Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

17 April 1995

 

Hello? 

I’m in New York. Did you miss me, even a little bit?

I was a bit disappointed you didn’t come to the airport to see me off, but since I’m a kind person, I’ll look past it. When I’m finished unpacking, I’ll write you a longer letter.  

This is just an update to let you know I’m alive. I sent you my address, so please write to me sometimes. 

From, Sekyung 

 

P.S. Everyone at school must’ve found out that I left to study abroad, right? I don’t have to see it to know how happy they must be to have one less person to compete with. 

I wonder if there’s anyone who’s actually sad that I left? 

I wonder if there’s anyone who’s actually sad that I left? 

Not for the first time, Cheongah feels the emptiness in her chest expand again, threatening to swallow her whole. 

What a lonely life that must be. To be the top of the school, best friends with the chairwoman’s daughter and dating a prodigious med student, but still wondering if anyone truly misses her. 

You are missed, Sekyung-ah, Cheongah thinks. Even if no one else is, Cheongah knows for certain that there is at least one person sad to see her go. 

Cheongah rubs the corner of the letter between her index finger and thumb. The paper is stiff, the high-quality kind that Cheongah would save up money to get. 

(The kind that Sekyung used to gift her, before.) 

The paper has a glossy sparrow embossed above the lines. In the afternoon light of the school courtyard, it reflects pinkish-orange and blue. 

She traces over the words with her finger next. The ink is clean, the strokes fluid but precise, evidently written with a pen of a small point size—if Cheongah knows Sekyung at all, it’s a .5 pen. Sekyung’s favorite. 

The ink has long dried on the paper, but Cheongah traces the words anyway, hopes that her finger will come back wet with the remnants of Sekyung’s careful penmanship. Cheongah imagines Sekyung writing the letter. Did she write it quickly, in the backseat of a cab in New York, surrounded by boxes and suitcases? Or did she sit down at a desk in a studio apartment, bent over the paper, writing by the moonlight? 

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter where Sekyung wrote it. It doesn’t matter how nice the letter looks, with its embossed sparrow and sturdy paper. It wasn’t written on the sketchpaper Cheongah likes, cast by sunlight at the window-side desk framed by Cheongah on one side and Sekyung on the other. That’s the most important part, really. 

The disappointment Cheongah feels—has felt from the moment she sat in this very courtyard under the trees with Sekyung across from her, the news that Sekyung was leaving hanging in the air and Sekyung’s gifted band ticket in her hands, the ticket that Cheongah had foolishly given away to that boy—flickers to life again. It had been subdued briefly when this letter had appeared in Cheongah’s room, delivered by an anxious maid who implored her to keep silent this act of kindness. 

Sekyung wrote to me, Cheongah had thought. And what a wonderful thought that had been, one that allowed Cheongah to pretend, for a moment, that she wasn’t sinking further and further with Sekyung’s absence. 

She didn’t let herself believe that her life would shine again—no, that would be foolish—but maybe this would sate her. Salve her broken heart with glimpses of Sekyung’s presence, her memory. 

But even that was too hopeful.

This is enough, Cheongah told herself firmly. She wanted, no, needed, to believe it. If she gave in to her wants, desired more than she deserved, she would only get hurt again. If she pretends that just having letters of correspondence with Sekyung was enough, then Cheongah would not have to acknowledge the gaping abyss in her heart. 

Cheongah picks up the envelope. Sekyung’s neat print is written on this, too. 

Sekyung Choi

1009 Mulberry St.

Manhattan, NY 10012

There you are, Cheongah thinks ruefully. Halfway across the world, connected by pen and paper alone. Not so different from before. A comforting thought, almost. 

Cheongah refolds the letter and places it back in the envelope. It folds easily, edges creased and feathery as if they were folded and refolded numerous times. 

Tonight, Cheongah resolves, I’ll write back. Wait for me, Sekyung-ah. 

hello 안녕 난 잘 지내

(hello, I’m doing fine)

때론 혼자 중얼거리곤 해

(sometimes I mumble to myself)

hello 안녕 난 잘 지내

(hello, I’m doing fine)

들어줄 사람이 없는데도

(even when there’s no one to listen)

25 April 1995

 

Hello, Sekyung. 

