The sun barely filter through the curtains. The whole world is probably still sleeping. I can hear some snore accentuated by the tiredness in the next room. The whole apartment is awfully quiet. The deathly hush is barely broken by the mere sound of his supple.

He didn't advice anyone.

Such a coward.

I notice an envelope slid under my door. Because he really believes I will read it?

So dumb.

Inside, the paper is mauve.

Ridiculous.

I recognize immediately his shaky handwriting and questionable poetry set down in black ink. There are stains made by his fingers on the right side. Not even able to bid farewell without blunder.

What a duffer.

A picture of the band, right after our début, is pasted in the back of the page. He's young, dishevelled, looks silly.

Pathetic.

At the end, a trembling “I love you” is diluted by the salted pearls fallen on the document. Too much sentimentalism.

Rubbish.

The main door close in silence. This time, Jaejoong is gone.

G