Moon Jongup doesn’t have friends.

The sounds of other children laughing and screaming in the orange and red glow of the setting sun are familiar ones, though. He can hear them through his open window as they sing and dance and kick around a deflated soccer ball. He can see them sometimes, too, if he cranes his neck enough. They crowd around the abandoned baseball field across the street, their clothes dusty and their hair tangled in the wind. They’re sunburnt and near passing out from exhaustion when they finally leave the empty field bathed in dark blues and twinkling stars behind them, but they giggle and carry on as if it’s the most fun they could ever have. Jongup likes to listen and watch them. They’re there almost every day, rain or shine, to kick around that soccer ball and push each other around. Even the girls, in their messy pig tails and grass stained school uniforms, seem to enjoy these outings. Jongup thinks he would like to join them.

But all he can do is to wait.

He waits long enough to know each of their voices. He’s learned to pick apart the shouts and giggles across the street, identifying each with the names they call each other. He knows their personalities, too, and what they like to talk about when they take a break from hopscotch or playing the Clue game Youngjae stole from his big sister’s closet. (He’d felt very rebellious after that, and his whooping could be heard long into the night.) Jongup listens intently, the soft summer breeze carrying their voices right up to his window. He doesn’t know what they look like, but from what he’s seen, they look to be around his own age. Maybe a little older. He thinks Yongguk is in seventh grade by now, but he isn’t sure. The boy doesn’t come around as much as he used to.

The others don’t seem to mind this much. Himchan shares a class with the older boy and he updates the others on their life in Junior High through mouthfuls of his birthday candy. Jongup can hear the others complain and groan about Himchan not sharing his candy and Jongup giggles along with the other boy. He likes this. He likes hearing about their lives. They may not know him, they may not know he listens intently to everything they have to say, but that’s okay. Jongup doesn’t have to wait so long if he can get tiny glimpses of their lives.

Jongup doesn’t know when it starts, exactly. It seems like one by one, the voices get smaller, quieter. They still come to play in the field and they still goof around with each other, but it feels different to the listening boy. Himchan’s stopped coming around, too, saying he’d rather hang out with high school kids, “big kids”, than babysit a bunch of little kids. The other children gape at this, seemingly shocked into silence. Jongup finds personal offense in this as well, even if the words aren’t directed at him. He doesn’t know why Himchan would say that to his friends. You should care about your friends. Friends are important. You don’t make your friends feel sad. Jongup spends a long time awake that night, mulling the boy’s words over in his mind. He doesn’t think the others are little kids. They are very nice to each other. They share candy and treats and play nicely together. Jongup doesn’t understand.

Somewhere along the line, Daehyun and Youngjae decide they like girls. Jongup had seen it coming, and so had Junhong and Lela, the only girl who chooses to stick around. They seem to like girls more than Junhong, they tell the sad boy, giving him a piece of cake bundled in plastic wrap as an apology. The youngest boy doesn’t think much of this, because he eats the cake hungrily, complimenting Daehyun’s mother for her baking. It isn’t until Daehyun and Youngjae stop coming to play that Jongup and Junhong really realize the consequences.

The field once filled with laughter and sunshine and things that make Jongup feel fuzzy inside is empty. In the mirror, he can see the boy, sitting in the middle of the dirt. He can’t see very well, but he thinks he’s crying. His little shoulders are shaking and even the girls who used to play jump rope on the sidewalk don’t appear to console him. The other children have long since fizzled out. The boys were really the only regulars that inhabited the space across the street. The girls opted to playing with Barbies or makeup or avoiding boys and their cooties most of the time, and the younger children didn’t like the rough housing of the boys’.

It was just the boys most of the time. And now it’s just Junhong.

Watching the boy sit and weep for his lost friends is hard for Jongup. He feels salty tears trickle down his own cheeks. He doesn’t want to think about what this means. There will be more children, after this group has gone and grown up. They will come and play in the field across the street and scream and laugh and fill the space in Jongup’s heart. They will sing songs and dance around an imaginary fire and build forts out of the fallen branches strewn around the park. They, in turn, will leave, too, and new ones will come, and Jongup will listen to them play and watch them in the mirror reflection.

