++

 

When he opened his eyes, clear, blue sky met his vision and the sun was shining so bright he had to cover them.

 

The ground beneath his body felt so soft and only then he realized that he was lying on grass. Wait, grass?

 

He slowly rose into a sitting position to observe his surroundings. He was lying down near a tree in a vast, beautiful meadow with mountains in the distance—and he could see a small town at the foot of the mountains. Around him were children playing and running around here and there, wide smiles plastered to their face.

 

Where am I?

 

This place didn’t look like anything near Seoul, the town he lived in. Seoul is a busy, crowded city and it’s impossible for a vast meadow like this to exist within Seoul. It would be somewhere in the countryside, but—how did he get here?

 

Wait. What was I doing before all of this?

 

He remembered going out this afternoon to have a band practice with his friends, just like what he’d always do every Wednesday. He remembered his mother shouting at him to come home early since it’s his sister’s birthday, and then he’d waved his mother goodbye—but that’s all. What was I doing after that?

 

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

 

He snapped out of his mind at the voice and quickly tilted his head up to meet a young man, probably the same age as him—with sharp features and light brown, almost blonde locks. He shook his head absentmindedly and the latter sat comfortably beside him.

 

“Are you alone?” the man had just asked him, and he’s beyond confused of what to say.

 

“I—I don’t know,” he stuttered, “I don’t even remember getting here. All I remembered is getting out to meet my friends this afternoon, and then suddenly I’m here and—and—“

 

“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” the man scooted closer. “First of all, why don’t we introduce ourselves first? I’m Younghyun, Kang Younghyun,” he said while offering his hand. “And you…?”

 

He hesitated for a second before answering,

“Wonpil,”

“Kim Wonpil.”

 

++

 

Younghyun was 23 years old and lived in the town at the foot of the mountains. He worked as a guitar teacher to children and teenagers and got an apartment for himself. He had offered Wonpil to stay at his place while he found out what’s going on. Wonpil was so confused at first, for he’s a complete stranger but Younghyun just easily offered him to stay at his place like that—but then decided not to question it any further since he didn’t know where else to go.

 

“Here we are,” Younghyun exclaimed as he opened the door to his apartment. His apartment building was located quite in the center of the town, and it was a very nice one, Wonpil admitted—it would cost a grand to get an apartment like this in Seoul.

 

“This is my room, and you can sleep there,” he pointed to a door right beside his own room. “You can use my clothes, I have bunches of them—if you’re hungry, just take something from the fridge—and if you ever need anything, just tell me, okay?”

 

Wonpil took a deep breath and looked at him right in the eye.

“Why are you so kind to me, Younghyun-ssi? We had only just met a few moments ago and I’m a complete stranger to you, you shouldn’t be acting like this—“

 

Wonpil’s words were cut off by Younghyun’s laughter.

“What are you talking about? You were so lost and didn’t know where to go, of course I have to help you! Besides, I believe there’s a reason behind every meeting and every person we encounter,” he chuckled. “Oh, don’t call me Younghyun-ssi, it made me feel really old. Just call me hyung, okay?”

 

++

 

“Hyung, do you remember?”

 

Jaehyung, the barista from the coffee shop Wonpil and Younghyun had always frequented, stopped his hands from pouring milk over a cup of espresso, and Younghyun had stopped writing the lyrics on his notes.

 

 “Remember what?” Younghyun was the first one to respond as he put his pen on the table.

 

“Everything,” Wonpil couldn’t help to sigh, “anything before this.”

 

“Before?” Jaehyung chuckled, and Wonpil furrowed his eyebrows. “Wonpil-ah, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, hyung,”

“Is there anything that doesn’t make you happy?”

“What? Well—actually no—“

“Is this kind of life bothers you?”

“No, of course not—“

Jaehyung laughed once again. “Then chill, mate. It will come to you in the end.”

“You know what? I think the more you try to remember something, the more you seem to forget it.”

 

++

 

Wonpil hung the last piece of Younghyun’s shirt on to the rod stretched over their small balcony and proceed to go back into the room—when his eyes caught something.

 

The backyard of their apartment building was a small wood leading into a bigger forest right at the foot of the mountain, and their unit was located on the second floor. It allowed Wonpil and Younghyun to watch children playing in the outskirts of the woods, just right behind the building, every afternoon before it went dark. Wonpil had always liked it to watch children running here and there under the lush trees, but he had never personally gone there.

 

Until today.

 

Wonpil opened the white garden fence at the back of building slowly as he stepped into the woods. He could finally understand why children and sometimes adults came here to just sit under the trees. It was very serene, the trees not too dense nor too sparse and the wind was blowing softly past him, as if luring him to stay there all day—but then he remembered why he came down there.

