Cerf-Volant
Cerf-Volant
Baekhyun cannot remember the last time he wrote an honest-to-god letter (it was the digital age, after all) so it is no surprise that he spends the first ten minutes staring blankly at the page in front of him. The next five minutes consist of pen-spinning and more staring, with frequent glances out the window. Summer has begun and the setting sun leaves fiery trails across the sky. When the fading light has stretched the shadows to the opposite end of his bedroom, he finally steadies his hand and begins to write.
Hey Chanyeol,
How’s everything going? I’m not even sure if this letter will get to you but a promise is a promise, so here goes.
Not much happened in school today. Kyungsoo and I had lunch outside by the field but we were interrupted by a stray football that sent our juice boxes flying. The culprit was Kim Jongin (remember the tanned kid from the classroom down the hall?) and he didn’t even have the decency to say ‘thank you’ when I gave the ball back to him. I bet he wouldn’t have the guts to be so rude to a sunbae if you had been there. Your height has always been a little intimidating.
By the way, I went and sat at your old desk after class today. The flowers that Suho brought are wilting despite my best efforts, so I moved it to the window sill. A little hope and a little extra sunlight can’t hurt, right?
- Baekhyun
***
The next morning, Baekhyun finds himself unfolding a wrinkled piece of paper on his way to school. It’s hot for July and the sun is just bright enough to be blinding when reflecting off the chrome cars that rush past. Squinting against the brilliant rays of sun, he raises the page to face-level and begins to read aloud. When Chanyeol’s deep baritone proves impossible to imitate, he gives up and scans the words silently.
Hi Baekhyun!
Thanks for the letter! Jongin’s an ungrateful brat so you should just tell him to shove it the next time you see him. Same thing for Sehun. The kid could use a lesson or two in respect. You’ve always been good at taking care of living things (remember those Valentine’s Day roses that you managed to keep alive for four whole weeks?) so I’m sure you can help the flowers last a bit longer. Your willpower is a force to be reckoned with.
You won’t believe who I met here! Remember the transfer student from sixth grade with the angry eyebrows? The one whose name we could never get right? Well, it doesn’t really matter where I am because changing names is apparently a trend (it’s supposed to help us “turn over a new leaf” and stuff). He goes by Kris now, which might not sound as cool as ‘Kevin’ but it’s certainly easier to pronounce than ‘Wu Fan’.
Do you think I should change my name?
- Chanyeol (a.k.a. Park Dobby)
***
“Hey Baek, want to come with me and Kyungsoo to karaoke tonight?” Jongdae says as he props his sneakered feet on the edge of Baekhyun’s desk. The pouring rain has kept the majority of the students indoors and the classroom rings with the sound of lunchtime chatter.
“No thanks.” Nudging his friend’s feet aside, Baekhyun continues to scribble in his notebook and does his best to tune out his classmates’ loud voices and raucous laughter.
“Are you sure?” The concern in Jongdae’s tone makes him look up from his letter. There is genuine worry in his friend’s eyes and Baekhyun feels a twinge of guilt for being the cause. Yet the overcast skies have made his heart heavy with melancholy and all he wants is to be left alone.
“Yeah,” he answers, forcing his lips into a reassuring smile. “Maybe another time.”
Hey Chanyeol,
It was raining today and since I no longer have a six-foot-tall giant to hold my umbrella for me, I hope you’ll forgive me for the state of this letter.
Yeah, I remember Wu Fan/Kevin/Kris. The basketball team wasn’t the same after he left. It’s good to know someone’s keeping you company. I wouldn’t change my name to Dobby if I were you. Not all English names have the same coolness factor as ‘Kris’ so save yourself the embarrassment and pick something else. Maybe something like ‘Jason’. Jason Mraz is that singer I used to make you listen to in an attempt to improve your (terrible) taste in music.
Speaking of music, Jongdae invited me to a Noraebang Night today with him and Kyungsoo. I thought about going but it just isn’t the same with only the three of us. Who else is going to cover T.O.P.’s rap solos and make us laugh with freestyles about fried chicken during dance breaks? I wish you were here so we could sing together again, just like the good old days.
- Baekhyun
***
Sunday morning is warm and sunny, and Baekhyun smiles faintly as his eyes light upon the letter. Rolling over on his stomach, he tucks his pillow under his chin and begins to unfold the paper. The creases are cleaner this time, the sheet less wrinkled than before and he grins at the thought of Chanyeol folding it with his large, awkward hands. A breeze drifts in through the open window, accompanied by the chirping of birds and distant hum of traffic. It’s peaceful, for the most part, and it’s easy to pretend that life has rewound to a Sunday past, a time when everything was as it should be. Swinging his legs in the air, Baekhyun smooths out the paper and begins to read.
Hi (Babo) Baekhyun!