I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Don’t worry about me I hope you’ve settled in well by the time you receive this letter. On the question of whether I missed you, I can’t say. 

As my first friend, It’s not so different like this, writing to each other. We did the same thing before, just now we’re no longer face-to-face. As for meeting at the airport… Sorry. Since it was the middle of the day, the chairwoman only pulled Sangah out of class. Should I have tried harder to leave too? I doubt the chairwoman would’ve stood it, but you probably know that already. 

Anyway, it can’t have been that bad. You had Sangah, and your boyfriend too, right? At the moment, his name is evading me, sorry… 

Should I update you on me, too? I’m doing fine. Sometimes I have thoughts I want to share with you, but I remember that you’re not there to hear them. Without you here, there’s no one to listen to me. 

Sorry. That sounded too sad, right? Just forget I said something so depressing.

Regardless, I look forward to your letters. I’ll make sure to write to you too. I won’t ask you to miss me Make a lot of friends in the United States, okay?

From, Cheongah

 

P.S. I lied. I miss you so much I can't go back to this loneliness anymore 

P.S. Sekyungie Sekyung-ah Sekyung-ssi when will you come back

P.S Ignore the scribbled out parts above. I'm sorry, I know it looks ugly; I don't know what I was writing. Don't look at it too closely.

처음 날 꼭 안아주던 날 그때처럼

(just like the day you hugged me for the first time)

가만히 눈을 감아 느껴지는 걸

(I quietly close my eyes and feel it)

변한 건 없어 잠시 멈춰 있을 뿐

(nothing has changed, just stopped for a moment)

내 맘은 움직이지 않아 절대

(my heart never moves)

5 June 1995 

 

To Sekyung, 

Did you not get my first letter? Or is it that you were too busy to write me back? I guess I don't have any right to claim your time or energy, so I'll just write you another one. Don't feel rushed to reply to me, okay? Just knowing you're reading these is enough. 

These days, I think back to our time together often. You get it, right? I hope you do. 

Did you know that time you hugged me was the very first hug I'd ever gotten? I know it sounds sad, but if I focused on the sad parts of my life this letter would get too long. 

Sorry. I tried to be funny but I think I'm not cut out for that sort of thing. 

Can I tell you a TMI? Today, I was at the store on the corner, and I thought I smelled your perfume. I thought it was you—stupid, I know, how could it be you?—but I hoped anyway. I looked up and down the aisles but you weren't there. 

But I did end up finding the perfume you wore. I think. You never told me the name, so I tried to go off of what I remember. I hope it isn't weird, that I was thinking of how you smelled. 

Anyway, so I bought it. To feel close to you? I'm not sure. 

I doused a pillow in it and hugged it. I tried to imagine it was you, but everything was wrong, the pillow was too cold, the scent was too strong. It made me sick. 

Perhaps I should have known that a pillow in your perfume couldn't match a real hug from you, but I wanted it to anyway. 

It didn't change anything, in the end. I was still alone, clutching a pillow with a sickly strong scent and an even sicker desire in me. In that brief second before the pillow lost its warmth and before the strength of the perfume overtook my nose, I could close my eyes and pretend it was really you. 

Is this too TMI? I considered scrapping this paper, but I thought maybe a letter like this would make you respond. 

(Or would it weird you out? Somehow I don't think so)

Is it too selfish to ask you to write me back? 

Are virtual hugs a thing? Maybe if you send me a letter back, it'll feel like one. Sorry. That was a weird question.

Be well, 

Cheongah 

이대로 난 있을게

(I'll stay like this)

I'll be there

내 안에 너만 있어 그건 분명해

(there's only you in me, that's clear)

모르는 척해도 돼

(you can pretend not to know)

내 맘속에

(in my heart)

네가 아직 남아 있는 것도

(that you’re still here)

사랑이란 것도 I'll be there

(that there’s still love, I'll be there)

13 September 1995

 

Sekyung, 

You must think I'm a fool, right? What kind of person writes and writes and writes to someone who won't write them back? 

(But if I imagine that you read these anyway, even if you don't respond, I feel a bit comforted. Am I pathetic, for taking pride in my words and ink coming in contact with your fingers?) 