With a heavy heart Jongup watches the last of the boys slowly leave the field. The days following are long, and the nights stretch even longer. In the darkness after the sun has set and the moon has taken its place in the sky, he can no longer hear any other children. He can’t hear their breathless voices as they chase each other around. He can’t see flashes of their uniforms in the reflection of the mirror above his dresser. The world is dark and lonely after they leave, and he has nothing to listen for. He has nothing to wait for.

He wonders, sometimes if things would’ve been different if he had gone to the window, calling out to them. He wonders if maybe they would’ve let him play with them too. But then his thoughts drift to his bed, the soft cotton sheets brushing against the legs he can’t feel. No one would want to play with a cripple, he chides himself. No one would want to visit a boy locked in his bedroom like a prison cell.

His mother read him Rapunzel once, long ago. He hadn’t cared for the story at first, actually. He thought it was too boring. The more he thought about it, though, the more he saw himself in the fairytale. He is Rapunzel. His illness is the witch keeping him locked in the tower, his bedroom. He can stare out the window sometimes, but he’s never felt the grass on his feet, or the sun on his skin. He hasn’t run around with other children or swam in a pool or played kick ball in a cramped gymnasium.

Jongup has never left his room before.

He knows one vital piece of the Rapunzel story is missing. Where’s the handsome prince that breaks Rapunzel from her tower? Where’s the adventure afterward, as she explores an entire world new to her? Where does Jongup’s adventure come into play? Is it yet to happen? He thinks he has to wait, but he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. He wants to wait for friends. He wants to wait for an escape. He wants to live.

Jongup doesn’t know when the voices come back. Maybe it’s two years, maybe it’s two days, but the voices of the boys, his playmates to-be, drift through his window one afternoon the window is closed. They sound happy – so, so happy. Daehyun is telling Himchan about his girlfriend, Junhong teasing him about it with a few side comments directed at Lela. Youngjae has Clue out and ready, and Yongguk sits down and patiently shuffles the cards, just like he always does. Jongup can’t see them in the reflection of the mirror, but he can see them in his mind’s eye. They’re there. They’re all having fun. And Jongup is happy.

They wrestle and play tag. They scream and jog around the diamond, stopping only when the ice cream truck rolls by. The truck doesn’t seem to notice them, though, and their disappointed whines lay heavily on Jongup’s ears. He wants to shout at the truck driver, jump out of bed, do something. He wants to run across the street and tell them he’s here, he’s been waiting for them. He wants to scold them for hurting Junhong like that. He wants to hear about the big kids Himchan’s been hanging around, the science project Youngjae never spilled the juicy details over. He wants to give Yongguk a big hug because he’s back, and he’s so happy to see him. He wants to tell Junhong he’d cried when the others left, too. He wants them all to be happy, and to stay together. He wants to be with them.

The voices get softer and softer until Jongup can’t hear them anymore and the nurse comes in to give him more medicine. He thinks maybe they left to buy instant noodles, or watch a movie somewhere, like they do on special occasions. He’s so enthralled with thoughts of them that he doesn’t even mind the foul tasting medicine. He thinks he can come to enjoy taking it, if it means hearing their voices and sharing in their fun again.

The boys start coming again, much to Jongup’s relief. They play with each other as if nothing has changed. It’s almost as if time has stopped, a blissful peace settling about the field. He hears them more and later into the night. He supposes it’s because they’re older now and can stay out later. They don’t have to rush off to dinner, to take baths anymore. Yongguk and Himchan must be in high school by this time, although they never speak of this. Jongup doesn’t think too much of it. They probably feel shy after Himchan’s abandoning them with his harsh words. Jongup doesn’t mind at all, though.

It starts to become apparent that they spend most of their time in the field. They’re there when Jongup wakes up, and they’re there until Jongup falls asleep, too tired to continue to listen to their voices. He hasn’t caught glimpses of them in the mirror, but he finds himself wishing he would. He wants to tell them they shouldn’t skip school, that they should go home and eat dinner and take baths and sleep well. He wants to tell them it’s okay. He can go a little while without them.

