I was ready to ask you a question.
The microphone held firmly in my hands.
Just as I opened my mouth, my phone rang.
I saw your look.
Painstakingly enough, all eyes were on me.
I excused myself, and stepped aside to answer it.
I heard the foul words of pity.
The evil of this world.
I couldn't handle the news.
My sister had answered the call of death.
I needed to get out.
The room was getting smaller.
Smaller.
It was an accident.
An accident.
I had hid in an empty room.
Then you opened the door.
Your warm scent washed over me.
You welcomed me in your arms.
Let me cry on your shoulder.
Let me hide from the cruel world.
You whispered encouraging words in my ears.
Slowly, I stopped crying.
I apologized, over and over again.
Apologized for wasting such important time.
You smiled and only pulled me closer.
Maknae, why do you have this effect on me?
Why do you make my knees weak?
Turn me to stone in your presence?
Why do you care for a stranger?
Why do you care for me?
Why did my sister answer the call of death?...