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The day I found out that Kim Taehyung killed himself, I didn't know what to think.

I stared up at Mrs. Yun, the slightly batty and graying-haired German teacher, with a blank look on my face, not really believing what I'd just heard.

One of the girls sitting beside me - Kyung Mi - said in a light, airy voice as she sat upright in her chair.

Mrs. Yun sighed heavily as she took off her glasses and polished them on the front of her polyester suit.

I swallowed hard as I slouched backwards in my seat, feeling the color draining from my face. That's what I thought Mrs. Yun had said. Normally the woman was so lost in her own little world and babbling things in German that I thought I could've passed off what she'd said as another bit of nonsense.

But I knew that this time that wasn't exactly the case.

The more I thought about what she'd said, the more I realized that it sort of did make sense.

When I'd first walked into the school not twenty minutes ago, I couldn't help but feel like something had gone wrong, like there was this massive cloud of depression hovering over the place. I'd even seen bits of the staff clustered together in the hallway, their heads together as they talked quickly and quietly in furious whisperings.

At first I'd just assumed that maybe there was a leaked pipe in the building or something. But did a leaked pipe really cause looks of sorrow and horror to be on teachers' faces?

Another kid from the back of the classroom shouted, sounding duped.

Mrs. Yun's tired looking eyes sparked with anger as she glared at the offender in the back of the room.

The entire class sucked in collective breaths of air.

Mrs. Yun NEVER talked like that.

I listened only halfheartedly to what our homeroom teacher said next, explaining how psychologists from town offices would be coming to school every day for the next two weeks to help people cope with what they were feeling. She kept talking about how it wasn't good that we should bottle up our emotions and how we should remember Taehyung with glad, happy memories instead of what he'd done.

Well, I had enough trouble sharing my emotions, and I wasn't about to change that anytime soon.

When the first period bell rang, piercing through the tense atmosphere in the room like a knife, I leapt up out of my chair, grabbed my things, and bolted from the room before anyone else had even realized it was time to leave.

I really didn't know why I was feeling like a complete and utter mess. It wasn't like I'd been best friends with Kim Taehyung or anything. On the contrary, the guy is - was - the school's social pariah.

He was insanely tall and had dark, unmanageable hair, along with a pale, sharply defined face that would have looked highly aristocratic on anybody else. Actually, Kim Taehyung was a pretty damn handsome guy, which made it all the more confusing as to why he was such an antisocial outcast.

Maybe it was because he just didn't like anybody. Or maybe it was because everyone else just didn't like him.

It had always been so hard to tell what the guy was thinking because he usually always had his head down and his hair was so wavy it nearly always fell into his eyes. Oh, God, his EYES.

The one time I'd actually gotten a good look at Taehyung's face had been in Freshman year, in English 1. I sat at the desk across the aisle from him, and he'd accidentally knocked his notebook off his desk at my feet sometime later on in the year. When he'd leaned over to grab it, I couldn't help but look at him as he moved and was more than surprised when I actually saw his face, and more importantly, his eyes. God, his eyes were AMAZING. They weren't exactly blue or green, but they weren't hazel, either. I really didn't think the color of his eyes had a name, but I'd instantly fallen in love with them.

Kim Taehyung had the eyes of angel.

When Taehyung had caught me watching him, his eyes had narrowed as he sat up straight, his lips pursing into a tight line. I'd quickly flushed bright red and ducked my head, trying to keep myself from hiding my face in my textbook out of embarrassment.

Needless to say, I hadn't ever told anyone that story before. And I really didn't think that I was going to, either.

But now? Now Kim Taehyung had killed himself?

When I even thought about that line, my heart would beat violently against my chest, and I would feel as though I was having a terrible asthma attack and wouldn't be able to breathe. I was starting to freak out.

What the hell was happening to me?

I let out a squeak of shock and turned on my heel to see my best friend Kim Seok-jin sprinting his way down the hallway towards me, his stylishly highlighted hair a complete mess. I didn't even bother myself with a "hello" because Jin instantly started going off about what he'd just heard in the homeroom.

Jin babbled, waving his perfectly manicured hands around for emphasis.

I didn't even bother asking him what he was talking about. I just kept my head down and continued walking down the hallway with purposeful strides. My face was getting hot and I so didn't want to be talking about this right now.

I was going to be sick.

He kept babbling, his silvery blue eyes wide.

I snapped before I could stop myself.

Jin stared at me as if I'd just slapped him across the face, his mouth dropping open. I couldn't exactly blame him for looking so shocked, because I never talked back to anybody.

Jin put his hand on his hip and asked.

A guy we knew had just killed himself. THAT was the big deal.

I muttered, turning away from him and continuing on down the hallway towards my first period class.

If I knew Jin like I thought I did, he'd probably make me go and see one of those shrinks that were going to be here at school for the next two weeks because I was acting "weird". This was typical Jin behaviour, because he pretty much always had to have things go his way.

I made a mental note to avoid Jin as much as possible for the next few days.