Lela stops coming by as frequently as she used to, only coming by to on caramels her grandma gives her and laugh at Himchan. Jongup wants to tell her to stop coming altogether if she’s going to ignore the others trying to play with her, but he doesn’t. He likes Lela too, just maybe not as much as he likes Himchan. The boys are special to him. They build fortresses out of the branches that fall from the tree in his front yard, and he feels closer to them because of it. They have a special bond, even if they don’t know it. They are his friends. He just has to wait.

It feels like years before Jongup gathers the courage to tell anyone. When he does, it’s a calm Saturday and the soft autumn breeze wafting through his window has him sighing against his pillows. He likes the orange and red and yellow collage of colors he sees in his mirror. It’s pretty. Jongup likes pretty.

“Do you know the children that play across the street?” He asks his mother. She’s arranging some flowers in a glass vase by the bedside table and she looks up to meet his gaze with a small smile.

“Which children?” She asks softly. Jongup listens for a moment. The boys aren’t here today. The field is silent across the road but Jongup can imagine their voices and their presences just as well as if they were really there.

“They’re not here today. You’ll see.”

His mother smiles again at that, saying she’ll look for them another time. Jongup wonders if she thinks he wants to be friends with them, knowing little of their already budding relationship. They’re already friends in Jongup’s mind, he just needs to wait a little longer and they’ll think the same.

Days pass before he remembers to bring the subject up again. He’s been too busy listening to the shouts of joy and Youngjae’s whooping and hollering to really pay attention to anything else. He thinks they must be bundled up in thick sweaters and even thicker scarves, little wooly mittens keeping their hands warm. His window is closed but he can still hear Daehyun, much too loud for his own good, screaming with Youngjae about something. Junhong joins in occasionally, but the latter is much quieter than he used to be. Jongup isn’t sure why.

He points across the room at the window to the right of the bed. “See, mother? The children outside.” He waits as his mother moves to the window and Jongup can hardly contain his excitement. He’s beaming at her when she moves to sit at the end of the bed, careful to avoid his legs. She looks at his smile.

“Have you seen them?” Is what she asks. Jongup nods enthusiastically.

“I can see them in the mirror reflection sometimes. I can hear their voices, too!”

His mother glances at the mirror. Jongup looks at her anxiously, smile fading. Why isn’t she happy for him? He’s finally made some friends. He just has to wait a little bit. He’ll be better soon.

“That’s great, honey,” she says with a smile. It’s warm like hot chocolate, but something feels off. He doesn’t ask about it, though, instead content with turning his attention back to the boys across the street.

The days get colder, and the sun sets in the West earlier than Jongup wants it to. He’s accumulated several more blankets, no longer able to open the window, but he can hear Youngjae and Himchan and Junhong and Yongguk and Daehyun and sometimes even Lela as clear as day. He’s glad he’s always had good hearing. He’s glad they’ve come back to play again.

But one night, sometime close to winter, the sound of crying awakens him. It’s coming from across the street and he quickly rubs the sleep out of his eyes. It’s a soft sound, almost inaudible. He can barely hear the words falling from the lips. He’s scared. He’s scared he won’t be able to hear what’s wrong. He’s scared he won’t be able to console his friend.

It’s something Jongup’s never done before, but he does it now. He wonders why he’s never done it before. Had he been too scared? Had he been too weak? He isn’t sure, but he twists his body until it hurts so he can crane his neck enough to get a glimpse out the window. He reaches an unsteady hand out, fingers grasping at only air. The window is too far across the room for him to open it. A strangled sob escapes his lips on accident. He needs to open the window. Someone is crying. Someone needs him.

Jongup stills, listening intently. He recognizes the voice, rather than the person lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. It’s deeper than he remembers hearing today, and it baffles him. His eyes glance over the blond boy sobbing into his hands, wetting his lips nervously.

“I- I didn’t mean to,” the person cries out hoarsely. Through the sobs and the snot and the tears, Jongup immediately puts a name to the voice. Junhong. His sweet, caring Junhong. His eyes fill with pity as he watches the scene he can barely see.