I do not have terrible taste in music! Green Day is awesome and nothing you say will ever change their awesomeness. It’s a shame I never managed to force you to listen to some quality rock because real men don’t do acoustic. Isn’t ‘Jason’ that mask-wearing, machete-wielding psychopath from that horror movie? I think I’ll stick with ‘Dobby’, thank you very much.
Goddammit, I thought we agreed to never speak of the chicken-rap incident (which was all your fault by the way because you were the one who brought the soju that day). You should go hang out with them next time, even if our fantastic quartet has dwindled to a trio in my absence. Besides, I can’t have you become a social pariah on my account.
There’s not much socializing to be done on my end since there’s only a handful of people our age. It’s mostly old folks here and as nice as they are, we don’t have a lot of common topics. Kris introduced me to a few guys the other day but none of them are into music. Luhan’s a football fanatic who never shuts up about Man U, Lay’s a space cadet with a case of short-term memory loss, and Tao’s supposedly a wushu master but he spends more time sobbing to himself in a corner than wushu-ing so who knows. They’re not a very interesting bunch, to be honest, so I’m glad I at least have you to talk to.
- Chanyeol
***
“How long has it been?” Kyungsoo asks, breaking the silence. It’s late afternoon and they’re in the classroom, scrubbing diligently at the floor that their classmates had stained with mud and bits of grass. Summer is at its height and the humid air has already left Baekhyun’s uniform stained with patches of sweat.
Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, Baekhyun straightens and fiddles with the worn wooden handle of his mop. “Almost two months.”
They both glance towards the back of the classroom. A vase stands on the middle desk, brown petals scattered across its surface. The silence stretches and neither can bring themselves to speak because words, when uttered, hold a sense of finality that neither wants to acknowledge.
When the clock strikes five and they have stowed the pails away in the cupboard, Baekhyun settles down in the seat in the back row, slips on his headphones and begins to write. Once finished, he tears the sheet of paper out of his notebook.
Fold in half length-wise. Press the two corners inward along the crease. Fold back wings and sharpen the tip.
Once the paper plane is complete, he pads to the open window. The sun has long dipped below the horizon and only a few wisps of peach-colored clouds remain. With a deep breath, he throws his arms back and hurls the letter skyward. The paper plane is swept away by the wind, rising higher and higher. He stares at it until it is but a speck of white in the indigo sky.
Hey Chanyeol,
I listened to Green Day today. They’re not bad and even if they were, I would have listened anyway. (Just for you.)
It reminded me of the time we used to sneak out to the playground at night. We would sit on the swings with earphones on and just stare up at the stars. I remember when you told me that every star in the sky is a soul that has died and gone to heaven. You would stretch out a hand and reach for them, despite knowing that they were millions of miles away. I might have laughed about it back then, but I think I finally understand. It’s what I’m doing right now as I write these letters, trying to reach something that’s unreachable.
Don’t worry about me. I have Jongdae and Kyungsoo to keep me company and prevent me from wandering into antisocial territory. I would give you your own advice except I’m not sure if you should mess with Tao (who sounds like he could be skilled in the art of -kicking). Don’t forget what Minseok did to you with that pair of nunchucks.
- Baekhyun
***
Baekhyun hears the faint rustle of paper shortly after dawn and when he blinks open his eyes, there, lying at the edge of his bed is a paper plane. Like its predecessor, it is built from a single white sheet that is filled with lines of ink. The messy handwriting is unmistakably Chanyeol’s but the paper holds not a trace of Chanyeol’s familiar scent. Instead, Baekhyun gets a whiff of the lilies when he unfolds the paper.
Having decided to read the letter on the bus ride to school, he tucks the plane in his back pocket, pulls on his backpack and heads out the door.
Hi Baekhyun,
Thank you for listening to their music. It means a lot to me. (And you mean a lot to me, too.)
I sorely miss our midnight escapades. The stars here aren’t nearly as beautiful. Maybe it’s because they’re too close, their light too bright, but I don’t really like looking at them. When I do, I feel the urge to run in the opposite direction, run back towards you and Jongdae and Kyungsoo and everyone else back home. I would even take a hit from Minseok if it meant I could see you all again.
But I can’t.
I was talking to some of the old folks and there’s a reason that we’re here. Everyone has something so important to them that their soul clings on and hangs around a little longer. And until we can find the courage to let go and move on, we’ll be neither here nor there, stuck in limbo.
It’s absolutely terrifying, to be honest. I’m afraid that once I leave everything behind, I’ll be gone, erased from the world.
It’ll be as if I never existed at all.
- Chanyeol
***
“We read your letter to Chanyeol.” There is a hint of guilt in Jongdae’s worried eyes, but his pursed lips remain resolute. Baekhyun shrugs. There’s no use explaining something he couldn’t even understand himself.
Kyungsoo puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and says gently, “We know it’s your way of…coping, but you have to understand that he’s gone.”