I can't find it in me to stop. I don't want to. Even though you're several kilometers away, I still feel the most comfortable sharing my thoughts with you. Even if you don't write back, the fact that my thoughts are in safe-keeping with you is precious to me, too. In the short time that you were here, you understood me best, and I think that you still do. You impacted me a lot, Sekyung-ah. In me, in my thoughts and my actions, there's you. Only you. Is it obvious? 

Anyway, I don't have anything in particular to tell you. Nothing of interest has happened—interim evaluations are the same, the school environment is the same—I guess I just got the sense that I wanted to talk to you. I've been pensive lately. More in my thoughts than I used to be. 

That's not true. All I had before I met you was my thoughts. In the grand scheme of things, the time we shared, where my thoughts didn't have to exist in solitude, is dwarfed by my time alone. I think it's your presence that makes it feel more significant bigger. 

But Sekyung-ah. I know you still talk to Sangah. I saw her the other day, on the phone, and her lips said your name. I felt a thrill, that you were calling my house, that your voice was flowing through the phone line. I only wish it was to me. In that moment, I felt most clearly again how I wished I wasn't deaf. I know you always told me to cheer up, that being deaf wasn't a bad thing and you still liked me despite (or because of, you said?) my disability. And I'm beginning to learn to accept it and live with it, like you wanted, but some days are hard. When I saw Sangah talking to you on the phone, I thought about how convenient it would be for us to talk if I, too, could speak and listen with my ears. But that's not the case. 

Tell me, Sekyung. I just can't help but wonder if it's about convenience. Is that why you won't write back to me? Because then you have to take time to sit down and write down what you want to say and seal it and mail it and wait for a response that comes a week or more later? When it would be easier to just pick up the phone and start again where you left off? Is that why you’d rather pretend you don’t receive my letters, and continue talking to Sangah like you never left? I'm sorry, then, if that's the case. 

As I write these letters, I have to stop myself from rereading what I write. It makes me cringe, like I want to throw it away, but then that means you won't hear from me. Even though it hurts to not hear from you, I don't want to inflict that same hurt back to you. But even saying that makes me feel weak. What if you don't even care? I can't reread what I write, or I'll keep having these thoughts. I'll just write freely, like I used to do with you. Please don't mind it, just like you didn't mind when you were here. 

Anyway. I'll let you keep pretending you don't read these letters, and I'll just keep writing. I hope, at least, that you're keeping this part of my heart, the part that reflects you, always and only you, safe. 

Love, Warmly, 

Cheongah 

 

P.S. I imagined, just now, writing to you that it's okay if you think that, that I'll just spit on you and walk away for looking down on my disability. But for some reason, even though I would tell just anybody else that, I can't tell you. Does that make me weak? 

I think you would laugh, anyway, if I said that. You always laughed at me, when I pouted or scowled at you. 

(Don't worry. I never thought you were making fun of me when you laughed. Not like the others.)

끝났다고 해 다들 no, no

(everyone says it's over, no, no)

이젠 무시해 다 지겨워 

(ignore it now, I'm sick of it all)

잊으라고 해 다들 no, no

(everyone tells me to forget it, no, no)

그럴수록 더 난 못 잊어

(the more I do, the more I can't forget)

whenever, whenever 네 생각뿐

(whenever, whenever, I only think about you)

한 번도 널 생각하지 않은 적 없어

(I never once didn't think of you)

you should know, gotta know

그대론 걸

(just leave it as is)

you know that I'll be there 

9 February 1996 

 

Sekyung-ah, 

Sangah saw me put my letter from last time in the mail again. She keeps frowning when I deposit my letters, but I just ignore her. She tells me, “Sekyung's not here anymore, why do you keep writing?” She says she never sees any letters in return in the mail, so why bother. I wish she would just mind her business. 

It's easy for her to say, anyway. She gets to talk to you and hear your voice on the phone every week, and hear your responses. I don't. I would wonder why she insists on kicking those who are already down, but it's nothing new. 

Sekyung. Today I graduated from my second year at Seowon. I wish you were here. I realized too late that you meant more to me than I showed, and by the time I realized it was too late, and you had gone. Please feel my heart, through my words. I wished that we could have graduated our second year together, but you’re worlds away from me now. 

