People wouldn’t believe me if I told them about Minho. They thought I was seeking attention and would just do anything to get it. That was the old me. And nobody forgives me. I couldn’t even forgive myself.

I was picked off the cold tiled floor, shivering franticly; people lead me out of the bathroom, down the stairs and out the front door into the brisk night. My teeth chattered against each other violently as I was placed in the back of the company van. My head was placed into a lap that once soothed me. His hands smoothing my hair as he repeatedly whispered to me (mostly to himself) that everything was going to be ok.

I didn’t understand why he was doing this. Now he was holding my head to his chest and was apologizing about everything that went and that everything was going to get better.

I didn’t have a heart to say anything because my lungs were tired, my heart felt like it was going to give up and my head felt dizzy. I opened my eyelids and all I saw were stars dancing in my vision.

“Minho,” I croaked I repeated it since I wasn’t sure if anyone heard me. “Minho…I’m okay. I forgive you……” Then I out.