Stunted development considered, Sanghyuk is one of the best students Ravi has ever had, so easy to teach and so brilliant as well. He’s running 15 minutes overtime for his lesson, but he really doesn’t mind. Sanghyuk’s grades aren’t necessarily superb, but he learns so fast that Ravi thinks that in a few years they might be able to apply for a private college entrance exam.

The doorbell rings and Sanghyuk jumps a bit, pencil going awry over the paper, his ‘jeong’ becoming ‘jeon’ with a tail that arches up in surprise.

Ravi smiles a bit to himself, taking out Sanghyuk’s notebook to jot down assignments. “Just finish up this problem, then do questions 1 to 10 on the other calculus worksheet by next lesson, yeah?”

Sanghyuk nods, picking up an eraser to rub away the mistake.

“Who’s that, by the way? At the door?” Ravi asks, sliding the notebook back to Sanghyuk.

“Daewon hyung?” The boy carefully writes the date at the top of the page and underlines it, then goes back to the problem set in front of him. “Do you know him?”

Ravi shakes his head.

The problem set is hard, but Sanghyuk works at it relentlessly. He gets an answer with a little bit of help, and carefully pushes his writing pad over to his tutor.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Sanghyuk says quietly, slumping into his seat with a well-controlled stiffness as Ravi looks through his solution. “I was really… rude the last time he came over.”

Ravi doesn’t exactly believe Sanghyuk when he says he was rude because very simply, Sanghyuk is never rude. Compared to the nightmarish hell his other students are, Sanghyuk is pretty much an angel descended from the heavens.

But Ravi decides to ignore it because he’s that type of person who doesn’t want to jump to conclusions too quickly. So he leaves out blank paper on the table as he sweeps up the rest of his stuff into his bag.

“If you can’t say it, write it. You’re pretty good at writing, so write it.” Ravi slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll let myself out.”

Sanghyuk stands up to give Ravi a bow, but as usual, Ravi just lifts up a fist. Sanghyuk lightly bumps it with his own and Ravi grins before opening the door. It’s their little ritual.

He looks back at the stack of paper on his desk. His mind uselessly supplies him with what if Daewon thinks its rude what if he hates letters what if he thinks its cowardly that I don’t talk to him myself what if what if what if  

But when he hears Ravi leave, when he hears the front door closing and two people shouting ‘bye’ from the living room – between ballpoint pen blues and the heat of embarrassment, Sanghyuk picks up the pen.

He starts:

            Dear Daewon-ssi,

But his hand shakes so much that he hates the way the lines come out all wriggly, so he pulls out a new piece of paper.

            Dear Daewon-ssi,

            I’m sorry for

He pulls out another piece of paper.

            Dear Daewon-ssi,

            This is Sangh

Another piece of paper.

            Dear Daewon-ssi,

I would like to tell you something honest about myself.

I am not good at expressing myself, so I am writing to you in hopes that you will understand my heart.

I am scared of people like you, because bad things have happened to me. Before. In the past. I don’t know if you know what happened, but perhaps, I think you might be able to figure it out.

I was hurt by a lot of people, most of them pretending that they had with me the relationship you have with Byungjun. That’s why

I don’t know what happened that day, I don’t think I’ll ever have the words for it. I was hoping maybe you could tell me. But I don’t know if I want to know. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, maybe I have to, maybe I don’t have to. A lot of things are confusing and adjusting has been hard, so I want to say I’m very sorry for what happened. I did not mean for it to happen.

Please forgive me,

Sanghyuk

***

Before Daewon leaves, Hongbin hands the letter over.

Sanghyuk slouches in the beanbag of the living room and tries to stop feeling humiliated. Tries to stop the voices in his head. Tries to forget.

***

Hongbin gets a call that night from Daewon as he’s editing photos from his room.

“Did you read the letter Sanghyuk wrote?” Is the first thing Daewon says, and he sounds worried.

“I didn’t. Why?”

“Its about what happened that day.” Daewon sighs. “And the letter was very… honest. I think he’s asking for help.”

“Okay, I’ll ask him about it now and call you back later, yeah.” Hongbin hangs up the phone and even before the line entirely disconnects, he’s already out the door.

Sanghyuk is sitting next to the window, like he usually does. Except there’s no book carefully perched in his hands; his eyebrows are not furrowed like he’s trying to figure out how to intonate a certain word. He’s just staring off into the traffic below, like he’s more trying to forget about thinking rather than thinking.

Hongbin settles down next to him and Sanghyuk gives him a small smile.

“Do you need anything, hyung?” the boy says, and Hongbin hates the way Sanghyuk makes himself seem less than, but he smiles gently anyway. In the future, maybe, Sanghyuk can talk to him like equal friends do, without the first thought of having to serve Hongbin.

“Nope,” he replies. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Sanghyuk nods, but there’s an odd look on his face like he’s trying to figure out what Hongbin is trying to say.

“So… what was your letter today about?” Hongbin asks carefully. “Daewon called.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “O – Okay.”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just said you wrote honest stuff.” Hongbin says quickly. “I just wanted to hear from you, that’s all.”

Sanghyuk has a fleeting thought of telling Hongbin he had forgotten what he wrote, because with his memory, it’s more likely that anything else. But the fact is that he remembers.

He reads out his letter, almost word for word. And by the time he’s done, he feels so disconnected from reality, like it wasn’t him reading the letter, but someone else. He’s hearing it like it’s somebody else’s fictional letter, like some kid out there in the world just wrote it based on their imagination. It’s a little easier thinking of it that way, but when he finishes and when he can finally see, he realises his fists are clenched.

He quickly loosens them, hopes Hongbin doesn’t misunderstand – he’s not angry at Hongbin, he’s angry at himself. He would never – Sometimes he loses himself – his mind, his brain, and cannot remember exactly who he’s angry with.

But then Hongbin, says, “I’m proud of you, Hyuk-ah. It must’ve been hard to write that.”, and the rage disappears.

Sanghyuk breathes and tries to keep his voice low. “It was.”

“Do you, maybe, want to talk to Daewon about it?”

“Is he mad?”

“Of course he isn’t. I think he just wants to talk to you about it.” Hongbin says, pulling Sanghyuk’s hand away from where it’s shaking and damp with anxiousness and just – holds it. “I think he just wants to help. I told him I’d call him back later.”

Sanghyuk focuses on the heat of two hands joined together.

“Do I… deserve to be helped,” he asks softly, except it sounds like a statement. “If I don’t even know who I am?”

This is the first time he’s ever vocalised this thought. It’s the first time he’s ever dared to give it such a concrete form; to let it spring into existence like this. He wanted so badly to just erase it out of his mind while it still remained as merely a half-formed thought, because it can’t be true, it can’t possibly be true, he can’t let himself believe it. He wanted so badly to convince himself that he can eventually be okay again, someday. And now it’s all gone to nothing.

But even still, he’s mildly surprised that he did. It feels like this is the first honest thing he’s said in years.

Hongbin is silent for a while, then he replies with a question.

“Do you want to know who you are?”

For a panicked moment, Sanghyuk tries to figure out what Hongbin wants to hear. He knows that even with open-ended questions, there are correct answers and there are wrong answers.

But Hongbin’s face is free of emotion – devoid of all judgement, and there doesn’t seem to be any other answer than his own.

“Yes.” Sanghyuk says, and Hongbin doesn’t move.

Just, calmly, quietly says, with such firmness, “Then that’s all that matters.”