Yoongi hyung doesn't think that I hear him cry. He thinks that I don't know that he's hurting. I've heard how he mumbles in his sleep. I've heard the terrors he experiences at night. I hear the sobs he releases when he thinks I'm gone.

I know it's hard for him. I've tried to help but I knew it best to stay away. Let him deal with it by his own means because his pride allows no weakness.

Rather than living and eating he remains curled in my bed. Not often in the time he's been here have I actually seen him up and about. As for our other friends. They too cant seem to keep themselves together. I try to see them and help them stay in one piece but it seems to be getting harder each passing day. I bury myself into helping them cope and sometimes it helps me ignore my own feelings.

But, I feel too. I cry too. I scream at the graffitied walls of abandon parking garages and the train tracks we once met up at. Desperate for help but knowing no one is coming. I walk by his old home and pretend as if I'm speaking to him through the door. I apologize for not seeing his pain earlier.

I leave flowers and his favorite foods for him still. I know they go untouched or stolen by someone unaware of the heartache it brings me.

Nothing is the same. No one is the same. The day Kim Seokjin took his own life we all knew we never would be.