The Letters He Never Sent || Minsung

49

I sit in the booth alone, sipping my water they brought out me. I stare out the window into the dark night streets, waiting for him to come.

The envelope i gave him had a simple, 'we need to talk' along with an address and a time. I am on time, and he is quite late. I'm glad he is late though, because I need time to prepare myself.

I have spent the past eight months waiting for this moment to happen. I have planned everything I am going to say to him, and I am ready for anything he will say to me.

I have waited years for him to come back into my life. I have waited years for the moment where I could finally have him in my arms again, safe with me. Where I would be safe with him.

I secretly imagined a future with him while I was away. I image we would dance around in diners on date nights, we would slow dance to the old songs we used to love. My life wouldn't be boring any second I spent with him, and i would be happy as long as I was with him.

He would make me laugh on the days I had slumps, I could fall asleep every single night in him arms, and there would be no other way I could live.

The door chimes, bringing me out of my trance. I know it's him. Nobody else would be entering the diner at this time at night. I know it's him, which is why I can't bring myself to look behind me.

I hear the footsteps behind me slowly grow closer, and I can feel the presence of him engulf me. He takes a seat in front of me, and I feel my heart stop. I look up at him, and I can see his face framed by his hair.

God he looks so good.

I feel all the high school love feelings flood back into me, and I feel my body start to get hot. I haven't felt these feelings for over a decade, so I cannot lie and say that this does not effect me.

"Hi." He says breathily.

I nod my head at him as a greeting, because I can't muster out anything with how flustered I am. After all these years, the man in front of me still has the same effect on me like he did in high school. Isn't that silly?

He clears his throat and I raise my eyes to his, making eye contact with him. "You wanted to talk?" He asks.

I nod my head. "More like.. I wanted to hear you– talk." I say.

He tilts his head, so I reach down in my bag and pull out a piece of paper. I unfold the eight month old piece of paper and slide it over to him, so he can see his own handwriting.

"Your words, not mine." I say.

"I guess I did say that." He says. He looks back up at me, and back down to the paper. "Well, now that I have the chance I really don't know what to say..." he says.

"Why aren't you married, Minho?" I suddenly ask.

His expression changes at my question, and he sits straight.

"And don't give me an answer like you haven't found the right one or something." I say.

"I wasn't going too.." He says in a small voice.

"Then why aren't you married?" I ask, tilting my head.

He takes a feel breath. "Because it's just hard.." he looks down at his hands. "Nobody else really makes me feel the way you did, and it's been so hard to commit to anybody— that's why I'm not married." He says.

"Oh Minho," I bury my hands in my hair. "You can't say things like that about me."

"I guess your right." He says. "But I really mean it, it's been so hard for anybody to compare to you or what he had back in high school."

"What he had?" I ask.

He nods.

I raise my head to look at him. I'm going to speak, to tell him how we don't have to leave it as "what he had." I open my mouth too— but he beats me to it.

"But Jisung..." He says. "It's been years since we have even really spoken to each other. Are you even sure we could work out like we want?"

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat clogs up. I start to rethink everything the more I sit here with him. He could be right. Is there even a way he could love me still after all these years like I love him?

"See, you don't even know yourself." He says.

"No Minho." I shake my head. "I do know. I know that I want us to be together again. No matter how much we have changed.."

"Do you just expect me to go back to loving you like nothing happened?" He asks. "Like you weren't claimed as dead for all these years?"

I shake my head again, closing my eyes. Tears stain my cheeks as I hold back my sobs. "I don't, I don't expect you to act like everything's the same. Because we both know it isn't." I say. "But it doesn't have to be the same for us to be with each other."

"But what if that's the only way we can love each other?" He asks, a tear falling down his cheek. "What if it's never the way we want for it to be again?"

"It won't be." I say. "But I know that I love you, no matter the circumstances." I say to him, looking him right in the eyes so he knows I'm serious.

He gives me a weak smile. "I love you too Jisung." He pauses, "—But I cannot do this again." He says.

My smile falters and my heart drops. I tilt my head and look at him, trying to figure out if he is serious or not. Is this really the end of us?

He stands up and starts to walk away, which is when I realize this might be the end. The door chimes, meaning he has actually left— and this is actually the end of the road for us.