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Before our spring.

Chapter Text

“I know this sounds foolish but I’m afraid to go to you.
Even if you don’t understand it’s alright, it’s alright.
Because there’s still a lot of time before spring will come.

Before our spring, Jonghyun.






Subject: I´ll take you as my journal because I hate you and you love me. 

Do you think therapists have a class where they learnt how to be completely ridiculous?

Truth be told, I have not asked mine yet but now I´m convinced that this is a general fact.  Before you judge me for not having told you that I have returned to treatment, mom, you should know that I haven´t told you anything because the beginning of the School Year is always a disaster. Sometimes I seriously wonder why I decided to become a teacher and to make things worse, a sentimental Literature one. 

Yes, I know that by now, you are laughing and that you are messing your ridiculous strands of purple hair (is it still purple?) I´m also sure that you´ll tell me  I´m a drama queen but I think that after what has happened to us, after what we both faced in the streets of New York, the world owes us at least the happiness of being able to complain, doesn´t it?

Yes, Shorter, I also know that you never abandoned the treatment, I know that you did well and that now you are happy forever while you run the best Chinese restaurant in the city, and therefore, you have achieved your greatest dream. I know that it is the reason why you have no complaints about your existence but I was starting to feel suffocated again, you know.

Before I went to Dr. Jessica Randy's office, I had felt almost normal again. The nightmares hadn´t bothered me at night, I hadn´t ended up screaming in terror, I hadn´t felt that something inside me was dying when memories invaded me again. I almost thought I had forgotten it, Shorter, I really believed it.

I know you would say I'm stupid and that you truly believe that a few months of therapy with the doctor you worked with would be enough for me to heal but it wasn´t. I know it was my fault because I didn´t give him a genuine opportunity to help me but in those days I believed myself to be normal again. I was just a normal man, Shorter, yes, my past was shit but I really thought I was just this cool guy who has achieved to become famous and successful after all the crap he had faced before.

 So it´s totally true that I had come to feel like a normal man again, I swear I felt that I had achieved it and yet, everything fell apart when I saw the face of  the guy who caused me to go back to my hurt self.  

I don´t want you to start to assume stupid things, but everything went wrong again when I was introduced to the new exchange professor, the man who will work with us for a year and who happens to be one of the most recognized photographers in Japan, a photographer who was also an elite athlete. His name is Eiji Okumura and years ago he won a gold medal in the Olympics. Have you heard anything about him?

I guess not, his sport is not very popular anyway. Professor Okumura used to practice pole vaulting so he is not exactly a sports rockstar but everyone here went crazy from the very moment his arrival to the faculty of Fine Arts was announced. Even the literature people seemed to know him, everyone has looked at some of his photographs, everyone knows his name and he would have the right to be an arrogant asshole but he is not, I doubt he knows all the commotion he causes around him.

The first time ever I saw him I thought he was one of the awkward freshmen students. He is one of those people for whom time doesn´t seem to run at the same pace as it does for other human beings. What I want to say is that I was told the man is around twenty-seven years old and yet he looks like a child.

Physically, Professor Okumura is nothing special. He is a young Japanese man with brown eyes and dark hair, he´s less tall than we are. If you find him on the street he would not call your attention and yet everything changes when you see him smile, something in him lights up. His smile illuminates everything around him, Shorter, when you look straight at him, you can notice that something inside his eyes hurts but it doesn´t matter because his smile is able to blind you and make you forget about how horrible the world is.

I know I sound like a lunatic but I think it was his light that made everything go wrong again. There is something in him that is fragile and sad, completely sad. In his eyes and in his smile there is still so much innocence, an innocence that no one has touched, not in the way they did with us and I ... there it is, I finally said it. I think it's the innocence in Professor Okumura's eyes that reminds me of what happened in the past.

I think he's as fragile as we were when the nightmare began. He reminds me of what we were, what we will never be again and it hurts me to look at him because of that. It hurts to look at him even when the only way to survive that we found in the past was to become hard-hearted, and I swear I keep working on my protection wall every day of my life. Still, the ghosts of the past that´s in the eyes of a boy who doesn´t know me nor will know nothing of me was enough to destroy all my defenses.

 Looking at Eiji Okumura hurts, Shorter, and that is why I decided to consult a new therapist again.

This time I chose a woman because I think I will always have some fear if it is a man. At the end of the day, the men were the pigs that hurt us and I know that not all of them are like that but this time I don´t want to abandon the treatment. After the first therapy session, Dr. Jessica asked me to write a diary. At first, I really thought about buying one of those fashionable hipster notebooks but then I remembered that it would be better to write to you because you understand, no one but you could understand me. What do you want me to say? I studied literature, and like everyone else in this world, we love writing and having someone who reads what we have written.

Make fun out of me all you want and if you do not want to read these e-mails, then ignore all the messages that will come from now on from this email address but do not prevent me from writing them, much less sending them to you.

I have always believed that reading, and even more the magical act of writing something, are the things that have helped me to free myself. Therefore, I know that you can bravely support these cheesy emails that have nothing to do with my dramatic novels thanks to which I can live well now. You don´t have to answer me but I thought that talking to the void always hurt us a lot and that's why I would like to talk to you, best friend. 

Anyway, I have to leave you now because the school year starts tomorrow and I have to terrorize my new students. It is one of my favorite sports in college and I have a reputation to take care of. After all, I am the wonderful teacher Aslan Jade Callenreese, also known as Ash Lynx, bestseller author, aka "the ruthless Lynx that will torture us all during the year". The terror of the students keeps me young, although it may be their hope and desire to create stories, which have that effect in me. In the end that is the reason why I love teaching the creative writing class.

 All right, skip that last line, I'm disgusted of myself.

Well, wish me luck and tell Nadia, your sister, that I miss her food starting today. Maybe I can see you at the weekend, what do you think? It would be good to laugh at you for a change, you know.

By the way, I think I should not worry so much about Professor Okumura, do I?  I will not even have to see him that much because we are part of different academic departments. I do not think that suddenly the departments of photography and literature will decide to make a merger. Maybe I won´t meet him again during the year, I have to see him only at tomorrow's  ceremony and that will be all, won´t it?

I do not want to see Eiji Okumura, Shorter. I am a coward but I do not want to see him because the innocence in his eyes is so similar to what you and I had in our faces when monsters first came.

 Well, if you got here I thank you and if not, go to hell.

 Love, Ash.