Elastic Heart [ Kim Kibum ]

Epilogue

[ A/N: Just in case you'd forgotten-- it was a very small detail-- or in case you don't catch on, Kibum mentioned ripping a page out of his story a little while ago. This is the page. ]

. . . .

Dear Jonghyun,

I'm going to man up a little bit today, and I'm going to tell you. I think I'm finally ready to say it all. I'm ready, I'm ready-- I'm going to tell them what happened to us, okay? Okay.

So, readers, I grew pretty quick. And I'm not going to tell you how. I think I'm too hurt to mention it. I never even told Jonghyun what exactly happened to my father-- he's dead, by the way, and that's... that's most of the reason I was forced to grow up so quickly. That's a story I don't think I can handle re-telling, at least not right now.

I met Kim Jonghyun when I was sixteen. He was seventeen-- about to turn eighteen-- at the time: April 4th. He was such a prince, oh. He looked so beautiful. I ran into him right outside of our school, right next to the tree that we would always meet near. He would lean me up against the tree almost every time we met-- about two months before I turned seventeen and we began to date. He would lean me against the tree, and he would kiss me-- all sweet and passionate. After a while, he started to taste like ashes. He was depressed, because his brother was still missing, and he began to smoke. The year was 2007; we started dating about halfway into 2007. We dated all through 2008. We were bullied, as I've stated before, but that's all the further our outward problems went. I went through a big depression stage thanks to my father's death; I brought a lot of things back into my mind through those bullies, and I started to harm myself. You know all of this. You know most of my story.

It's just-- what happened to Jonghyun.

I'll admit it, readers, I don't know all of this myself. I'd have to know Jonghyun's side of this horrible story to tell you exactly what happened. All I know is. Okay. I'm sitting at home on March 17th of 2009. I'm on my computer, trying to decide what to get Jonghyun for his birthday. I only had about 21 days to plan something special for him. He was turning 20! Adulthood! That was something so special. I'm browsing my computer, drinking some lemonade, when I get a call. Now, I pick up my phone and see it's Jonghyun's house. I think that's a little odd, because Jonghyun usually calls me through his cell phone, but I don't mind. I don't find it odd that he's awake at midnight. So am I. He always talks to me at midnight. He calls me in the middle of the night all that time. That's normal.

Tonight, though, it wasn't normal. This phone call wasn't a normal occurrence. It wasn't even Jonghyun on the phone. I pick up my phone, and I answer the call, and I'm ready to open my mouth and say something cute, like "What's up, baby? I was just thinking about you." I don't actually remember what I planned on saying. It all fucking dissolved when I heard a woman crying on the other line. It was Jonghyun's mother. She was sobbing through the line. I honestly thought for a moment they'd found Taemin. I don't know what brought that to my mind, but I got really happy all of a sudden. I didn't get to voice this, though, because she said.... She stuttered Jonghyun's name. It was all broken, and she sounded so hurt, just-- "J-Jonghyun."

And that was it. She didn't speak for so long after that. Neither did I. I didn't know what to say or what to assume. It was midnight, and she was calling me, and she was sobbing, and I just-- I knew Jonghyun was dead. There was no other explanation. Why would she be crying over her son? Why would she call me at midnight? He could have just been in an accident, but-- no way. She wouldn't be crying as much. She was an optimist. She might sound sad, and she might cry a little, but she wouldn't be sobbing like this. She would not be sobbing like this.

Eventually, after maybe twenty minutes of her just sobbing and me feeling extremely numb, I asked her, "What's wrong?"

She said

She said

She told me

No. No, I can't. Readers, my fingers. My fingers. No, no, they hurt so bad. Oh my God.... Okay, no, no, I'm okay. I'm crying, but I'm-- I'm okay. Hold on. I need a minute, I just-- I need to breathe. I can't