Chapter Text
Testing… testing…
Hah… maybe I shouldn’t have kicked Changbin out so quickly. All this equipment… it’s more complicated than I thought.
But I didn’t want him in here for this. Jisung, either.
I told them it was so I wouldn’t bum them out… they’ve already been through so much, and this might be too grim for a sunny day like today.
That wasn’t completely a lie.
Truth is, though, I didn’t know if I could do this with them in the room.
You know me. It’s so hard being emotional in front of people.
I, um, I remember you used to tell me that I should open up to them. You told me, while you were happy to listen to all my problems, you shouldn’t be my only outlet. Shouldn’t have been.
I do talk to them more now than I used to, but it’s hard. That— that feeling of being a burden… it’s not easy to overcome. Even now, I kicked them out even though Changbin wanted to stay.
You’d scold me for that, I think, if you were here.
…
Um…
I thought it might be good for me, to make this message to you. I didn’t talk to a lot of people after…
And now that I’ve done this study, I thought, hey, maybe the best person to talk to is you.
So, I guess, here I am.
I might just ramble on and on, if that’s okay. I didn’t exactly plan ahead, but when it comes to love — our love…
I’ve got a lot to say.
…
Starting off, though. That’s the hard part.
Where do I…?
Maybe I’ll just start at the beginning.
Sometimes I wonder exactly when the beginning was. It’d have to be different, I suppose, between the two of us.
There’s no doubt in my mind that mine was earlier than yours. No doubt at all.
I never told you this, but I saw you before we officially met. You probably don’t remember.
It was winter. I was hiding in the student union building, the one between the arena and chem, because I accidentally only wore a shirt when it was already sweater weather. There wasn’t much thought put into where I sat — just some armchair in the middle of everything. I’d forgotten my earbuds, so instead of music to entertain me while I studied, I had to listen to the hustle and bustle of the people around me.
And then your voice filled the room. Along with plenty of mic feedback.
I remember being angry, at first. I mean, it was this awful high-pitched sound while I was trying and failing to study, but then I looked up at the mini stage, and…
And there you were.
You had your fingers in your ears and your eyes scrunched shut because of the feedback, and your face was twisted in this cute little wince. You were doing some sort of sound check for a guy’s guitar session, I think. I don’t remember much about him.
What I do remember is that ridiculous joke you made. You asked if there were any Michaels in the room, and then, after a beat, you said, “and that concludes our Mike check.”
It’s embarrassing, but I laughed out loud. I think I was the only one in the entire place that laughed, though, and when your head turned towards me, I dipped down into my chair so fast.
I don’t think you saw me.
I guess I’ll never know.
…
Anyways, like I said, I didn’t pay much attention to the musician that day. Or whatever I was studying.
So I’d say that was my beginning of us.
…
Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you again after that. Imagine my surprise when I volunteered to help Changbin with his music project and found you in his group.
Gosh, I can’t believe what a mess I was that day. I don’t usually make that many mistakes, you know. I was just… nervous.
And I don’t really know why.
It wasn’t like I liked you at that point. I didn’t even know you.
But I wanted to. I wanted to impress you, and I guess I wanted it so badly that I ended up stumbling more than usual.
You were just so cool, leading the group like that with your confident smile and nonchalant laughter. I don’t know why Changbin needed me when you were right there.
I remember asking you, after we finally got together, if you noticed how nervous I was when we met.
You said no, but I’m pretty sure you lied.
…
Changbin misses you, by the way. I know you weren’t that close to him before we started dating, but still. He does. Jisung, too, but he’d never say it out loud.
…
I miss you.
…
…
I know you’d tell me to move on, to not get stuck in the past, but sometimes…
Sometimes I’m in my room, and I stare at the ceiling.
And when I close my eyes…
You’re there. On the back of my eyelids.
…
Sometimes, I think I hear your voice.
But then it’s someone else talking in the distance, or a random radio I’m passing by, or just the wind, and I realize…
I…
I might be forgetting what your voice sounded like.
…
…And that’s so fucking terrifying.
…
…
…
I can always try to get over it. I can always swallow that lump in my throat when I hear your name.
But I don’t want to forget.
…How long will I be able to remember?
Those moments that we had together; the big romantic gestures; the little things we said to each other in the dark when we knew no one else was listening. I keep telling myself that even though it’s over, I won’t ever forget them.
Except that sometimes I’ll scroll through pictures of us on my phone, and, for a second, I won’t remember where one is from.
It’s awful.
I’m forgetting you. Slowly.
…
I’m so scared.
…
…
I’m sorry. Um. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but…
Sorry.
…
Whenever I think I’m forgetting your voice, I try to think back to that first day I saw you. That sound check. That stupid joke.
But then I’m thinking about you, and the way you smiled. The way you stood. The way you were nothing but you.
You.
And it gets worse, somehow. The pain.
…
Heartache is real, I’ve learned. It’s real, and it hurts.
So, so bad.
…
…
…
I loved you.
I hope you knew that.
…
I said it so many times, I know. I said it so much that it almost lost its meaning.
But I meant it. Every time.
And I know you meant it too.
…
You didn’t say it so much as I did, but I could tell.
…
You would say “I love you,” silently, each time you took my hand. Each time you linked your arm through mine. Each time you kissed me.
It was the way you used to circle your thumb on the back of my hand. It was the way you leaned your head on my shoulder.
It was the way you always smiled into our kisses. The way we’d have to stop sometimes because we were both smiling too hard. And we’d burst into this beautiful laughter, and—
God, I…
I just want that again.
I’m sorry.
I’m so fucking sorry.
…
…
Everyone kept telling me it wasn’t my fault. It was that idiot drunk, they said. I kept trying to tell them why I feel the way I do, but they’d just insist again and again that I wasn’t the problem. They only stopped when I told them they were right.
But that was a lie.
It was my fault.
If I wasn’t the one driving that day—
If my stupid instincts didn’t kick in—
Fuck.
Fuck, I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean to protect my side of the car. I didn’t mean to put you right in the way of—
…
…
…
I…
…
…
I know it’s not the worst part, but… the fact that I hit my head in the crash — that I passed out until waking up in the hospital the next day… it makes me so angry at myself.
I couldn’t even hold you when… when…
…
…
They told me you were awake — conscious — for twenty-four minutes after the impact.
Twenty-four minutes.
…
It had to be painful…
You must have been so scared.
I’m sorry.
God, I’m so sorry.
…
…
…
…
Pull yourself together, Chan.
…
I’ll end it here, I think.
It’s too much.
…
…
I love you.
…
I loved you.
Chan grits his teeth as he opens the small hatbox normally hidden under his bed. He places the mp3 player, sans earbuds, atop the collection of photos and memories within. A picture of your smiling face stares up at him from inside, and his fists clench around nothing. He closes the box.
He does not cry.