Chapter Text
Somewhere among the whimpering, is an alluring melody of a flute.
Kim Seokjin, 20 years old and nicknamed Jin by his peers (who are too lazy to pronounce two syllables), wakes up every Monday and Wednesday morning at 5:30 am (but actually 5:45 am, the fault of the invention of a snooze button), eats breakfast and downs coffee, before leaving for class that starts at 7:30 am. He wasn’t actually a student for that class, but a supplemental instructor—a kind of tutor who’s job is more to generate motivation than to tutor—and after every class period of helping students in class, he leads sessions to enhance student learning for anyone who attends.
Sometimes he has to meet with the professor, and it would take additional time. Other times he has other work like seeing his mentors, managing paperwork, or complimenting his boss. But all in all, once the day is over, Jin is free to do whatever he needs to do in the peaking afternoon, and usually, that is studying for the next day.
Because on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jin has to attend classes that are infamously known as the most challenging of them all on campus, and they are none other than calculus based physics, in the engineering department. Rigorous material, daily quizzes, and figure-it-out-yourself labs are actually the easier challenges than the terrifying exams that come around every few weeks.
And as if this class alone wasn’t hard enough, Jin also has two more classes afterwards—chemistry and a different physics class (the one not for engineers). While those aren’t as hard, they had long labs, especially chemistry, and so Jin would need to stay on campus from 7:30 a.m to 9:40 pm, almost a total of 14 hours just for class alone! And of course, the usual college recommends that each student studies two hours for every one hour of class.
Almost 50 hours of extra studying per week. Needless to say, Jin didn’t manage to succeed in that, but he made it his goal to ace his classes still, and victoriously, he did.
With all his classes and work, and Jin running around frequently from building to building, it was no surprise professors and classmates alike ask if he’s fine. Some of them are more straightforward, and stop him at times to ask him how the heck he does it.
Whenever Jin hears this question, he smiles automatically, as if he’s heard this question more than a hundred times (and he actually does). Usually people wonder if his smile is a representation of his sanity, since no one can manage this kind of schedule without some sort of sacrifice.
Right?
But for Jin, all he says is:
“I’ve been through worse that these don’t faze me as badly.”
And it’s always like that.
Often, this audacity of his words shock people, and sometimes, it downright triggers them. A lot of them work as hard as he did, but why couldn’t they get the same grade? But a lot of the times, before denying his words as a lie, they look at Jin again.
There was just something about him. Something about him that spoke without him actually doing so, that he had every right and justification to have done so well, even if it doesn’t seem so through word of mouth. Was it maturity? Presentation? Maybe his handsomeness? Okay—that last part might’ve been a girl’s questionable thought, but it was just that, for most people.
Jin, for some reason, despite occasionally having eyebags and crashing his head on the desk during break, always remains optimistic and happy, along with cracking bad pun jokes and sending memes. Jin had something unique and strong about him, built up from whatever it was in the past that he never really mentions, that just made him different.
And so, to everyone’s eyes, Jin was those good students, always excelling, always working hard, always making bad jokes, and always optimistic…
Until everything came crashing down on his sanity one day.
It would be unbelievable, so Jin never made it obvious. Why would someone like him have problems like unstable sanity? He’s a really successful and happy guy, right? That’s how everyone sees it. Because people can only see on the outside. On the inside, Jin has a very, very messed up heart and mind.
It was just a test—he tried reasoning. It was a test and he actually didn’t do so bad on it. Calculus-based physics, Seokjin knew, was the hardest class he’s taken and is taking, and was just about everyone’s biggest challenge of their semester. And for Jin, it isn’t so much the class itself, but rather, the effort of managing his schedule to accommodate for it.
But when he got his third exam back, and on the front, stood a solid, very rigid, flat B, Jin was wordless, and stared at it.
A B.
He knew he must’ve not studied enough. And frankly, he didn’t have time to do so, when his schedule misshaped over the weekend. But there were just excuses—excuses.
And they never seemed to go through him at some point. As the day went on and he absorbed that reality, slowly, for some reason, Seokjin’s vision and stomach began twisting.
