Work Text:
A as in apple
A as in adrift
A as in adroit
He really should be practicing his Hangul, he should be. Of what use will English be to him when he goes back anyway? But he thinks of the ink stains on her hands, of her picture cards, of her furrowed brow as she tries to make out the familiar letters in each English word she sees and he can’t help it: he keeps filling page after page with words, in no particular order beyond vaguely, generally alphabetical—plain one-syllables and fancy bookish words have the same standing in these even lines, regardless of the language and the social stratum of their origin, their choice and interpretation subject only to his mood. He should be practicing his Hangul but this, this somehow makes him feel closer to her, though he doubts she has much time for this kind of intellectual pastime where she is. It’s not that he doesn’t ever think of other people he left behind, all those people he has grown to love and care about in the past few years. But ultimately, it’s all about her or makes him circle back to her eventually, every single word, good and not so good—he loves her but he can’t do empty pleasantries, even if it's in his head, especially if it's in his head. Then again, can a word, any word be bad if it describes her?
A as in arrogant
A as in adorable
A as in Ae Shin, and it just hits him as he writes it out: he held her at gunpoint, he held her hand, he held her in his arms, her trembling body sending a stuttering electric pulse through his veins, her desperate fists crumpling the thick fabric of his coat, he cradled her face in the palms of his hands, her shuddering breath hot on his lips so close, he put his ring on her finger, he gave her his surname and called her his wife, yet never, not once, did he address her by her given name
B as in black
B as in brutal
B as in blood boiling in his body when he wakes up from a particularly vivid dream and has to remember where and how far away from her he is, and as in the boisterous beating of his heart at the sight of her, at the thought of her
B as in blossoms, like those plum blossoms that could not overshadow her beauty—yes, B as in beautiful, the word she wanted him to say but he just laughed it off, too embarrassed, too insecure, and too tempted to tease her
C as in cruel, so cruel, but he brushes the bitterness off, it doesn’t help, and he has long convinced himself it’s not fair
C as in cold, the coldness that lives in the walls of this red-brick castle, the coldness of her stare when she realized she was wrong in her assumptions about him, the coldness of the hand he took helping her up off the ice
C as in caress, her hand cupping his cheek, comforting his crushed soul
C as in careful, cautious, competent, everything he should have been and wasn’t and doesn’t regret in the slightest
C as in crying… does she… cry for him? He doesn’t cry for himself, he knows he deserves to be punished for desiring something he has no right to desire
D as in dishonorable, like his discharge
D as in dream, oh he has those every night and he wishes they stopped and he wants to never wake up
D as in dread
D as in death, but not hers, never hers, please, not hers
E as in eager
E as in ego
E as in equal, he smiles ruefully, if only, oh if only, but that is fine, that is as it should be
E as in edge, and he feels himself on it sometimes but always takes a step back, not yet, not his time
E as endless, but also easy because he’s not really there, he’s wherever she is, across the ocean, flying over the rooftops, training her comrades… thinking about him?
F as in fight
F as in fire, flame, fireworks, please, oh please, don’t burn out
F as in frown
F as in free, which she wants her country to be, which he will be someday, and then—
F as in foam, like that of the waves breaking on the shore of the ocean that separates them and on the shore where they watched their happiest sunrise, sharing dreams and stolen rations
G as in god that doesn’t exist, that cannot exist, because why then…
G as in gentle
G as in generous
G as in gamut, and his used to be limited to the shades of the sky and sea water and his uniform, to the notes of Greensleeves, to the bellowed commands, roaring cannons and gunshots and battle cries, to the memory of his mother’s quiet smile and desperate cry, and he was fine with it, until he saw the lush green and turquois and pink and red of her hanboks, until he heard the variations of her ah and his own laughter and he knew how much he had missed
G as in gun
G as in grit, if there’s anything he can count on to keep her alive, she has that in spades
H as in hope
H as in hate
H as in honest, too much so, he wishes sometimes she were not— no, yes, maybe—would he love her as much if she were even a little bit different, in anything?