The boy lying there looks so different to what Jongup’s mind’s eye imagined. He imagined a small boy with a bright smile, but in the darkness, the boy looks almost big enough to be a fully grown man. Has he finally grown big enough for Himchan to want to hang out with him at school? He wonders if Junhong is old enough to be a “big kid” yet.

Junhong lies there for what feels like forever. Jongup wants to call out, maybe throw a blanket of his down to the shivering boy. The moon peeps around a cloud, shining its light down upon the old baseball field across the street. The boy there looks so lonely, so sad, it hurts Jongup to watch. He doesn’t move until his shoulders have stopped quivering and his sobs have quieted. He turns then, hair reflecting in the light of the moon and Jongup gasps.

The person across the street is not a child. He is a man, tall, and handsome. He doesn’t have the boyish features Jongup remembers catching fleeting images of in his mirror. His face looks sad, worn out. He looks like he’s been crying too much, too frequently. Jongup feels an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He’d heard Junhong this morning, playing cheerfully with Youngjae as they made bases for their game of capture the flag. His voice hadn’t sounded unhappy at all. He’d sounded like he always has. He’s Junhong. Little, sweet Junhong.

Except the man standing across the street isn’t little, and his expression is anything but sweet.

Jongup can feel the pain. It hurts to keep his body twisted in this way. This means little to him as he undoes the straps keeping his legs in place under the blankets. He ignores the pain as he lifts his body. He’s never done this before, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing now, but he can’t stop himself. Junhong is not the Junhong he knows. This Junhong is different. This Junhong still needs him, though.

Jongup somehow manages to roll off his bed and hit the floor without crushing his scull on the bedside table. It doesn’t stop the groan that leaves his throat. He stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop any sobs from escaping and crawls across the floor. It’s difficult, but he bites harder on his little fist and tries his best. His elbows dig into the carpet and they chafe and burn, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll help Junhong. Even if it hurts a little, he’ll help his friend.

The window is big. It’s big enough to stretch almost to the floor, and Jongup blesses it. He can reach up and crack the window open from his crumpled position on the floor. Cold air hits his face as he does so and he blinks a few times. He’s never been so close to the outside world before. It’s thrilling.

His eyes adjust once more to the scene across the street. Seeing the whole field in its entirety, he takes a deep breath. This is where his friends have played for years. This is where he’s longed to be. This is it.

It’s a little smaller than Jongup expected, but that’s okay. It doesn’t matter the size, especially when Junhong looks even smaller inside of it. His eyes finally land on him there and Jongup calls out to him before he can stop himself. He doesn’t know what words form in his chest, but they come flying out before he can stop himself. Junhong lifts his head, searching around before his eyes meet the window Jongup is leaning out of. He stares for a few seconds, his lips parting in shock. Then he stands and Jongup’s breathing almost stops. He’s so much taller.

“Why are you there?” He asks loud enough for it to carry across the street. Jongup doesn’t recognize this voice anymore. It scares him.

“I heard you crying,” he calls back, voice quivering a bit. “I- I used to watch you play here.”

Confusion graces the other’s features, a soft expression. “Play what?”

Jongup feels like crying. “With H-Himchan and Youngjae and Daehyun an – and” he heaves a breath, not used to speaking so loudly “and with Yongguk.” He doesn’t mind if his mother comes into the room, scared and worried that he’ll strain his voice. He doesn’t care if he can’t heave his body back onto the bed. All of that doesn’t matter anymore. He’s finally talking to his friend. Finally. After all these years. He can finally play with them.

Jongup doesn’t miss when Junhong’s expression darkens, a shadow draping itself over his face. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares at the ground. Jongup wonders if he’s said something wrong. The boy looks uncomfortable. He wants to fix this.

“I- I didn’t mean to, I just heard you guys playing. I wanted to join, I swear!” Jongup rushes his words, the anxious feeling settling next to his heart not subsiding even when Junhong’s smiling a little, looking up at him in his window again.

“That was a long time ago,” is all he says.

Jongup blinks his tired eyes a few times. “A long time?” He repeats. Junhong nods.

“I’m twenty now.”

Jongup furrows his eyebrows, not understanding. Instead, he frowns, not appreciating Junhong’s teasing. He knows he isn’t twenty, he’s little, sweet Junhong, who likes cake and hates grown-ups. He’s younger than Jongup, and Jongup is eleven. Junhong can’t be twenty. It’s impossible.

