Dear SEVENTEEN [SEVENTEEN Fanfic]

Letter 01

Letter 01 

Dear Sungcheol, 

S.Coups.

That was what you asked me to call you before.

S.Coups. 

Remember? You were the best rapper in our class. You were so good that you eventually made up a stage name for yourself. But you weren't like that before. You weren't the charismatic rapper that you are now. 

In fact, you were a timid person before you became this playful and fun boy. 

The first time you joined our rappers class, you just kept your head low, avoiding as many eyes as possible. Even the girls that gave you gifts made you nervous and you eventually excused yourself, saying you needed the toilet, you forgot something or a teacher was looking for you.

How do I know all this? Well, I have to be completely honest. I observed you ever since day one of your arrival.

I'm a person who likes to observe people, don't blame me. No, it's not called stalking. I'm not your sasaeng fan. You know that very well, Cheollie. In fact, I was merely investigating you. 

What are friends for, no?

I still remember how we became friends. Remember that? The rapping assignment that Ms. Lim gave us? She said we were paired into twos and that we had to create a rap within three weeks. She assigned people together and I got stuck with you.

No, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I was happy I got assigned to you. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to watch you grow into who are now.

"When should we start working on our raps?" you asked me after I came out of my Science class. You had a different class. You had art, and you came out early, excusing yourself to use the toilet. 

Honestly, I was surprised to see timid Sungcheol come out early to find me. Maybe you weren't really timid, I thought at that time. Maybe you were just shy at first.

"Uhh... Hi, to you too," I simply greeted back first as I tried my best to juggle the heavy Science textbook in my arms, as well as the other Science books and papers my Science teacher gave me. 

"Do you need help with that?" you then asked, looking at my books. 

"Yes, please," I squeaked, feeling as if my arm would fall off because of this. 

You quickly took the heavy books away from my arm and I felt like I was freed. Call me dramatic, but I felt like I was chained down for years and finally you removed those chains from me.

"Anyway, so about the rap..." you slowly began. 

Yeah, I'm sorry I ignored your question at first. I couldn't think straight, after all. All I had in mind was the heaviness of the books. And thinking of those heavy books made them even heavier. 

"Oh, yeah. We can work on the rap in my house, if you want to. Or do you want to work on it at your house?" I asked him as we walked to my locker. 

"Oh, no. Not my house. My... parents don't like me bringing friends over," you simply told me, avoiding my eyes. 

It was strange at first. But after you told me the truth, I no longer judge. 

At first, I thought it was because you didn't like bringing friends over. But I should've known better not to judge people's stories without knowing the full, raw version. The truth. I'm sorry for that.

Your parents didn't like you bringing people into your house because... you lost your little brother in that very house. Your little brother, aged 3 at that time, died because he swallowed something poisonous because he didn't know better. No one was looking after him then.