 

A medium-sized brown box was placed under one of the trees with a piece of white paper attached on it. He’d gladly return it to anyone in this town if they’d accidentally left it—but then he recognized the writing on the white paper.

 

It was his name, Kim Wonpil, written carefully with delicate that was strangely familiar to him—but he couldn’t remember whose writing it was. Why would someone left a package for him in the woods? Who sent this and why didn’t just they give it to him?

 

He reached for the box and detected a faint, and again, familiar scent coming from it. It smells like clean sheets, detergents and freshly done laundry—a scent Wonpil favored the most.

 

He opened the box carefully and was overwhelmed by the scent of fresh laundry until he looked at he content.

 

It was a sweater, a pink sweater—adorned with black and white plaid pattern.

 

It was his.

 

++

 

We have to get out of here, hurry, Hyung!

 

Help, Hyung, please help me…

 

It hurts, Hyung, it hurts, help me…

 

“Wonpil-ah, Wonpil-ah!”

He jerked awake and it was red all over—the light grey walls and wooden floor of his room had disappeared, replaced by the color of angry red and blood was flowing up from every space possible.

 

He frantically stood on his feet to find them wobbly and useless as he collapsed in a heap. The iron stench was overwhelming the place and he felt like the room was closing up on him. He desperately crawled, trying to reach the door—or any way out—but it had gotten incredibly hard to even breathe, and he felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

 

“Wonpil-ah, look at me, look at me!”

Hands were frantically reaching for him and suddenly Younghyun’s face came into view, his features etched with worry as he’s yelling something.

“Come on, Wonpil, snap out of it!”

Wonpil blinked and the blood disappeared—the room came back to light grey walls and wooden floor; the bed, table and wardrobe intact.

“H-hyung…” He managed to let out between his labored breaths—his heart still beating as if he’d just run a marathon, and he could feel his vision going blur.

“Breathe, Wonpil-ah, come on, breathe with me,”

Younghyun pulled him into his embrace, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on his back while he whispered faint in-and-outs to his ear.

Younghyun didn’t let him go until his breaths evened out and exhaustion was beginning to wash upon him, his eyelids becoming too heavy.

 

“Save him, hyung… Save him… Save Dowoon…”

 

++

 

It had become a habit now.

 

Every time Wonpil hung the last piece of Younghyun’s clothing over the balcony, he’d always glance at the woods, at the particular tree where he found the package. He found nothing even though he’d always went to check it again in the evening, when the children had gone home.

 

Until exactly seven days later, another brown box with his name attached to it sat under the tree.

 

 

The box was way smaller than the precious one, and Wonpil took it carefully. This time there was no scent coming out of the box, and he opened it immediately, curious of what’s inside.

 

He couldn’t help but gasped when he saw the content.

 

It was a joystick—the upper part of it colored red and the lower part black. He flipped it around and saw a faint white mark forming the alphabet “W” at one of the hidden parts.

 

He could vividly remember playing with the very same joystick with his friends.

 

++

 

Blood. There was so much blood.

 

Wonpil felt as if every bone in his body has been snapped into two as he desperately dragged himself towards a young man sprawled across the floor a few meters from him. The white shirt the man wore was rapidly changing its color into red as blood was beginning to pool under him as well. He’s still breathing—feebly—the movement of his chest too slow. Wonpil reached for the man’s hand and held it dearly, feeling the weak pulse under his palm.

 

“Hyung, please hold on, help is coming,” Wonpil said under his breath, ignoring the blood soaking his own shirt.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered, “I’m sorry, Wonpil-ah.”

 

Wonpil gathered what was left of his strength to look up, only to meet Younghyun’s empty, unseeing eyes staring into nothingness.

 

++

 

Another exactly seven days since he found his joystick, another brown box, a quite large one, lay under the very same tree.

 

He came down and lifted the box despite the rain—and found the box was quite heavy. He ran towards the apartment building, cradling the box in his arms to protect it from the rain. He carefully wiped the water droplets on the box before proceeding to open the lid.

 

He was beyond stunned.

 

It was a Macbook, his own Macbook—he just recognized it immediately from the abundant Tamiya stickers he had attached onto it. It was his most precious belonging that he favored so much. He caressed it to find the front part had cracked severely—which looked like it was smashed onto something, and—the left side—

 

It was crusted with dried blood.

