Jeg vil ha det,
(I want it,)

men når du sier du elsker meg,
(but when you say you love me,)

tror jeg deg ikke litt du er bare full
(I don't believe you at all, you're just drunk)

Fakkit, det er bare tull.
(Fuck it, it's just bull.)

I cried again today. Not because of you... well, maybe a bit because of you, but mostly because of myself. It's taken me weeks to write this letter, and will probably take weeks more before I've finished. Maybe I'll never ever even finish. It's not like you are going to read this anyway.

It's probably taken this long because it hurts. It hurts reminiscing in our shared memories, and putting the indescribable feelings you evoked in me into words. I can't seem to get it right. And it just hurts so much. I wish you would tell me why.

Not knowing is tearing me apart.

I remember Yeosang, your ex-boyfriend, came to talk to me. He warned me about you. I didn't listen. Of course I didn't listen. You've heard the saying 'love makes you blind'? Falling for you made me realize how frustratingly true it is. Love made me blind, deaf, and stupid.

"I'm not trying to ruin anything, Jongho," Yeosang says. "I promise." He's frustrated, it's written all over his face. His eyes dart around the empty classroom as if waiting for Seonghwa to emerge from the shadowy corners.

"Why else would you be telling me to stay away, if not because you want him back?" Jongho's stance is defensive, but his tone is neutral.

"I don't want him back, trust me. I'm trying to help you, Jongho. He'll hurt you. Just like he hurt me."

"You don't know anything about me," Jongho snaps.

"No, but I know him. Just... hm, be careful, alright?"

I wish I had trusted Yeosang's words instead of yours. Because he was right, you did hurt me. But then again, we were young, dumb and in love. I can't blame you for all my problems, I'm just angry because you'll never understand the way you made me feel.

The first time I sensed something was off was two days later. You stood me up at a date to the movies. We were going to see Avengers: Endgame, and you knew how much it meant to me. Yet you didn't come. We hadn't seen each other all week, too busy studying for our finals. Luckily, a stranger noticed my sad expression and came up to talk to me.

"Are you here alone?" The boy asks, dimples decorating his cheeks, black hair swept back behind his ear.

"It seems so," Jongho sighs, taking a look around the emptying theater. "My boyfriend stood me up."

"Oh, that sucks," the boy says, looking genuinely sorry. "I had a date too, but I don't think she's coming. Want to see the movie together instead? I'm San, by the way."

"I'd like that," Jongho smiles, "my name is Jongho."

I saw the movie with him, Choi San, now one of my best friends and co-worker. But of course you were jealous. You made me delete his number. And I felt guilty, like I was in the wrong, when you were the one who didn't show up. You made me feel bad about myself, like I owed you something. That was probably the first red flag.

"Why didn't you come, Seonghwa?"

"I told you I was busy, darling."

"No, you didn't. We planned this for weeks, what could be more important?"

Seonghwa doesn't answer.

"It's okay," Jongho says, admitting defeat and sinking down onto the sofa. "I met someone and watched the movie with them instead. Their date stood them up too, so it's fine."

Seonghwa's shoulders visibly tense. "Who?"

"His name is San. He was really nice to me, bought me popcorn and let me borrow his jacket afterwards because I was cold," Jongho says, quickly brushing it off as unimportant. "Anyway, the movie—"

Your expression was neutral, but your eyes were on fire. You were furious. Yes, I was ignorant. And yes, San probably hoped to be something more than friends. But I liked the attention, especially since you hadn't given me any.

You stood me up. San didn't. He was nice, and it seemed like he cared. I never planned on going out with him. I didn't like him in that way, and I still don't. I loved you, but you were blinded by anger and envy, and didn't listen to me. You didn't trust me, and that hurt. I didn't think it was a big deal. Clearly, you thought differently.

"Delete his number," Seonghwa cuts him off.

"What?"

"Delete his number, darling." His tone is sickeningly sweet, like poison disguised as honey.

