Solace

chapter one: progress

the part that sucks is I still miss you so much.
but now, the physical sightings of it are gone.
I feel bad that I'm moving on.
you're not upset with me?

"the days had all started to blur together. the months passed and I could no longer care that time was slipping away. something good came out of it though, I was excelling in all of my musical assignments. something was pulled from within me when you left.

a certain type of pain that I couldn't put into words but I could put into those keys. I began to write the most elaborate works I could think of. hell, I barely even thought. the music poured out of me, and my professors loved it. it was you.

every single thing I did was you. every note was from you. they showered me in praise because of pain, pain you left me with.

and I was never mad at you. in a way it was my only solace that you weren't completely gone. maybe this was your way of saying sorry, apologizing for doing what you did."

"this is remarkable progress Taehyung, you really are starting to move forward." Ms. Brin smiled at me, she was gleaming with sheer joy at my ability to journal. this was the seventeenth tactic we had taken to combat my...issues. "you're confronting the problem and facing it. and that's really all I'm asking for. keep it up and you'll be moved from four sessions a week and to three in no time, if that's what you want of course." another smile. "now, before we end our session today, I need to ask."

I knew what she was going to ask. and she knew the answer would be no. but this was the pivotal obstacle in my recovery. "will you let me read the note?" and her voice was as soft as ever. not a hint of hesitation or pity in her voice. it was simply curiosity and empathy.

"you know I can't do that." and all she did was nod. she wasn't angry with me, she wasn't disappointed.

"I'll see you on Friday?" her blonde hair swayed lightly as she spoke, just as graceful as her words.

"yeah, I'll see you then."

and then I left. I walked back to our apartment-

my apartment. it was a long walk, close to an hour. but I really couldn't bring myself to care. it was cold, the December air chilling my skin enough to raise rough goosebumps. it was the type of cold you couldn't escape. the type of cold that sunk through your layers (no matter how many you had put on that morning) and stuck to your skin.

I liked it in a sense. the cold numbed my aching fingers, tired and stiff after composing for an assignment. I finished it of course, and it was just as elaborate as my other recent works.

I'd be praised and uplifted, showered in pity and petty sympathy when they remembered where my newfound depth had come from.

it didn't anger me, it didn't annoy me. I was thankful for their kind words and what seemed like their genuine want for me to get better. when I had first come back to school after it happened, I had gotten embraced by random people that I didn't know in the campus hallways.

they would always walk up to me while I was stopped doing something, stand there for a moment before I saw they were there, then fling their arms around me, pulling me right against them. they always whispered some variation of the same thing in my ear as they did this.

"I'm so sorry," one said.

"I'm here if you need me, I've been through this, here's my number" another had spoken in a hushed tone.

the only one that truly stuck out was what one girl said to me in the hallway. she was nothing extraordinary. pretty? sure. but there were fifteen other girls at campus who looked just like her. she was brunette, slender in the face with deep brown eyes. she seemed the most genuine. "you're doing amazing. everyone knew how much you two loved each other." then she released the hug and walked off.

after the word had spread about how Joel died the campus practically rallied around me. and when it was confirmed that I was the one who found him, the teachers rallied too. I suppose it's one thing to find out your closest friend killed himself. another thing is to be the one who finds him when it's already too late.

when I arrived back at the apartment I was almost anxious. it was still so strange to be inside it after he was gone. it was like sorrow had crept into every available crevice of the home, expanding and filling the space until it couldn't anymore.

and when the sorrow had no more room to grow, it matured. it settled and created spaces for itself, it's cloud thicker in some areas than others. it hung heavy in his room, of course, the barren walls weren't helping the matter. when his parents had come to retrieve his things they brought with them a picture of me and him they had hung up in their home. they told me it was a duplicate, one for me to keep because they wanted to keep the original.

it was taken during a school vacation, snow falling all around us in a gentle flurry that left it all in a winter wonderland aesthetic. we were holding each other. his arms were around my waist and mine were around his torso, we were smiling at the camera his mother held.

the big town Christmas tree stood, newly lit, behind us. it had been taken years ago though neither of us looked much different. he hadn't changed much at all. he was still slightly boyish, even in his twenties. the gangliness of his limbs didn't go away over time but seemed to accentuate itself. he had gotten longer, leaner, taller.

I didn't look much different now than I did then. I suppose the only notable difference would be that now I'm skinnier. my cheeks didn't round as much when I smiled.

I had stared at that picture for hours, trying to figure out if he was sad here too. he didn't look sad. he looked joyous. he looked sure and confident.

when did it all change?