Actually, I hoped that you would’ve shown up today. I craned my neck over the crowd, hoping that among the parents and families you would appear as I remembered you. I think Sangah must’ve noticed, because she scowled at me and reminded me, again, that you’re halfway across the world. Then when we went home, she picked up the phone and started talking to someone, and I had the feeling that it was you. She had the same smugness radiating off of her that she usually has, like she knows that between the two of us, she’s the one you chose to talk to. I guess you congratulated her on her graduation, right? That’s what friends do, from what I’ve seen in movies. 

The more I write these letters, the more I can't forget our time together. I still remember everything we did together, as little as that was. I think even if I begin to forget those, I'll still remember how you they made me feel. I won't wish them to last forever, because I've learned my lesson about being hopeful, but it'd be nice if these memories lasted a while. 

Isn't it funny? Even when I have new experiences, I compare them to what we did together. There wasn't a single time where I didn't think of you. I want you to know that, at least. Are you thinking of me, too? Today wasn’t my first time graduating alone, but it was my first time wishing that it wasn’t the case. If we had met each other in our first year, would we have graduated together then? At least then, I’d have that memory to salve the loneliness regret I feel. I can’t believe you were right there, your warmth and sincerity and kindness in the same school building as me, and yet we’d only met in our second year. Maybe I should be grateful that I even managed to become friends with you at all . . . 

Our relationship has just stayed the same—separated by oceans and paper—and so have I. Think of this as a constant, okay? Yoon Cheongah from Korea, thinking of you. 

Take care, 

Cheongah

처음 날 꼭 안아주던 날 그때처럼

(just like the day you hugged me for the first time)

가만히 눈을 감아 느껴지는 걸

(I quietly close my eyes and feel it)

변한 건 없어 잠시 멈춰 있을 뿐

(nothing has changed, just stopped for a moment)

내 맘은 움직이지 않아 절대

(my heart never moves)

17 April 1996

 

Hi Sekyung, 

I think I’ve gone off the deep end. At this point, would it be a miracle to say you still open my letters every time they appear in the mail? Still, talking to you like this makes me happy, even if it isn’t talking at all. 

(Maybe, if you’re not reading these, I can say whatever I want and you’re the only one privy to it? Should I confess my plans to sneak into the school at night and burn everyone’s paintings? ㅎㅎ) 

It’s been a year since your first and last letter. Still, I feel the same, like the world has moved on and I’m still here.

At this point, even if I’ve misinterpreted our relationship, I’ll hold onto the memories that I have. Are they rose-tinted? Maybe. Maybe when you gave me a hug that day, my first and last hug, it was a barely-there embrace on your end and I just clung uselessly. On principle I don’t hope for things, but I’d like to imagine, at the very least, that you enjoyed it too. 

Do you remember the pillow I mentioned a couple letters ago? When I said it made me sick, I really meant it. I held it and it wasn’t you and it made me gag so badly I had to hold onto the back of my desk chair so I wouldn’t lose my footing. I stuffed it under my bed and I thought that was the end of it, but I guess one of the maids was cleaning my room and found it. She washed it and put it back on my bed, and I saw it when I came home yesterday. 

Sekyung-ah. To be completely honest, I had an awful day yesterday. I ended up staying out in the rain because I forgot an umbrella—I guess I relied on you too much, since you always had one ready to hold over me. 

(I miss walking home with you, Sekyung-ah. Among other things.)

So I got sick, as expected of my frail immune system. When I came home and stumbled up the stairs to my room, I saw the pillow on my bed. But I think putting it in the wash diffused the fragrance, because it wasn’t as sickly strong as when I doused it in perfume. It smelled fainter, softer. 

I think this was my fever-induced delirium, but I curled up on my bed without even changing out of my clothes and I held the pillow close to me. I closed my eyes, and the faint scent of the perfume along with the softness of the pillow made me think of you. Specifically, how your fabric softener mixed with your shampoo—I closed my eyes, and it was like you were there, Sekyung-ah. Like nothing changed, and we were still standing in the courtyard at school.  

But, I know the truth. I think it’s just my heart that hasn’t changed. 

Anyway, I slept well last night. Better than I have in a long time. Still not a full night, though, but a longer stretch than these past couple nights. When I woke up, the smell of you was no longer there. I think I held it too tightly, so it escaped me again. I’m actually sitting at my desk now, writing this to you, because I can’t sleep.

