Chapter Text
One random Tuesday, Yoonchae almost didn’t check the mail.
It was one of those in-between afternoons where nothing really happens and somehow that makes everything feel louder. She had just gotten back from grocery shopping, balancing a tote bag on one shoulder and her phone on the other ear, half-listening to her friend talk about a coworker drama that sounded way too complicated for a job that involved spreadsheets.
“Wait, so she like… actually printed the entire Slack conversation?” Yoonchae asked, kicking her door shut behind her.
“Yeah,” her friend said. “Like, full colour. Bound. With tabs.”
“That is insane behaviour.”
“Right?? Anyway, are you free—”
Yoonchae stopped listening halfway through because she had spotted it.
A letter.
Not a parcel. Not junk mail. Not some depressing council tax reminder.
An actual envelope.
Cream paper. Slightly uneven handwriting. Her name written across the front in a way that made her stomach do something weird and inconvenient.
Yoonchae Jeung.
No sender name at first glance.
But she already knew before she flipped it over.
Because nobody wrote like that anymore except one person.
She ended the call without really saying goodbye, which was rude, but also extremely necessary for survival.
Then she just stood there in her hallway for a full five seconds like her brain had blue-screened.
On the back of the letter. There is was. The sender name. Confirmed.
Megan Skiendiel.
“No way,” she said out loud.
Because it was impossible.
Because it had been years.
Because people did not just reappear in your mailbox like that, like a pop-up notification from the past.
And yet.
She opened it.
The paper inside was folded neatly, like someone had actually cared about how it would feel to be held.
And at the top, in that same slightly chaotic handwriting, it said:
hi it's Megan. you know that. My names on the letter. I've been thinking about you a lot recently.
Then there was a pause in tone, like you could hear her talking in real time, like she had leaned in too close to the page.
And then:
I paint a picture
On my wall the other night again
I have a feeling that I'm losing all my oldest friends
Spend a week inside I'm tired and I think they know
Way to go
Saw a spider living in my room the other day
I asked politely if I didn't mind I thought he'd stayed
A crow is on the roof, he peers inside, I think he knows
Then he goes
I can't pretend
When I'm with my closest friends
'Cause Tinkerbell is super overrated
I started smoking
In the mornings and stay in bed
I'm not a woman in my room, I'm just a girl instead
I think the bug I saw that bit you he had always known
Way to go
I was around on Sunday night
I wish I was at home where I feel nice
Now that I lay here in my bed
I wish that I went to meet you out instead
The sky looks all red, it's fine
The rose that I had planted yesterday died, it's fine
I lost the book that I read, it's mine.
There was a second where Yoonchae just stared at it.
Then she actually laughed.
Out loud.
Because of course.
Of course Megan would send a letter like this.
No warning. No emotional subtlety. Just straight into it like a chaotic little meteor of feelings.
And then, beneath the blank poem section, like Megan had remembered she was supposed to behave like a normal human being for at least one paragraph:
I miss you chae
I hope you liked my poem!
Love megan ♡
That little heart looked criminally sincere.
Yoonchae leaned against the hallway wall, still holding the letter, like her body had forgotten how to stand independently.
Megan.
Ex-girlfriend Megan.
Mutual breakup Megan.
“I think we’re better as a memory” Megan.
Weirdly sweet Megan.
Too many inside jokes Megan.
Megan who used to fall asleep on her shoulder during late-night study sessions and then wake up offended that Yoonchae didn’t move.
Megan who once tried to cook pasta and set off the smoke alarm because she “didn’t believe water boiled that fast.”
Megan who was, objectively, a menace.
And also… kind of unforgettable.
Yoonchae sat down on the floor right there in the hallway.
Her groceries slowly melted into irrelevance beside her.
She read the letter again.
Then again.
Then a third time, slower, like if she stared at it long enough it would turn into something less emotionally confusing.
It did not.
Instead, it stayed exactly the same: Megan-shaped, messy, warm, ridiculous.
There were details at the bottom. A phone number. An email. And a tiny note:
if this is weird just ignore me but also don’t pls
Yoonchae snorted.
“Classic,” she said to nobody.
Her phone buzzed again. Same friend.
She ignored it.
Because she was currently being emotionally ambushed by a piece of stationery.
She stood up slowly, like her legs had to negotiate with her brain before agreeing.
Then she walked into her kitchen, put the groceries down, and stared at her counter for a while.
She should not contact her.
That was the rational thought.
They had broken up for a reason. Not a dramatic reason. Not a betrayal or a scandal. Just two people who cared about each other enough to realize they were drifting in slightly different directions and didn’t want to turn it into resentment.
Mutual. Clean-ish. Respectful.
Done.
Except apparently not done.
Because Megan had just sent a handwritten emotional re-entry letter like she was a character in a soft indie film.
