Luckily for Jongin, as a detective he has access to more resources than most. More importantly, he has friends who have access to even more resources than he does, which comes in very handy in situations like this.

“Do you know anybody who might be able to process the note and see what it says?” he asks his friends hopelessly the following morning. He, Luhan, and Sehun are at Club Espresso – Chanyeol had wanted to come but was too nervous about seeing Baekhyun so he’d stayed behind at the precinct – sipping their overpriced coffee with extra whipped cream.

Sehun shakes his head, his expression, as usual, quite blank. But Jongin hadn’t been expecting much from the kid. After all, he’s just a fresh-faced cop. He’s got less sway than Jongin does despite having worked at the precinct longer.

But Luhan is a well-established criminologist and, although Precinct 95 is his official office, he’s worked with a lot of other stations and offices over the past few years. And he doesn’t disappoint.

“I know a girl working with the Ministry of Public Administration and Security,” Luhan says, looking over the note, his brows furrowed together in concentration. “I can’t make heads or tails of this thing, but I think Jinri might be able to. She’s the best at document reconstruction. She trained with archaeologists, restoring ancient documents and paintings. I think she’s your best bet at finding out what this note says.”

Jongin doesn’t want to hope but he can’t help it. This is by far the best lead he’s got – it’s more than the police ever got, at any rate – and he can’t help but think that this might be the turning point in his investigation.

Luhan watches his face light up. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, Jongin,” he warns gently, reaching across the table to take his friend’s hand. “This note might not say anything that you like.”

“It might not even be from Kyungsoo,” Sehun points out.

Jongin nods, but he’s still just as hopeful.

Waiting to hear back from Luhan’s contact at the Ministry of Public Administration and Security, Jinri, is absolute torture for Jongin. Work continues as always at the precinct. He returns the key he’d stolen from Victoria when she’s gone to the bathroom, and if she’s noticed the disappearance she doesn’t mention it. Jongin thinks it’s likely that she knows – Victoria knows everything that goes on in the office – but he’s grateful that she doesn’t say anything. And his life at home continues, Jongdae making more and more frequent appearances as his marriage falls apart, Sunyoung trying unsuccessfully to mask how anxious she is at Jongin’s withdrawn moods. But Kyungsoo is the only thing that Jongin can really think about.

Weeks pass with no results. Jongin knows that it probably takes time to restore ruined documents. On top of that, this girl that Luhan knows probably has real work she has to do, things she’s actually getting paid for, and that she’s doing him a tremendous favor by looking at the water-stained note he’d found in the time capsule, but he can’t help but be anxious and impatient. Whenever he asks Luhan about it, Luhan patiently explains that she’s working on it but that it takes time, and eventually Jongin stops asking because he knows he’s starting to bug his friend.

One rainy, dismal evening finds Jongin tucked away in his office, Minseok with a chair pulled up to his desk. Minseok is a sergeant, which means by rank he’s technically a level beneath Jongin, but he’s got a hell of a lot of experience under his belt and Jongin respects him quite a lot and usually defers to him on most matters. They’re currently working on a case involving a little girl who went missing. It’s an important case, one that a few months ago the Chief would never have trusted Jongin with, and he knows that it’s good for his career to get these sorts of experiences. Even so, it’s difficult for him to focus on the rosy-cheeked little girl they’re talking about.

“It’s most likely that she ran away,” Minseok is saying. “She said something to her grandmother the day before she disappeared, and we think she’s gone to stay with an aunt or uncle. We should head out there to question the family, maybe intercept the girl before she makes it that far. The parents’ main worry at this point is if something might happen to her along the way. She’s only twelve, so she’s pretty vulnerable.”

“Yeah, we should check it out,” Jongin echoes, only half-listening.

It’s at that moment that the office door bursts open and Luhan comes in, waving around some papers he’s got clenched in his hand. “Jinri got back to me, Jongin!” he exclaims. “She finished the reconstruction-!” He catches sight of Minseok sitting beside Jongin at the desk and immediately his words catch in his throat. “Oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were with Sergeant Kim. I’ll come back later.”

But Minseok is about as much of an idiot as the Chief is, and he knows that something is up immediately. “Reconstruction?” he asks curiously. “What did you have reconstructed? Are you talking about Jinri over at the Ministry of Public Administration and Security? She’s helping you with something?”