Why? Why was he feeling this way? This is actually not his lowest score on an exam; he actually got a D once in the very same class, but he’s long moved on from it after understanding his fair errors. Or has he? Jin held his stomach and looked at the lunch he woke early to pack this morning. It was filled with his favorites and was less than normal (because he found out too much good stuff caused unplanned weight gains), and yet, he couldn’t finish it.
When the class ended, Jin was grateful his classmates left elsewhere so they didn’t walk with him to his car. That moment, he rushed. For what, he didn’t know. He didn’t understand. But all he knew was the moment he got to his car, he locked it immediately with a click, and covered as much of the windows as he could.
Then, as if an unconscious message signaled him safety at last, Jin realized tears started streaming down his face.
No, no, no. He can’t cry now, he has a session to attend later. And yet for some reason, no matter how much he told himself it was just a test, he couldn’t push his emotions away. Moreover, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Why…why why why why why? He kept chanting to herself. It should’ve just been a test. It should’ve just been because he didn’t study hard enough. Yet why was he so upset over it, and why was his body reacting this way? Why? Why?
Jin grabbed the napkins, before he unconsciously knocked over his water bottle, spilling everything all over his legs and dropping everything to the floor with a thud.
Just like his grades. Just like his sanity. Everything spilled, with just a thud.
And all that, all that reality, came gushing in living metaphor when Seokjin realized the water was just his emotions.
He didn’t actually spill any; the cap was closed and all that really happened was the filled bottle fell. Soaking all over his jeans and hands was none other than his own tearing tears, scarring over his conditioned cheeks that were about to go red.
Finally, Seokjin let himself cry. He didn’t know why he had to. But he just sat there and cried. When he got the exam back, ironically, the first thing he assured himself was not to blame himself. It was not entirely his fault. But for some reason, all that logic went out the window, and Jin found himself aching in pain over something that soon wasn’t just because of the test score.
When the week of 11 out of 16 in the semester came, his workload doubled, and Seokjin, for many reasons, could not keep up with all of the demands. It made him sick to do so.
But now, he was sick for not doing so. All because of a test score.
“I can’t cry…” he whispers to himself as he dries his tears. “I have a session to hold later…”
There was one thing Seokjin learned whenever he felt his emotions overbear his sanity like this. No world record of speed writing can encrypt every line in his consciousness as quickly as it came and left, so the fastest way to get them down and off was to record a vocal medium of it.
Jin opened up his phone and wrote the date, “May 22nd, 2018”, as the title of the recording. It was the tenth of the semester. He started recording.
“I-I have about ten minutes to say this…then I have to hold a session later…but—” his voice was cracking, “I-I’m sorry, my voice sounds bad because um…I’ve had a breakdown, kind of.”
He felt his throat choke up, catching his lie—or was it a lie?—because he’s had worse before. Jin shook his head and felt his tears drowning out. No no no no at this rate if his session is in ten minutes—
“I’m—I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I’m so sad. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I just…I didn’t even fail that test, and I honestly had worse scores than that before in the same class. But I just…I just…”
Why?
“I just feel anxious and sad all of a sudden, like I can’t bring it up again. You know…if I don’t get an A in this class…it’s 5 units and it will impact my GPA a lot, and I won’t be able to go to my dream school anymore and…”
He checks the time and realizes he has only a few more minutes left.
He shuts his eyes and tries to squeeze his thoughts out. He needed to go to his session.
No one came that day so Jin had to cancel the session, half to his relief, but half to his guilt. What if it was because he was late, people thought he wasn’t coming, and then left? That would be his own fault. He can never do this again, for the sake of his job.
It was still a long day ahead of him. He had two more classes and two more labs, and thankfully, today they weren’t too demanding. However, as Jin sat through the lecture for his chemistry class, he started realizing he was losing concentration.
To better accommodate for his increasing demands in school and work, Jin decided he would wake much earlier to prepare for things he normally couldn’t. The upside is he did a great job. The downside is—
Focus, focus…
He almost fell asleep on the spot. It was a slow day, and having just finished his lunch, his food coma wasn’t helping.
Why can’t he just concentrate? Why does he have to be so distracted? Well, did not get a good grade that exam for a good reason: he can’t even concentrate! If he studied a little more, maybe be less lazy in general, maybe he would’ve managed to avoid that B and actually get an A! Also—what about all those small errors? He made enough to have gotten from an 87% to a 81%--that’s how many he made! Why couldn’t he have just been more careful?
