I suppose one could think or say that It was my fault. That I was to blame. That I should have never let those words come out of my mouth and never let my hands push him out. That if those dreaded words were never spoken, he might still be here with me, with everyone. That if I thought before speaking and before acting he would still be holding my hand, and making his friends laugh. If you were to think that, I suppose you’d be right. 

The last thing I wanted was for him to go.

The first thing on my mind was anger and revenge, and the last thing on mind was what happened. I would never want him to go through such pain, such suffering. I would switch places with him if I had the chance to go back to that day. But I can’t, I won’t ever be able to make up for what I did.  

Though I have and still tell them that I never wanted this, not in a million years, they don’t believe me and I try to convince myself that I don't understand why. But even after my apologies and their forgiving words, they never seemed or acted like I wasn't to blame.

I was always the outsider, always the one who wasn't happily greeted by the door,the one whose heart piercing stories were left untouched, that were deemed unimportant;  other than by him, the only one who seemed to dismiss things most wouldn’t. He would give me that million dollar smile, the one that would send butterflies through my chest, but now, bring hot tears to my eyes. I never deserved that. Not his smiles, his jokes, his gentle kisses and caresses, his way to cheer me up, his strangely effective plans that somehow turned my world upside down, his wonderful weirdness, and his unforgettable laugh. I didn't deserve any of it. I was and am too selfish, too arrogant, but he somehow over looked it. Why the hell would an angel like that ignore the obvious lack of color in black eyes? What was going through his mind when he looked at me? Why did he overlook my flaws? If he hadn't, he might still be here. God…how I wish he didn’t overlook them. 

He was always known for his kindness, his gift to see the good in everyone and everything, to make sure everyone was happy. I think that was one of the factors why I was so clearly drawn to him. Though I would say something insulting or unheard of, he would make a joke of it or seem interested in something only someone like me would like; and he’s not like me…wasn't like me. 

When I was informed of what happened, I was on my way to apologize, I was in the doorway of the their house. I can still vividly remember how Namjoon looked at me, the second I saw him I knew something had gone terribly wrong. “You killed him!” Were the words he screamed at me, in a voice filled with vexation and fiery. At first I was confused, that is until I saw the others. They were crying, yelling, hitting things, I didn’t know what to do, didn't know what to think. I heard Namjoon explain to me what had happened and how, as I watched all hell brake loose. I didn't understand, didn't want to. Then realization smacked me in the face as I put two and two together. 

I used to think I understood what those who lost someone felt like, so did they. I think that was the only thing, and still is the only reminder that somehow keeps them from locking their door. 

I don’t remember anything, other than what I did and what it felt like. My eyes had suddenly decided to stop doing their job, but I could feel the burning sensation of tears streaming down my cheeks and messing with my vision. My eyes were wide open but I couldn't see anything at all. My heart didn’t just feel like it stopped beating, it was as if it exploded causing my whole body to shake, to crumble. My legs didn’t feel like working either and I fell, my knees scratching as they made contact with something that had been smashed. My hands made their way to my head, my trembling fingers grabbing tuffs of hair. I started to rock back and forth uncontrollably and my ears began picking up someone sobbing, screaming. At the time I thought it was someone else, but those cries were mine. 

I don’t know how long I was like this, the next thing I remember was someone grabbing my arms, attempting to pull me up and off the floor. But I didn't want to move. I fought the strong grip that I later found belonged to Taehyung, I didn't want him to touch me, I wanted him to let me weep. But he insisted on taking me away from the spot were my tears and blood were mixing. He dragged me to a recliner to somewhat calm down, I then began to notice that I wasn’t alone. Yoongi was across the room in the kitchen holding a bottle of beer, five were already resting on the table, two were broken. Namjoon was gone and the door was open, I could of swore I heard a car driving away and yelling as if to stop it. Seokjin was also at the table, but he was surrounded by food wrappers and a broken glass that I assumed must have been filled with wine, he didn't fancy beer. Jimin was leaning against the bookshelf with sawdust mixed in with his black locks, his knuckles were bleeding and there seemed to be holes in the wall next to him. Taehyung had strayed away from me and retreated to the bedrooms, I thought I could hear multiple crashing sounds, I found later that he threw picture frames that held his face within the glass and wood at the wall. To break, to destroy memories of him, but they would never go away. Jungkook ran through the open door, panting as he stumbled into the coffee table and then onto the couch. My eyes slowly moved over to him, he was breathing heavy, tears were pouring down his face, and his lip was bleeding. I then made eye contact with him, his eyes were wide and filled with pain. “I couldn't stop him…” He said to me, “He can’t leave us, not now, no not—“ His voice cracked and soon he was wrapped up in his own sorrows. 

I tore my eyes away from him, my mind buzzing with thoughts, horrors, hopes. Hopes that never went into action. I was falling apart and began mumbling aimlessly, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” I ended up screaming, my hands once again pulling on my hair. “You can’t be gone!” I was yelling as I tossed and turned in the recliner. I didn't want to except he was gone, but he was and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He was dead. He was dead, and I didn't get to say goodbye. And he wouldn't be able to keep me company anymore. He could no longer hold me in his comforting embrace, no longer whisper silly words in my ear that would send waves of goosebumps down my spine, no longer turn my day around, no longer make me think before I do something I might regret. I could no longer see his white smile, hear his amazing laugh, kiss his gentle yet arousing lips, touch his smooth skin, smell his familiar scent that I didn’t know I’d miss so much. He was gone. He was gone, and it was my fault. 

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We were out at a club one night, just dancing, laughing, drinking. Well, he was dancing and drinking whilst I was only drinking, but we were both laughing.

