The very first thing that caught my eye when I entered my room, that night, was a see through jar containing a firefly with some blades of grass and a little water. The jar stood straight and upright on the window sill. Beneath the moonlight which streamed through the window, the firefly looked like some kind of ordinary black critter you'd find by a pond somewhere.

For some reason, I knew straightaway that this was Hanbin’s doing. I wondered how he’d managed to sneak it in my room without me knowing in the first place.

I sat on the edge of my bed holding the bottled firefly on eye-level with me. The light the firefly gave out was a faint glow of pale yellow and it looked confused and droopy. All in all, it was very different from the ones Hanbin had taken me to see before; the ones in the forest, those ones were more exquisite, and they hovered more energetically while this one looked like it was on the verge of death. Nevertheless, it made me smile. It really did.

I gave the jar a gentle shake and the firefly just bumped against the glass walls and tried to fly, but its light still remained dim. I shook it once more, and this time a folded piece of paper fell out, onto the carpet, from the bottom of the jar. I hadn’t noticed it before as the combined pieces of grass bordered the base and covered the end.

I set aside the jar and picked up the paper on the floor. A letter. A handwritten letter in the worst handwriting I’d ever let my eyes lay upon on: Hanbin’s writing.

“Hello, Hayi. I remember you telling me that you can comprehend written words better than spoken ones. So here I am, writing this letter. I wish I had paid more attention to my handwriting, but I hope you can read this. As of now, I’m guessing you have many questions. Firstly, I’ll explain how I snuck this jar inside your room (it is in your room, right?) Well, I asked Chanhyuk to do it. Of course, as I’m writing this letter I haven’t actually asked him to do it yet.
Secondly, I know, you’re probably thinking, “What a lame firefly.” I know, I know. Truth is, I wasn’t sure whether to hand you this firefly in person (and as you can see: I didn’t), so I let it stay in my room for three days. I think if you’re lucky, this firefly can last up to two more days. But then again, how would I possibly know? I’m not a firefly.
I’ll answer only those questions for now.
This will no doubt come as a surprise to you, I tried a few times to mention it to you, but I was never able to make myself begin. I was afraid even to pronounce the words. The thing is, I like you. And, knowing you, you’d be the type to ask, “But, why me?” (Don’t lie, you just asked yourself that right now, didn’t you?) The best explanation I can offer here is… well… because it’s you. Just you. That’s the only reason. You’re the girl who looks at the stars and knows the exact names of constellations I could never fathom. You’re the girl who made me appreciate the silence for once in my life. You’re Lee Hayi, the person who made Kim Hanbin feel as if he wasn’t a monster like everyone thought he was. He was human and alive.
I don’t think how I feel for you is accidental, either. I didn’t fall in love with you. Falling means unintentional, doesn’t it? I know that my feelings are not unintentional. I chose to like you, eyes wide open, I chose every step along the way. Of course, I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. So to conclude, the girl that I like is Lee Hayi. You.
This is the last thing I’ll write, because I am sleepy and my handwriting is getting messier by the minute.
I won’t stay in contact for the time being. I also choose not to tell you why, but trust me when I say: in the future, I’ll absolutely tell you in person. Trust me when I say that today will not be the last time you’ll see me. It’s selfish of me, but I hope this trust stays within you even in twenty years’ time. Or a hundred.
Goodbye, Hayi.
-- Hanbin
P.S. This is certainly not a goodbye letter, it’s a love letter!”

I chuckled at the last bit of Hanbin’s letter. All in all, the letter left me feeling confused. I hastily grabbed my phone to dial his number. I swiped his name and it didn’t even ring once, instead it just took me to an automated voice. I rang it again, and then again. And several times more until I finally gave up.

Hanbin had changed his number.

The only thread that connected us together. The only hope we had to maintaining the closeness we once had. Hanbin had cut that thread off.

This was his farewell.

I must have re-read the letter a hundred times that night—more number than the attempts I did to call his phone. It struck many emotions in me, but truthfully, loneliness was the one that had stayed with me all that time.

It came to me then. Hanbin and I felt something for each other from the beginning. It was not one of those strong, imprudent feelings that can hit two people like an electric shock when they first meet, but something calmer and quieter, like two tiny meteors, traveling through a vast darkness in space and drawing subtly closer to each other as they go.

I had probably known as much for a while, but I had just been avoiding the conclusion for a very long time.

That night, I lay gazing up at the ceiling, feeling the emptiness pounding hard in my chest. The firefly was still hovering inside the jar, it kept trying to climb up the slippery glass walls of the jar and falling back. Soon, I fell asleep watching the dim, flickering light that it had ignited.

. . .

Unlike the childish, early summer days I’d spent with Hanbin and Jiwon, lurking around the forest and playing video games, I spent the remaining two weeks of the holiday in my room, applying for various universities and waiting for their reply. The process made me uncomfortable, but it certainly most felt like a grown-up thing to do. I guess, in a way, it made me feel independent, too.

As I was stuck in my room, waiting for those important emails to come, I began continuing the blog entries I’d forgotten to do. I talked to strangers online, too. Truth be told, for me, there weren’t many fascinating encounters in the wide world of the internet. Those instances were rare. Generally, I only held small talk with random strangers, simple conversations that had no deep meaning to them. Nevertheless, I found that even casual discussions would come as quite endearing sometimes. There was, however, this one girl that caught me at my best curiosity.