“He’s not,” Baekhyun answers stubbornly with a shake of his head. “He’s not here but he’s not gone either. Not yet.”
His friends exchange looks of exasperation and release heavy sighs. Baekhyun knows how strange his behaviour seems, knows that they think Chanyeol is merely a figment of his imagination. It would be impossible to put them at ease without outright telling them about Chanyeol’s paper planes but a part of him is afraid that once he does, whatever magical spell that has been cast would be broken.
“Well, if there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know, alright?” Jongdae ruffles his hair and Kyungsoo flashes an encouraging smile and they both file out the classroom door.
It takes Baekhyun less than a minute to fold the plane. It flies out the window in a smooth arc and continues sailing steadily towards the horizon.
Hey Chanyeol,
I wish you were still here so I can buy you ice cream and sing you songs and pat you on the head, just like you used to do for me whenever I was feeling down. As it is, I can only cheer you up through this single page and hope that words will compensate for my absence.
If it makes you feel any better, it’s not just you who’s stuck in limbo. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day, and I’ve been wandering around, lost, because I don’t know where to go from here. It feels like a punch in the stomach whenever I wake up and realize I’ll never see you smile or hear you laugh again.
The only thing I do know is that even though you might not be here, you’ll never be gone completely. We still have our memories so even if you’re far away, you’ll always exist to me.
Because I am proof that you were once alive.
- Baekhyun
***
Summer blurs into autumn and the crisp air heralds foliage painted the golds and crimsons of fall. One September afternoon, Baekhyun finds himself standing at the intersection he had avoided for the past weeks. People push past him, the sound of their hurried steps blending with the low hum of car engines and the occasional honk of a horn.
The sky above is clear and cloudless, nothing like the flat expanse of grey that had hung above them that day. He closes his eyes and tentatively reaches out with his mind for the memories he had supressed.
Water dripping from his matted hair and the steady staccato of rain bouncing off the sidewalk.
The brush of Chanyeol’s arm against his as they wait near the curb for the lights to turn green.
Chanyeol’s laugh as he steps onto the road and begins jogging towards the opposite side.
The screech of tires.
A muffled thump.
Chanyeol lying on the crosswalk in a puddle of red.
With a gasp, Baekhyun’s eyes fly open and he slumps against the lamppost. There are tears in his eyes, wet and stinging, and his throat is clogged by a sob he can’t quite release.
He stands there until the sky is dark and the streets are empty, waiting for his heart to return to normal, knowing that it never will.
***
The final plane arrives on a cloudy morning. It’s a little more worn than the last, its wings slightly crumpled as if it had flown through a storm. The wind nearly wrenches the letter from Baekhyun’s hands, but he tightens his grip. When the bus arrives, he finds a seat at the back, watches the streets and buildings flash past before taking a deep breath.
Slowly, he unfolds the paper plane, eyes scanning the phrases.
Hi Baek,
Kris left today. So did Tao and Luhan and Lay so it’s just me left. I’ve been thinking about what you wrote in your last letter and I think it’s time for my ‘closure’ too.
I finally remembered what happened the day I died. I can recall bits and pieces-flashing lights and sirens, mostly-but I do remember the sound of your voice when they wheeled me off the ambulance. It was scary and it hurt, but it wasn’t a bad way to go.
Because you stayed with me til the very end.
I never had a chance to thank you properly, so here it is: thank you Byun Baekhyun, for being the best best-friend anyone could ever wish for.
Maybe I’ll see you again (but hopefully not too soon).
- Chanyeol
***
Baekhyun pants as he mounts the narrow stairs towards the school’s rooftop. His shoes slap loudly against the cement as he staggers to the edge. He launches plane after plane at the cloudless sky, but to no avail.
When it becomes evident that there is no miraculous wind to carry his planes skywards, a broken sob rises to his throat. He watches despairingly as his second-to-last aircraft plummets to the parking lot below. Defeat drags him to his knees and he contemplates ripping the last letter to shreds.
It is then that he sees the balloon, a bright yellow orb that is rising slowly towards the roof. Without thinking, Baekhyun reaches out and grabs hold of the swinging string. His shaking hands somehow manage to tie the paper to the balloon and muttering a quick prayer, he releases the string and watches as the balloon floats away.
Park Chanyeol,
I hate you sometimes, you know? You always leave before I have a chance to say goodbye.
But I made a promise to you so I’m obliged to keep it.
You were, you are, and you will always be my best friend.
Don’t you forget it, because I never will.
***
The next morning, Baekhyun does not find a paper plane beside his pillow.
Instead, he is woken by a gentle brush against his cheek. A single feather drifts into the centre of his outstretched palm.
And as he looks out at the window, he is just able to make out a streak of white across the sky, flying steadily towards the heavens.
Summer has come and passed,
The innocence can never last.
Wake me up when September ends.
fin
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