Junhong glances down at his wrist watch, pushing the fabric of his sweatshirt out of the way. His brows meet together in a frown of his own, little wrinkles appearing on his forehead. He sighs, his breath floating in clouds in the cold early winter air.

“I have to go,” he says, almost too quietly for Jongup to hear. “I’ll... see you around.”

He waves a little awkwardly, a smile playing with the ends of his lips as he turns to leave. Jongup watches him until he’s out of sight. His back hurts from twisting, and his body feels a bit numb. But he can’t bring himself to care because he’s talked to his friend after so long. It’s felt like years of waiting. The other boy smiled at him, even waved. Jongup feels giddy just thinking about it. Maybe he’ll come by again and talk with Jongup. Maybe he’ll come inside his bedroom and bring the others, too. Maybe they’ll all have a reunion and play like they used to. He really wants that to happen. He’s so happy.

Jongup doesn’t remember that Junhong was crying until the morning. He wakes up in a cold sweat on the floor. The attic, the room, suddenly feels too small for him. The air feels thick with condensation. He breathes in, but everything feels too hot.

He vaguely remembers the window. In his happiness at having spoken with Junhong, he forgot to close the window the night before. His mother won’t hear the last of it, insisting on putting a lock on the window and locks on the straps on his legs. Jongup protests, he really does. He doesn’t want his one door to the outside world to be shut and locked. Junhong is coming again, and he’s going to talk to him and ask him why he was crying. He’s going to ask him why he didn’t stop Himchan or Yongguk or Daehyun or Youngjae from leaving him. He’s going to ask why he never noticed Jongup’s window, why he never looked up and wondered why it was always open. He’s going to ask why he never included him in their fun. He’s going to ask why. He’s going to ask so many things, and he’s going to tell him how much Junhong means to him. He’s going to ask him to bring the others. He’s going to ask him to introduce them to him formally, even if he already knows them. He’s going to ask how excited Yongguk and Himchan are to be high schoolers soon and officially be big kids. He’s going to ask Youngjae and Daehyun why they never brought their girlfriends to the field. He’s going to ask Lela, too, why she never brings caramels by anymore. He’s just going to ask and ask until he can’t ask anymore. He’s practically buzzing with excitement.

But Junhong doesn’t come again. Jongup waits. He waits every day, from morning until evening. He waits as he takes his medicine and as he cries a little to himself. He waits until the snowy puffs on the windowsill have melted and gone away and it’s summer again. He waits even when he can open the window again, stopping to watch every person that passes by on the street. He waits with open ears for his friends. He waits. He waits.

The boys across the street stopped coming after Jongup spoke with Junhong. He doesn’t know why. It makes him sad. Maybe Junhong told the others of their meeting and they want to surprise him, all of them together. He really hopes that’s the case. He misses hearing their voices. He misses their petty arguments over the last piece of pie or the last gumdrop. He misses joining in when they sing campfire songs even when there’s no campfire or camp within a mile radius. He misses their bird calls and secret code names. He misses the fake newspapers they make themselves. He misses their little secrets, and he misses being part of it again.

Jongup never gets to see Junhong again. He doesn’t know how long he waits. One day, though, his mother brings him a shoe box with ‘To the Boy across the Street’ scrawled across the top in black sharpie. Jongup likes the sound of that, immediately thinking of his play-mates. He tears the lid off, little care given to the box. That doesn’t matter right now, not when his friends have finally noticed him.

The box is filled with hundreds of sticky notes with little messages scrawled across them. There’s a vast variety of them, all different colors. He picks them up happily, reading the short, sweet notes. He reads them over and over again. He reads them twenty times. He reads them so much they tear on the edges and smudge with his tears. He reads them so many times it doesn’t even mean anything to him anymore. Jongup is too sad, really, and confused. It doesn’t add up. Nothing adds up. Jongup doesn’t have friends. Jongup has to wait.