Why couldn’t he just be better in general? A better person…he always made mistakes like this…
Jin took a deep breath, when he glanced at the lecture note slides that changed without his knowledge. No, he was stretching too much. That test—even the professor admitted it was too long to complete in a few hours. So that’s why she curved it by almost dropping a single question. But why—Jin thought again—why even with that curve did he still get a low grade? Maybe he would’ve avoided missing that one question completely…or did he?
Wait, wait wait wait… Why did he miss that question? Did he just not understand it? Did he just not study enough and made careless errors?
Or…
Was he just not good enough?
Suddenly, Jin felt the presentation slides fly by so quickly past his awareness, he didn’t realize he missed the concepts taught, until he looked at the clock and realized, lecture was almost done, and it was time for lab.
He sighs, rubbing his eyes.
Today is not a good day…
Fortunately, lab was a good distraction from his thoughts, because labs meant working with people, and Jin was well known as a people person. He had one of the coolest lab partners, Min Yoongi, a rather snarky but realistic guy who enjoyed criticizing the world. Sometimes all you need is a person like that, because it reminds you that despite the darker or sadder truths of society, there is humor and laughter in it. The sheer fact that it was born from that darkness meant there would always be light to balance it back out.
Of course, that’s a dramatic way of saying it. No one in the modern age is some divine goddess battling an inner demon that spawned in the form of a destructive dragon. But Jin sometimes likes to pretend he’s in that metaphorical world, where he waits for a worthy knight to defeat and vanquish this demon. And maybe after the celebration, you know…get to know that knight because that power must mean some kind of ideal for a “comrade”, right?
He laughs, but since it was right after Yoongi cracked a joke about people freaking out about spilling coffee since delivering it to the boss was their only job, it was appropriate. Jin then added on that the boss would go on to say “You had one job!” and the department would actually have to write a meme on the employee’s termination notice.
To add to the happier time of the day, the professor passed back the last chemistry exam.
In this class, Seokjin did really well. Actually, he knew he chose to forgo studying this time, and yet, when he received his test back, he saw a solid 94%. The average was—well, let’s just say the professor was not impressed. And so seeing that he did well above average meant something.
Jin didn’t like to be vain and derive confidence from being superior to others. But it meant something when you’re doing better than the average. It meant you’re working hard.
Right?
Jin’s smile fades.
No. He didn’t work hard. He got this score, actually, because he just had quick thinking when it came to the problems he didn’t know. Actually, he probably deserved a lower score, since the professor maybe favored him and forgave his careless mistake (wrong significant figures, one plus one is two, not one you dumbass) here and there by a few points. And that meant about 4% higher on the exam).
Then…
What about that physics exam?
Jin’s stomach rumbled, but not from hunger. It can’t be…he thought it was over. Well, if you didn’t do that well on a test, it’d have some noticeable long term effects. Jin is no different. In fact, he’s probably worse, given how he reacted when he received a D before on a quiz.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why always that physics class? Even if Jin really didn’t have time to study, he did so well on the chemistry exam that he studied even less for. Why not for physics? Why not for something he really needed a boost on? Why? Why?
Jin felt his head spin, and he massaged his temples briefly as he considered the design of his experiment that Yoongi is thankfully not yet done with his part on.
Calm down. Calm down. He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t cry anymore—he’s out of that phase. And yet, there was a panging guilt inside his heart, like that of an unforgivable error causing the anguish of his loved ones. If he couldn’t do well on this test, then how is he going to do well for the future, when the concepts get even harder? Seokjin was aiming to transfer to a prestigious university, but now, instead of considering just the difficulty of that university, there’s that horrible, horrible doubt that he probably wouldn’t get in in the first place.
It was by that time Yoongi finished, Jin realized he didn’t start on his part yet. But like always in that class, he was able to finish quickly in an amazing speed, that no one would’ve thought he was killing himself with his thoughts for thirty minutes.
“Holy sh—” Yoongi closes his mouth as the professor walks by with a warning look. “I mean—wow, Jin. How are you so good at this?”
Like always, like all the time, when someone asks him this question…
“I’ve done worse that this lab is simple in comparison.”
And from that, Jin was thinking…
The physics test!
