1867
Dear Diary,

It's the dead of night and I ought to sleep, but something else besides my usual self holds me awake at this hour.

I'm waiting for him. Again.

I'll have to be careful tonight though if I don't want mother to know any of this. He usually comes in through the back garden, for there's less chance of encountering anyone as no one walks the path beyond the garden because it's close to the graveyard. Then he waits for a while before pelting my window with pebbles to let me know he's come.

The other night I was sitting on the window sill on the lookout for him, because Joy was asleep in my room that night and I didn't want him to pelt my window. But somehow as soon as I saw him, I lost my hold on the window sill and fell right on top of him, my weight bringing both of us down onto the  floor of crackling leaves and twigs which made such a racket it could have roused even the dead from the graveyad. Now when I think about it, it was really a miracle neither Joy nor anyone else woke up.

Tonight, the night sounds quieter than ever as if I'm not the only one waiting to hear the taps on my window. There's not a stir outside and I can see the moon perched above the trees through my window. Everything out there seems to spy on me but I hope once again the velvety black cover of night will be the only witness tonight too.

I hear the rustle of leaves. I think he's here.

Yours
Seulgi

________

As Jimin turned a new page, a piece of parchment greeted him. It was a letter written in a handwriting quite different from the previous ones.

Dear Seulgi,

Forgive me I cannot make it tonight. I might not be able to see you for a week as I'll be out of town with my uncle, but I'll do everything to return before the week's over. I'm leaving this letter in the hands of my good friend Leo hoping it would reach you in time.

I'm very sorry to hear about your father's health and I wish a speedy recovery for him. You're not with me but your thoughts are. Take good care of your health. Bye.

Forever Yours
Xxxxx

The name was striked off and the diary resumed again, the feminine handwriting greeting him.

March 29, 1867
Dear Diary,

All I got last night was a hastily written letter instead of his handsome face looking up at me. I got such a fright when I registered the person standing down below was not him, but as I started to withdraw myself from the window I heard Leo's voice. It did give me a huge relief but my heart sank when I knew I wouldn't be seeing him for a week! The letter Leo gave me said so.

Yours
Seulgi

April 7, 1867
Dear Diary,

He's returned, with a tan. But still, he puts the moon to shame every single night.

April 10, 1867
Dear Diary,

Poor father! He keeps on asking for mother. What keeps us from uttering the truth, is that we know how he would feel when we break it to him how she powders her face in layers to go out every single day.

Oh why, just why do we revolve around people who don't want to be our suns?

Yours
Seulgi

April 13, 1867
Dear Diary,

I've been seeing horrible dreams for the past couple of nights. Every time I jerk awake after such a dream I cannot have a wink of sleep without checking up on my father.

Yours
Seulgi

The next entry was made in a very uneven handwriting.

May 2, 1867

I'll miss you father.

yours

Seulgi

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