"Why? We're going to study in the library later this week. I need to know when he's free."

"I don't want you to see him," Seonghwa says through clenched teeth. "Delete his number. You don't want to make me angry, do you?"

"No," Jongho whispers hoarsely.

"Give me your phone."

Jongho doesn't want to argue. Seonghwa deletes San's number.

"Good boy," Seonghwa says and leans over to kiss him. Jongho melts into it for but a second before pulling away. There's an ugly knot in his stomach.

That conversation sucked all the happiness from my bones, like a Dementor's Kiss. I don't think you knew what you were doing to me. At least I didn't. You see, it was my first relationship. So I went with anything and everything you told me, because I thought that what we had, was how it was supposed to be.

You were always so fucking possessive, Seonghwa. You wanted me for yourself, and I get that. All I ever wanted was to be yours, but even that was too much to ask for. You were always unattainable, kind of like the wind: An untouchable phenomenon, but a phenomenon all the same.

"Why are you still here, Seonghwa?" He asks, trying to glare at him, but ending up looking more miserable rather than mad. "Don't you have something better to do than stare at me?"

"Yes, I do," his eyes bore straight through Jongho's soul. "You."

Jongho blushes all the way to his roots. It feels like he's bursting into flames.

"... Me?"

I was planning on going to bed, too tired to talk more about it. I just wanted some peace where I could think, rationally. But there was never any rationality when it came to us, Seonghwa, was there?

When you wrapped your arms around me, kissed me softly, and whispered tenderly into my ears, I felt cherished— desirable. I felt untouchable to the world.

Seonghwa cups Jongho's face, desperately searching his eyes.

"Please, stay."

He places a light kiss on Jongho's nose.

"Stay."

A kiss on the crown of his head.

"Stay."

A kiss on both his eyelids.

"Stay."

A kiss on his cupid's bow.

"Stay."

A firm, almost frenzied, kiss on the lips.

Jongho's resolve breaks, like it always does. He melts into Seonghwa's embrace.

Cradling his head, he rakes a hand through Jongho's locks, massaging his scalp, while sucking deep bruises onto his unblemished skin.

Jongho closes his eyes. He succumbs to the feeling, and lets everything go.

The look you gave me was the kind that would melt any heart of ice, the kind that can only be perfected through years of practice and calculated movements— with such ferocious fire in your eyes, I thought my head would split. And I fell for it. How could I resist? You looked like you wanted to devour me. I would have let you.

The last of the evening sunlight streamed into my room, painting the wall yellow, lighting up your face, and I fell in love with you all over again. I was emotional, and you were perfect.

We had sex for the first time that day.

Maybe it's an unpleasant topic to touch on, but the power you held over me after that first time together, is something I don't think you can ever understand. I was a virgin, and you were experienced. Even the fact that I topped never mattered, because you were always the one in control.

There was no choice. There never was a choice, just the illusion of one. I would always say yes, and you knew it. The illusion of control is man's greatest flaw.

"Can I paint you? You know, like one of my French girls?"

"I hope you don't actually go around painting naked French girls, Seonghwa," Jongho says, staring at Seonghwa in the mirror. "But sure."

They're both still naked.

The day after our first time is my most prevalent memory of you, I think. You painted me, splayed out on the bed, sweaty curls on my forehead and cum-streaks on my torso. You told me I was beautiful. I believed you.

Those were happy times. Drinking milkshakes at Sunny Side Up, holding hands at the beach or studying at your apartment before falling asleep in each other's arms... But it was also one of the last happy days we had together. The last fleeting moment of blissful ignorance before the storm.

"You look like a Picasso painting," Jongho says, draping an arm over Seonghwa's shoulder, placing a kiss on his jaw.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. "Do you know how Picasso painted people?"

"I was trying to be romantic."

"Romance is dead," Seonghwa deadpans.

"But I love you," Jongho whines, burying his face in Seonghwa's back.