(It’s scary, Sekyung-ah. I haven’t felt this attached since my mom left me when I was young. Back then, every day was hellish. I kept staring out the window, hoping and waiting for her to come back, and obviously she never did. I think for a year or two, my tear ducts were permanently overflowed, until they dried out so much I had red eyes for ages. The kids at school teased me a lot for my red eyes. I think that’s where I started putting up my iron shield. The one you tore down so easily.) 

Thank you for allowing me to sleep well. 

Cheongah

이대로 난 있을게

(I'll stay like this)

I'll be there

내 안에 너만 있어 그건 분명해

(there's only you in me, that's clear)

모르는 척해도 돼

(you can pretend not to know)

내 맘속에

(in my heart)

네가 아직 남아 있는 것도

(the fact that you’re still here)

사랑이란 것도 I'll be there

(that there’s still love, I'll be there)

14 August 1996

 

Hi Sekyung, 

I can’t believe I haven’t asked you yet if you’ve made any new friends. What kind of friend does that make me? Instead, I’ve just been moping in my thoughts. 

Is New York treating you well? I hear their cello program is good, but I know none of them are half as good as you. I never had to hear your cello to know. I hope that wherever you are, you’re happy.

Today is the last week of summer break. You’ll be disappointed to hear that I haven’t done anything at all with my break. Actually, that’s not true. I went to this ice cream parlor. Of course, I went alone, but I imagined that you were there with me. It didn’t help that I saw someone who acted like you. He was with a friend, and the taller of the two, and even from a distance I could tell he was teasing his friend while his friend kept a straight, stoic face. Is that how we looked when we were together? I wish I smiled more, so that you would know more clearly that I didn’t dislike your presence. 

But, you were never mad that I always frowned. You just smiled and kept talking and writing. And I know you’re not like that with everyone, because I’ve seen you brush off Sangah or reject countless boys and their confessions. 

(It made me feel special, the fact that you only smiled at me. Should I have smiled at you, so that you’d know you were special to me too?)  

Even if you didn’t know before, you know now, right? You were the only one that I let into my little world devoid of sound, and I haven’t let anyone else in ever since. That makes you special to me, too. 

From the girl whose heart you are always in, 

Cheongah 

아무도 없이 난 이렇게

(without anyone, I'm like this)

가끔은 눈물 흘리곤 해

(sometimes I shed tears)

어쩜 다 잊은 건 아닌지

(I wonder if you forgot everything about us?)

하나도 남아있지 않은지

(I wonder if there’s nothing left of us?)

다시 또 나타나 줘

(please appear again)

사라지지 말아 줘

(please don't disappear)

oh baby, I wanna be with you

7 October 1996

 

Sekyung, 

Tell me honestly. Am I crazy for writing to you so often? I don’t know what constitutes super often to you—is it every couple days, or every few weeks, or every month? Or is it that I’m writing to you at all, when any normal person would’ve gotten the hint and stopped wasting their pen and paper on someone who won’t write back? 

I’m sure I must appear nonsensical to you already, so I’ll tell you this detail too. I write to you much more often than I actually send out letters. Nearly every day, I sit at my desk and before I do any of my schoolwork, I pull out a leaf of the nice paper you gifted me and pen my thoughts for the day. Sometimes I’m frustrated, sometimes I’m desperate, most times I just want to release my thoughts somewhere. It’s like the more I don’t have actual human interaction at school, the more I want to talk to you through these letters. But I don’t send them. I just write them, realize they’re too whiny and annoying, and just stuff the papers in my drawer.

(I don’t know why I can’t just throw them away. I think it’s because it’s paper you personally gifted to me, and they’re words that I wanted you to read, even if I never actually send them out in the end.)

And some of them I can’t send because they’re too tear-soaked. Did you know I cry ^(sometimes) when I write my letters? Usually when I feel it coming, I lean back and grab a tissue or my pillow and try to abate tears before it lands on the paper. That’s why the letters that I have sent are minimally affected by my tears. But some of them I don’t back up in time, or they’re too strong to avoid, so I end up streaking the ink on the paper with my tears. And obviously no one would want to receive a letter like that, so I have to put them away and start fresh. 

(One time, I just couldn’t stop crying even as I pulled out paper after paper. That day, I couldn’t write you a letter at all. Sorry.) 

