08

I shut the world off after the death of Park Chanyeol, remaining behind closed doors so I could cry loudly and uglily. His parents, whether it was because they felt sorry for me or they felt guilty for their son’s death or, maybe, both, allowed me to practically live in his room.

I never left it. I slept there, I ate there, I cried there, I mourned there. I only left it when I had to use the toilet or shower, but that was in the bathroom directly opposite from his bedroom. I felt as though being amongst his possessions, his childhood bedroom and toys and clothes, I was still somehow connected to him as if he wasn't really gone, he was still with me.

As if Park Chanyeol had not really killed himself in front of me.

It was a week after his death, the day of the funeral. His parents had not needed to invite anyone because they’d been up to their necks in condolences from people who had even only known Chanyeol from the coffee shop he regularly attended or from the thrift store at which he got his collection of hats.

The venue at which the funeral had been hosted had been full of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, people who Park Chanyeol had influenced and inspired, people he’d loved and people who had loved him, the two not having needed to be correspondent. 

—

I stood in front of the mirror, staring back at my desolate reflection. I tilted my head as I studied myself and my look. At least the black reflected my mood. 

I turned away from the mirror and went back to the bed, throwing myself onto it before rolling over to the left side. The right was always lumpy for some reason.

A knock sounded on the door. Without my answer, Baekhyun entered and closed it behind him. He was dressed for the occasion, in a black suit and a matching tie. His raven hair went well with his look, with the black eyeliner topping things off.

“You look pretty,” were his first words. I lifted my head up from the pillow and forced a smile to my face. “Don’t do that. I know it’s fake.” My smile fell and I dropped my head back down. He sighed and walked over, sitting himself down on the bed. “Nara-ya, I— why the hell is this bed so lumpy?”

“Molla,” I mumbled, closing my eyes as I nuzzled Chanyeol’s favourite pillow. “It’s been like that for a while now.”

“Must’ve happened in the last few weeks coz we were here a while ago,” Baekhyun muttered. “Before hyung…you know.”

“Yeah.”

He proceeded to bounce on the bed gently, testing it further. He then punched it repeatedly and I opened my eyes, watching him in amusement. He grumbled unintelligebly and stood up.

“Hyung’s back must’ve hurt for a while,” he said, looking and sounding a little angry. “We need to fix it. I need to fix it.” My amused smile crumbled when I saw the determined yet at the same time defeated look on his face. I got off the bed for him and he lifted up the mattress. “What the—”

“What’s that?” I asked as I walked over to him and looked down at the stack of books — no, journals — on the bed frame. “They look like diaries.” I turned to Baekhyun. “Oppa likes…liked to write lyrics.”

“Yeah but he never hid them from us,” Baekhyun said as he held the mattress up with his knee and used his hands to pick up the journals. He then let the mattress fall back into place and the two of us crawled back onto the bed.

“Maybe he wrote about his parents…maybe he didn’t want them to find it,” I offered, more for myself so that I could understand the situation. “Oppa,” I placed a hand on Baekhyun’s own fidgeting one, “maybe we shouldn’t read them…it’s private.”

“He’s our best friend,” he said and my heart constricted when he used present tense. “We’re allowed to go through his things.” He smiled cheekily and I didn’t have the heart to stop him again. He took one journal and passed me another. There were seven in total, all of them thick with pages of words.

“Oppa wrote a lot,” I mumbled as my eyes scanned the pages. They were mostly lyrics, though sometimes I came across a diary entry. They were never anything deep or significant, usually just him describing the newest guitar or hat he bought. “I never knew he had these.”

“Me neither,” Baekhyun said, “He used to show me lyrics but they were always in a blue notebook.”

“Eung, I have that book in my bag at home,” I said distractedly as I read through more pages. We spent the next ten or twenty minutes perusing our best friend’s journals, needing — no, craving — more of his presence, no matter what shape or form we got it in. 

If I had to be honest with myself, all I wanted was to find something, anything, that would indicate as to why Chanyeol did what he did. Why he left me and Baekhyun without warning, why he abandoned us so carelessly and thoughtlessly—

“Yah, Kim Nara,” I looked at Baekhyun and he stared back at me, “I…hyung…you’ve got to read this.” I gulped when I saw the redness of his eyes. He passed me one of the journals, different from the first one I’d seen him with, and stared at the page he’d opened it at.

“What is this…” I mumbled, scanning the words.

“I think…Kim Nara, I think hyung kept a secret from us,” he whispered, though there was no reason to. My eyes widened and my heart flipped.

Kim Nara…I have a secret.

“A secret?” I repeated, my voice small and somewhat squeaky. I then took my time reading the words on the page.

What If…

Eyes looking at each other

Eyes looking at each other

One pair of remaining eyes

Oh, you really look happy, you look happy

When I see you, so beautiful that it’s sad

I don’t hate her, I don’t hate her

Because she makes you smile like an angel

Words that became a secret before I said them

That’s why I wasn’t for you

The two eyes looking at each other

The one remaining pair of eyes, the lost eyes

The two eyes, tightly shut

The eyes that are too late, the eyes that lost you

I’m becoming more and more sorry, looking at you with these kinds of feelings

Eyes looking at each other

One pair of remaining eyes, eyes that have lost its way

I made a big mistake, I made a mistake

The dream that grew inside of me

Was that time would bring you to me like the wind

White words that filled up a white canvas

I guess I saved it up too much

Now I need to keep you inside my drawer forever

But can I take you out sometime?

