I might change this chapter entirely, but I kind of like it >.< please tell me what you think!

Dear Sehun,

I have to write a letter to someone and tell them about myself and this is the stupidest assignment ever. What am I, five? And what am I supposed to tell you? You already know everything. You even know about this assignment, because I saw when you went through all the crumpled pieces of paper, picked one and read it.

I remember what I wrote for that one. Hi, my name is Luhan and I hate everyone. Or was it artsy and deep hi, my name is Luhan and I live in an empty house?

Yeah, I actually have no ing clue, but I do remember that you started getting this sad look. You're always pitying me, feeling bad for me. Thank you, I guess, but I don't need that. You know what, I don't need anyone, especially not you.

Okay. Now I sound like an , which I am, but of course you already know that too.

Goddammit, why am I actually trying for this assignment?

But okay. Fine. Whatever. I guess I'll just pour all my feelings into this and tell the truth and then throw this away and make sure you don't find it.

Well then.

Sehun, I don't like admitting it- I won't ever admit it- but you're the best thing that happened in my miserable life. My dad's dead and my mom's wherever, but there's enough money left over to keep me alive so I can about everything. I don't actually know why I hate everything though. It's just that everyone might be fake. How would you know if they're not lying to you or cursing you in their minds or thinking of ways to insult you later behind your back? They're not going to tell you, so would you just keep falling for them and living this lie for your entire life?

I don't know anything so I freak out. So I assume the worst and tell everyone how I feel about them and then they hate me. Self-fulfilling prophecy and it's all my fault. I should be at least happy that they don't hide it, but . Is hypocrite the right word for me?

I always have those nightmares where there's this thing running after me and I'm screaming and running, but I'm moving in slow motion. And I wake up, but there's still that panicky helpless feeling. I can't breathe because I feel like I'm falling- plummeting- and I keep going and going, waiting for the end to come where I'll crash and land in a broken mess, but it doesn't come, so I'm always waiting and always freaked.

But then when I'm in a mess, I call you and you come over. You don't even say anything and you just hold me like I'm a ing baby or that I'm weak, but I guess that's what I am: weak. When you hold me, I feel the ground under me and I'm not falling anymore. But then you leave and it comes back. And also, this house is so damn empty. I can't stand it. There won't even be anything to haunt when I die.

I always push you away whenever I can. I'm like this depressing black hole and if you get too close, you'll probably die. And I guess you're too nice to die. You always look like you don't care, but you do. WHY THE HELL DO YOU CARE. Seriously, all I've ever been to you was an . I don't even talk to you in school, but then I'm making you come over in the dead of the night because I can't handle what an I am.

Let's say it together: Luhan is an .

I bet you didn't say it.

And don't even try to tell me I'm not.

I keep putting you in these situations where you feel like you can't do anything to help me. I know- that's actually one thing I'm pretty sure about. I feel like even more knowing you feel like because of me. It's not your fault! Remember that, okay? It's not your goddamn fault- or maybe it is for being so nice.

But the thing is, you can't help me. I'm a black hole and all the good you give me just gets into nothing and I'm still a mess.

Maybe it's all meant to be. Maybe we can just blame fate for this mess.

Remember the first time we met? Yeah, you probably do because you're all sentimental and . I try to block it out of my memory, but I remember too.

I was crying on the front lawn because I was stupid and young and didn't care yet. And you decided that you just had to walk over and see what was wrong. So it was probably fate that made you think you were responsible for my happiness and making sure I was alive. Which, by the way, is really stupid. I don't need someone to feel responsible. That's really burdensome.

But seriously, thank you.

Thank you for not talking about those embarrassing nights where I probably drool and stain your clothes and . Thank you for pretending to not notice my scars. Thank you for cleaning up all the broken stuff before I wake up. Thank you for being here, or there, or wherever. Thank you for not leaving. Thank you for trying.

Even though nothing will ever be enough to fix me- because some things just can't be fixed, okay- you've done more than enough. So, thank you.

And if you ever see this- which you probably will, because you like going through all my stuff- please pretend you didn't.

Thanks.