Letters ||Choi Beomgyu✔️

4

Dear Haein,

Minhyung Samchon came over.
It was... difficult. Painful.
Torment to sit through that dinner.
It felt suffocating. Like it would never end.
Appa doesn't know everything, for his own good.
Taehyun, on the other hand, had been on my tail because he doesn't think I'm doing okay.
I know he's trying to help but it's all just so... suffocating.
The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.
I don't know.
I sometimes feel like I can't get a deep enough inhale to fill my lungs with the air they need.
Everything around me feels like it's caving in and I'm stuck.
I'm doing okay, though. - Haein

Beomgyu read the letter he once again swapped with the old one from her locker. He had been doing this for a week now and still hadn't figured out how to talk to Haein though he wanted to.

He couldn't stop himself from reading the letters that were meant for nobody but Haein. He was filled with concern and curiosity.

While he learnt she had many secrets, there was never anything clear enough in her letters for him to grasp the slightest understanding of Haein or what she was keeping to herself.

There were odd aches in his heart, thinking about all she carried on her own. Some part of him wanted to help her carry her burdens, yet he knew it wasn't his place, nor was he able to figure out what it was about her that had him so intent on sticking his nose in all his business.

He knew what he was doing was wrong in so many ways but he wanted to help.

He didn't even know how to approach her because how could he explain anything without telling her the truth-the despicable truth of what he was doing, invading her privacy and any trust he had yet to gain?

He found himself smoking more often than not. He couldn't find another way to numb the choking feeling he felt every time he read her writing. He felt an unusual type of pain he couldn't quite explain.

Sometimes the letters were poems.

The other day, one simply read:

It's so much easier,
to act like none of this matters and to pretend to wear a smile than to confess
my heart is nearly broken.

How was he supposed to know what to think? He didn't even know how to approach her, talk to her. And all he wanted to do was sit in her presence for a mere few minutes without causing her any trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was cool outside, enough for the wind to prick at your skin, but Haein sat outside. On the bleachers, writing her thoughts on a sheet of paper she could later fold up and chuck aside. She liked the comfort of writing her thoughts as it gave her an outlet, but she never liked to revisit her own letters, as each held memories and anguish that she didn't want to feel again.

She still felt it every day anyway.

When Beomgyu had come outside to smoke a cigarette in his usual spot, he froze. He hadn't expected to see her and now that she was sitting right in front of him, his heart was tugging. Do something. Talk to her. Just say hello.

"Hey," he choked out, embarrassed by the crack in his voice. Luckily, the redness that crept up his neck and onto his cheeks was easily concealed by the cold air. "Haein, right?" He kept his distance, standing a few feet away from her on the grass.

Haein looked up, blinking frantically. He's talking to her again and she cannot fathom why.

"Yes." It was all she could manage to choke out.