Even if my heart that longs for you becomes a small star

At least from far away, at least in my heart

I will warmly shine on you

The two eyes looking at each other

The one remaining pair of eyes, the lost eyes

The two eyes, tightly shut (two eyes tightly shut)

The eyes that are too late, the eyes that lost you

I’m becoming more and more sorry, looking at you with these kinds of feelings (my heart looking at you)

Eyes looking at each other (Boy I’m missing you)

One pair of remaining eyes, eyes that have lost its way

What if it was me

The eyes that are looking at you inside your eyes (looking at you)

What if it was me

The eyes that are looking at you inside your eyes

“What the…” I looked up from the page, at Baekhyun. My heart was racing and tears were pooling in my eyes. I blinked rapidly as I stared at him. “Chanyeol oppa…he was…he was gay?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He covered his face with his hands and rubbed it frustratedly. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Chanyeol oppa…was in love with a boy,” I whispered, almost to myself but the way Baekhyun stiffened told me that he’d heard me. The wheels in my head were turning as I tried to piece together the puzzle that I’d never known was Park Chanyeol. 

Kim Nara…I have a secret.

I thought Krystal could fix whatever was broken inside of me.

It was the only way I could feel him. His lips have touched yours. I saw.

Tell Baekhyun I’m sorry…

Oh. My. God.

“Oh my God,” I said out loud, my eyes widening to the point that they almost hurt. A tear slid down my cheek as realisation hit me like a truck. I wanted to slap myself, to kick myself even, for never putting it together, for never seeing it. It was right in front of my eyes. The tender looks, the gentle touches, the longing hugs, the envious stares. It was right in front of me and I never noticed. Or I didn’t want to — I wasn’t quite sure of anything anymore.

“Oh my God, what?” Baekhyun pressed, nudging me.

“Chanyeol oppa,” I started, turning to face him. I my lips, “Chanyeol oppa was in love with you. The song…it’s about you and me. He…I think he was jealous that you liked me instead of him but at the same time, he didn’t hate me.” I laughed emptily. “Of course he didn’t…he loved me too, but as a sister. He always loved me like a sister.” I closed my eyes, tears continually gliding down my cheeks. “I’m so stupid…I’m so sorry, Chanyeol oppa.”

“He…he was in love with me?” Baekhyun asked breathlessly. I opened my eyes again and stared at him. Confusion and betrayal and a hint of anger showed on his face. “He was in love with me. He was in love with me and he didn't say anything? He didn’t think to tell us?”

“How could he? Do you know how much bullying and hatred gay people go through, especially in Korea?” I asked him. Even in death, I supported and defended Park Chanyeol, no matter what. It was my complex, one I didn’t ever want to change. “And to fall for his best friend…to suffer unrequited love…we both know the pain of that. The fear of losing them if you say the wrong thing. So, how could he tell us?”

“We’re his best friends,” Baekhyun insisted. “What if this is why he killed himself, Nara? What if he couldn’t take seeing us together?”

“Park Chanyeol was not that weak,” I stated confidently. “And he loved us. He would never do something like that over something like this.”

“Then what killed him? What killed him, Kim Nara, because I want to know!” he shouted but I didn’t flinch. His eyes were now b with tears. “I want to know why I lost my best friend. I want to know if it was my fault, if I could’ve done something…maybe I missed something. Maybe he tried reaching out but I was too dumb, too ignorant and selfish to see it. Maybe—” I pulled him into my arms and he let out a strangled sob, his face buried in my hair. “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry, hyung…”

“Shhh…it wasn’t your fault, oppa,” I whispered, the back of his head. “Don’t even think that it was your fault. It wasn’t either of our faults…” It would take some time to believe that but, eventually, we would. We’d have to. “Or maybe it was all of our faults. But we can’t change what happened as much as we wish we could. And God, do I wish we could.”

“It kills me to think about it, Nara-ya,” he whimpered, clinging onto me harder. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he say anything? We could’ve…we would’ve…”

“He was scared,” I murmured, running my fingers through his black hair. “The Park Chanyeol we saw was not the only Park Chanyeol that existed. We saw his mask. The real Park Chanyeol was sad and lonely and gay. He was in love with his best friend but he never had the heart to tell him. What could we have done?”

“Supported him.”

“He didn’t know that.”

“He should’ve.”

“But he didn’t,” I insisted, “as much as we both wish he would’ve known that we would never, ever have rejected him or kicked him down, he didn’t. He was too scared of what people thought of him, what his parents thought of him. Can you imagine what they would’ve said? It would’ve resulted in even more arguments.”

“So it’s all their fault,” Baekhyun growled. I chuckled sadly and broke the hug, cupping his face. We stared at each other with teary, swollen eyes.

“Yes and no,” I replied. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. Park Chanyeol…our best friend is gone, oppa. The least and best we can do now is relay his message. The world needs to know that Park Chanyeol wasn’t as perfect as he pretended to be. It needs to know that, like the rest of us, he was faulted with basic human nature; self-loath, sadness, fear…it needs to know that despite all that, he was one of the greatest people that ever graced this earth.”

“You’re cheesy, you know that?” he asked after a while. I laughed and the action emotionally as well as physically relieved me. “But thank you. Your words helped me…you’re going to be a great psychiatrist one day.”

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