“Sungjong, you got mail.”

Myungsoo put a pile of envelopes on the table in front of Sungjong, who was immersed in putting the finishing touches to his latest design. He looked up briefly, then went back to his design. He had to finish this by today.

“Bills?” he asked Myungsoo.

“Nope, personal letters I think.”

That was strange because he usually didn’t get letters. There was no one who’d write to him. He contacted his friends and family members through email and phone; no one wrote letters any more.

Curious, he took up an envelope. It was plain, no stamps. His name and address were inked on the front. Frowning, he checked the other envelopes. They all looked the same. Only the dates on them were different.

He grabbed the envelope with the earliest date and tore it open. The date made him uneasy – 7^th of July, the day Sungyeol got into the accident.

There was a sheet of paper inside. He unfolded the paper and the first thing he looked for was a signature at the end. But there was none. It wasn’t even addressed to anyone.

Feeling anxious, he started reading.

Dearest, if I had a time machine, I’d go back to the time when we met and make us ‘unmeet’. Because the way I see it, that’s when it all started.

He didn’t want to read the letters, but a part of him was mesmerised. He picked up one after another, reading them through. By the end of the seventh letter, he was shaking badly. Myungsoo had probably popped into the kitchen, but Sungjong didn’t have the voice to call him. His lips moved soundlessly, and he was shivering from head to toe. And then the hiccups started. Whenever he was frightened, which wasn’t very often, he had a bad fit of uncontrollable hiccups.

Myungsoo found him that way, trembling against the table, with a look of horror on his face. He ran to him, grabbing his shoulders.

“What’s wrong Sungjong?”

“T-the the le-letters,” he managed.

Myungsoo picked up one and scanned through it, looking confused.

“Who are they from?” he asked Sungjong, who was now clutching his head.

He shivered involuntarily, his eyes getting wider. Hiding his face in Myungsoo’s shoulder, he said, “S-s-sungyeol.”

Myungsoo’s face changed color immediately. That was impossible! Sungyeol had been dead for seven days now. Was this someone’s twisted idea of a prank? But who would want to hurt Sungjong this way?

“Hey, hey hey,” he quietly whispered into Sungjong’s ear, running his fingers through his hair. “It can’t be Sungyeol. You know it can’t be. Someone else -”

“It has to be him!” Sungjong screamed unexpectedly. He disengaged himself from the hug Myungsoo had pulled him in and looked up into his face, with a half-crazed glance.

“The things he wrote – the things he knows – it has to be him!”

Instead of arguing with him, Myungsoo just nodded. He wanted to calm Sungjong down first. He steered him towards the bed, and made him sit down. He was still shaking and his skin was deathly cold. The color had drained from his face. He looked like someone who had seen death, or worse.

“I’ll take a look at them, Sungjongie, don’t worry,” Myungsoo reassured him in a soothing voice.

He picked up all the letters, which Sungjong had thrown on the floor. He skimmed through them, trying to find any evidence that they were fake. Unfortunately, whoever had written them was really good. They copied Sungyeol’s handwriting, even the way he drew the lines.

“Wait, Sungjong, look at the dates. They were written during the time when Sungyeol was in the coma.” He turned to look at Sungjong, who had his face in his hands. “That’s impossible. He couldn’t have written letters in a coma, you know that.”

Sungjong shook his head vehemently.

“I don’t know – all I know is those letters are from him, they’re definitely from him.”

“But that’s not possible, sweetie, he’s dead, Sungyeol’s dead.”

Myungsoo didn’t like talking about Sungyeol’s death, it made Sungjong upset but right now he had to say it because Sungjong wasn’t in his right mind; he was convinced the letters were from Sungyeol. If Sungjong didn’t calm down soon enough, who knew what would happen. He had already fainted during Sungyeol’s funeral; now if he thought Sungyeol was writing him letters, he’d probably go crazy.

“I know that,” Sungjong shouted back, looking up finally. His eyes were red. “But I also know he sent me those letters,” he said stubbornly.

Myungsoo scratched his head.

“You mean he wrote these letters before he got into the accident?”

Sungjong gulped, then shook his head hesitatingly.

“How would he know we would get together 14 days after the accident beforehand? How would he know we would get together at all?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Myungsoo. It was indeed strange. No one knew precisely when they had gotten together, they didn’t tell anyone before the doctors announced Sungyeol as brain dead. How could anyone have known?

Suddenly, Myungsoo felt a chill running up his spine, and something cold and icy settled in his stomach. Sungjong’s claim was absurd, and yet, he felt uneasy – he didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this but he couldn’t believe Sungjong’s explanation either.

Sungjong, on the other hand, was certain that it was Sungyeol. He knew Sungyeol – it felt like him. He couldn’t explain what was happening, but he knew he wasn’t insane. Tears crowded in his eyes, and his throat was unusually parched. His breath caught in his throat as fear flooded the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know what to do, what this meant.

Sungyeol couldn’t have…returned, could he?

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, making him jump. He let it ring; Myungsoo didn’t seem interested in it either. He was staring at the letters, unmoving, deep in thought.

Sungjong could tell Myungsoo was worried too. He was trying to deny the fact that Sungyeol had sent those letters, and he was probably trying to find a way to convince him as well. But all the evidence said otherwise – it had to be Sungyeol.

The phone showed no signs of giving up. Irked by the incessant ringing, Sungjong finally decided to receive it.

“Hello,” he said, trying to control his voice. Despite that, his voice broke and he sounded terrified.

“Sungjong.”

He stiffened; his stomach dropped. His head lurched and he wanted to throw up. Time slowed down in his head, and he could hear his every heartbeat. One, two, three…

“If you truly love someone, the distance between two worlds is not enough to keep you away from him.”

There was no mistaking the voice, the tone of speaking. It wasn’t a dream either, because Myungsoo was standing right there, looking at him questioningly.

Sungjong’s face had become deathly pale and sweat, or tears, or a mixture of both were pouring down his cheeks. He was rooted to the spot, with the phone in his hand. He couldn’t hear his heartbeats anymore. Had his heart stopped beating? Was he dead now?

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout to Myungsoo, that Sungyeol was on the other end of the line, talking to him. Sungyeol was talking to him even though he had been buried seven days ago. It was Sungyeol, who had come back for him, to watch over him – the very Sungyeol whose trust he betrayed.

“I told you I’ll be there for you always, and I will. No barrier is great enough to keep me away from you – I’ll protect you till the end.”