By his night class, Seokjin was just about done with feeling this way, and yet, he couldn’t push those thoughts out. One minute he’s paying attention, but the next minute, suddenly his thoughts are diverted. Again.
Come on… he thought to herself. It’s been 8 hours since the exam; just let it go…
He tried paying attention to the lecture, and for a while, it worked. For a while. His thoughts were swimming with confusion again, and Jin wanted nothing more than to shut them off. He’s had enough.
Without another word, Jin stood up and promptly walked straight out of the classroom. Most classmates didn’t care.
On his way to his car, Jin plugged his earbuds in, and tried to focus on the music. Listening to music was one way he could distract himself from his thoughts and the bitter reality that he kept killing himself over. Sometimes, it was so dangerous he would almost walk into driving cars, which would honk loudly with a screech (and sometimes a curse) to shake him awake again. But most of the times, Jin was present and conscious.
Of course, drowning out his thoughts was just a temporary cure. He knew that if he didn’t resolve this feeling of his, it would haunt him for days, endlessly. Life would be so much better if he just didn’t feel anything. But what’s the point in humanity for being like a robot?
Though Jin often gets confused and startled over things like bad exam scores, he knew it had to do with a nasty reminder of his failures in the past. Back in high school where competition was so fierce, it was either flawlessly ace the exams or die off at a minimum wage job. The expectation was zero failure. They just had to enforce that kind of system to kids. They just had to.
And they expected kids to develop proper coping mechanisms? Please!
It took Jin about two songs before he decided he wasted enough time out here, and he should head back to class.
This night class was not his favorite. In fact, it was probably his worst since college started. Aside from a professor with unconventional rules and behaviors, the class was built up from a population of arrogant yet whimsical students who didn’t like the idea of anomalies. So deviate from their mindset and you will be labeled an outcast. There’s no other way to gain their trust. Jin knew he didn’t have the best behavior in this class compared to his other classes—skipping class to listen to music for example—so he could understand why they didn’t like him.
Plus, he’d like to think they were jealous of him. He barely finds the exams in that class difficult when everyone else does, and always finishes it earlier too. Then he gets a perfect score and for some reason, people didn’t like that idea.
Why can’t you suffer like us? They might question in their mind. Jin laughed in his mind. If only they knew…
When Jin returned to the classroom, the professor eyed him slightly longer before turning back to the presentation. He didn’t like the idea that Jin spent time out with an obvious intention of leisure. His earbuds were hanging off his jacket; it wasn’t very hard to know what he did. As Jin looked at the lecture notes, which displayed a question that everyone was discussing, he suddenly knew the answer.
“B!” he says.
The professor looked at him.
“Why ‘B’?”
“Because Albert Einstein proposed that since the energy of a photon doesn’t change, the only way to increase intensity is to increase the number of photons.”
His classmates looked at him. Then his professor smiled.
“That’s not what Einstein said,” he said behind his smile. “Einstein never said that. You can’t use authority to back up your arguments, even if they are famous geniuses like Einstein.” He turns to the class. “Everyone, you can’t name drop famous people as validation, even if they are world famous. Don’t make that kind of assumption. That’s not a valid argument.”
Jin sank down and nodded as he then turned his attention to the notes, as someone else answered correctly.
What the hell was that? Even if he didn’t get the right answer, was there really a need to accuse him of trying to “name drop famous people” when he was just trying to refer to a formula proposed by that very person? Jin later found out he didn’t refer to the correct formula, and he actually spoke a conclusion made from a different idea. But was there really a need to accuse him of that? He didn’t intend to use that kind of fallacy—it was a simple mistake. And did he really need to then tell the class not to repeat his mistake, as if he was the dumbest person alive?
Fine. He walked out of lecture for a moment. But he paid attention to the part he stayed in, and that was where he incorrectly made that assumption. That meant it wasn’t because of the fact he left. Did the professor really just take him for a person who didn’t care? Apparently it must’ve seemed that way—that he’s just some arrogant prick who couldn’t care less about the material taught because of the way he looked!
A bitterness welled up in himself, as he dove back to his notes and pretended the classmates didn’t care. Well, they really didn’t. He could die for all he or anybody knew, and nobody would care. That’s just how the world is.
No…someone would care. His friends. His other classmates from other classes. His family. If he died, he would sacrifice all their efforts, and it was ultimately a selfish deed.