 If Hoseok lost all his charms, all of his wonderful personality, I'm sure that even without all of his goodness, he would still be able to dance. He could dance anywhere, in a store messing around, or on stage at one of his competitions, he always made people make a double take. And that includes girls who were tipsy.

 Everyone was watching him move to the music, but soon someone else stepped into the middle of the circle. It was a woman who looked as though she didn’t just want to dance. At first, I was okay with it, many people ended up joining him but it usually didn't end with a trying to force her tongue down his throat. The second she made a move on him, Hoseok tried to push her away, but she somehow clung to him like a leech. Their lips made contact for but two seconds, that didn’t stop me from becoming beyond furious. I had pushed my way towards them in my drunken state and dragged him outside of the club. “What the hell do you think your doing!?” I had yelled at him. 

“You know I wouldn't ever do that—she’s the one who-“ he had tried to talk some sense into me, but I was past listening. 

“I don’t give a if she made the first move! You continued it!” I screeched. How I wish I could somehow go back and stop myself. “You know what!?” I started flinging my arms about stepping towards him. “I don’t even care! You can kiss all the es you want!” 

He looked me over with with his dark eyes, he gave me a smile and shook his head. He closed the space between us and wrapped his arm around my back pulling me in so our lips were inches apart. “You don’t want that…” He whispered, his hot breath flushing across my features. He leaned in and softly rested his smooth lips on mine, moving them ever so gently as he made circles on my back with his finger in attempt to calm me. 

I had almost let him win, how I wish I let him win. I pressed my hands against his chest and  pushed him away from me, “I don’t want your dirty mouth touching mine! Or your filthy hands touching me!” I yelled and dashed back around the corner to the club. I knew he followed me, but I lost him after ten minutes in the throng of sweaty bodies. 

I remember waking up the next morning in my bed, I didn’t know how I got there or when, all I knew was that I had a pounding headache. Throughout the day memories of the previous night had come back to me and I began to worry about him. I went back to the club and asked the bartender if he recognized me and Hoseok, he said he did and then I continued asking more questions. I asked him if he knew what happened to me or how I got home and he told me that Hoesok ended up dragging me away from the bar. That was last he saw him. I thanked him and went back to my apartment my head still pounding and I decided to check up on him and tell him I was sorry for my behavior. I went to the house that him and his friends all shared together only to be hit with the news.

He brought me home safely, but he couldn't seem to do the same for himself. He had died in a brutal car accident that the police regretted to inform was a painful death. When they found him he was past saving, barely alive, after at least thirty minutes of bleeding out. He didn't deserve to go like that. And it was all my fault, all of it.

 A few days after the accident, I began to have flashes of what happened that night, I had been persistent on making him leave. I remember yelling at him, “Just GO!”, and can recall the feeling of betrayal and oblivion, and thought he was the reason for it. But he wasn't I was, it was my fault I was drunk, my fault I over reacted, and my fault he’s gone. I just had to open my ing mouth and make him go, but at the time I never really thought that I'd never see him again. I didn't really want him to go, inside I was screaming for his touch, but my lips let cold words slur out. The last memory I have is him looking at me, his eyes replete with pain, and then a dejected smile slipped across his lips just as two, now dreaded, words reached my ears, “I'll go…” He turned away and I watched him leave apartment, I let him go, it was all my fault. 

I didn’t want any of this to happen, I never wanted him to be hurt, and never meant anything I said. If anyone deserved to go, it was me. I was never like him, never so gentle, never thought about what others felt or wanted. He didn't deserve to suffer what he did for a heartless girl like me. He wasn't the one already falling, he was striving and shining above all, he was the brightest star in my sky. The one I’d look up to and ask for help. I messed things up, I made him leave and I will never forgive myself. I loved him. I still love him. But I never showed it as much he expressed it to me. I didn’t appreciate what he did for me. But he still loved me. I wish I could tell him that I’m sorry, that he never should have gotten involved with me. I think about him and tell him so many things in my head, things that I should have done for him or that he shouldn't have done for me. But it's not the same as hearing him answer. If only I could  tell him that. If only I didn’t run my mouth, if only I didn't make him walk through my door. How I wish I could hear his voice and see him smile just one more time but he was gone forever and I couldn't get him get back. 

Not only did I lose him, but his friends lost him too. After he passed, they invited me over more often, and even though none of them were ever fond of my ways they seemed to hold on to the fact that I loved him and they did too. That I understand what they went through; they didn't need to explain themselves to me, nor I them. We became the close friends that Hoseok had always wanted us to be, after a year, they looked after me, but even today as I look into their eyes I see they blame me for what happened. That’s also why they keep me around, they know they're the only thing I have left of him, other than our memories, and know that every time I look at them, something stabs me in the gut. Guilt. Guilt lives with me every where I go, and I am reminded of what I did through the people I call my friends. They want me to live with the guilt, even if they don’t admit it. I know that none of them will ever forgive me, I have apologized countless times and they say they forgive me, and they might think they believe it. But it's not and won’t ever be true. 

The truth is before I met Hoseok I was going down, I was in a state of mind where I didn't think of anyone but myself, didn't understand how to be social, and lived in the shadows of my pride that didn't exist. When he was here, he changed that, he turned me into something to be proud of. But he’s gone now, and I'm breaking. I've been slowly falling apart since the day he was taken away. 

The truth is that He was tinkering with a broken toy. I was and will forever be crumbling until one day there is nothing left of me. No soul, no heart, no personality, no charm, nothing. I’ve always been a hopeless case, and sometimes someone tries to solve me, but I have uncrackable  codes and am filled with more than one mystery. He pulled me out of something no one could ever figure out. He was better than someone who solved me, he was my miracle. But I broke my miracle just as I broke myself and now that my miracle is gone, there is no one to put together the shattered pieces. 

 

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—Flora►