Knowing Minho, there's two ways the aftermath of this can go.

One, he goes back to the person he was before he started trying with Evie. The person he was before Aris arrived.

Two, he becomes the best version of himself. The version he would've become if Evie had been here.

But she's not, so it's up to him whether he locks himself in and becomes... rude again, or if he becomes even better than he was.

I hope it's the second one.

So far, he's just been very quiet. It's been three days since it happened. I try not to think about it too much. Every time I do, my heart aches. Whenever I try to sleep at night—even in the arms of Thomas—my mind makes up "what ifs" and "who did it" and "why Evie" because Evie never did anything wrong.

Christmas is tomorrow. I really hope we can make something out of it. Mostly, I hope Minho cheers up a bit. I've got presents for him that I'm sure he'll like.

And we'll just have to act normal, because things will only get worse if we baby him.

"Hi." I sit down next to him. He has a bowl of cereal in front of him but he's not really eating. I don't know how much he has eaten the last days, but it's not a lot.

"Hi."

It sounds cold, yet I can't worry that he goes for the first option just yet. Everything is still too fresh.

"Do you want to go do some last minute Christmas shopping?" I carefully ask.

He shakes his head. Rubs his eyelids, which are puffed from not sleeping and crying.

"Or we can visit Cynthia, her grandma. She's with Thomas, isn't she?"

"No."

So I give up and grab myself something to eat, too. Fifth failed attempt of getting Minho to do an activity with me. Maybe tomorrow before Christmas Eve, I'll succeed.

"How are you okay so fast?" He then asks.

"I'm not okay," I say. "Not at all. But I'm trying to be okay and that helps, even though it only improves tiny little bits every day."

"I don't think I'll ever be okay."

"Eventually, you will be."

"I don't think I'll ever fall in love again."

"It just happens. You don't always have a choice. And it's fine if you do, it's fine if you don't."

"I don't think I'll ever dare to fall in love again."

"Minho—" I try, but I don't know what to say next.

He lowers his head. It's silent for a good few minutes as I eat and he stares at the ground.

Then he speaks again, "Newt's dad saved me."

It's so out of a sudden that my head snaps toward him, fast. "What?"

"The day after... after the date," he begins.

I straighten in my seat, listening.

"At night, I... had sneaked out," he explains slowly. "To a bridge."

He's not going to say what I think he's going to say, is he?

"And I hesitated for a long time when I stood there."

I'm almost afraid to ask. But I just need confirmations. "Hesitated to do what?" I peep.

He casts a look at me. "To jump off it."

He said what I thought he was going to say.

And it still hurts. Things inside of me want to begin screaming at him— screaming he's a fool for doing something like that, or screaming why he would do that because I could not possibly imagine a world without him. But I remain silent and wait.

"Then his father drove by. He recognized me. Stopped driving and got out of his car. Started asking 'Minho, isn't it?' and I said 'Yes'. He asked what I was doing and I did not reply, so that was enough for him to know. Then he asked why. I said 'Because one I loved just died and my mind drives me crazy. Blaming me, wondering how it could've gone differently.'.

"And he asked 'What about your family?' and I told him about you all. And he asked 'Why, if you have a loving family?' and that made me stop moving completely for a while. He wondered why I would do something like this so impulsively. He said that if I wait a few weeks and rethink it, I will find the idea ridiculous. I guess he was right."

I blink tears away, but it only makes them fall. A lump is blocking my throat from saying anything.

"So I looked down one last time before I followed him to his car. He gave me a firm hug, and said 'I wish I was there when it was my son' and then he got in the car like he didn't just say something that made me cry."

Minho takes a shuddering breath before he continues.

"Then he brought me to the hospital because he saw I was injured."

"Injured?" I repeat.

"One of the bricks fell on me, too. I didn't bother it much at first. It was Evie who got hit the most, and nobody would care about some pain I had while she died. I didn't care, at least," he says. "But he took me there when he saw me wincing every time and turns out I broke some ribs. They said they'd call my parents but I begged them not to. They couldn't know about the... bridge thing and I didn't want to worry anyone else even more."

"Minho," I murmur. He lies his head on my shoulder, so I wrap an arm around him.

"I have painkillers now," he continues. "And I have to sit still all the time."

"Okay." I nod. "I'm glad about that. And I promise you'll be almost completely okay in a few weeks."

He sighs. "I hope so."

We then wrap both of our arms around each other, hugging tighter and longer than ever. "I'm proud of you for not doing it," I say quietly.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Newt's dad isn't even that bad, actually. It mostly seems to be his mom."

"Newt's dad is the one who changed after Newt's attempt. His mom only got worse and she drags everyone in it."

I mean, Newt's dad barely said anything when we came over for lunch to convince them Newt and Sonya could come with us. And he still hasn't found out about the rum thing Thomas mentioned.

Unless he keeps quiet so Newt doesn't suffer and his wife doesn't find out.

"Probably." Minho pulls away from me. He rubs his eyes once again. "Do you like Lego flowers?" He then suddenly asks.

"Yes... why?"

"I bought them for her as a Christmas present but now... you know."

And then my heart begins aching again. The urge to cry every time she is mentioned is so big that I just want to cry purely at the fact I want to cry all the time.

"You could give them to her grandma," I say.

Something about his gaze softens. "Should I?"

I nod. "Yes. She'll be very happy."

☯︎︎

Our talk seems to have done Minho well.

He obviously still isn't the happiest and neither is he talkative to anyone else except for me, but he's eating and getting dressed and going out for runs.

I have visited Cynthia every day at Thomas's house and I'm planning to make it a priority. I can't leave the poor woman all on her own.

So we invited her over for Christmas Eve, which we always spend with our family and the Reyes.

This time, Finn invited someone too; Sylvia.

Unfortunately, when Minho heard the news, he 'suddenly felt the need to go to the bathroom' and he hasn't gotten out of his room in a while.

I think it's unfair, too. I get to spend Christmas with my boyfriend and Finn gets to spend Christmas with his girlfriend. And then Minho, who worked the hardest of us all, doesn't get to spend Christmas with her.

But he also can't hold a grudge towards Finn now. I hope he won't, at least. Won't make Sylvia comfortable and Finn didn't mean to hurt him. It was Mom who wanted to meet Sylvia so badly.

Aris has been as quiet as always but I should probably check on him. So I get up to do that before the Reyes, Cynthia, and Sylvia arrive.

A few knocks on the door of Finn's room before Aris opens up, usual cap on his head. "Hi," I greet.

"Hi," he says. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

I sit down on Finn's bed and Aris sits at the desk. He's sketching something I cannot see from here.

"What's that you're making?"

He looks up for just a second. "You can't see it yet. It's for tonight."

"Ah, alright." I look around the room. It's the same as always. Posters. Mostly red and blue colors. Red and blue like the police who showed up when— I force myself to think about something else before the cycle of thoughts begin. "So... how're you?"

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I didn't really know Evie... sorry. I'm not sure how to react."

"It's fine," I assure.

"Are you okay?"

"Holding up, I guess."

"I'm here if needed. Not that I'll be much of a help..." he frowns a bit. "...but you know."

"Just you being my friend is enough," I tell him. "So thank you. And sorry I haven't spoken to you a lot the past weeks. I've been busy— well, not busy. Just spent a lot of time with Thomas and was getting Christmas presents."

"I understand," he replies.

I smile, even though he can't see it with his back turned to me.