"Love is a neurochemical con job."

"Seonghwa!" Jongho laughs, arms tightening around Seonghwa.

"I love you, too, darling." Seonghwa turns around in Jongho's grip and looks at him with such sincerity, that Jongho can't help but smile.

Jongho's cheeks go firetruck red, "just kiss me, loser."

And Seonghwa does.

Sometimes I would wonder if you were better off without me, whether you really needed me at all. I never felt enough for you. Your reassured me that you did need me, but your actions said otherwise. And as you know, Seonghwa, actions speak louder than words.

"You wouldn't leave me, right?" Jongho says, swinging their entwined hands back and forth as they walk down the street.

"Of course not. Never." Seonghwa kisses their hands.

You kissed away my fears and worries, my tears and my insecurities. God, I loved you so much that it hurt, Seonghwa. I didn't know it was possible to miss something I hated this much the way I do now.

But it didn't take long before you started to complain. You said I never paid enough attention to you, when you were the only thing, I paid attention to. You said I spent too much time at the library, with my friends, with my family, and not enough with you. It was almost as if I couldn't breathe without having to look over my shoulder.

"Where were you?"

Seonghwa drops the book he's reading on the bed, walking over to where Jongho is taking off his coat.

"Out with a friend," answers Jongho.

"With San? You know I don't like him."

"What's your damage, Seonghwa?" Jongho glares.

"I don't like him. He's clearly flirting with you."

"Do we have to do this now?"

"I told you to delete his number," Seonghwa a growls. He's not much taller than Jongho, but dwarfs him all the same.

"Fuck you, Seonghwa!"

I turned to leave. You begged me to stay... so I stayed. But was that what I wanted, or what you wanted? I honestly couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay? Fuck..." He draws a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "Please, please just stay."

"Just, just shut up, Seonghwa. I don't know what I want." Jongho throws up his arms, backing away.

"Yes, yes you do. You love me. I love you. Stay," Seonghwa says, grabbing Jongho's hands and drawing them to his face.

So Jongho smiles, so utterly blinded by love that he doesn't see the monster hiding under the beautiful facade.

Falling out of love sucks. I don't know when you stopped loving me, but I wish you had told me. I'm not sure if the shift happened gradually, or all at once, but why didn't you tell me?

You stopped wearing my purple hoodie, I stopped wearing your 'Friends' T-shirt, we stopped watching Sailor Moon together, and never shared milkshakes at Sunny Side Up anymore. You were out late, calling me late at night when you were drunk, even after I told you it made me uncomfortable. It was never a big breach of my trust, just the small things, but it doesn't make the betrayal any less significant. Small things matter too.

"Jongho, I care about you so much. Don't you see what's happening? You're losing track of who you are," Hongjoong says.

"We're just going through a rough patch."

"We both now that's a lie. Stop running away from your problems, stop running away from me!" Hongjoong is pleading at this point. "I just want to help you."

"I love him?" Jongho stammers out, though it sounds more like a question.

"I know. But can't you see what this relationship is doing to you?"

"I don't know what to do anymore."

I think the difference between us is that I see the world through rose-tinted glasses, and you don't. Not because you don't want to, but because you can't. No one ever showed you how. Maybe if you could, we would be on the same page, maybe we would still be together.

I'm afraid to put this next part into words, because no matter how I write it you will never understand the way I felt inside, the way I still feel inside. I would have followed you to the end of the world if you had asked it of me, Seonghwa. And that was the problem: I put too much of myself into you, and it tore me apart in the end. I lost myself in you, and I didn't know how to stop the downfall. You were everything to me, but I, clearly wasn't everything to you.

Jongho drops his backpack onto the floor as he steps into Seonghwa's apartment. The smile on his lips evaporates when he sees them. Together.

"Seonghwa...?"

Because there you were, naked as the day you were born, fucking someone that wasn't me. Oh, the look on your face was priceless. You were shocked, but it quickly morphed into horror— not of your actions, but of the fact that you got caught. And that was the last straw: You didn't even feel guilty.

