[L e t t e r s | to | Y o o n a]

S E V E N

Dear Yoona,

I just realised that I keep starting these letters with old memories.

I'm sorry. I just... I don't know, really. I have no explanation.

I think it's because I have no newer memories to talk about. I have no future plans with you that I can talk about, other than the fact that I miss you. But I've already told you that.

I was lying awake last night. Technically that was only a few hours ago, because as I'm writing this, it's 2:30 am. I can't get to sleep, because I kept remembering how your weight felt on the other side of the mattress, even though it's been a while since you slept next to me.

Remember when we used to have sleepovers? Back when we were still young enough to sleep in the same bed without any awkwardness, and our parents thought nothing of it. Those were good times.

We never used to sleep until 2 in the morning most times. I tried to sleep earlier, but you were always chattering in my ear and eventually I gave up, and you'd sit on one end of the bed and I'd lean against the headboard and nod sleepily, my eyes drooping.

And then you'd complain that I wasn't listening and I'd insist that I was. Then you would shake your head and drag me downstairs to watch another movie.

I don't know how many movies we've watched together, and to be honest, I don't remember all of them, either.

I remember one in particular, though. Not because it was a good movie, but because it was so boring that you fell asleep before it was even halfway through. It was some old black and white movie and I glanced sideways at you to see if you liked it, and your chin was on your chest. I think you were snoring, too.

I almost laughed out loud, but I stopped myself just in time, because you would have woken up. Well, actually, no, you probably wouldn't have. You're the world's heaviest sleeper. I've heard your mother trying to wake you up on school days. Sounds like a nightmare.

I didn't wake you up because you looked so peaceful. You've always had so much more energy than me, and it was amazing to see you so quiet for once.

I watched you for a while. I know that sounds creepy, but I rarely had the chance to look at you when you weren't bouncing around. I wish I'd taken a photo, but photos were the last thing on my mind; I think I got lost looking at your face.

I don't know how much time passed whilst I just stared at you, but eventually, I started yawning, too, and I decided it was time for bed. So I carried you to my room and laid you on the side of my bed that was right up against the wall; I knew that if I put you on the edge, you'd fall onto the floor. Not that you would wake up, of course.

And now, as I remember your face, fast asleep, I can't help but wonder if you have trouble sleeping, too. You miss me, too, right?

A few hours ago, I decided to finally do something. You said you missed me, and since I miss you, too, I thought it was illogical that we still aren't friends.

So I broke into your house.

Well, it wasn't really 'breaking in', since I had a key, and you never took back the statement that I could come over any time.

So I didn't really 'break in', did I?

Anyway, no one was awake. Apparently you reserved your late nights for me, because it was only 10 o'clock, and you were already asleep.

You were dangerously close to the edge of your bed, so I pushed you back a bit and lined the edge of your bed and the floor with pillows. Just in case.

I was tempted to stay and watch you like I used to. I really was.

But then I thought that it might be a little creepy, so I just did what I came to do.

I put the six letters that I've written to you on your bedside table.

And then I walked out. I was too scared to look back to see if you'd seen me.

I'm a coward, aren't I?

Now I'm sitting here, writing yet another letter and wondering if I did the right thing. I hope I don't scare you away. I poured my heart into those letters, and I'm hoping like heck that you'll still remember that I'm still the boy you grew up with.

That I'm the boy you had your first kiss with, and the one who you wrote silly notes to in a book with an even sillier name.

The one who misses you.

The one who loves you.

Eternally yours,

Luhan.