It turns out that one date with Jin -- which I had been apprehending from the moment I said yes-- soon becomes two, and before I know it, I find myself quite enjoying his company more than I expected. Initially I had thought it would’ve been awkward between us, especially since I knew about his feelings and he had no idea about mine, but it turns out that he hasn’t pushed further than the boundaries, has kept it pretty mild and has been very respectful of my space. Two weeks after that, he asks me to be his girlfriend and I agree, thinking that I’m falling more in love with his ways, with the way he treats me, with the attention I receive and the affection that I can see swimming in his brown orbs whenever he looks at me.

I know all too well because he’s transparent. But he’s also genuine and vulnerable. , in a way.

And somehow I feel a bit guilty, for I feel as though I’m not giving him the love he desires. But he has reassured me tons of times, telling me that I shouldn’t worry about such a thing and that there’s no rush. He’s happy to take time, happy that I’m even considering him as an option.

Namjoon practically flies out of his chair when I finally drop the news. Obviously if I am to make this sort of thing public, I’ll start with my best friend.

His eyes practically pop out of his sockets the moment I manage to stutter my way through the sentence causing me to be a blushing mess.

“So you’re dating him? For real?” Namjoon leans his elbows onto the table, expression painted with surprise and mild curiosity, “When did that happen?”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, unsure of how the story has started between us, how he has asked me out in the first place, “I mean, it just happened.” I mumble loud enough for him to hear, “There’s really nothing much to say about it.”

“I never thought there’d be a day where someone would actually want to date you,” He teases, to which I throw him a scowl before he reaches over and pats me on the shoulder, “I’m happy for you. Congrats.”

There is really nothing to celebrate about this idea and I don’t get why he’s making such a fuss about it. Then again, I don’t understand much of how human beings work so that might be why I’m so confused by everyone’s reactions and concerns to the news. Jimin and Jungkook were the only ones that genuinely seemed happy, teasing me and mocking me, telling me that it’s over for our trio because Jin has stole me away. Eva’s jaw dropped open and she begged me to tell her all the details as she shared her own experience with Jungkook, who managed to break her heart not once, but twice, before she decided to give up on that particular boy.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was shellshocked for more than a minute.

“You’re what?” He asks again, voice rising as multitudes of eyes turn our way. I shush him, very aware of the echoing sound that bounces off the cafeteria walls. It’s not like it’s some major news that he hasn’t been expecting, so why is he acting as though I’ve just dropped a bomb onto him?

“What about that talk we had the other day?” he asks, taking a sip of his strawberry-flavoured milk.

I shrug and say through a bite of my sandwich, “things just happened, and to be honest I really like Jin.”

I want him to be happy for me and just let it go, but knowing Hoseok, he’s not going to until he’s drilled the idea home.

“What about Namjoon?” he takes another bite of his bread and unconsciously flicks the crumbs away from his fingers, “Did you tell him?”

“I told him first,” I say through a mouthful of ham and tomato, “He took it pretty well.”

“Of course he would. He’s not going to show you what he’s really thinking.” Hoseok sends me a pointed look at that, to which I roll my eyes, “I know Namjoon. If he was upset about it-- which he wasn’t-- it would’ve shown on his face.”

“Not too sure about that.”

“Why would he even be upset?” my voice raises in impatience. I hate how Hoseok is assuming a lot of things without proof. I think what bugs me the most is the fact that his words make me think too much about things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Like that night he asked me if I had ever liked Namjoon in the romantic sense, that hadn’t been the greatest thing to tell me for ever since then, there’s been this nagging feeling at the back of my mind asking me whether I was doing the right thing when I just wanted to put him out of my mind and focus on more important things at hand.

Right now, I want to focus on Jin and only Jin.

“Why don’t you try asking him again?” The young man proceeds to flick some crumbs in my direction. I flick them back with even more vigor, “The one who really wants to know is you, Hoseok. I think you should ask him.”

“No way, dude. The last thing I’d like to do is get in-between your weird catfights.”

Just like that, fall soon turns to winter. Dead leaves are hidden by fallen snow that covers the whole landscape with a stark whiteness, like a blanket covering the city with its softness, rendering the world more delicate and much more vulnerable. There’s some kind of magic that comes along with snow and although I hate the cold that comes with it, I can’t help but let out a giggle every once in awhile when peeking out of my window to see the foliage of white scattered throughout the neighbourhood.

Students are permanently holed up in the library, preparing themselves for the upcoming final exams while others are hurrying to hand in their assignments. The school feels like a warzone and getting home feels like a luxury now that it’s the season of built-up stress and tension. The atmosphere is serious and heavy, and it’s another feeling to be able to get home and let out a sigh of relief, a sigh that releases all the worries I’ve been juggling in my head until now.

