Short Writings (TXT)

25 | a letter for you

Did you regret it? Beomgyu has been asking that for months. Did you regret it? He asks every time he sees the park. Did you regret it? He asks in the middle of listening to a familiar song on repeat. Did you regret it? He wanted to scream, hold onto his crumpled shirt, and ask that. Did you regret it?

Just tell Beomgyu. Answer him. Give him the explanation he deserves. Stop leaving him hanging, just remove the chains on your door, and face him. Did you regret it? Please, put Beomgyu's mind to sleep—to peace, let him breathe. Set him free. Listen to his plea. Tell me, did you regret it?

Did you regret every single thing that happened during those months when you were basked in each other's warmth? Calling it addicting, better than drugs, like a sweet scent of love and home. Was it regretting to love me? Beomgyu just wants to know, wants to measure his worth, wants to clear his mind that fuck, I wasn't worth it after all? I didn't deserve you after all?

Beomgyu just wants to know, because months, months of being without you hurts. Months felt like a thousand lifetimes without you. Months. Without you. Hurts.

I just want to know, Beomgyu rubs his face, wipes away the tears that felt all too familiar on his skin—mumbling and mumbling the same words that were always being repeated like it's broken, holding more and more weight in every repeat. Did you regret it?

They say that when words are being repeated for hundreds, thousands of times, it shrinks—fades, crumbles, and loses its strength. Because it's the same. With the same voice, the same tone, the same warmth. The words have turned into a magazine that everyone has already read over and over again, leaving it piled up with other used papers—eventually, getting thrown away after losing its purpose.

So, when he told you I love you underneath the sky, in front of the rising sun—in a new day, and in many more mornings to come; when he told you I love you, did it not make you feel anything anymore? Only in the first few times, first warm nights, in the dark—with your arms around Beomgyu, brushing your noses and whispering I love you. Only in those first few days that those repetitive words held the spark you fell in love with. Then after that, as many sunsets continued falling on the sky—it also dawned on you, it dawned, that you don't want it anymore. You don't want to hear Beomgyu's I love you anymore. Not anymore. You can't hold something that's weightless and cannot be held by hands like water.

Or like snowflakes. Only there for you to stare at. Admire. To lure you into touching it but can't. Perhaps that was what Beomgyu felt when he was with you. Couldn't touch you. Couldn't hold you. Couldn't make you stay.

Did you regret it? Was it regretting to read a book that has already been read by everyone? Was it getting too repetitive, the touches, the voices, the lonely nights with just you two—were all those getting too antiquated? Boring? Regretting?

Was Beomgyu cliché? Were his eyes too similar with everyone else's? Did you not see those stars anymore? Did they explode already? Why? Why did you leave because of that? Why? Why did you let go because his hands didn't have the same warmth anymore? Like your hands didn't fit together perfectly anymore. Not like a flawless rhyme. Not like soul mates. Just you and him. Just ordinary. No longer puzzles.

Now, it was all just Beomgyu.

Did you regret it? Do you regret it? Will you regret it?

People don't stay. They leave. Disappear. Break you. And the worst part, you don't even know why. Why did you leave him? Why did you choose to give up? Why? Why...