Yoonchae pulled out her phone.
She opened the notes app first.
Typed: “Megan wrote me a letter”
Deleted it.
Typed: “I think Megan is insane”
Deleted it.
Typed: “I miss her too???”
Paused.
Deleted it.
She groaned.
“Why are you like this,” she muttered to her own brain.
Eventually she did what any emotionally overwhelmed adult would do.
She re-read the letter again.
Then she found Megan’s number.
And she stared at it for a full minute before typing:
Yoonchae:
hey. i got your letter.
She hesitated.
Then added:
the poem is very you
She hit send before she could lose courage.
Immediately regretted it.
Immediately put her phone face down.
Immediately picked it back up again.
Because of course Megan replied instantly.
Megan:
YOU GOT IT OMG
WAIT DID YOU LIKE IT OR ARE YOU BEING POLITE
also hi hi hi
also also i was worried you moved or something so i wrote the address like 4 times
Yoonchae actually smiled.
Like fully.
Involuntarily.
Yoonchae:
i liked it
it’s very… robot noises
Megan:
THANK YOU THAT’S THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT
ok ok ok i’m calm
i’m not calm
are you mad
Yoonchae:
no
Megan:
are you sure
Yoonchae:
yes megan
Megan:
okay okay okay
can i call you
That one hit different.
Yoonchae stared at it.
Calling meant voice. Real-time Megan. No buffer. No carefully chosen sentences. Just whatever came out of her mouth.
She should say no.
She did not say no.
Yoonchae:
okay
The call came within five seconds.
“HI,” Megan said immediately.
Like she had been holding her breath for years and just got permission to exhale.
Yoonchae laughed before she could stop herself.
“Hi,” she said.
There was a pause.
Then Megan went, very quietly, “You didn’t block me.”
Yoonchae blinked.
“That was your takeaway?”
“I mean it’s important information,” Megan said defensively. “I had a whole scenario in my head where you just like… evaporated my number.”
“I considered it,” Yoonchae admitted.
Megan made a noise that sounded like relief and panic at the same time.
“But you didn’t,” Megan said.
“No.”
Another pause.
Then Megan, softer: “Did you actually like the poem or are you lying”
Yoonchae looked at the letter on her counter.
“It’s very dumb,” she said.
“HEY.”
“But it’s also… very you.”
A sound like a tiny victory explosion came through the phone.
“I win,” Megan declared.
“You didn’t even compete.”
“I emotionally competed,” Megan said. “That counts.”
Yoonchae leaned her head back against the wall.
“Why did you send it?” she asked.
The energy shifted slightly.
Not bad.
Just real.
“I don’t know,” Megan said. “I saw something and it made me think of you. Then everything made me think of you. Then I wrote a poem like a feral Victorian child.”
Yoonchae snorted.
“That tracks.”
“And then I panicked for like two weeks,” Megan continued rapidly. “And then I was like okay worst case she ignores me forever, best case she texts me and calls me insane, and honestly both are kind of iconic outcomes.”
“You are insane,” Yoonchae said.
“Yeah but like in a cute way?”
“Debatable.”
“Chaeeeee,” Megan whined, dragging the name out.
That did it.
That stupid nickname.
Something warm cracked open in Yoonchae’s chest.
“Why now?” she asked, quieter.
Megan went silent for a second.
Then: “I don’t know if there’s a perfect answer. I just… graduated, got a job, moved cities, did the whole ‘be a functional adult’ thing.”
“Wow,” Yoonchae said. “Scary.”
“It is,” Megan agreed. “And I kept thinking like… I did all this growing but I didn’t tell you any of it. And that felt wrong in a way I can’t explain without sounding like I’m about to start crying on a phone call I initiated.”
Yoonchae swallowed.
“Are you about to start crying on a phone call you initiated?”
“…no,” Megan said immediately, voice cracking slightly.
Yoonchae smiled again.
Of course.
Of course she hadn’t changed that much.
“You’re still dramatic,” Yoonchae said.
“Still? Excuse you, I’ve evolved,” Megan said. “I now drink coffee without sugar.”
“That’s not evolution, that’s like..a danger to people around you.”
“Okay wow.”
A pause.
Then Megan, suddenly smaller: “Do you… hate me?”
Yoonchae didn’t answer immediately.
Because the honest answer was complicated.
“I don’t hate you,” she said finally. “I just didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
Megan exhaled.
“Yeah,” she said. “Me neither.”
Another pause settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just full.
Then Megan blurted, “Do you want to meet?”
Yoonchae blinked.
“That escalated.”
“I KNOW,” Megan said. “Sorry. I can do slower. I can do normal human pacing. I can—”
“No,” Yoonchae interrupted.
Silence.
Then, carefully: “Yes. We can meet.”
