The doctors finally let Soohyun go home during her third week in the hospital, and dad decided to hire a private therapist for her. Her body had recovered from the overdose of pills, but her mental state was apparently taking longer. I guess it was true because from time to time, I’d hear Soohyun cry in her room late at night. Her therapist, Dr Park, would tell me that it was normal, and that I shouldn’t worry too much. “Crying is a healthy thing,” she further explained. “She's letting out her feelings. The scary thing is not being able to do that. When your feelings build up and harden inside, then that's when you're in big trouble.”

I knew that already, though. So very well, that those words were able to live inside of me. But what scared me was that Soohyun never cried this often before. I realized how hard it was, really, to see someone you love change right before your eyes.

But, then again, Soohyun didn’t change. Soohyun simply learned how to stop hiding. She kept it all locked in, too, and I didn’t even notice.

That was the thing. I always assumed that only I had carried that kind of sadness with me—I was the only one pretending—when I didn’t even know about the kind of pain Soohyun had to endure back then.

Mom took some time off work to look after Soohyun, and the family started being extra careful around her, but mostly, things carried on the way they usually did. Of course, everybody still had the wretched memory of that night, and I knew that memory would stick with us forever—because that’s what painful memories do. They stick with you to the very last fiber of your existence.

Even after a month, I still couldn’t bring myself to ask her why she did it.

Why Soohyun almost lost her life at the age of fifteen.

“Sis,” Soohyun said. She came to my room and told me that she couldn’t sleep, so I fixed ourselves two cups of hot cocoa and we sat on the front porch together. “Do you think I’ll be able to go school soon?” Rain fell past just inches away from us. Time moved slowly as the two of us talked to the sound of the rain.

“Maybe. Are you that bored in the house?”

“Yeah. It’s a nice kind of bored, though.”

“Have you told mom?” I asked.

“There’s no way she’ll let me go back.”

“True.”

Soohyun responded with a long, long silence. The silence of all the misty rain in the world kept falling on our newly mowed lawn.

“Say,” Soohyun said finally, this time looking straight at me, “When will I get to meet him?” I stayed quiet. “You were hoping I would’ve forgotten about it, weren’t you?”

I laughed because it was true. Soohyun laughed, too. Her laugh were one of those things you miss once you realized it was gone. “Yeah,” I finally said. “But he’s not that great. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Still.”

“Fine, I’ll tell him. Let’s go back inside, though, it’s getting cold.” I stood up and my hands in my pockets.

“Hey, sis,” she said.

“Hm?”

“In the hospital… when you told me all those things, it made me really happy.” Soohyun smiled. “It made me regret it. A lot, actually. It’s just something that I thought I’d let you know.”

I stayed quiet and could only smile back in return.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

. . .

“So what happened with you and Jiwon?” Hanbin started off. We were on our way to the bus stop. The clouds were white and narrow, the sky wide open and high. The subtle fragrance of the breeze, the tone of the light, the dampness in the pavements: all these told me that winter was deepening.

“We ran into each other in some café, like a month ago.”

“You talked to him?”

I nodded.

“So that’s why that annoying guy was sticking to us like glue lately. Haven’t you noticed?” It was true that Jiwon started hanging out with us a lot more that past couple of weeks. Following us around the hallway, sticking to us as if we had all been friends for a long time, talking as if we knew each other very well. So much so that our little friendship group was starting to bloom into a trio. Nevertheless, however troublesome Jiwon may have been, there was something special in him, and I was almost certain that Hanbin saw it as well.

Jiwon had a rare talent for finding the interesting parts of someone's generally uninteresting comments so that, while speaking to him, you felt you were an exceptionally interesting person with a remarkably interesting life. In addition, he knew how to monitor and adjust the air around him on a daily basis, to steer his conversations in such a direction to get a person to pay attention and respond at the same time. Which is why I could never understand why such a smart and capable talker did not turn his talents to the broader world around him but remained satisfied to concentrate on our friendship.

“Just,” I said. “Random stuff. The guy can certainly talk, though.”

He sniggered. “He’s been like that since middle school. You can’t fall for it, though, Hayi. Look at all of those girls that did.”

We both laughed. Of course there was no doubt—with Jiwon’s abilities—that people almost worshipped him. It was as if above his head hung an aura that revealed his powers like an angel's halo.

“Do you think he’ll stick with us this time?” asked Hanbin.

“This time?”

“Never mind,” he stirred. “By the way, you seem to blank out a lot more recently. Are you okay?”

“I think my mind goes into hibernation when it’s winter,” I joked.

