Chapter Text
My friend Han,
The original plan was to write you a letter on your birthday. Pretty smart, right? There’s nothing strange about receiving a handwritten letter on your birthday, so I would have had a chance to run away before you realised what was going on. I didn’t do that, partially because I chickened out and partially because I eventually realised that you probably didn’t need to be put under that kind of pressure on your birthday of all days.
The original, original, plan was to not tell you at all. Honestly that one was pretty solid and I don’t know why I’ve decided to abandon it. I think maybe I’m just tired of being a coward. And I think, maybe, you deserve to know the truth. I feel so guilty every time we hang out, knowing that the assumptions you’re basing our conversations upon are false. Sometimes I look at you in a way that I shouldn’t, and because you don’t know, you tend to jump to all sorts of wild conclusions, like that it makes me unhappy to spend time with you, or that I’m upset about something you’ve done. You’ve said sorry to me so many times and it’s awful because I’m the one who should be apologising.
So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for liking you in a way that I shouldn’t. I’m sorry for fantasising about things like holding your hand as we walk down a street together, just talking, until you lean over and kiss my cheek. I’m sorry that I’ve been so scared of you being too close to the truth that I could never open up to you the way you wanted me to. I’m sorry that all you wanted from me was friendship, and what you got instead was, well, this.
If I’m telling you the truth, I might as well do it properly. Tell you everything. Ha. I can practically hear my heart trying to abort mission. I don’t know where he gets off, considering he's the fucker that got me into this mess in the first place.
The absolute, one hundred percent truth is that, I’ve always liked you. From the moment we met, I had a crush. That probably seems like a lie. How could it be true, when we spent so much time fighting, in those early days? We spent so much time hating each other’s guts, right?
I never hated you. Not once. As a result of my hyper-awareness of you, and my complete lack of desire for you to know any of what I was feeling, my behaviour may have come across as hostility, but it was the furthest thing from it. Our biggest fights came out of me trying to help you out, and not quite knowing how. You hurt your ankle during practice. It hadn’t even been the first time it had happened. It was hard for you to walk, let alone dance. And so when you showed up one day wearing those stupid shoes with heels, I was just so scared that you would hurt your ankle more, that I told you off. When I corrected you on your dancing, it was only because I spent more time looking at you in the mirror than myself. You asked me to mind my own business, without having any idea exactly how difficult it was for me to do that, when it came to you. You always reacted as if I had slapped you across the face, and I would get so confused as to why, no matter how much I showed that I cared, you seemed determined to dislike me. I was young, and bitter, and I would snap back when you reacted poorly to my “advice”. Things became clearer as the years went on, as we got better at communicating with each other. It became obvious to me, how differently two people can view the same conversation, and how confusing my actions would have been to you, without the proper context.
Well. That’s that, then. Apparently the truth isn’t as long and complicated as I’d thought it would be. Living it, believe me, felt like an eternity. Every day was an endless heartache, not daring to wish you could ever like me back, barely daring to wish that one day you wouldn’t hate me. I would dwell on every look, and word, you gave me—which, back then, weren’t necessarily the most pleasant things to be dwelling on. I don’t blame you. You were a kid, like me. You did stupid things and thought stupid things just like I did. Hey, at least you gave me attention, which was satisfying in its own way.
You don’t hate me anymore. Or at least, if you do, you’re doing an incredible job at pretending you don’t. Occasionally I think I’m just imagining how close we are, because there are times it doesn’t feel like it could be real. How did I manage to convince my favourite person to be my friend? You’re Han Jisung, songwriter, rapper, singer, dancer, the funniest person I know. And, despite how long it took you to emotionally mature, you’re now one of the nicest, most generous, caring people that I think exist on this planet. I think, of all the things I’ve ever done, I think the thing I’m most proud of is that I was able to find a way to be your friend.
Part of me thought that, as time went on and our friendship developed, my feelings would fade. That maybe they were dependent on the fact that I didn’t know you well enough. I thought that, once I was on good terms with you and understood you better, the sheen would fade and I would look back on my old feelings and think them silly. But they never disappeared. If anything, they got stronger. You began to show me your heart, and every part of it I saw just served to strengthen my own heart’s convictions—that you were the person, for me, who was different to everyone else. You were the one my heart wanted, without a doubt.
But who knows? Maybe giving you this letter will bring enough closure for me to finally move on.
I doubt it.
It may be hard to believe at this point, but I really hope you know that there’s no pressure here. Zero, zilch, null, nada. You don’t even have to acknowledge that you ever read this. We can go on with our lives without speaking a word on the matter. Unless of course, if that doesn’t feel possible for you. I would understand if you needed some time to process all of this. If you need some time apart, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone. I really don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I will do anything I can to ensure that you're not, going forward. I’ll do my best to quit staring, or do anything that would make things awkward when we’re around each other.
I just know that I’ll feel better knowing that you know. Aside from being my crush, you’re also my best friend. And I’m tired of my best friend not knowing who I am.
Fuck. This may be the worst idea I’ve ever had.
Love,
Hyunjin