ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʏᴏᴜ ➻〚𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙝𝙪𝙞 〛

The Notes

Tears seep back into my eyes, collecting like small raindrops at the corners of my eyes as they threaten to fall again. I take in the features of the modest bedroom, from the muted blue paint beginning to peel on the corners of the walls, his small single bed with striped covers, to the plethora of posters messily plastered on the walls of his favorite bands.

I see stacks of old textbooks still carelessly placed on his desk in true Wonwoo fashion and a portrait of him and his mother from the beginning of high school. His mother still looks pretty and the same as now, but Wonwoo looks like a stick who hasn't quite grown into a less juvenile body, acne dotting his face. God, he's changed so much in just a few years; it's incredible. A few cheaply-printed photos and strips of photos taken in photo booths dot a small cork board on the wall, all of them being pictures of him and I fooling around.

Smiling sadly, waves of crushing, yet comforting nostalgia sweep over me, and I turn to Mrs. Jeon. Miraculously, she's managed to hold the tears back for the past few days, but finally, quiet tears slowly roll down her melancholy expression, as her soft, but striking gaze pierces into mine. Hands clasped in front of her flowy, viridian dress, they shake ever so slightly, as if electricity was coursing through her, but I can tell that it's the pain conjuring an earthquake of unsteady feelings inside of her.

Motherly gaze still fixed on me, her taut lips spread into the beginnings of a sorrowful smile and aged laugh lines crease around the corners of her lips, while her eyes radiate endearing energy.

"Wonwoo loved you so, so much. Quite frankly, you were the only reason he hung on for so long, Junhui... Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for making him so happy and shedding light into his life," Mrs. Jeon musters out, her voice wavering.

Limbs beginning to shake, I nod gratefully as I run into her warm embrace again, unable to cope with the fact that he's never going to be with me again, or until I die.

"I l-love him s-so much, too, Mrs. J-jeon. I d-don't know i-if I can move o-on. W-wonwoo was my--my e-everything," I stutter out, crying into her shoulder. We stay like this for a little while, and eventually, the inconsolable sobs turn to quiet whimpers.

As Mrs. Jeon pats my cheeks dry with a tissue, she speaks again, "Dear, the reason I called you up here is that I found something for you. I was beginning to clean out his closet so I can donate his clothes, and I found a small box for you." She motions to his nightstand, where a small, cardboard box stands unassumingly. Hesitantly, I walk over for a closer look.

Messily scrawled out in Sharpie, the lid of the box says, "For Junhui, my light in the dark and partner-in-crime. From your real moon in the starry night (not talking about your Korean last name), Wonwoo. If you aren't Junnie, don't open this, and if I'm still alive, you better not open this." Beginning to hyperventilate, I continue to read, tearing my eyes away from the lettering I'm fixed on, "I'll always love you."

Completely stricken by everything I just read, I fall back onto his bed, my eyes frantically scanning over the box in a panic. What's inside of this box? Hell, I don't even know if I want to dive into it. Mrs. Jeon looks at me again, and pats my back comfortingly before she leaves the room, "I'll leave you to it, Junhui. Take as much time as you need, sweetie. This home is mine and Wonu's, as well as yours, too."

I decide that there's no time to waste because if I wait longer, I'll have more doubts about opening this box. Maybe there's something in there that Wonwoo absolutely needs me to see, and I can't disappoint him again.

Delicately placing my hands on either side of the lid, I cautiously pick it up, peeking into the box to make sure it's nothing bad. After placing the lid to the side, my gaze runs back to the opened box, and my eyes meet a stack of notes, slightly crumpled, and as I pick them up, I realize they're all organized by date, starting from the first day of the school year. I flip through the rest, and as I look at the date on the last note, I realize that he wrote it on the day he took his life.

I start to feel uneasy, and a little dizzy as emotions overwhelm my brain, and I begin to worry that if I read these notes, I'll have an anxiety attack. But I need answers. I need closure. I need to know what Wonwoo was thinking that night. I need to know that he didn't do it because of me. If I was the reason for the death of the most beautiful, stunning human in my life, I might as well be dead too.

Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I breathe in and out deeply, calming myself before I forage into something that could very well be a hurricane of pain inflicted on my already vulnerable, cracked mind.

Picking up the first note between my thumbs and index fingers, they jitter slightly as my heart races.

Taking one last breath and reciting a short prayer, I begin to read:

Dear Junhui...

____________________

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