Hanbin laughed. “Me too. But, I thought you’d be the type who likes winter?”

“I don’t necessarily hate it. It’s just there.”

“Too cold?”

“Too cold,” I repeated. “Say, are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me out on a date right now, Hayi?”

“Hell no.”

“Too bad,” he scoffed. “Well, I’m free.”

“I figured.”

“Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Come to my house. My mom’s making bulgogi, and she’s awesome at it. That’ll be enough to make you come, right?”

“Right,” Hanbin said—confused—yet still smiling with the corner of his mouth.

I told him where I lived and wrote it down on a scrap piece of paper as he waited for the bus with me. I got inside when it finally came, and Hanbin waved and yelled, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hayi!” His voice distorted by the window between us. I waved back.

. . .

Autumn posted:

I haven’t posted much these days.

It just happens to be the way that I'm made, I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.

And that’s the thing. I don’t want to understand what I’ve been feeling lately. Perhaps it’s the scariness of it all. Is this what you call running away? I’ve never done that before. Hiding isn’t the same as running. Hiding is suffocating, while running away is just tiring. Is it possible to do both things at once? I think about it a lot.

I’ll tell you guys about it someday, though. I promise.

By the way, is anyone here from Seoul? What is it like over there?

. . .

Beyond the window, it was raining—a really rainy-season rain, pouring straight down without any wind, soaking everything beneath it. And yet Hanbin still kept his promise. Sometimes it was essentially a question of whether he had no common sense or he was just really stubborn. I had an idea that Hanbin was both.

Drenched from the rain, breathing heavily like he’d just been running, Hanbin showed up at the front door with a bashful smile. “The bus was a little late.”

“Are you stupid?” was the first thing that I said to him, and then I invited him inside. I guess I was a little nervous to introduce Hanbin to my family due to the facts that 1. Hanbin is a boy, and 2. It wasn’t often that I had friends over at the house. In fact, my parents had practically thought I was a loner until 10^th grade, when I invited Jang Hanna over to watch a film called A Werewolf Boy, and finally 3. Hanbin is a boy.

We headed to the kitchen, where mom was cooking and dad was on his tablet. Upon entering, they both looked up. Confused at first, as if they were thinking what the hell was this tall stranger doing at their home, and then surprised. It was a rare sight, but I could tell even Hanbin was a little nervous.

“This is my friend,” I started, opting out of the awkwardness. “The one I told you about.”

Hanbin bowed, introducing himself. “I’m Kim Hanbin. Thanks for having me here.”

“Make yourself comfortable in our home, Hanbin,” mom said, looking more relieved this time. It always happened to be like that. Everyone’s always scared of Hanbin until they actually hear him speak, because that’s when people realize that he’s normal. That he’s just like the rest of us. “I’ll call you guys over when dinner’s ready.” Mom simply smiled.

. . .

Soohyun’s eyes lit up with obvious enjoyment as soon as she saw Hanbin. And they clicked almost immediately. I, for one, was amused. All I could really do was sit there and watch them talk. They talked, and talked, and talked, and mostly, they agreed on a lot of things. It was as if they were the same person in two different dimensions. I just thought to myself, all of a sudden, that the last time I’d seen Soohyun talk so much was before the incident. Nevertheless, I felt relieved to see her like that again.

When Chanhyuk came home after guitar practice, the living room became even more hectic than it already was with Soohyun and Hanbin’s babbling.

“Chanhyuk! This is Hanbin,” exclaimed Soohyun. “Hayi’s friend!”

“Is he your boyfriend, Hayi?”

“Hell no,” I said.

Hanbin smiled, his lips stretching from side to side. “Nice to meet you,” he said as he extended his hand to Chanhyuk. Everything else that trailed came easily. It was weird at first, but, despite his unsocial nature at school, Hanbin really knew how to fit in.

. . .

“That was nice,” Hanbin said as we trudged along to the front gate. His cheeks turned pink when he smiled. “That was really nice.”

“I told you the bulgogi that my mom makes is fantastic.”

“Not that, idiot. Well, it is fantastic, but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Huh?” I mused. We stood around the gate, me on the inside and him on the outside. “Then what were you talking about?”

“Your family. They’re incredible!”

“Ah, so you’ve fallen for Soohyun’s charms, too.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” he countered. “She’s a better talker than Jiwon!” We laughed, and then finally he said, “I better get going now. Thanks for today, Hayi.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“See you on Monday.”

“Goodnight,” he said, walking away from the gate. The hollow sound of his footsteps grew distant by the second.

. . .

because // for those empty 2:00am nights

i need to step up my updating game