 

He brought the laptop, ran towards the balcony and looked down under tree where he found his package on—to find a young boy, dressed in an oversized white shirt and faded blue jeans with an umbrella in his hand, looking at him. A smile blossomed on the boy’s face as Wonpil locked eyes with him.

 

The boy gestured for him to come down and he waited no longer to run downstairs towards the little forest, ignoring the rain soaking his shirt and the sky that was slowly turning dark. The smile hadn’t left the boy’s face but he didn’t say a word—even when he reached for Wonpil’s hand and pulled him, deeper into the forest.

 

For some reason Wonpil didn’t feel the need to question whomever this boy is. He felt strangely calm, the boy’s palm felt warm and familiar in his—it felt like being together with a family.

 

Family?

 

They continued to walk, hand-in-hand, through a path that Wonpil didn’t know existed before. He was completely soaked from head to toe, but he could only care less. The forest didn’t look scary nor terrifying at all, even at night like this—the rain has ceased to a drizzle and the moonlight was seeping through the trees, illuminating the grassy path. It was until they reached an opening that they stopped walking.

 

The trees has stopped growing at that point, and in front of them was a vast, tree-less meadow brightly lit with fireflies drifting slowly between the grass. The rain had stopped completely and the moon was finally shining brightly; the sky clear.

 

In the middle of the meadow stood a lonely house—its exterior painted white with a hint of yellow, the roof appeared to be reddish-brown in the dark. Iron fence surrounded the house with a little garden full of flowers within and a porch with a pair of white garden bench just in front of the entrance. A middle-aged woman sat on the bench, her face looking tired and mournful—and a young woman, probably in her late 20s, appeared to be hugging the woman with her head leaning on her shoulder.

 

The night wind blew and Wonpil felt strangely familiar with the house, every single thing about it—the white windows, the pristine white bench, the roses in the garden, the iron fence—even the two women sitting on the porch.

 

It was until Wonpil squinted his eyes to see them clearly.

 

“Umma, I’m going!”

“Wonpil-ah, where are you going?”

“Band practice, of course! It’s Wednesday, remember?”

“Ah… Wonpil-ah, come home earlier today, it’s your sister’s birthday! We’re going to celebrate it, even I made a cake.”

“Okay, I will! I’d be going then!”

“Wonpil-ah,”

“Yeah? I’m running late—“

“Be careful and come home safely, okay?”

 

“No! How dare you saying such a dreadful lie? It’s impossible!”

“We’re really sorry to say this, Ahjumeonim, but—“

“Enough! You’re all complete strangers, you don’t even know him, why are you saying something like that!”

“I’m sorry, but we really need you to identify—“

“No, I don’t want to! He clearly promised me to come home safely this morning! We’re going to celebrate his sister’s birthday, and now you’re saying he’s gone? Such a dreadful lie, why are saying this…”

 

A gentle squeeze upon his palm pulled him back into his senses and he didn’t even realize tears had streamed down his face. He turned to face the boy, who was still holding his hand tightly.

 

“Dowoon-ah…” Wonpil whispered, “I—I remember, I remember everything—“

The smile on the boy’s face got even wider.

“Go, hyung,” Dowoon gestured towards the house, “they’ve been missing you so much.”

“Go,” Wonpil turned to his right and suddenly Younghyun was there. “Meet them. They’ve been praying and hoping every single day to be able to see you again, even if it’s for the last time.”

 

Dowoon let his grip became loose as Wonpil started to walk towards the house. Tears still couldn’t stop flowing from his eyes as he quickened his pace, and eventually he’s running towards it.

 

How could he forget everything? They’re all around him every day, they’ve always been there, but he didn’t notice it at all. The dreams he got, the family he left behind, even his second family, his band mates, Younghyun, Dowoon, Jaehyung…

 

Wonpil’s steps halted once he reached the iron fence of the house. He could now see his mother and sister clearly—their faces etched with sorrow, and he swore his mother had looked ten years younger the last time he saw her.

 

The hinges of the gate creaked loudly when he pushed it open.

 

“Won—Wonpil-ah?”

His sister croaked in disbelief—he could almost hear her gasped. His mother turned upon hearing his sister, and the woman’s breath got hitched in .

 

“It’s me,” he said, merely a whisper, as he entered the garden. “It’s me, Wonpil. I came back,” he paused,

 “I’m home.”

His mother sprung onto her feet, ignoring the shawl draped onto her shoulder slipping off on to the muddy ground. She ran, as quickly as her body allowed her, and jumped into Wonpil’s open arms.

“You’re back,” she cried onto Wonpil’s shoulder, her arms hugging his body tightly. “You came home, Wonpil-ah… You came home,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise, Umma. I’m sorry I just came, I—I’m sorry for everything—“

“It’s okay,” the middle-aged woman loosened her hug to cup her son’s face.