It’s a good thing that Luhan is better at lying than Jongin is, because Jongin straight up panics. “Ah, it’s an old case I’m looking over,” Luhan says smoothly, not even missing a beat. “Jongin has been helping me out with it. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll come back later.” And he leaves without another word.

Minseok still look suspicious, but he respects Luhan and obviously isn’t going to pry. “Okay, so about visiting the aunt and uncle…”

Jongin is so antsy that it’s impossible to pay any attention to what his partner is saying. Eventually Minseok gathers up his files and leaves the office, and Jongin is only vaguely aware that they’ve made arrangements to go and interview the missing girl’s aunt and uncle. The second Minseok disappears into his cubicle, Jongin is off in the direction of Luhan’s tidy little office.

The criminologist is sitting behind his desk, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looks a little surprised when Jongin bursts in unannounced, but his surprise soon turns to earnestness and he motions for Jongin to close the door.

“Did she find out what it says?” Jongin asks, his voice hushed as he closes the office door and crosses to the desk. “Did your friend get it restored?”

“She did,” Luhan says, handing over the original note – protected in a clear plastic bag and labeled as properly as Jinri had known how – and a piece of printer paper with black type. “There were a few words she couldn’t get, but I think altogether the message is pretty clear. Take a look.”

Jongin accepts them with trembling hands. He wonders if he’s finally going to find out what happened to his childhood best friend.

He reads the first line: Dear Jongin.

He nearly has to sit down. This letter really is addressed to him. Luhan motions for him to sit down, and he gratefully sinks into one of the armchairs. He’s not sure his legs could have supported him much longer anyway. He takes a deep breath and continues reading.

I sat down to write this letter and yet the words won’t come. Must I make them come? I feel I must. I don’t think I will ever see you again, and I don’t think I can go to where I’m going without leaving you a little something. Will you find it? I’m not sure. Will you even care? I’m even less sure about (undecipherable word).

You musn’t think that this is your fault. I know you well, and I hope that you won’t blame yourself. You aren’t the reason why I need to go. There is so much I never told you, that I thought you’d never understand. Maybe I should’ve told you. Maybe then it needn’t have ended this way. But I can’t take back the past. What’s happened has happened.

Still onward winds the dreary way. I with it, for I long to prove no lapse of moons can canker love, whatever fickle tongues may say. And if that eye which watches guilt and goodness and hath power to see within the green the moulder’d tree and towers fall’n as soon as built – Oh if indeed that eye foresee or see (in Him is no before) in more of life true life no more and love the indifference to be, then might I find, ere yet the morn breaks hither over the Indian seas, that shadow waiting with the keys to shroud me from my proper scorn.

I envy not in any moods the captive voice of noble rage, the linnet born within the cage that never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes his license in the field of time, unfetter’d by the sense of crime to whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may count itself as blest, the heart that never plighted troth but stagnates in the weeds of sloth. Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall. I feel it, when I sorrow most. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Four voices of four hamlets round, from far and near, on mead and moor, swell out and fail, as if a door were shut between me and the sound. Each voice four changes on the wind that now dilate and now decrease. Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace. Peace and goodwill to all mankind. This year I slept and woke with pain. I (undecipherable word) wish’d no more to wake and that my hold on life would break. 

Your were my truest friend. I wish you nothing but happiness and many years ahead of you.

From, Kyungsoo

Jongin stares at the letter in his hand long after he has finished reading it, his hands trembling, tears stinging his eyes so that the page blurs before him. The office is quiet, the only sound that of Jongin’s uneven and troubled breath.

Luhan cautiously approaches him, concern written clearly on his features, removing his reading glasses. “Jongin?” he says gently. “Are you okay?”

“He killed himself,” Jongin says, and his voice breaks. The tears spill over down his cheeks, but he makes no move to wipe them away. And once the dam has broken, it is impossible to stop.

Luhan sits next to him, taking his hands. “You don’t know that for sure, Jongin. He doesn’t come right out and say it.”

Jongin feels bitter resentment even though he knows that Luhan is only trying to help. “Yes he does! Right here! It says ‘this year I slept and woke with pain; I wish’d no more to wake and that my hold on life would break.’ And here it says ‘that shadow waiting with the keys to shroud me from my proper scorn.’ He’s saying it right there.”

Luhan sighs and shakes his head. “I’ve dealt with a lot of depressed people in my life, Jongin, but this doesn’t sound the words of one. In here, he says that he wished to never wake up again. Wished, as in past tense. He didn’t say ‘I wish I would never wake up again.’ Typically when people are contemplating suicide, they continue to speak in present tense because their pain is there, in the present.”