As I open my fridge and debate upon dinner, I pull out my phone absentmindedly before realising that tomorrow is Saturday, which means no classes. Which means freedom, at least for now.

The excitement bubbles up in the pit of my stomach. Quickly searching up Jin’s name on my phone, my fingers literally fly across the screen as I send him a message.

Yehwa: Hey, wanna do something tomorrow?

His answer comes a few minutes later as I’m putting some raw spaghetti into the boiling pot of water.

Jin: Sure. But I’m going to be playing football with a few of my friends. We can meet after that.

Yehwa: Yeah no problem. Are you going to be at the Indoor Futsal Stadium?

Jin: Yeah. We can get lunch after.

Yehwa: Alright. What time?

Jin: We start playing at 10:30. We’ll probably be done by 12:00 or something.

Yehwa: Okie dokes.

I’m halfway through my dinner while binge-watching another episode of Gossip Girl when a knock resounds on my door. Sparing a glance at the time and frowning when I realized it’s way past nine and nobody should usually be looking for me at this hour, I stand up and cautiously slide towards the door. Hesitantly, I call out a “yeah?”

“Yehwa?” Namjoon’s voice, though muffled through the door, is instantly recognizable. “Can I come in?”

I open the door with a mixture of surprise and sudden happiness because I haven’t seen my best friend in such a long time, but all these thoughts fly right out of the window when I come face to face with his face.

It’s dark and hollow and he looks like he’s been through a thunderstorm.

“Dude,” I can’t help but stare at him, “What’s up with your face?”

He pushes past me, dead silent, and I close the door before following him into my flat. He flops onto my couch and doesn’t even bother shrugging out of his jacket, and he doesn’t have to say anything for me to know that there’s something that’s terribly wrong with him.

Namjoon is usually pretty reserved about his personal thoughts and feelings. His soul is a fragile one and yet he never actually shows it to most people, always keeping the burden to himself and always trying his best to act strong when in truth there’s so many things going on inside. He never talks about what’s in his head unless it’s something of great importance, and right now from what I’m observing, something is deeply bugging him.

“Hey,” I nudge his shoulder gently, “Want some hot chocolate?”

He nods in response and I go about fetching a mug and boiling some hot water. I plop a few marshmallows in, just like he likes it, before I hand it over to him.

He still hasn’t said a word and now it’s starting to worry me. I can’t help but conjure scenarios in my mind: Did something happen to him? Did he have a huge fight with Haeryung? Is he upset, too upset to talk about it?

Or is it something worse? Something that happened to his family?

The assumptions get weirder as the thoughts fly about in my brain, making me even more panicky by the minute. I need Namjoon to start talking now or I’ll go crazy. One of the things I loathe is seeing him looking so abashed and forlorn, because if he came to see me in person, then that particular thing or issue he’s been having is seriously bothering him.

“I let her die.” his voice is merely above a murmur. But that’s enough for my ears to perk up.

My heart almost stops. “What?”

Oh god, what has he done? Please, please tell me that it’s not--

“I let her die.” He repeats, louder this time. He turns to me, pain swimming in his brown almond-shaped eyes, “I let her die, Yehwa. I couldn’t do anything.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice rises up a notch due to panic, “You gotta give me more than that.”

“The little girl,” He sounds broken, defeated, like a man ready to resign, “She had been suffering for days. We couldn’t do anything. She was hurting, Yehwa.”

“We? Who’s ‘we’?”

“Us. The doctors, the interns. The Medics.”

“Oh.” It dawns on me that he hasn’t actually killed someone and relief is like a wave that knocks the breath out of my chest. Right there and then I feel like strangling him for giving me such limited information. And here I am worrying about something that he didn’t do.

“It’s not your fault.” I tell him, but the rage that flashes in his eyes is so intense that it makes me flinch.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not your fault.” I repeat with more authority, “If anything, you’re just a student. Nobody blames you.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a student or not.” Namjoon barks back with anguish, running his fingers through his locks in frustration, “I was there. I was still responsible.”

“What did she have?” I ask in hopes that it will be enough to divert his attention away from his own self-hatred for a minute.

“Hypothermia.” He replies softly, “It was too late when we got to her. She fell into the lake. She was skating with her big brother. She knew how to swim but the water was too cold.”

“Oh .” my mind is reeling from the overload of information and sympathy blossoms for the man sitting next to me. I can’t put myself in his place but I imagine the pain, the guilt that’s stabbing him repeatedly in the chest as he keeps reminding himself of the failure, of the way in which one second c