Anya sat alone on her bed, the others having long sent her up to read the diaries. Mira in particular, had been the most disturbed by what she had heard.

The reason, was mired in filth too extensive to ever be made clear. The reason, behind Joon's choices, was so deeply tragic, that his light ended before it could grow.

Nothing, no amount of love or reason could have helped him.

The cracks had run across in numerous directions, all one could have hoped was for him to break a little late than before.

By the time she met him, it had already been too late.

A child, growing up among those heinous, disgusting scums, could not ever dream of being normal. His being warped from within, was not his fault.

His being a Monster, was not his fault.

After all, Monsters were created, never born. In this case, the dark never had a chance of staying pure, its obsidian shade could not keep the evil at bay. How could it, when the brush to paint the colour was muddied to begin with? As such, no matter the thickness of the colour, may it be white or black, it would only ever be muddied, never pure.

It had been too late.

She, had met him too late.

In such a case, would it have been better not to have met him at all? To let him remain the slave that he had become? At least, he had been numb to the pain, at least, his sufferings would not have corrupted him.

Anya immediately shook her head.

No.

It was precisely thoughts such as these which let the conflict of righteous blindness be born. The question of whether to let him be in pain or have him become a monster, was wrong to begin with. It was a question, that should not even be considered.

The real question was, Should she have allowed a human being to live on another day without him knowing that it was alright for him to smile. That it mattered. That he mattered.

Consequences be damned, the answer could only be the one she had chosen all those years ago.

Love could never change Monsters, it could never tame them. But maybe, it could give them a bit of happiness.

So, the righteous question to be asked should have been, If Monsters are created by the circumstances, then do they not deserve happiness?

Because for every Monster created, it is some part of the society, some part of the family, that failed them immeasurably, to begin with.

Anya looked at the diaries, afraid of what she would read. Afraid, of seeing the gradual innocence be twisted.

"Namjoon?" she called softly, but in her heart, she knew. He wasn't here.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. She would only fleetingly read through, not every one of them, she couldn't, cont if she wanted to remain sane.

Because the main question they needed the answer to, still needed to be considered.

And she, was the only one who could decide it.

Reaching out to the first diary dated the oldest, she picked it up. It was a simple leather journal with a tie to wrap around it. Simple, but elegant. Just like him.

Anya opened the first entry.

Unlike his neat and organised self, none of his writings had any dates.

And more odd, was the addressing.

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Future Me.

I met a girl. It was on my mother's funeral. She was beautiful. We talked for hours. I listened. She asked me to write things that make me happy. I don't understand that word, but today made me feel, different from everyday. She was the cause. So, as a thank you to her, I will obey her wish. I wrote down what I felt. In the future, I hope reading this makes me feel it again.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

"Stiff" , Anya smiled. Anyone reading it would see that he had been writing for the first time.

The effect of this short entry though, was profound on her. One, because she had made a spark that day, a spark in his life, bright enough for him to break pattern. To talk with someone, for him to feel something different from the numb pain he lived in for 16 years. For him to feel happiness, after a very, very long time.

Two, because she was all he thought about that day. The day of his Mother's funeral.

Then again, Anya knew exactly how he had felt, right then and there.

She kept reading.

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Future Me.

Its been two days since I met her, and I feel. . . restless. The more time passes, the more I think I want to remember the words that she said. To settle myself, I'll pen them down.

During the funeral, all I remember were the instructions to gracefully accept everyone's condolence. To be obedient and look down. So I never noticed when she came. When I was then asked to go rest for sometime, unknowingly I had wandered away from the room, standing on the grounds, gazing over nothing in particular.

That was when she approached me. Jumping before me with eyes that blinded me with its bright joy, she felt like a burst of colour in my otherwise grey world. "Found you! I see you! And I will make you see me!" was the nonsense she uttered as her greeting to me.

I still remember the shock of the question she asked me. "Did you not like your mother?"

