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The letters are supposed to help. At least, that's what the Dr. Munroe said. She said that they're supposed to help me heal. She said that if I wrote everything, the pain would lessen somehow. It's been three months since I started writing, and it still hurts as much as it did when I first found out. But after everything, after all this time; there's only one thing for certain. I love you, Kim Jun-myeon and I always will.

Romance / Drama
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

I know you don’t like to think of it, but I like remembering the day we first met. I like remembering because that had been the first time I’d ever spoken to someone and not gotten a frightened scream in reply. I think a lot of people were intimidated by the girl the size of a baby elephant who never left the swing in the park. It wasn’t my fault they couldn’t stand being around someone better than them.

Anyway, we were eleven, you and I. It was a year before your older sisters sent you off for that audition for that stupid music clip that changed the rest of your life. It was a Thursday afternoon, one of those days that bordered between summer warm and autumn cold and you had come to the park to wait for Chun Hei and play with your glass marbles. You were wearing bundles upon bundles of warm clothes, because your mum didn’t want you catching a cold, and sat on the smooth concrete, throwing your marbles into the air.

I was watching you from my seat on the swing, munching aimlessly on my last bar of Kit Kat, when I saw it. There was a plastic bowl of fried Kimchi rice beside you and I could tell by the way your mouth was moving, that it was delicious. The chocolate bar in my hand disappeared pretty quickly after that. I mean, really, I swore destiny was having it’s way with me that day.

Hey, the Fates would have said, why don’t we put the boy with the Kimchi rice in front of the girl who would kill her own brother for a taste? We’re bored, aren’t we? Why don’t we make a show out of this.

After what happened, I guess it’d be pretty safe to say that they got a good show. More than they bargained for, in fact.

I remember getting up from my swing then. A hard job if you had to consider my connection to that swing. We had been through a lot of things, that swing and I. Broken promises. My parents fighting. My brothers bullying me. My parents separating. Closest thing I had to a friend, that swing was. Until you, of course.

The sound of the leaves beneath my shoes carried me to you - the skinny kid with the hair, and the bowl of rice. It wasn’t until I was standing right above you that you looked up though, a little breathless.

“Yeah?” you asked me. I sneered down at you.

“Can I have some?” I pointed at the bowl. Obviously, I wasn’t a beat around the bush type of girl. I was there for the rice and nothing more.

You looked at the bowl, then back up at me, swallowed once and nodded slowly. In hindsight, it was probably safe to conclude that you were more scared of me than anything else, but at that exact moment, it seemed as if you’d genuinely wanted me to have it.

So I did. Have it, I mean.

Plopping down next to you, I grabbed the bowl, took a sniff and shoveled the food into my mouth at a speed that my older brother would have envied. And after eating with the guy, you know now what I mean when I say that.

After I’d finished the bowl, I looked up and saw that the most of the other kids in the park had stopped playing. They were all standing, staring at me. At us. Puzzled, I glanced at you and noticed the same confusion play across your face. Then it clicked.

You were about the only person I’d ever approached in the park who I hadn’t thrown a punch at. And for the first time, in a very long time, I actually thought twice before hitting out.

You had given me food - Kimchi rice to be exact, and you had marbles that glittered in the light if you held them up right. I’ve always liked marbles but could never afford to keep my own because of my brothers. There was a kindness in the way you were dressed, an aura of being loved that I found unnerving and yet felt incredibly nostalgic for. I couldn’t just hit you. Not without reason.

I stared at you for what must have seemed like an eternity, contemplating my next decision when suddenly, you turned to me and unceremoniously made it for me.

“Why are you so fat?”

When I got up to leave, the bowl was stuck on your head - upside down, and your marbles scattered across the concrete slab you’d been sitting on.

You swore at me, and called me an ugly name but with my back turned, I had already tuned you out. It was just too bad that the tears streaming down my face told me, and everyone who was looking, that I was failing.

My reputation as a playground bully, I think, died that day.

This has been posted on mibba under the same user and story name. I wrote this to get through caffeine fueled nights as I studied for my degree and an unhealthy obsession with SuHo from Exo K.

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