She commented on one of my old blog post, and I simply replied back. It was the same for other circumstances, too. Sometimes it was me who’d comment on hers and it was her who’d respond to my comment. Either way, it just carried on for a few days until a chat box popped up with the words, “Let’s talk on here instead. It’s easier.”

So we talked. We talked so much that at the end of the week, I’d learned about her as much as she had learned about me. Her name was Park Jimin, we were the same age and she lived in London. Different from the people closest to me, I told Jimin most things about me in the shortest amount of time. I had no idea what happened to me, then, or why I’d decided to be so open about things to Jimin. Maybe it was the reassurance that I’d probably never meet Jimin in my entire life, and ultimately, even with the exchange of five thousand messages, she still was a stranger to me, after all. She lived behind my laptop screen.

“Which university are you applying for?” Jimin asked me once. I told her about local ones that offered the course that I wanted to take. “Why don’t you apply for a university here in London?” It was too far away, I typed. And there was no way I’d get into one. “Just go for it,” she sent finally, with a link to an application. “It’s the same one I applied for. Promise me you’ll give it a try?” I promised.

. . .

Jiwon came back at the end of August. When he appeared so suddenly at my doorstep, 9am in the morning with that crooked smile of his, I felt like I was about to burst into tears. Just his presence alone was overwhelming.

“W-when did you come back?”

“This morning,” he replied. “An hour ago, actually. The first person I wanted to see was you.”

“Are you not feeling jet-lagged?”

“Oh, I am.”

“Then—”

“So I think we should get some fresh air,” Jiwon cut in, a playful grin was playing with his lips. “And here.” He handed me a bag. “American goodies!”

I smiled back and said thanks before placing the bag on the coffee table in the living room. I told Soohyun that I was going out for a while, and she shot me a look hinting as if I was the most anti-social person there was and it was hard to believe that I was actually going outside for once. I shot her a weird look back. Then I grabbed the keys and locked the door when I stepped out of the house.

The sky was blue, and the leaves rustled steadily with every gentle blow of the wind. Jiwon was next to me.

“Have you applied for any universities?” he began, which caused me to tilt my head towards him.

“A few,” I replied. “Actually, a friend convinced me to apply for one in England, too.”

“Did she succeed in convincing you?”

“She did.”

“I think you’ll get in,” he said. I had no idea where we were going, but we continued following the pavements anyway. We walked slowly while Jiwon played balance on the kerbs.

“How about you?”

“I’m staying here to do a few volunteer work while I think over my options. I haven’t decided what I want to be, yet. But I’m sure that route wasn’t right for me. I had a quarrel with my dad over my decision, actually. I won.”

“Jiwon? Winning in an argument against his father? You sure as hell have changed,” I remarked, to which Jiwon chuckled. “Tell me about these options of yours.”

“Honestly, I’ve been interested in travelling. Maybe something like travel around the world and help the less fortunate. My family has always been giving me too much. Too much money. Too much opportunities. I never really thought about it before, but maybe with these ‘Too much’ I might make a slight difference in the world, you know?”

“You really have changed, Jiwon. What the hell did America do to you?”

“Not America, but Hanbin.” A warm breeze flew past us.

“Hanbin,” I started. “Hanbin changed his number.”

“I know.”

“Seoul has a population of ten million.”

“I know.”

“How do we find him, then?”

“We don’t, Hayi,” Jiwon said. “I think he’ll find us after he finds himself. No—I’m sure he’ll find us.”

I stayed silent. Maybe it was because I was naïve back then, but Jiwon’s words did not seem to reach me. And even if they did, I was unable to grasp their meaning.

“What do you think Hanbin’s doing right now?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Probably drowning himself in work.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s really unfair,” I pointed out. “Hanbin’s being unfair to us.”

“I think it’s more unfair for Hanbin,” he replied. “We get to hear his voice on the radio, while he doesn’t get any fragments of us at all. He doesn’t even get to hear our voices. For Hanbin, we are only living inside his memories. Isn’t that sad?”

I stopped dead on my tracks. “Hanbin’s voice on the radio?”

“He hosts a show every midnight, doesn’t he?”

“He didn’t even tell me that his show was back on!”

Jiwon laughed. “As always, he’s just teasing you.”

. . .

Hanbin’s radio being moved to a bigger broadcast station was noticeable. It took the two-hour time slot and between the playlists, Hanbin had the chance to talk to the listeners. Turned out there were definitely way more bored insomniac teenagers that lived in Seoul than the ones who lived in our town (me, included). Because remarkably, more and more people began listening to his show.

“This is the last song from the playlist for tonight,” Hanbin announced. “I’ve always held it close to my heart, so listen to it well! Goodnight!”

My eyes widened when the music came on. Between the Bars by Elliot Smith. The same track Hanbin played when he introduced me to his show.

And it only hit me then, why Hanbin loved music so much. Because a song could take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in you or the world. That song stays the same, just like that moment.

. . .

“You’re finally online.”

“Hello, Hayi! Were you waiting?”

“I’ve got news. Good news.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been accepted into the university.”

“Holy ! Tell me more!”

“My parents said it was okay, so I took the offer. I’ll be in London next week. My ticket is booked.”

“That’s great news! Does that mean we’ll, perhaps, finally meet?”

“If you want.”

“I do! I really really want to meet you!”

. . .

eyes closed // you're dreaming... or at least you've got your eyes closed

i was totally shocked when i read the comments, honestly i didn't think that this story would get so much response! i'm really humbled. thank you all. i'll keep trying my best ;;