She was a tiny thing, her small face having big blue eyes and long hair everywhere. Maybe it was because of her direct question, or because of something in her eyes, I answered honestly that yes, I never liked my mother. Right after I answered, I feared her crying and screaming at me, but she smiled instead.

She smiled wide and told me she was a genius for always guessing things right. I think what I felt then, was the emotion of surprise. Before I could ask her, she bounced where she stood, her hair flying everywhere as she told me that once, she had been walking to the playground when her friend Mira had dropped accidentally dropped a big stone while she was just under the place. It had gnashed her shoulders and created an injury. She said when after that injury, she ran, the sweat would sting and hurt her.

That girl then told me that she had seen me previously once. She said it had been summer and I had been standing in the hot sun, waiting in line to get my exam notice signed when I kept flinching about my back. Deducing that any injury I could have had on my back, when I had no chance of acquiring it in any other place since I am home schooled and not involved in any accident, could only mean a close friend like hers, or my family had been the cause of it. Because it was known that I have no friends, she thought it had been my family.

Seeing me in the funeral with no sadness in my eyes, she saw something else. When I asked what, she bounced higher while seriously informing me that she guessed it to be relief. Putting that past incident and my lack of emotions together, she guessed that it had been my mother who had hurt me.

The girl. . . is really smart. And energetic. And observant.

It truly had been an injury my mother had given. And it was not the only one.

Something made me ask her about what I knew mother would say. I asked her, if I was a monster for feeling relief?

That blue eyed girl laughed then. Her laughter was nice. She called me a dummy, then she explained that even though I was older than her, I was really foolish to not know any facts of life. She told me, that people who were beaten by someone who was older than them, were called victim. And people who beat up those who were smaller than them, were the monster.

She then held my hands with her tiny one. Her small palm, felt very warm.

She told me that I was not the monster, but my mother was.

She was the only one who ever told me that, a wisp of a small girl with a smile that made me not feel cold anymore.

She tugged me with her to go to a nearby park to talk, saying that there was no need to stay to mourn a Monster's funeral and I, let myself be dragged with her.

A decision that I don't regret. We spent hours in the park inside our society, he house was also nearby, mostly just her talking. Its been only two days since then, but I have already forgotten what she talked to me about.

All I remember is the feeling she evoked. Of warmth. Of joy. Of. . . not being alone. She laughed a lot, and smiled too. Her small face becomes brighter somehow when she does that. I remember I asked her if it had been her mother, would she have called her a monster too?

She told me, that if a parent, or elder beats kids, they are Monsters. Even if her heart would break, she would still say that if her mother beat her.

But I don't want that to ever come true. She is fragile. She could never take beatings. I told her then, that if it ever happens, then she should call me over. I will take her beatings for her.

Somehow, that caused her to bounce harder, trying to reach my height, and with a radiant expression she told me then that she was glad that she was my first friend.

A friend. I acquired a friend that day. A small, energetic, cute friend with tangled up black hair and blue eyes.

She then informed me solemnly that she would write down about our meeting because it made her happy. That was when she asked me to do the same.

And I find, obeying her, gives me more joy than obeying anyone else.

I liked the feeling. I enjoyed it and I want to feel it again. So I will meet with her again. She said, friends always meet and talk. I want that. I really want that.

I want her to be my friend. To always tell me to obey these things that make me happy.

So I will go to her again.

To my first friend, named Anya.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

Anya smiled while the nostalgia of the moment washed her back to when she had been 11. It was just a pure meeting of two children, one even more of a child despite his age. The way he wrote was evidence of how he was experiencing things for the first time. of how naïve he was.

Of how, he should not have been that way. Now, she knew the reason.

A chance encounter when Joon needed someone the most. She was glad, to have been that someone.

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A/N : Reminder again, the male lead is not like the one in Letters. This story is not just a romantic tragedy. The romance in this story, is not simple. So don't judge in the standard of normal

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