APRIL 2012

It took the wet droplets falling onto his trembling fingers for Minseok to realise he was crying. Reliving that moment, that heart-wrenching moment, of seeing Lu Han lying like an icy mannequin was enough to stir those fragile emotions he’d managed to keep dormant for so long. He could feel the soft shell over his heart slowly cracking from the pressure that image in his mind created; like steam through dented pipes escaping through the gaps. He didn’t have the strength to hold it in any longer.   

And the worst part was, he still didn’t know how it had all happened.

An avalanche of pictures would flash behind his eyes: Lu Han’s body lying bent on the cold, marble floor of some pretentious hotel with nobody to clear away the blood until the workhand came; the blinding lights of the ambulance and cameras that flocked to his demise; the pale walls with glass bars that held him once he fell. Minseok hadn’t been there until it was too late, but that didn’t stop his mind fabricating all kinds of scenes in his head to haunt him while he slept.

I should never have gone…

He should never have been alone…

But there was nothing he could do now. Nothing, except write the article he promised that night by the river where the lights danced like fireflies on the water. It was just a shame that the star of the piece wouldn’t be around to read it himself, not unless there was some kind of miracle.

Minseok used the bottom of his top to wipe under his eyes and across his damp skin, now reddened and puffy, and his gaze caught the front door. He knew what lay behind it, waiting for him. That streak of red that Jongdae briefly picked it up was all he needed to give it away. His heart thudded.

Was he ready to see it again? Could he take it?

There was only one way to find out for sure.

Minseok dragged a mouthful of stale air into his lungs and pushed himself away from the table. His hands were still shaking as he pulled on the door handle. He gulped and hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds before allowing himself to look down to the floor.

It was almost as he remembered it.

Almost.

He knelt down on the ground and let his fingertips trace over the fanboard, now covered in crooked white lines where he’d torn it apart. The creases were shiny with tape and the heart-shape was more of a lumpy circle but the message still shone through as brightly as it always did. Stuck near the top was a little post-it that read in a tiny scrawl:

                      Minseok-oppa ~

I tried to save as many pieces of your heart as possible and stick them back together again. Hopefully now it will heal and not hurt as much as before.

Please don’t give up hope. I’ve heard you can sing to angels and they will hear you no matter how far away they are.

Stay strong.

                    ~ Minah.

P.S I never thanked you for giving Chanyeol-oppa his present. I saw him on TV wearing it, it made me so happy! Thank you ~

More tears fell this time, more tears that he couldn’t stop. They dripped from his chin on to the photographs and slid down their ripped surfaces – pictures of them dancing that first night in Enigma, fingers laced together beside the Mercedes, both of them posing with the band in Stripes looking so happy and carefree with a beer in hand, and then finally the infamous shot on the bridge. Minseok couldn’t help but a single finger down that one; it looked like something taken from the set of a movie.

The kiss.

He hugged the poster close to his chest for a few moments, grateful beyond words that Minah had taken the time to fix it and bring it back to him; grateful that the wind had ignored his prayer. He’d lost count of the things he regretted from that night, but one of the biggest was tearing the poster apart. It was only a big piece of paper covered in images he could easily print from the internet, but it was so much more than that. He thought he’d lost the cute fan messages and heart doodles and the memory of it all happening forever. Not anymore.

Inside, he rested the poster carefully on the table and looked up at the clock ticking away on the wall.  It was almost 7PM. He had enough time to make the celebration at Stripes. If he missed it Chanyeol would never forgive him, that’s for sure. He had to be there, for the sake of his friends who were practically family, since they’d been there for him as much as he had let them.

Despite them not knowing the whole truth.

But, still. He had enough time.

I’ve heard you can sing to angels…and they will hear you no matter how far away they are…

There were a couple of things he needed to do, that he finally believed he was ready to do.

First of all, he strode across the littered floor of his living space to the windows, paused, and then pulled the curtains open before he could regret it. Strangely, he welcomed the sound of the hoops sliding across the hollow rail and the foreign light that warmed his skin, although his eyes couldn’t quite adjust to it straight away.

Next, he ran into the bedroom, rooted around in one of the drawers, and then reached under the bed to drag out his keyboard. Back at the table, he set everything up, clipping a semi-decent webcam onto the lid of his laptop which he pushed back to make room. Instrument plugged in and ready, Minseok clicked on the internet and typed YouTube into the top bar.

A little red light blinked on from the side of the webcam lens.

Minseok cleared his throat, staring first at his pasty face that appeared on his screen, aptly lit by the natural light now flooding his apartment. Then he focused on the camera and let his fingers hover over the keys.

“Hello. My name is Kim Minseok and this...” Something caught in his throat but he swallowed through it. “This is my message to an angel.”

And so he began to play.

Even if you’re a whole galaxy away, where heaven isn’t high enough, hear my song.

Hear my song, little angel.

And come back to me.