Jongup reads them one by one. He gets comfortable against the pillows on his bed, the breeze from the window ruffling his hair. It’s just like it always is; the window’s open, the birds chirp outside, cars zoom past on the street outside, and Jongup is inside his bedroom. He’s inside his prison like Rapunzel, and the boys aren’t outside any longer. He reads the notes.

Jongup is sad, but he reads anyway.

 

 

 

Jongup!! How are you? Are you feeling okay? You haven’t woken up yet, but the doctors said you will soon. We’re all excited~ ^^ You have to help us finish the fort ASAP! WE NEED YOU TO HELP CUZ YOUNGJAE (flip to other side hehe) IS LAZY AND DOESN’T DO ANYTHING AND IS ALSO STUPID. He’s so dumb but anyway! Get well soon Angel! We all miss you!

-ur fav hyung (; (AKA Daehyun ha)

 

 

 

To: Jongup

From: leader

Get better dork or else I’ll eat the ice cream u left in my fridge. That’s an order.

-Yongguk (:

 

 

 

They’re forcing me to do this too, but whatever. Do I care? (yes) Just get better and then we’ll all go watch that film you were pestering us about. Seriously, you’re so annoying sometimes. You just HAD to get sick like this. Seriously, why aren’t they letting us see you? Anyway, this is getting too long à (read on other side) I still care about you even if you’re annoying so just...stop being a drama queen and come back. Thanks

-Himchan

 

 

 

To: Angel

From: Youngjae

I chose a pink one becuz it’s pretty and my girlfriend likes pink. Don’t tell anyone that!!!!

 

 

 

Jongup~ I miss you ): Please get out of the hospital super fast & give me cuddles! I’m dieing of loneliness!!

-sad Junhong :((((((((

 

 

 

To: Jongup

From: Yongguk

This is unfair. They’re not letting us see you. We’ll pin that picture of you covered in chocolate to the pine tree and pay homage haha!

 

 

 

Are you’re legs O.K.? Jongup stay safe!!!! Sleep well and you won’t hafta be in one of those thingies with wheels or whatevr

-Junhong :P

 

 

 

Junhong that’s called a wheelchair you idiot.

-Smart Guy Youngjae (hehe)

 

 

 

JONGUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPILOVEYOU

-Daehyun

 

 

 

OK these are getting excessive. I TOLD Yongguk keeping the box in the fort for anyone to add notes to was a bad idea but NOBODY LISTENS TO HIMCHAN URG

 

 

 

Hello Jongup! I hope you get better soon and come back to play! We love you!

-Lela

 

 

 

To: Jongup ):

From: leader hyung

We got the news. I’m so sorry.

 

 

 

JONGUP IT’S OKAY I STILL LOVE YOU WE CAN PLAY STILL WE ALL LOVE YOU PLEASE COME BACK

-Daehyun (and Youngjae too)

 

 

 

Jongup???????? Don’t be sad pls becuz that makes me sad to

No 1 else Will help with my grammar! Also ur mom is sad so ! DONT MA KE UR MOM SAD TOOOOO >.<

-Junhong

 

 

 

We don’t care if you’re crippled. Why are they keeping us away from you?

-Himchan

 

 

 

Hyung~~~~~~~~~

I’ll even give you piggie pack rides!

-Junhong ):

 

 

 

For the last time it’s a PIGGY BACK RIDE JUNHONG YOU DUMB DUMB

-Daehyun

 

 

 

They’re being mean to me

-Junhong

 

 

 

To: Jonguppie

From: leader

We can wait. It’s been a while but we can wait longer. Get better soon.

 

 

 

Jongup my girlfriend broke up with me!! What do I do???

-Distressed Guy Youngjae

 

 

 

To: JONGUP THE BABY

From: the kid u made Junhong punch

UR SUCH A BABY HAHA I FOUND THIS IN UR LAME FORT AND SAW UR LAME NOTES LOL UR L A M E NOBODY LIKES U HAHAHAHA JUNHONG WILL DIE

 

 

 

Jongup!!!!

-Junhong

 

 

 

To: Jongup ^^

From: leader

You’re finally getting out of the hospital!!!! (: You’re finally O.K.! That’s so good! I’m so happy!

