Dear Myungsoo,

I love the way you used to look at me, you know. That half-lidded look, that smirk, the way your eyes dulled to an iron shade – they weren’t vulgar, but I could tell that there was want in your eyes.

The smiles I returned were probably shy and embarrassed, silly me! But I have always been like that, too stupid to understand. I couldn't comprehend what you could possible want from me but then you spelled it out really well, didn't you? Just thinking about makes me blush.

I was never claustrophobic but the deafening silence inside the rooms, the stuffy bitterness in the hallways, they seem to choke me - they are suffocating. I can barely breathe at times. And I feel your eyes, that intense gaze at my back. They are enough to make me turn around and search in the blankness for traces of you.

And then, I'm surprised when I don't see you, trailing behind my back, ready to jump on me and wrap your arms around me. Backhugs are not my thing, but since you insisted, I'd grown used to them. And now, I'm falling out of habit again. There's no one to hug me from the back.

The windows in my bedroom, they still creak horribly when I try to open them. And I have to open them or else I feel invisible hands choking me in the dark. And every time they creak, I almost expect you to turn around in the bed, look at me exasperatedly, and tell me to put a sock in it. You were really sensitive when it was time to sleep.

I think I even hear your voice.

PS: Does she put down the dishes without making any sound?

With love,

Sungjong