Maybe it was from earlier today. Maybe it was from all the pent up frustration of being in that night class. Maybe it was just because he was tired. But Jin almost felt like he might as well die, since he isn’t well liked anyways.
Right?
Wrong.
That’s what he kept telling himself, because he knew the truth about suicide, and committing it. Not only did he lack the tremendous courage to do it, but he also understood the consequences. Maybe you wouldn’t face them, because you are dead. But others around you will, and they will forever remember you that way. Suicide. Over something like a test score? That’s ridiculous!
His mind went berserk. He was contemplating suicide. Even if his rational mind harshly rejected it, he had considered suicide, and that was not a normal or safe thing. Immediately he whipped out his phone and began texting his friend, which, he knew texting in class was absolutely disrespectful (especially after that previous incident), but if it involved suicide, he had to make an exception.
Hobi Flower. [Last message sent at 6:14 pm.] If I could choose a husband, I’d choose a mochi.
Jin. [7:28 pm] Hey.
Hobi Flower. [Hobi Flower sent a sticker]
Jin. You don’t need to call the suicide hotline or anything but I am legitimately having feelings of wanting to die and I’m freaking out as to why.
Hobi Flower. Omg.
What happened.
Jin. Life happened. [Jin sent a picture]
I don’t even know, this all started because of a stupid test score.
But like I’ve had worse scores before wth.
Hobi Flower. I never expected to hear that from you.
Jin. I don’t either. I’m really confused, and I’m still rational in the mind. I’m just wondering why I’m thinking that way…
[Jin sent a picture]
He put his phone down and his head started swirling. He felt miserable. He just needed the day to be over. And this class—this class that started the thoughts—was only making it worse. When Jin is on the verge of suicide, he’s anxiously texting to his friend just in case, but it wasn’t known to anyone else. If anything, no one even knew how he was. No one even knew they were partially responsible—but it also wasn’t their fault since they didn’t know.
Jin sighs and lays his head on the table.
The glory of society.
The real world is like this. It’s painted saccharine, pure, and glossy by media. But when you step out of the television and away from a luminous distracting screen everyone now can’t live without, you realize how everything seemed bright only because you were watching a screen.
In other words, the real world…
The real world is dull.
It sucks.
Somewhere among the whimpering, is an alluring melody of a flute.
Work got slightly better—Jin was getting used to the increased workload, and he opted to rearrange session times to fit it better with his schedule.
Of course, that isn’t to say everything in his life is now solved. His test score wouldn’t change, although it’s been days since then, and he’s been better. Also, he took some comfort in the fact that many of his classmates also didn’t do well, so at least he wasn’t alone.
As Jin walked back to his car, grateful for the tiring Monday to be over, suddenly, he felt himself airy, and drifting with an unknown wind.
It felt light, and sounded ethereal.
He felt himself humming with the wind as it brushed past his hair softly.
Then, that’s when Jin realized, it wasn’t the wind.
It was actually the sound of a flute.
For a moment, Jin paused and opted to look around to see who was playing it. But everyone was minding their own business (glaring down at their phone), and unless someone forgot their earbuds weren’t plugged it or amped it up too loudly, it wasn’t coming from them.
It would’ve been an easy thing to overlook, but that sound. That melody.
It was so sweet.
Before he knew it, Jin began walking away from his car to find the source of that sound. It gradually sounded clearer and clearer, and as Jin walked deeper and deeper into the school garden, he heard it completely.
“Come here, I am your paradise.”
And finally, he found the source of that sound, in the corner by the white poppy flowers.
It was a boy—a young man, actually, with such a youthful appearance he could pass as a boy, thanks to his glowing skin and chocolate-baked hair. In his gentle hands he caressed a wooden stick in flowing patterns. A flute.
The moment he saw Jin, he stopped playing his song. Jin was about to apologize and leave, until the boy smiled at him warmly.
“You heard it. You came here, because you heard my song, right?”
Jin blinked a few times, wondering for a moment what he meant exactly. But before he answered, the boy simply bowed his head softly, and introduced himself.
“My name is Jeon Jungkook. That song I was playing is called ‘paradise’.”
He lifts his head and shows a bright smile of his.
“And I think you’d like it. ‘Paradise’, I mean.”