Echos of Us | Markhyuck

thirteen

Haechan,

It's been a while since I last wrote to you. I wasn't sure if I could do this anymore-write to someone who's no longer here. But then I realized, you're not really gone, are you? You're still with me in every word, in every thought, in every breath I take.

So, here I am, writing to you again. I don't know where this letter will go, but it doesn't matter. It's more about the connection we shared, the one that will always be with me. You've changed my life in so many ways, and that doesn't just stop because you're no longer here.

I miss you. I miss you every day. But I've also started to see glimpses of the world again, little moments that remind me of you-like the sunset you always loved or the way music fills a room. It's hard, but I'm learning to live with the ache. And somehow, I think you're helping me do that.

I'll keep writing to you, even if it's just for me. Because it makes me feel like we're still together in some way. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

Love always,

Mark

-

Mark stood in front of the small desk where he had written countless letters to Haechan over the past few months. Even after Haechan's passing, the act of writing to him had become a way for Mark to keep their connection alive, a bridge between the life they had shared and the future that lay ahead.

At first, the grief had been overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. But as the days passed, Mark found comfort in the letters. They gave him a way to express his love and sadness, to hold on to Haechan in a world where he no longer existed physically.

Mark sat down at the desk, opening his journal to a fresh page. He smiled faintly, running his fingers over the paper. It was almost like Haechan was sitting across from him, reading every word as Mark wrote. The feeling of loss was still there, but now it was joined by something softer-an understanding that Haechan would always be a part of him.

The weeks after Haechan's passing had been difficult, filled with an emptiness that Mark wasn't sure how to fill. But their friends had been there, surrounding him with love and support. Johnny, Taeyong, Ten, and the others made sure Mark didn't face his grief alone. They shared stories, laughed at the memories of Haechan's humor and warmth, and reminded Mark that he wasn't alone in carrying Haechan's legacy.

Johnny would often visit, bringing coffee and sitting with Mark in silence. He didn't force conversations or try to fix things; he just stayed by Mark's side, offering the quiet kind of support that only a true friend could give. Taeyong, always thoughtful, would check in, making sure Mark had what he needed, while Ten brought lightness into the room with his energy, reminding Mark of the joy Haechan had brought into all of their lives.

There was healing in their presence, a shared understanding that Haechan's memory was something they all held onto. Slowly, with time, the sharp edges of grief began to soften, though the pain would never fully disappear.

-

One afternoon, Mark found himself walking through the park where he and Haechan used to spend their weekends. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the trees, and Mark stopped to take it all in. Haechan had always loved sunsets, calling them "the most peaceful part of the day."

Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could almost feel Haechan beside him, their hands intertwined as they watched the sky change colors. The memory brought both tears and a smile to his face.

"Haechan, you'd love this," Mark whispered into the evening air. He stood there for a while, letting the moment wash over him, before finally walking on, feeling a little lighter than before.

-

In the months that followed, Mark began to focus on healing. He returned to work, reconnected with old friends, and even started to play music again. It wasn't easy-there were still days when the grief hit him unexpectedly, when he would find himself reaching for his phone to call Haechan before remembering he couldn't.

But with each passing day, Mark found new ways to honor Haechan's memory. He started volunteering at a local music program, helping kids discover the same passion for music that Haechan had always had. It felt like a way to keep Haechan's spirit alive, to share the love that had defined their time together.

And then there were the letters. Mark never stopped writing them, even though they were now addressed to someone who would never physically receive them. The letters became his way of processing his emotions, of keeping Haechan close as he navigated the world without him.

-

One night, as Mark sat at his desk, he opened a box filled with the letters he and Haechan had exchanged. He smiled softly as he read through them, each one a testament to the love they had shared. The words were filled with hope, with dreams of a future that had been cut short, but also with a deep, abiding love that transcended everything.

Mark took a deep breath, closing the box and placing it back on the shelf. Haechan was gone, but their love was not. It lived on in every word, every memory, every breath that Mark took. And that love would guide him as he moved forward, one step at a time.