I don’t remember how I got here as fast as I did. I don’t remember how fast my heartbeat’s going. I don’t remember breathing. When I knock on the front door, Haerin’s parents are surprised to see a drenched man, they’re looking at me worriedly and nonplussed. Jaejoong hyung walks to the door and takes me inside. I don’t hear what they’re saying but I see how confused they are. Her parents don’t ask me who I am or what the hell am I even doing here, but by the way Jaejoong hyung is feeding me information about the situation, they probably get that I’m not just a stranger.

“They’ve been looking for three hours. It’s the second team,” He tells me as I’m taken to the back of the house and right across me is the lake where search and rescue are. Three of them had just gotten out of the water and they’re heading back to the dock.

We all hurry to meet them, not minding whether we get drenched in the rain. They get to the dock and meet us in the middle. I already don’t like the look on their faces. The man tells us something about how impossible it is to find anyone in the water at this rate because of the weather, about not seeing her body and concluding that if she isn’t found within twenty-four hours then she’ll be declared dead. Mrs. Kim weeps upon the news while her husband desperately tries to keep a good hold of her even though I can see in his face he’s breaking just as much as his own wife. Jaejoong hyung starts screaming at the divers, accusing them of not looking good enough and not searching the whole lake.

My feet starts dragging me towards the dock, walking fast, jogging, running. There’s no ing way she’s in there. There’s no way I’m here and she’s there. There’s no way they haven’t found her. Jaejoong’s right, they aren’t looking hard enough. They haven’t searched the whole lake yet because if they had, they would find her. Before I could jump, someone grabs a hold of me. I am forced back as I struggle from their grips. I need to look for her. They aren’t looking for her. They’re not doing their jobs properly. She’s out there. Someone should be out there but none of them are out there.

“Sir. It’s not safe and it’s too dark underwater because of the weather. We can only look for her dead body if the sky clears tomorrow,” I turn to the man who mentioned a dead body. I don’t think twice of hitting him.

“She’s not ing dead. You hear me?!”

The rain hasn’t calmed down, not a bit and if anything, it’s only gotten worse. I sit across the easel, staring at one of the many canvasses she has in her art room. It’s a painting of a blue rose, a blooming blue rose with white drops around its petals. Mr. Kim was kind enough to bring me here. I pick up another painting of hers that caught my attention—a painting of a small garden. It’s in a medium sized canvas. When I turn the painting, I see something written behind it.

“Latibule”

I found this place after school and it was abandoned (yes, it also smells bad). No one seems to hang around here because they’re quite scared of the place, but I found this small garden behind the scary establishment. It’s a good place to be alone. I can play lots of Coldplay music here and no one would bother me. Ha. According to the Internet, a “latibule” is a place of comfort. It seemed fitting to call this place that.

H

I take the other paintings within reach and look behind them. All of them has small notes. They’re mostly about the painting, her inspiration, where she has seen them, why she painted them and it’s all signed below. Somehow, I see a ray of hope upon seeing her paintings, her sketches, her drawings, and the mess on the floor, the unfinished work. She’ll come back to explain to me each of these artworks because I have a lot of questions. She’ll come back to fix the mess on the floor, she’ll move so fast because she’ll be too embarrassed to have me here seeing all this mess. She’ll come back and finish her paintings because they probably have been sitting here too long. Some of her canvasses still have empty backs, she’ll come back to write on them. She’ll come back. The rescuers are just being stupid. They can’t find her because she probably made it to shore. She can swim. She’s not crazy to actually stay there under the ty weather. She’s not gone. She can’t be.

Someone enters the room and when I turn to see who it is, I see Jaejoong coming in with something in his hand. He gives me a look and a wry smile but I know it’s too hard to even lift the corners of his mouth right now. He walks towards me.

“How’s Mrs. Kim holding up?” I ask as he picks up the extra stool and sits on it, “I made some calls. I’m having a team look at every place possible near the lake. She could’ve made it out-” He lets out a heavy breath and looks down, “Hyung, she’s not dead,” I tell him.

He doesn’t tell me I’m right. He doesn’t say he agrees with me. All he does is look down and sob to himself, “Hyung that stupid rescuer is lying. They didn’t look hard enough. They said those things because they probably got tired looking for her out there. Don’t you want to believe she could still be out there? She’s not gone. We’ll find her,”

“I’d like to believe that, too, Sehun. Believe me I’d pray to all the gods just to see her but at this rate, with that kind of weather, it’s not…it’s…she could be…” He struggles to finish his sentence and breaks down to tears. I’m frustrated. He’s not supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to believe that his sister is alive. He’s not supposed to be losing hope.

Jaejoong struggles to collect himself, but he wipes his tears although they still unwillingly escape his eyes. He faces me and hands me something wrapped in brown paper, “She left that in the backseat when I dropped her off,” I take it and remove the wrapper around it. It’s a canvas with a painting of me, “It’s her birthday gift,” My heart thumps rapidly inside my ribcage.

I look at the back of the canvas and just as I suspect, there’s a note behind it.

“The First Fall”

I see him everyday. For the past months I’ve been working as his intern, I have been seeing him. I see the way he moves, the way he stands, the way he wears his coat, the way he removes his coat, the way he taps his fingers on the table and the way he scrunches his nose when he’s pissed. I also see the way his lips curve up to a smile, the way his teeth shows when he’s grinning, the way his eyes twinkle and form into two crescent moon when he smiles. But the night I first stared into his eyes, it was like seeing him for the first time after looking at him everyday. That was the night of my first fall.

Happy birthday, Mr. Oh! Let’s eat ice cream and watch Notting Hill together! ^^

Love, H

I tear my gaze away from the canvas and look up but the tears continuously streams down my face. My lips are quivering, my hands are shaking and my heartbeat is slowing down into big thumps. I bring myself to look at the painting again and can’t believe she had observed the little things, down to every detail of my face…just like how I had observed hers in her sleep. And I’d do anything to see her again.

“We’ll look for