The only thing the student body seemed to be able to talk about the entire day was Kim Taehyung's suicide. Anywhere I went there were teens grouped about in the hallways and in the cafeteria during lunch, their heads together, no doubt talking about what had happened last night.

I couldn't exactly blame everyone for being so distracted, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

All I really wanted to do was go home, curl up underneath the covers on my bed, and pretend like this day had never happened. That was wishful thinking, though, because I knew it was entirely impossible.

I had to stop myself at random intervals of the day and remind myself that I HADN'T known Kim Taehyung at ALL. I didn't know why I felt the way that I did, like there was this empty hole curling in my stomach, and it was starting to scare me.

Maybe I really was going to have to go see one of those shrinks.

I took the subway home after seventh hour visual arts class with my head tucked away in the clouds, my thoughts still swarming with everything that had happened. At the end of the day, the school's principal - Mrs. Seon - had read off an announcement over the intercom asking us all to bow our heads in silence for a few minutes out of respect for Kim Taehyung.

It had sickened me beyond belief to see that while the rest of my classmates had remained silent, the looks on their faces held anything but sorrow or remorse.

Mrs. Seon had also informed us over the intercom that Kim Taehyung's funeral was going to be held at 7:00 this Thursday evening at St. Patrick's Cathedral downtown and that there would be no school on Friday. For a day of solitude and reverence, she'd said.

I'd already known before Mrs. Seon had finished speaking that I would be going to the funeral. Never mind the fact that this was going to be my first funeral.

What I really wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs and kick things and NOT go to a funeral, but that really wouldn't get me anywhere. I didn't even know Taehyung, but there was some part of me that just felt like I NEEDED to go to his funeral.

And who knows? Maybe I'd find peace of mind or closure at the service.

Or maybe I was just going insane.

God, did I sound like an utterly confused teenager. Yay for me.

My mother, Jeon Da-Eun, was sitting at the dining room table with her hands folded tightly together in front of her, when I walked through the front door after four later that day.

Her slightly graying dark hair was pulled back into an elegant twist, like always, and she was wearing one of her perfectly pressed suits that she always wore to work. This was nothing new, really. But the fact that she was home before eleven in the evening was definitely something new.

My mother was a high class, hardworking woman who worked in the business department not far from the Gangnam Business District. Jeon Jong-dae, my father, was an even better-paid attorney who put in more hours and travelled further.

I was home alone most of the time with only my kitten, Gureum, and the old lady, Mrs. Hong, who lived across the hall from us and who my parents occasionally tipped to keep an eye on me.

I was okay with this, surprisingly. I was an introverted person in all sense of the world and silence didn't bother me.

I said in surprise, dropping my book bag down on the leather couch in the living room.

Mom sighed heavily, leaning forward on her elbows with a grim look on her face.

My heart sank in my chest and landed somewhere around my kneecaps.

I said slowly, my face a question mark.

Mom nodded, not meeting my eyes.

Well, that was all fine and dandy, but it still didn't explain why she was home.

Almost as if she could hear my internal debating, she continued on speaking.

It took all of my composure not to burst out laughing at her words and ask her if she'd been knocked upside the head recently.

I said, dropping myself down into a seat across the table from her.

This prompted another one of Mom's "why-must-I-carry-all-of-the-world's-problems-on-my-thin-shoulders" sighs.

Mom said in a gravely serious voice.

I cut her off in a steely voice, my eyes narrowing.

This was definitely rich of her.

Mom and I embarked on stare down after my rather crude remark, both of us trying to get each other to back down first and actually talk about what was going on. This was probably why we butted heads so much - because we were too much alike in some aspects.

Mom sighed again after a moment, leaning back from the table.

I responded immediately.

Most of the time it was just easier to go along with whatever Mom was saying just to find peace of mind.

I stood up from the table and left the dining room, grabbing my things off the living room couch as I made my way towards my bedroom.

I called back to her over my shoulder.

All I got back in response was...

I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me and tossed myself down onto my gigantic queen sized bed topped with freshly laundered sheets and comforters. My room was definitely my "me-place", even if the windows opened out over the bustling streets of Seoul City and it was sort of small and cluttered. Books were everywhere and so was old school work and maybe the few random articles of clothing I hadn't bothered to throw into the hamper yet.

Yes, I had many wonderful things, including an iPhone and a laptop, but I didn't view myself as opulently wealthy or anything of the sort. To some extent, if you wanted to live in Seoul City, you had to be wealthy.

After pittifully attempting to do my homework, I threw all of my books and assignments off my desk and onto the floor before dashing to my bed and curling up underneath the covers. I'd taken about an hour showering, scrubbing myself down with my favourite soap and shampoo, but I was still wound up and antsy.

It was probably going to take awhile for things to go back to normal - if that was even possible - and I sure as hell knew that it wasn't going to be easy, getting back some sense of normalcy in my life.

Because I most certainly did NOT cry myself to sleep at night.

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