"I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world that I'm coming home. Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday." I sat on the my old dock, the weather-worn, once light blue, painted wood, flaking off in pieces under my fingers. I strummed my acoustic guitar and sang softly to myself, feeling the weight of the day lift off of my shoulders. Keeping up a wall therapists, my parents, and some of my forgotten friends tried to break down everyday was hard work, and it put a lot of strain on me emotionally. Therapists say a lot of about what I'm going through, commenting on how I'm "stuffing my emotions" or "in a constant state of denial". It's all bull, but I let them talk anyways, nodding my head every now and then to make it seem like I actually care. Thinking about it now, after everything that has happened, the therapy probably wouldn't have helped anyways, especially because I'm more of a 'figure it out yourself' kind of person.

I thought back to the therapy session I had earlier that day as I strummed my guitar leisurely. 

~~~FLASHBACK~~~

"Good luck, honey~" My mom called out to me as I walked down a small, woodpaneled hallway with my therapist. 'Great, another useless waste of money for the sake of my sanity.' I cringed inwardly as we reached the office, a spacious room filled with warm and calming tones.  I walked over to my normal seat, a tan leather couch, and sat down with a 'plop'. "So, Azalea," the therapist, Mrs. Kim, began, an easy smile appearing on her aged, yet pretty, face. "Yes?" I replied, even though I knew what was coming next. "How have you been this week?" She said, and I groaned, nearly outloud. It was always the same thing everytime. I grabbed one of the red pillows sitting on the couch next to me, and pulled it onto my lap, playing with the tassles dangling off of it. "Oh you know, my bestfriend still hasn't come back, I got my period this week, and, OH, and the best part is, I get to come here and talk about all that with YOU!" I replied snarkily, and shot her a sarcastic smile. I didn't MEAN to be cold to her, I knew it was only her job and that she probably wanted to fix the unstable mess that is myself, just as everyone else does, but I couldn't help it. After all, therapy is a place of truth right? And I was being completely honest. Mrs. Kim laughed, looking not in the least bit phased by my sharp tongued comment. A matter of fact, she looked rather, AMUSED. As if reading my mind, she said aloud, "well at least you're being honest!" And laughed some more. I envied her laugh, it was like the faintest tinkling of bells, short, sweet, and melodic. It was so perfect, just like her. From her straight, jet black hair, to her always creasless clothes, I often wondered if my therapist was a robot in disguise rather than an actual human being, because everything was just TOO pristine. These thoughts got me riled up, and, after shooting her a 'it's definitely not you, it's me' look, I asked her solemnly if we could end the session there, as I was not feeling to well. We talked for 20 minutes longer before, she, being the frustratingly understanding person she is, nodded simply and said, "I'll go get your mom." She walked out of the room, and I ran for the back exit, knowing my mom would NOT have anything nice to say to me AT ALL. As I sprinted away from the small brick building, I heard my mom shouting for me, but it was too late. I had breached the confines of my therapeutic torturers and was running towards the only place I felt safe, the dock Jungkook and I found on the Han river. 

~~~END FLASHBACK~~~

When I got to the river, I pulled my guitar out from under the large, green tarp I kept it hidden under. It had been a birthday present from Jungkook when I was 16. He bought it with a year's worth of paychecks, and, although I refused the gift at first, he managed to sneak it into the bushes overnight so that when I returned the next day, I found it. Jungkook taught me how to play, and I remembered many nights I stayed out past my curfew with him, looking up at the stars and out at the water as he played soft, lilting tunes. I was never able to play something like that, and I still can't. My fingers are much less graceful then his and, as a result, the songs I learned to play had sharper, louder notes then Jungkook's delicate, quiet ones. I often told him how much talent he had, and he just laughed, continuing to pluck out notes in perfect harmony. Nights like those were my favorite, and I still miss them dearly. Although it's been five months since Jungkook disappeared, I still haven't gotten over it. After all, he was my first love, and, although I would never have told him that, he was like my second half. I giggled thinking back to the moments he had kissed my finger tips when I told him they hurt from plucking the strings of the guitar too hard, or when he would throw me off of our dock and into the water of the Han in the summer. Before I knew it, hot tears were spilling out of my eyes and onto my cheeks, landing with a soft thud each time they hit the wood of the rickity old dock. I stopped my guitar playing and allowed myself to sob for a while, laying flat on my back and looking up at the setting sun. Once the world around me had plunged into darkness and the stars came out, I flicked on the camping lantern Jungkook and I always used, and kept staring at the stars. 

Tired of being sad, I tried to force myself to laugh. After many failed attempts, I was finally able to laugh after I thought about the look on my mom's inevitably pissed face right about now, searching everywhere along the Han river for me. She would never find me, though. The dock was surrounded by heavy foliage, so much in fact, that half of it was hidden behind what was practically a hedge of Eucalyptus, splitting it almost exactly into two. I began to sing again when I heard a noise coming from the other half of the dock, the part hidden beneath the expanse of brush. I wrapped my light brown sweater around me tighter in the now chilled breeze, writing off the noises I heard as animals I occasionally saw when I was out here at night. Trying to relax again, I heard another noise come from the other half of the dock, this time louder. "Uhm...hello?" I called out, trying to see if I would get a response. Thinking about it now, that was probably pretty stupid, especially because I didn't think I would get a response back. I turned off the lantern and shook my head at my stupidity, laying back down flat on my back. I was half asleep when I heard a soft thud next to me. I tried to turn on the lantern, but accidentally knocked it over, causing the batteries to fall out and roll through the cracks of the wooden planks that made upthe dock. "What the ...Kookie?" I said softly, shaking off my sleepiness, forgetting for a moment that I had originally come out her alone, without out Jungkook. That's when I heard a gruff, deep, rich, and ultimately Y voice that was definitely not Jungkook's say playfully, right next to my ear. 

"Hello."