-Yongguk (:

 

 

 

Congratulations on a good recovery Jonguppie~

-boys across the street

 

 

 

Hyung what do we do?

-Junhong ):

 

 

 

I don’t know what to say. Why am I back here again? This is impossible. You can’t possibly not know us WE’RE YOUR BEST FRIENDS THIS ISN’T FAIR HOW DOES THIS MAKE SENSE

-Himchan

P.S. STUPID DOCTORS KNOW NOTHING

 

 

 

Maybe in a few months?

-Youngjae

 

 

 

Maybe you’ll remember us if we jog your memory somehow? Should we hold up signs outside your window and signal to you?? ILL STILL LOVE YOU JONGUP BABY

-Daehyun

 

 

 

Shut up Daehyun no one likes you

 

 

 

Youngjae that was mean.

-Yongguk

 

 

 

At least I’m HONEST

-Youngjae

 

 

 

Hyung im so tall imp robs taller ten you!

-Junhong

Wait I meant “im probs” but it got messed up SORRY GOSH

 

 

 

Has it been a year? Already? Get better Angel~

-Daehyun

 

 

 

Wow I almost forgot we did this lol we were so lame

-Youngjae

P.S. girls r stupid

P.S. 2. So are boys

 

 

 

You haven’t helped me with my grammar like you said you would ): It’s O.K. becuz some big kids are helping me now and Im learning a lot. I miss you hyung!!!! )):

-Junhong

 

 

 

I GOT AN A ON MY GRAMMAR TEST YESSSSSSS

-HAPPY JUNHONG

 

 

 

To: Jongup

From: Yongguk

I can’t believe it’s been two years? Where’s everyone been? I don’t even see any of the boys anymore. High school is tough.

 

 

 

JONGUP YOU SAID YOUD GIVE ME ADVICE ON LIFE WTF MAN IDK WHAT IM DOING

-Daehyung

 

 

 

Ignore Daehyun he’s overreacting. It’s just a kiss.

-Smart Guy Youngjae

 

 

 

Jongup?

 

 

 

JONGUUUPPPPPPIIIIEEEEE /:’,

 

 

 

To: Jongup

From: Yongguk

Coming back here is depressing. Wow.

 

 

 

I dedicated this art thingie in school 2 you hyung! I love you!!

-Junhong

 

 

 

Good to see you’re happy I guess. Enjoy that.

-Himchan

 

 

 

Himchan is being mean IGNORE HIM

-Junhong

P.S. Youngjae and Daehyun ???????

 

 

 

HA GAY

-Youngjae

 

 

 

You are gay sweatie

-anonymous

 

 

 

I know that was you Daehyun stop being an idiot

-Smart Guy Youngjae

 

 

 

JONGUP OMG WE GOT YOUR LETTER WE’RE SO HAPPY AHHHHHH ILYSM

-Junhong

 

 

 

Letter? I didn’t get a letter? What letter? How can you get a letter from someone who’s still a child in the head? He never grew up you guys. He’s stupider than Junhong now. Stop leaving these stupid letters or whatever and grow up. How old are you now?

-Himchan

His MOM wrote it you dumb s. Geez

 

 

 

I stole the box MUAHAHAHAHA! Himchan cant be mean now >:/

I’ll just write notes to you hyung!! It’ll be O.K.

-Junhong

 

 

 

The other guys don’t come around now.

-Junhong

 

 

 

Thinking about you makes me sad hyung

 

 

 

Wow I just found this after two years of it being in my closet. We were such weird kids. Hope you’re doing well up there in your attic, Jongup. I wish we could’ve continued to be friends.

 

 

 

Why am I writing this? Idk actually. I was really upset and suddenly you were there and you were leaning out your window and you knew me. That’s impossible. How? I haven’t been to your house or anywhere near it in years.

I’m sorry Jongup.

 

 

 

 

In the bottom of the box is a letter. It’s folded neatly, and newer looking in comparison to the faded sticky-notes.

 

 

 

 

To the boy across the street,

I’m sure you’re aware of who this is. I hope you haven’t been waiting for me to come by again. I walk past your house sometimes, and the window is always open, just like it used to be, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you again. I felt too guilty.

