The days you were absent in school mounted into an entire week, whose every night I had spent wetting my pillow with the salty tears from my eyes, praying that yours remained soft and dry. Dry, through the lack of tears, draught of feelings that remained unquenched and unsaturated by the freedom of your emotions. You constricted them in your own, resembled a brutal dictator inside of yourself. I often wondered what sort of life you wanted to life in the future, Taehyung, but I came to no conclusion.