➵ yoongi
resuming everyday life became impossibly difficult after the funeral. in the days before, it had been almost as if none of us were acknowledging it; but now, there was a weight in every room i entered and the sight of my mother weeping never left my mind.
i had to get out: there was no doubt about it. remaining in this house would only further increase my depression. the cycle i'd picked up of waking up late in the afternoon, eating a meager breakfast of a single strawberry pop-tart, drinking incessantly for three hours, then crying myself to sleep was ridiculously unhealthy.
i'd revoked my application to the arts school, knowing i'd never be able to focus on school like this.
i needed to escape.
but where? i couldn't go stay with any relatives: they'd only pity me and make me feel worse. i didn't think any of my best friend's parents would willingly take me in: none of them had ever quite liked the fact of my sexuality.
hoseok? i wasn't sure if we were even together anymore. after i'd run off from him at the funeral, he hadn't texted, called, tried to come over, or anything. if he still thought we were dating, then he was being an extremely shitty boyfriend right about now.
i needed to get out of this entire city. daegu was doing me no good when every day when i woke up, i could see jaehee's house down the street. it was doing me no good when my parents' grieving was a broken record in my ears.
no, i needed to get far away. out of my house, out of daegu.
yes, i would be abandoning the shattered remains of my once-perfect family and venturing out into some unknown, foreign territory on my own, but it was for my own sanity. i'd kill myself if i stayed here.
i started making the arrangements in secret. i scoured ticket sites for the cheapest seat to the first place i thought of: seoul. it was far enough for me to try and start anew. i didn't exactly want to leave the country, just in case, but seoul seemed perfect to get away and find a new beginning. as soon as i found a reasonable deal, i booked a ticket on a flight that was leaving in three days.
three days was all i would have left with my family.
i had three days to say goodbye: goodbye to my parents, my best friends, and my old self.
***
"eomma?" i hovered in the doorway of the living room, biting my lip as i gazed at my mother, seated on the couch as she cried silently.
when she didn't respond or move, i stepped into the room. slowly i approached her, suddenly afraid to disrupt or startle her. "eomma?" my voice was quiet, careful.
upon getting closer i noticed she was clutching an old framed photo of yoonho and i. i had been six at the time, him four, the two of us posing together with our maternal grandmother at her birthday. both of us were missing a few teeth, but judging by our wide grins we didn't seem to care.
i placed my hand gently on my mom's shoulder. "eomma," i repeated, "there's something i need to talk to you about."
she jerked her head up, tears clouding her light brown eyes. "oh," she whispered hoarsely. "come sit, yoongi sweetheart." my mother patted the space beside her on the couch, wiping the tears off her cheeks with her other hand.
"what's wrong?"
such an ironic statement: my mother, wracked with the immense grief of losing her youngest son, concerned about me.
it made me feel even more guilty for leaving her behind. how could i do this
to her, when she was so distraught? i briefly imagined how she would feel after i left, how heartbroken she would feel. i almost wanted to cancel it, to stay and help my mother get back to some sort of normal. but i knew, in my heart, that this was what i had to do.
"i'm leaving," i told her without meeting her eyes. i didn't want to see the pain flash across her irises.
"oh." she made a broken sound, and my heart ached. "when?"
"i'm sorry." my voice cracked as i spoke, and i shook my head.
"when?" she repeated, sounding like she was about to start crying again. she grabbed hold of my hand and began rubbing it slowly.
"thursday," i whispered, "my flight is at 2 pm."
the rubbing of my hand ceased, and i slowly looked up at my mother with fearful eyes. she was holding her eyes shut, as if to stop tears from escaping. her chin was wobbling ever so slightly, as was her hand still clasped onto mine.
"eomma, are you alright?"
***
that night, after the most awkward dinner i'd ever sat through (and believe me: i was present whenever yoonho had decided to let our parents meet jaehee), i dug my biggest suitcase out of the upstairs closet and dragged it back to my room.
gazing around at my walls, i felt a pang in my heart as my eyes passed over all the memories i'd collected over the years. my hands reached out to take down photo frames and awards from school and basketball. i blew the dust off polaroid pictures of namjoon and i, and yoonho and i, staring at the faces i'd never see again.
i resolved to myself that i would only take a shoebox full of memories. anything else would remain here for my parents to deal with how they saw fit. in a banged-up shoe box i packed photos, two small awards from basketball championships, my high school diploma, and the woven bracelets yoonho and i had made each other when we were little. they were nothing extravagant, just string braided together, one blue, one white. our favourite colours.
in the remainder of my suitcase i packed clothes and shoes. i brought only the items i wore most often, figuring it would be easier to just buy new clothes when i got to seoul. after a hard internal debate, i resigned myself to bringing only two pairs of shoes: sneakers and my favourite pair of running shoes. they were, after all, the two pairs of shoes i could wear with just about anything.
i stood in front of yoonho's bedroom door, half of me not wanting to go in, half of me yearning to. it would smell like him. i didn't know if i could bear to be around that much of my brother. my hand hovered over the door handle, quivering slightly. i finally twisted it open before i could change my mind.
i approached my brother's dresser, where on top sat all his keepsakes. i picked up a framed photo of us at his tenth birthday, both of us beaming. a small smile made its way onto my face as happy memories filled my mind. i decided to take the photo with me. my parents had albums full of our photos anyway; they wouldn't even notice it gone.
the next three days would be undoubtedly, extremely painful, i realized as i zipped up my suitcase, setting it aside and looking around at my now empty-looking room.
