Work Text:
Junkyu sits across his laptop, closing his eyes as he press the 'tweet' button. He had just finished writing an AU. Well, not technically an AU. Just a letter that he wanted to write on the night of his birthday.
A letter to an ex of his.
It's pathetic, he knows. But what are the chances that this certain person would see it right?
100%.
On the other side of the country, Jihoon lies down on his couch, casually scrolling on Twitter. He sees Junkyu's username, and as much as he wants to avoid it, he can't. Junkyu is a popular writer amongst the community. Being adored by many, even if he writes some bullshit at 3 AM (something along the lines of "help i don't know how to do this music thingy on Instagram"), many would still retweet it.
So it's inevitable to see his name.
At times like this, Jihoon would close his eyes and pretend that the clench in his heart doesn't knock off his breath.
Yet, the whispers in his head kept on telling him to look at this once. He takes one glance, and his breath hitches as he read the title.
burol (burial)
Jihoon reads the thread. The stillness of midnight and the quiet whirring of his aircon accompanied him as he wraps himself in his blanket.
Hi.
If ever you stumble upon this letter, though I doubt you would, I hope that you wouldn't be bothered. Because this letter contains our story, dreams, and my what-ifs.
We were sixteen. We were both in our last year. Innocent, young, and completely oblivious to what the world would become. I really wasn't looking for love, nor was I satisfied with the mundane occurences in life. But it's with your brown hair, hazel eyes, and smile that brought me in to this whirlpool of incidents.
We were similar in so many ways. Our music tastes, how we both hated physical affection, and how we found solace in the quietness of our breaths. Yet, we were two opposing seasons, followed the other like how the warm summer trodded behind the cold fall.
Maybe it's the way my small hand fit your slender fingers, or how my head perfectly fit the space between your head and shoulder. But, you filled my heart with certainty. It was with your warm gaze that I felt the aftermath of being drenched in the cold, harsh rain.
But, it was the same innocence, the same warmth, that wrapped us in our own world. It was suffocating - chains of promises strangling our throats, leaving marks on our delicate skin. Sweet nothings slowly turning into ashes as they burn down our so-called home. Arguments were prolonged and we were crumbling until we were nothing.
We were nothing, yet we desperately tried to survive in the void that is called 'love'.
And maybe that's when we broke ourselves. Because every time I stare into your eyes, they were empty brown orbs. Strikingly dull, numbingly harsh. Yet, it still gave me the same butterflies.
We were holding each other's faces, and I wonder if you felt like you were holding shards of glass. Whenever we stare at each other's eyes, I wonder if you ever felt joy. Because each time that I held your hand, the slight retract from my touch was a signal that you didn't want this anymore. That the promises no longer held their meaning and that I was the only one keeping them in my safe of secrets. I often wonder if each "I love you's" were nothing but words that tastes bitter in your mouth, and the reason why you were saying them was because it made you sick and you had to spit out.
And it is at these moments where I look back and think that maybe we weren't worth it as we thought we'd be. That maybe the years of fighting for this was nothing but a movie we wasted our tickets on.
Yet, I never regretted loving you. I never despised you. But if I was given the chance to go back in time, I would rather not fall in love with you again.
Jihoon stares at his cellphone. He reads the title once again, stands up, and props himself in front of his laptop. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He presses the 'tweet' button and sighs.
What are the chances that Junkyu would see his response, right?