There was nothing but silence.

 

The worst, heaviest, most suffocating silence I had ever experienced.

 

 

The air was thick, dense. I thought I'd drown in it.

 

I didn't want to be there.

 

I just didn't want to be anywhere.

 

 

"Guys". She said then, taken aback at our ignorance.

 

I could feel all of us bursting into tears.

 

But our mouthes were shut, and our expressions were blank.

 

In my mind, it sounded in echoes. Slow, heavy echoes... the steps of our manager walking up to Jessica. And the silent motion of Sunny turning around to face her with built-up strength and a brief, cold, sad glare.

Until I knew, even though I was back-facing her, that our manager was now right in front of her.

 

"There's no plane ticket for you, Jessica".

 

That's what he said.

 

The only thing he said.

 

And she needed no other explanation.

She knew.

 

"What?" 

Just one word, hanging by a thread from her sweet, now cracked voice.

 

Some of us turned around. I couldn't.
Yet, no one said a word.

 

"Guys..." She called us. 

 

She called for us. Softly, desperately.

 

"Hyoyeon?" She cried. But Hyoyeon did not face her, she was not strong enough. So she kept her eyes shut, and her fists closed.

 

"Taeyeon?" She cried again. 

And Jessica wouldn't have reached out for her.

So I knew, she was desperate. Disbelieved.

 

And Taeyeon could not ignore her, not anymore.

So she lift her head up, as I saw from the corner of my eye, and she looked at Jessica a way only Taeyeon could look at someone. 

The saddest way Taeyeon could look at someone. 

Reflecting a sorrow from deep in her soul.

 

"I'm sorry". Taeyeon whispered.

 

And I didn't want that to be it.

 

But I also would have rathered for her not to stand there. Waiting.

Waiting for someone to stand up for her.

 

"Yuri?"

 

Waiting for me to stand up for her.

 

"Yuri..." She pleaded.

 

So I turned around.

 

Even if I was unsure I would not lose it right there in front of her.
I didn't want that to be the last thing she'd see from me before she walked away. Because I didn't want her to think I'd turned my back on her.

 

I would never turn my back on her.

 

But somehow, I was.

 

And I knew I had to look at her, filled with shame.

 

So I did.

 

And I just hoped she would hear my eyes burning with 'I'm sorry's.

 

'I'm sorry's I didn't want to say. Because they would mean so little.

They would mean nothing at all.

 

'I'm sorry's that burned through my eyes, because they could shamefully not find any other words.

 

And so she cried.

And so I cried.

 

The line started moving.

 

Then she walked away.

 

 

And I realized I didn't want her to.

 

 

I realized I shouldn't have let her go.

 

 

But I did.

 

 

 

 

I was.

 

 

 

 

 

I would.