JIMIN
I tell Eomma that I'm moving.
I could tell that she didn't want me to leave on a whim, and because I never spelled out the reason why, she had more reasons to suspect me. I remembered the way her muscles in the side of her jaws twitched, the way it always does when she holds back what she wants to say.
But it's something I need to do regardless. Because the way I feel about Yoongi will never go away; he's my first love, and despite everything I've heard from people who mean well, he's never going to be erased from my life.
I sat in the kitchen with Eomma that night, watching her weep. "I know," I said, "I failed you."
"No," she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "You didn't fail me. Or if you did, then I did, too."
It wasn't exactly forgiveness, more of a truce. But that was fine with me.
We've waited until after my twentieth birthday, and now my stomach is spiky with nerves as I load my suitcase into Hoseok's van. Months have passed without Yoongi, and I'm afraid to look at my reflection in the mirror. I've changed- my youthful face grown up and gone. I hope he still recognizes me.
I look at Hoseok, expectant, instead of at Eomma who is standing at the doorway.
"Well?" he asks me. "Having second thoughts?"
I take one last look at Eomma. Diamonds rest upon her lashes, and I smile, blow her a kiss, and climb in. "Let's go."
My hands don't start shaking until we're driving out into the city, but I pull out my phone and find the picture I downloaded from Professor Kim Namjoon. It's nothing but an address and nerves and hope exploding in my chest. I'm on the edge of my seat for the entire ride, wondering what I'll say when I see him, or if he even wants to see me at all.
Time moves slower when you're anxious to start something new, but eventually, it does move.
Hoseok and I are silent for miles until he finally speaks up. "So how long are you planning to be gone for?"
I lift my shoulders. "Hopefully for a while."
He looks at me, then back at the road. "Is this because of the whole lockdown deal? Because if you have people throwing shade your way, I'll step on them and make it look like a dance move."
I laugh lightly. "I don't need a dance battle. This is just for reasons I want to pursue. It's something I want to do, and I figured it was time for me to see the world." And to see the man I love.
Hoseok smirks. "Truth?"
I lick my lips and then look out the window, taking mental pictures and storing them for when I get homesick. "Yeah."
"I like your new style. You know, back when I first met you, I was annoyed with how much you constantly apologized for things that weren't even your fault."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Be careful."
He laughs at my threat. "I'm serious. I thought it would take a while before you either loosened up or start to realize that most people don't deserve your sympathy." He sighs. "And when you were found outside after the lockdown, my first thought was Oh my god, he's alive! Because all I could think about while being stuck in that library was the last thing we said, about how I thought you were on drugs of all things."
I scoff. "Maybe drugs would have been easier to deal with."
"Hey, don't joke about that," he says. "All I want to say is you look better. Well, no, not better. Just. . . a different version of you that looks more confident."
We haven't talked about what happened last year in Daegu. I don't want to push him for details either, because not only was my life threatened head-first, but so was his, and between the two of us, the unknown fear is far worse than seeing a scalpel being pointed at your neck. But he was strong then, and he's strong now for bringing it up.
"Well, I had help from a few people, too." I know it sounds bland, but that's how I feel.
"I bet," he says. "Are you going to meet him when you land?" He says it so casually, I almost mistake it for being something that I made up in my head.
"Meeting who?" I ask.
He gives me a sideway glance. "You know damn well who I'm talking about."
"I can deny."
"And I can light this bush on fire so we don't have to dance around it all night."
I lean back and roll my eyes. "Fair point."
In his moment of victory, Hoseok doesn't gloat. He only turns into the exit heading into the parking lot. The sunlight disappears, and we slide underground where florescent lights replace the warmth. We park, but he doesn't get out just yet.
"Are you scared?" He fiddles with the steering wheel, and then his attention focuses on me. There's a little catch to his voice, as if he's hesitant in even asking. I reach over and rest my hand on his shoulder, my way of reminding him that I'm still me, the same guy he showed around campus.
"I can't be scared," I tell him. "If I am, then they win, and I'm too competitive to lose."
His eyes crinkle. "That's the most honest you've been with me." He fans his face dramatically, blinking back fake tears. "What took you so long?"
I punch his arm and make a face. "Sap."
He laughs. "You should head out. Flight delays are a bitch, and you don't want to be caught in the hassle of moving through gates."
I follow the change of subject, because I know if I spend any more time in here that I might never leave. Instead, I make a mental note to myself to one day tell Hoseok just how much he means to me, maybe through a handwritten letter; he likes the authentic stuff.
"I'll be fine," I say.
"Just call me when you land, okay? And try one of those complimentary drinks they serve you on the plane!"
"Those are for first class people."
His face shatters. "You can't even drink? How do you plan to survive?!"
I look at the van. "Look at how far you drove us. I think we'll be fine."
He makes a face, and I barely resist punching him again.
We laugh, and I breathe in the moment like it will be stolen soon, knowing that in a few hours, all of this will be behind me. And I'll be somewhere different, new, with the man I want to spend all my new adventures with.
I step into the airport, suitcase steadily rolling behind me, and soon find the gate where I board and take a seat next to the window. I've never flown before, and my nerves are kicking me with doubt, but I swallow them down and brace myself as we take off.
The plane rumbles, and for a second, I worry something's wrong. But as soon as it starts, the plane rights itself, and we're in the air.
I stare out the window and see the life of South Korea leave me. Dozens of buildings I've had the possibility of exploring gone, now being replaced by a light blue sky and fluffy clouds. From so high, the world seems so delicate and fragile. But I know it's anything but. It's chaotic and loud. Beautiful and peculiar.
Eventually, the clouds grow too thick for me to see much of anything. I relax into my seat and reread my own copy of The Little Prince. It's not the university's book, but it's my own, and I read each line in Yoongi's voice. I imagine him in the seat next to mine, stroking my arm as he reads in a deep, soft voice that lulls me to sleep.
I lean forward to bring my backpack up. Eomma doesn't know I took it with me. Or maybe she does and chose not to say anything, I don't know. I unzip the backpack and pull out the yellow blanket Yoongi gave me and bundle myself in the soft fabric. A reminder that he's holding me still.
~
I step out of the cab, staring up at the small bed-and-breakfast in Doolin, Ireland. The village itself is quaint, something I would never associate Yoongi's personality with. Colorful buildings line a beautiful landscape of rolling green hills and a sparkling sea. But I'm not staring at any of that.
Not when Yoongi's right in front of me.
He's walking down the street, a notebook in hand and a black fleece sweater hugging his frame. His long black hair is still the same, grown out a lot, and his skin is porcelain pale against the greenery.
My heart stalls in my chest as I watch him sit down in the grass, opening his notebook and scratching something inside until he lifts up the pen to his lips, fully concentrated on his work.
Finally, I make a move.
"You forgot the date." I take a step closer, my heart wanting to explode out of my chest.
His body freezes and he twists around, his mouth open as he stares up at me.
"Forgive me," he says. "I always had someone write it for me."
He stands, his gaze fierce and his lips pressed together, and for just a moment, I think he's upset that I'm here. Maybe he really didn't want to see me again.
But then a smile runs across his face. A real one. The kind that wrinkles his face and shows his pink gums.
And that's when I realize that with a single smile, I know I'm where I belong.