“I’m happy you came back, Wonpil-ah. I’m really happy to be able to see you, to hug you again, even if it’s for the last time,”

He laughed, yet tears kept flowing down his face with no sign of stopping.

“Me too, Umma, me too,” he paused, “you look so pale, Umma. Please don’t get sick, yeah?”

She could only nod without stop crying as she wrapped her arms around him once again. She didn’t even think she could let go, knowing that it’d be the last time she could hug her only son.

 

“Noona,” Wonpil looked past his mother’s shoulder, to his sister’s crying face and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Noona, don’t cry like that, you look really ugly,”

His sister was stunned, but then she cried even harder.

“It’s really you,” she sobbed, “It’s really you, you punk, how could you leave us like that? On my birthday?”

Wonpil pulled himself out of his mother’s hug and wrapped his arms around his sister’s shuddering form.

“I’m sorry, noona, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your birthday dinner,” he said as he pulled out something from his pocket. “I hope this could make it up.”

He put the glistening, sterling silver bracelet his sister had always wanted, on the young woman’s palm—a bit part around the clasp crusted with dried blood.

“I’m sorry there’s a little… stain on it, but I’m sure you could clean it easily,”

“You punk,” her sister was suddenly hitting his chest, “you stupid, selfish punk! I was the one who identified your body, you didn’t know how hard it was I thought I could kill myself—“

“Don’t,” Wonpil pulled her back into a hug, “please promise me that you’d take care of Umma. And Appa. What would they do if you’re gone as well?”

“Why, Wonpil-ah? Why do you leave us?”

“I’m asking myself the same question right now,” he sighed. “I’d never wanted to leave, Noona. Please… Please forgive me, yeah?”

She was reluctant at first, but then she surely nodded.

“Of course I will, Wonpil-ah. I had never been able to resist those puppy eyes,”

She reached to ruffle Wonpil’s hair.

“You’d always be my little brother, Pillie.”

 

He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he turned towards his mother, but then he realized Younghyun was there, right in front of the gate, waiting for him.

 

“Umma,” he said as he reached for his mother, “please… Please forgive me and be happy, Umma. I can’t stand it seeing you like this.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s a happy place right where I am. It was such a beautiful place, where everyone is always happy,”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re happy up there, Wonpil-ah,” she smiled while caressing Wonpil’s cheek. “I—I’m sorry I didn’t bid you a proper goodbye. Remember, you’d always be Noona’s little brother, and Umma’s and Appa’s little boy, okay?”

He nodded as he leaned down so his mother could kiss his forehead and hug him one last time.

“Go ahead, Younghyun is waiting for you.”

Wonpil turned to see Younghyun, now inside the garden, smiling towards his mother.

“Please tell my mother that I love her,” Younghyun said towards the middle-aged lady, and she nodded.

“I will tell her,”

“Don’t forget about me,” Wonpil exclaimed, “… and please be happy.”

 

He reached for Younghyun’s outstretched hand as the latter led him out. Wonpil closed his eyes tightly and silently cried—he didn’t want to see his house and his family one last time, or else he’d never be able to let them go.

 

When he finally opened his eyes and looked back, all he saw was the vast, dark meadow, the fireflies had disappeared—with no house and people in sight.

 

++

 

The criminal investigation team of Daejeon Metropolitan Police Agency had finally succeeded to arrest Kang Eun Chul, 46, after reported seeing by residents around Yeonchuk-dong, Daedok-gu, Daejeon, Chungnam province. He’d be proceeded to be brought back to Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency for further investigation. The first trial session for the case will be held on Monday, May 23^rd, 2016.

 

Kang Eun Chul is the number one suspect for robbery, torture and mass murder of five Hongik University students Park Sungjin, Park Jaehyung, Kang Younghyun, Kim Wonpil and Yoon Dowoon at D music studio around Myeongdong area. Considering suspect’s history of criminal activities such as robberies, smugglings and murders—suspect will be sentenced with life imprisonment or death penalty.

 

++

 

“Hyung,” Wonpil exclaimed as he lay on the grass, watching the clouds passing by and Younghyun hummed in response despite his hands were busy tuning the guitar.

“Did everyone go and visit their families? You, Jaehyung-hyung, Dowoon…”

“Of course we did,” he replied as he strummed the guitar strings. “Even I brought my guitar back.”

 

++

 

 

A/N: I'm planning on making a BTS version of this story! What do you think? Please let me know in the comment section and thank you for reading!