H as in handshake, and he scoffs and huffs at his old self, who was stupid enough to believe he could play games with her of all people—with himself of all people, when one handshake was all it took to shatter his half-assed cunning revenge plan
H as in hug—and isn’t it ridiculous that he can count on one hand the times he hugged the woman he loves—and isn’t it glorious that he got to hug the woman he loves three whole times? He cherishes the memory of all three: the first one she gave him with the usual honest, earnest, unhesitating, overwhelming fervor she applies to everything she does, and the second one he pulled her into, desperate and relieved that it was possible, and even the last one, their last goodbye, their holding on to each other for dear life, uncertain of the future and even of the very existence thereof
H as in honey, not the food, but another word he could call her, in another life
I as in idea
I as in ill
I as in ingenious
I as in indigo, the deep color that used to give him confidence, the color he can’t wear now, it looks good on you, she said, you look like a hedgehog, she smirked, nodding at the tailor's pins sticking out of the fabric
J as in joke
J as in job
J as in joyous, as in jealous, all the things she makes him feel
J as in Joseon, the only rival for her affections he can take seriously, the country he should hate and can’t—because of her
K as in kill
K as in key
K as in kneel, her small foot in his hands
K as in knot, he can easily tie and untie dozens of those, but the one in his heart is more impossible to undo than the double fisherman, even though it looks simpler than the half hitch, and he can’t reach in there to loosen or tighten it as needed
K as in kiss, in his dreams he kisses her a thousand times, in his dreams he dies a thousand times never knowing her kiss
L as in life
L as in longing, and he is sick of it and still welcomes it, because it keeps him alert
L as in lucky, and he knows he is
L as in love, and that doesn’t need saying
L as in latitude and longitude, 37° 31' 57.3600'' N and 127° 1' 28.6032'' E
M as in meaning, one he never needed but has anyway
M as in mortal, and it’s not for himself he is mortified
M as in magnificent, and more
M as in mother, always
N as in nuisance
N as in need, and he tries to curb it, but sometimes it’s too strong and the ethereal memory of her touch becomes almost tangible, and the need gets the better of him, and he gives in to feel ashamed for days, but he knows it won’t matter when he really sees the real her, because that will be enough
N as in noble, oh not now
N as in navigation, and he will find his way back
O as in oblivious, but she is learning
O as in open, like her eyes, not an ounce of guile in them
O as in only, his only, only his, if only, only once
P as in pulse, it quickens again
P as in penance, and his is this
P as in pining, how many more words are there to describe the hole in his heart left by her absence?
P as in pinwheel, the harbinger of danger, drooping in the rain
Q as in queue, and the days and weeks and months in it slowly drag one after another, and not a single one ever tries to jump it, so that he could close his eyes in November and open them in May, stepping off the ferry in the harbor
Q as in quick
R as in resistance
R as in rambunctious, that’s one funny word, it does suit her in meaning, but not in sound—instead of her he sees her faithful servants and snorts
R as in riveting, now that’s more like it, the shape of the word also makes him think of a bullet for some reason, and he smiles, yes, that's her
R as in ring, and he misses his, he doesn’t care about any other of his meager possessions. They are not husband and wife, not legally, not anywhere but on that paper he had forged, not anywhere but in his heart and he wonders if she wears hers
S as in smile
S as in strong
S as in stubborn, but don’t ever tell her that
S as in stop: we can stop at any time, so let’s not stop today, she said, and look at them now
T as in truth
T as in tender
T as in tired, that’s how she looked when they said goodbye, after sleeping through the night with her head on his shoulder, and he hopes she has time and opportunity to rest and people to guard her sleep
U as in urn
U as in ubiquitous, he likes this one, and it’s true, because she is with him always, he doesn’t even need to close his eyes to see her now
U as in us, he likes this one even better
V as in victory
V as in vengeance, a thirst they both know too well
V as in vain, like the hopes he keeps nurturing
V as in voracious
W as in wish, like the one he might never get
W as in want, another word that leaves him conflicted, because of how he wants her, because of everything he wants for her, because of the unrelenting want of her
W as in weak, well, at least he isn't whining
X as in Xerxes… well, he doesn’t know much about them, those ancient kings, but still he chuckles to himself imagining her slight frame bravely facing a menacing bearded giant, the loyal rifle unwavering in her hands. Well, alright, he thinks, slightly irritated, there are barely any words starting with X, and those few he knows he doesn’t like thinking about, like xenophobia, a word that sounds so beautiful but has an ugly meaning—she doesn’t hate foreigners, she hates foreign invaders, and she doesn’t hate him, an American, whose country stands by and watches as hers drowns in blood, she doesn’t hate him, she doesn’t, he knows that, doesn’t he
Y as in yearning, which is much like longing, only ten thousand times more painful
Y as is yes
Z as in zealous
Z as in zebra, and he laughs and laughs, and he almost can see them walking arm in arm through the streets of New York to the Central Park menagerie, where he shows her a real zebra and tells her the thrilling story of the great breakout that happened a few years after he first arrived in New York, when the escaping animals went on to wreak havoc on the city, and once she looks properly appalled, he giggles happily and admits it was just a big hoax by one of the New York papers and promises to take her to the library and show her that issue with hilarious pictures of people fighting wild animals in the streets under the headline SAVAGE BRUTES AT LARGE!!!, and she smacks him playfully on the shoulder and starts giggling, too, and…
A as in alone…
When the door of his cell opens for the last time, letting him out, the first door to open on his way off Governors Island, the guard, a big kind-hearted fellow, who became tentative friends with the quiet Asian ex-Marine inmate, calls after him.
“Hey, Eugene, pal, aren’t you forgetting something?”
He turns around agonizingly slowly, nearly paralyzed by the sudden fear that he can never leave this place, that the world must be conspiring to keep him away from her, and his shoulders sag in relief when he sees the familiar object in the man’s outstretched hand—the notebook he left on the cot in the cell. He shakes his head and smiles.
“Nae maeum-e saegyeojyeo isseoyo.”*
“What?” the guard blinks uncomprehendingly.
He smiles.
“Thank you, Danny, but you can throw it out. I know it by heart.”