Jongin wipes at his tears, the smallest flicker of hope finding its way into him. Luhan has a valid point.

Luhan seems to realize that he’s managed to get through to his friend. “I’ll go get you some tea, okay? Just don’t jump to conclusions yet.”

Jongin nods gratefully.

He’s managed to pull himself together for the most part by the time he gets home that night, but his heart is heavy and he finds his mind constantly wondering back to the note Luhan’s friend had restored for him. Had Kyungsoo really killed himself? Was he really capable of taking his own life? Jongin would never have thought it of him, but the note seems pretty straightforward. Kyungsoo had clearly said that, at least at some point, he had wanted to die. If that desire had been strong enough for him to follow through…Jongin doesn’t know. And now he’s doubting his choice to investigate further. It’s looking more and more that, even if he does find out what happened to Kyungsoo, it’s not going to help him move on.

“Babe?”

Jongin looks up. Sunyoung is staring at him with big, sad eyes. He realizes that she’s been talking to him for quite some time without him hearing her.

He gives himself a shake, trying to bring himself back to the present. It’s difficult when the hazy images of his past are walking around him clear as day. “Sorry,” he apologizes, forcing a smile that is unpleasant for both of them. “Rough day at work. I’m exhausted. What were you saying?”

Sunyoung hesitates, but then repeats herself. “I asked if you wanted to go out this weekend. Maybe to dinner or a movie. We haven’t gone on a proper date in a while, so I thought it might be nice.”

“Maybe,” Jongin answers vaguely. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on at the precinct. I may have to work this weekend.”

The corners of Sunyoung’s mouth droop down. “Are you having an affair?” she asks.

Jongin is genuinely surprised by the question. “What?!” he exclaims. “Of course not! Why would you even ask me something like that?”

She shrugs helplessly, throwing up her hands. “I don’t know,” she sighs, and she looks like she’s on the brink of tears. “You’ve been so distant lately, Jongin. I don’t even know what’s going on with you. You’re always gone. You say it’s for work but it seems impossible that you have that much work to do. You never want to go out and do anything anymore. You don’t even really talk to me anymore! I feel like you haven’t really seen me in months now. I can’t…I can’t think of any explanation except that you’re cheating on me.”

Jongin takes her hands in his. They’re small and delicate compared to his, lovely in how soft and feminine they are. He closes his long fingers around them, looking her straight in the eye. “Sunyoung, I am not cheating on you. I have never cheated on you, and I never will. That isn’t who I am.”

She really starts crying then. “I just don’t understand, Jongin!” she cries. “It’s like you’re a different person these days! What am I supposed to think?”

He wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been distracted with work lately. Let’s go out this weekend, okay? I’ll make it all up to you. We can go to that restaurant near the department store that you like so much. And we can go see that romantic comedy you wanted to see.”

“That movie’s not even in theaters anymore,” Sunyoung says, wiping her tears. “We waited too long to go see it.” But she sounds like she feels a little bit better. She sighs and wipes at the wetness on her cheeks. “You’re really not cheating on me?” she demands.

He kisses her. “Sunyoung, I swear that I am not now nor have I ever cheated on you. You’re the only girl for me.”

She smiles through her tears, and it seems genuine. “Thanks, babe. I just get so worried sometimes.” She sighs. “I’m going to go take a shower. Can we cuddle when I get out?”

“Of course,” he agrees without hesitation.

She kisses him again and heads off to the bathroom.

But Jongin feels even worse, if possible. It’s true that he’s never touched anyone else since he and Sunyoung have been in a relationship. He has never kissed anyone else, held hands with anyone else, been intimate with anyone else. But if he’s perfectly honest with himself, he’s been in love with someone else for the entirety of their relationship. Is that cheating? He’s not sure, but he certainly feels guilty about it. 

So now we know what the letter says! But do we really know what it means?

I'm sorry it took me so long to update this story. I'm not even kidding, I have been SO busy these past few months! We had a Christmas concert at school, so, in addition to teaching my usual classes and attending my Korean lessons (which I have two-three times a week), I had to prepre for the concert and play. Then there was Christmas, and then Jacky and I went on vacation for the New Year. So it's been so busy! I'm sorry! 

Hopefully I'll be able to update again soon since everything has pretty much died down now!

As always, thanks so much for reading! I love you guys!

<3333