We used to talk about you a lot. We used to talk about the good times, when you used to play with us. We had to stop, though, and we had to stop coming to the field. The doctor said it wasn’t good to stick around. I wish that wasn’t the case, but we were just kids. We just left you like that and I still feel guilty about it to this day. I know none of this makes sense to you now, but I do have an explanation, even if it lands on heavy ears.

I’m sorry, Jongup. Really, I am.

I’m not sure what you remember, or if you remember anything at all. It was all too muddy after the accident, everything was in the grey and so we weren’t allowed to see you while you were in the hospital. But then the news came. The accident left you with paralysis from the waist down.

Scans showed brain damage, too. You didn’t know us. You didn’t know anyone but your mom. It hurt a lot, to put it lightly. Things changed after that.

I’m not going to ask why you suddenly knew who I am or why you waited until that night last year to finally talk to me. That is not the purpose of this letter. You don’t seem to know what’s happened. I talked to your mom and she...told me how you’ve been. I couldn’t just walk away knowing you have no knowledge of what’s happened over the past ten years. I would’ve sent you this earlier, but it’s taking everything out of me to write it now.

There is no Yongguk. At least, not anymore. The leader of our group and the heart and soul of our friendships isn’t with us any longer. He committed suicide his junior year of high school, shortly after we had a falling out.

There is no Himchan, either. He couldn’t seem to accept the fact that his best friend took his own life and he got reckless. He died a year or two later, fresh on the college scene, on his way to visit us back here. It was icy and a truck slid into his car.

Youngjae and Daehyun. Where do I begin with those two? They were always together, basically inseparable. Attached at the hip, you might say. I guess they carried that trait straight to their graves. They went all through high school with bright smiles and happy-go-lucky attitudes, but their dark pasts caught up to them eventually. I tried to help them, really I did. I don’t know if you know this, but their “girlfriends” were actually each other (everyone saw that coming, though aha). I’m sure they were happy with each other, even if the rest of the world didn’t approve. They were good people, they really were. They went missing sometime three years ago. No bodies have been found.

I don’t know if you remember Lela or not, but I thought I should mention her as well, because her fate is really the saddest of our bunch. She’s really the sweetest girl you will ever meet. She used to bring us candies her grandma kept in a tin under the porch, blaming the squirrels every time she was caught. She still lives in her grandma’s house, but her mental issues came back. We used to visit her as a group, but she wasn’t even aware of anything going on around her. I’ve visited her recently, too, but she isn’t the same. She doesn’t remember our group like we do.

I’m sorry if this is a lot to take in, I know it must be. It’s a lot to write out, actually. You can’t possibly imagine how much I’ve missed them, my childhood friends. I can’t possibly imagine how you feel, knowing all of them are gone. I won’t try. Instead, I’ll just apologize.

There really is nothing else to say other than to apologize. If only the accident had never happened, if only you had known about the fate of our group. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.

I don’t know if you want to talk to me or see me again after this. I can understand if this is all too much. I can understand because I’ve been there. But if you do, you can contact me with this address. I haven’t moved since I first came here, and I don’t plan on moving again.

I hope to see you in your window, maybe, one of the times I go to the field.

-Junhong

P.S. my grammar got better didn’t it??

 

 

 

 

Jongup never remembers his friends.

He can recognize their voices and the vague outline of their blurry forms in the mirror reflection, but he doesn’t know them. He can tell you how many science fairs Youngjae won and how much candy it takes to give Himchan a stomachache, but he can’t identify their faces, even if he wanted to. It’s all relative. It’s all too fuzzy. Jongup just has to wait. He has to wait for his legs to get better and his mind to come back. He has to wait for his friends. He has to wait to be rescued. He has to wait.

Jongup is no longer eleven. He’s been twenty-one since February, but he doesn’t know it. In his mind he’s forever eleven, and his friends are always across the street, kicking around a deflated soccer ball or playing with Youngjae’s sister’s Clue game. It’s like time is stuck for Jongup. While the world moves on and forgets, Jongup is stuck. His world is like a snow globe, his universe the window across the room and the mirror above the dresser. It’s all the same, and it always will be.

Moon Jongup has no friends. And that’s okay.