don’t go too far, so we can meet again. – Love Again, Dear Cloud

Nobody else knows this, but, she is the one who helps him shave his head, standard buzz cut, after shower, ready for a two-year service in the South Korean army.

It is the night when he invites his closest friends over for some filet mignon, merlot and goodbyes.

Even though he has told her “you know? Jimin and Seulgi are coming, too,” she still withdraws her hand from his grip, declining the implied invitation.

His friends are a bunch of interesting people they make the dinner fun and the farewell not very sad. As he laughs at an anecdote that Baekhyun shares, he almost forgets how her crying face looks like.

Almost, he thinks, bittersweet.

“Jongin. We will see each other again really soon. Don’t be too sad” is what they are telling him with identical wistful smiles on their faces.

As his last guest leaves his house, so does the last of the dopamine in his system. This is when things—sad things—finally dawn on him. He is alone now, and maybe he is lonely.

In silence, he does the dishes. When a porcelain mug slips from his wet hand, free falling to the ground, and then shatters into a million tiny pieces, he finds himself unable to say that it’s been 100 percent accidental.

Anything is better than the heavy quiet, including getting his thumb pricked by a sharp piece of the broken mug when he tries, in vain, to clean up the mess that he has made.

Blood drips onto the kitchen floor, marring light grey marble with morbid, little crimson dots.

“Jennie,” he whispers her name into the phone, soft and careful, “Jennie-ya.”

It’s almost 1 am when she arrives in his apartment. Her eyes are red. He can see traces of dried tears on those sunken cheeks.

“It’d be easier if I didn’t see you off at all,” s