I put the handkerchief you gave me in my memory box. I never really looked at it after that day when I got home. I was too devastated from your departure for a month that I didn't eat or leave my room except for when I absolutely needed to.
When I finally recovered, I went through all your albums I had. I'm glad I saved up my money then to get them because every single one since you left had sold out. Not one photo book remained unless being sold for way too much.
I had each generation of your ARMY bombs—I was broke from all your merchandise I purchased then. I had sweatshirts, too.
I had never been to one of your concerts before the last one.
It felt like cheating that my first one was also my last.
I unconditionally supported you all.
I purchased each mixtape.
I memorized each song.
I viewed your videos and basically stalked your Twitter account, quite honestly.
When I opened up my memory box, the handkerchief was resting on top.
I picked it up. I couldn't see my tear stains from that night but I could feel the agony from seeing you move on. I was happy for you... I kept telling myself that.
I still felt empty and without desire without your constant updates and new releases. Even BigHit seemed to move on with their new bands they released.
I unfolded the cloth and thought of when you handed it to me.
"Don't cry,"
That's when I realized something was sewn in the top right corner.
I held it to my eye at reading distance.
'ARMY! We will return from our stations on -/-/20xx! See you then!'
I'd never been a calendar girl, but since that day I bought each yearly one leading to the date on your handkerchief. I marked them off each morning and waited. Not a day went by that I forgot about you.
I just hoped you were safe and well. I didn't even know your personally and I felt a great loss. I may be being dramatic, but you were...
"...I don't want to go either."
...You were pretty much all I lived for.
The next two years were waiting and searching for you.