At this point, it’s been exactly a year and a half since you left. We last met on Friday, April 7th, 1995, and you told me you were going to go study abroad. As I checked the calendar to double-check the date, I realized that my birthday is in two days. In two days, I’m turning nineteen years old. Although, since you live in New York, it’d be international age, right? So I’d be eighteen years old. I wish you were here to wish me. I never cared about birthdays before, but strangely I do now. 

By this time, next year, would we have reunited? Will you be by my side when I become an adult? Or will we only remember each other as eighteen-year-old Cheongah and Sekyung? 

Have you forgotten our time together? I asked you before if you made any new friends. I hope not Have you made new memories together? They’re probably better than the ones you made with me. But is there really nothing left of us in your heart mind? I’ll be glad if you made new friends, but I sincerely wish you won’t forget me. Please don’t forget me, just as I will never forget you. 

Like always, I find myself wishing that you’ll appear again. That when you do, you won’t disappear like you did before. I even beg. I’m not a religious person, you know I’m not, but I’ve been praying to every higher power I can think of that you’ll come back. But I guess they’re the one who took you away, so they wouldn’t give you back so easily. Still, I wish we could be together again. I really, really want to see you again, and be with you again, more than you know. 

Please come back to me. I’ll be waiting, 

Cheongah

이대로 난 있을게

(I'll stay like this)

I'll be there

내 안에 너만 있어 그건 분명해

(there's only you in me, that's clear)

모르는 척해도 돼

(you can pretend not to know)

내 맘속에 (내 맘속에)

(in my heart (in my heart))

네가 아직 남아 있는 것도

(the fact that you’re still here)

사랑하고 있는 것도

(that I still love you)

16 November 1996

 

To Sekyung, 

The first snow fell today in Korea. Does it snow in New York? I’m not that well-versed in geography, so I don’t know. I bought a book from the bookstore we used to go to together and it didn’t have very many books on American geography. I found one on the states, so that’s how I know that New York is surrounded by land except for one peninsula called Long Island. Do you live by the beach? You always talked about taking a trip, you and I, to the coast. Have you achieved that dream yet? If you haven’t, let’s go together.

Wow. Do you see your influence on me? I’m making plans for us now, the way you used to do. I think I’ve subconsciously started adopting your mannerisms. I’ll sit in my classes and go about my day and think, what would Sekyung do? I even bought that banana milk drink you like so much, even though I prefer the strawberry one. In a way, you’re still here, just in through me. 

I know you’d cackle at the idea of me becoming like you. Just the thought of making you laugh makes me smile, too. 

Anyway, I got off topic. Did you see the first snow where you are? We didn’t know each other very long, and it was only in the spring, so I never got to experience the snow with you. I wish we could’ve seen the first snow together. I wanted to be standing by your side when the first snow fell. 

I’m sure you know the meaning of the first snow. And I’m telling you now, I want to see the first snow with you. I hope that you haven’t seen the first snow with anyone else. You can pretend not to know this feeling that’s lodged in my heart, but I write it into all my letters. 

In my heart, you’re still here. I still love you. 

Yours, 

Cheongah

hello 안녕 잘 지내니

(hello, how are you?)

기다리고 있어 I'll be there

(I'm waiting, I'll be there) 

31 January 1997

 

Sekyung-ah, 

How are you? I’m graduating again, one week from now. Friday, February 7th, 1997. My last high school graduation. 

Will you be there? Please come. I’m past the point of pretending that it doesn’t hurt that you don’t respond to me, but I’ll set myself up for another hurt again. Maybe this time, since I’m telling you in advance, you’ll come? 

If you do come, look for me. I’m pretty plain-looking, but I’ll wear that watermelon pin you got me, the one that you gifted me because we both like Frida Kahlo’s “Viva La Vida” painting. 

See you then, 

Cheongah ♡

 

P.S. I haven’t worn that watermelon pin since you gifted it to me. To be honest, I couldn’t even believe it when you saw the painting in my textbook and said you liked it too. Did you mean it, or did you just say it to have a point of connection with me? I’ll pretend it’s the former. So, even though I haven’t worn it since that day, I’ll wear it on graduation day. A piece of you to carry with me, so that we can graduate together. Okay?