It was in that moment I knew that if I didn't let go, I would drown.

"Have you been avoiding me?"

"Yes."

"Why," Seonghwa presses.

Jongho doesn't answer. He stares up at Seonghwa through his lashes, his eyes showing a single, raw, emotion: crushed.

"I'll do better, I promise. I'll be better. Trust me." Seonghwa reaches out to touch him, but Jongho moves away. He still says nothing.

"How can I trust you, how- how can you tell me to trust you, when you do this?"

"I don't want to break hearts," Seonghwa declares. The look he sends Jongho almost makes him want to give in. But not this time.

"But you do, Seonghwa," Jongho chokes out through the tears. "And now you've broken mine too."

You did break my heart, and I wanted you to know it. I wanted you to suffer because of it. I hope you did.

We changed, even if we didn't want to. But change is normal, and change is okay. You have to accept change, even if it breaks your heart. And that was the problem. For the longest time I refused to accept it, and it only made me miserable and bitter in the end. Letting go and accepting the fact that change is good, is the best thing to do. Especially if you don't want to.

Maybe, once upon a time, we were right for each other. But that's the funny thing about change: Sometimes it happens so slowly that you don't even notice, and when you look at the person you loved yesterday, they're not the same person anymore. I feel like that when I look at you, Seonghwa. I barely recognize you. You're so different from the boy I fell in love with.

Maybe you thought it was funny, messing with my heart, but you can't just throw people away when you're done with them, Seonghwa. You can't just toy with people's feelings like that. People do bad things when they're hurt, but it's not an excuse.

His hand is resting on the door leading to Hongjoong's apartment, arms shaking, grasping the doorknob 'til his knuckles turn white.

"Jongho, please-" Seonghwa practically begs.

"Stop it, Seonghwa, just s-stop. I can't trust you anymore. Don't you get that? Just... just leave me alone, okay?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Jongho says tears falling harder by the second. "But love shouldn't have to hurt this much."

I'm standing here now, in the ashes of who I used to be, and I'm trying to put myself back together, piece by bloody piece. Sometimes I wish you were here to help me, but for the most part I wish you had burned with me.

I don't regret it though, meeting you. You gave me some of the best memories of a lifetime, even if we didn't work out in the end. And even though you fucked me over, I still loved you. How could I not?

"The weak can never forgive," Said Gandhi once. And I try so hard to be strong, but trying your best isn't always enough. I still haven't forgiven you. I hope I will someday, but I don't know how. I don't know if you even deserve it, for everything I went through. Life goes on, you know, with or without you. I have to learn to live with it, too.

I wish I hadn't fallen for you, Seonghwa, and I wish you didn't let me. I wish for a lot of things, but most of all I wish I wasn't so naïve. I question everything about us now, in the After. Did I know the real you? Or did I only love the parts you decided to show me?

I think we just weren't meant for each other. Some people just aren't, and that's okay. Everything that went wrong between us wasn't your fault, but I blame you anyway, to make me feel better. Maybe that's selfish, maybe that's shallow. But at least I have the guts to admit it.

It taught us something too, I suppose. You learned that your lies aren't invincible and that you are, in fact, not in impalpable. I learned not to be fooled by a pretty face. The most dangerous monsters are always the most beautiful, and you were so incredibly beautiful.

They say you only really know you love someone when you let them go. But I don't think that's always true. Because I don't know if I will ever be able to get over you. You were my first love, and even though it ended badly, it'll always be special to me.

Thank you for showing me what real love feels like, even if it's not what I hoped it would be.

Sincerely,

Choi Jongho.

━

A/N: Okay but this broke my heart to write. I'm so sorry Jongho. Will be more active seeing as I'm home from vacation, so look forward to more chapters. I'm also in the middle of writing a sequel to The Summer of 1984, but don't expect it to be out just yet!!