There was a sound like Megan physically deflating in relief.
“Oh my god,” Megan said. “Okay. Okay. I’m normal. I’m chill. I’m cool.”
“You are none of those things.”
“Correct,” Megan said brightly.
They settled on a café halfway between where Megan was staying and Yoonchae’s place. Neutral territory. Safe. Simple.
Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be.
The day of the meeting, Yoonchae stood outside the café for three minutes pretending she was checking something on her phone while actually just trying to regulate her breathing.
Inside, it was warm and loud in a soft way. Cups clinking. Low music. The smell of coffee and pastries that cost too much.
And then she saw her.
Megan was already there.
Of course she was.
She was sitting near the window, hands wrapped around a cup like it was a life support system. She looked up immediately when the door opened.
And then she froze.
Like her entire body had just been rebooted.
Yoonchae walked over slowly.
Megan stood up too fast and almost knocked her chair over.
“Hi,” Megan said.
It came out a little squeaky.
“Hi,” Yoonchae replied.
They just looked at each other for a second.
Years compressed into a single awkward pause.
Then Megan said, “You look the same but also different but also I remember you exactly like this in my brain so maybe I am hallucinating.”
“I am real,” Yoonchae said.
“Prove it,” Megan said immediately.
Yoonchae raised an eyebrow.
Megan panicked. “Not like that— I mean like— sorry— I meant emotionally— I—”
Yoonchae laughed.
And that broke something open.
Megan laughed too, louder than necessary, like relief spilling out of her.
They sat down.
It took them a minute to figure out what to do with their hands.
“So,” Yoonchae said.
“So,” Megan echoed.
Another pause.
Then Megan leaned forward slightly, eyes bright and nervous and completely unfiltered.
“Did you bring the letter?” she asked.
Yoonchae blinked.
“…no?”
Megan looked personally offended.
“That’s crazy,” she said. “That was my whole personality for like three weeks.”
“You wrote one poem,” Yoonchae said.
“It was a lifestyle,” Megan corrected.
Yoonchae shook her head, smiling.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah but you came anyway,” Megan said softly.
That landed more quietly.
Yoonchae looked at her.
“I did,” she said.
Megan’s fingers tightened around her cup.
“I didn’t know if you would,” she admitted.
“I didn’t either.”
They both laughed again, softer this time.
The conversation after that didn’t become deep immediately.
It meandered.
Work.
Cities.
Mutual friends they hadn’t really kept in touch with.
Megan talking too fast about her job and accidentally knocking her spoon off the table twice.
Yoonchae teasing her for it.
Megan saying, “I used to be cool actually,” and Yoonchae replying, “You were never cool.”
At some point Megan ordered a pastry and forgot she already had one and ended up with two identical things.
“I blacked out,” Megan said seriously.
“That’s concerning,” Yoonchae said.
“It’s fine. I survive on vibes.”
“I can tell.”
And somewhere in the middle of all that normality, something shifted.
Not back to what they were.
But into something softer.
Less finished.
More open.
At one point, Megan looked at Yoonchae mid-sentence and just stopped talking.
“What?” Yoonchae asked.
Megan blinked.
“I missed you,” she said.
So simply.
No drama.
No buildup.
Just truth.
Yoonchae didn’t answer immediately.
Then she said, “Yeah.”
Megan’s expression tightened like she was trying not to get overwhelmed in public.
“Yeah?” she echoed.
“Yeah,” Yoonchae confirmed.
Megan let out a breathy laugh.
“That’s very emotionally efficient of you,” she said.
“I try,” Yoonchae said.
They stayed there for a while after that.
No big declarations.
No sudden fixes.
Just two people sitting in a café on a Tuesday that had accidentally become important.
When they finally stood up to leave, Megan hesitated at the door.
“So,” she said again.
Yoonchae looked at her.
Megan fidgeted.
“Can I… send you more dumb poems?” she asked.
Yoonchae stared at her for a second.
Then smiled.
“Unfortunately,” she said, “yes.”
Megan grinned so hard it looked like it hurt.
“Cool,” she said. “I’m going to become emotionally unhinged poetically again.”
“I noticed you never stopped,” Yoonchae said.
“Rude but accurate.”
They stepped outside together.
The air was cooler now.
Different than the morning.
Like something had changed shape without announcing it.
As they walked in opposite directions at first, Megan suddenly turned back.
“Hey,” she called.
Yoonchae looked over.
Megan hesitated.
Then said, “I’m glad you opened the letter.”
Yoonchae nodded once.
“Me too,” she said.
Megan smiled.
And for a second, it felt like no time had passed at all.
Just like Megan had always been there, somewhere in the background noise of Yoonchae’s life, waiting for a Tuesday to make everything a little more complicated.
And a lot more warm.