Letter 2 U

Part 41 - The Reckoning

"Good morning." He said as he watched the rapper toss and turn in bed and finally open his eyes.

"Shit, man. Were you contemplating whether you should kill me in my sleep or not?" Jackson looked surprised to see his former band mate sitting in the edge of his bed, giving him an unyielding glare.

"We have a serious issue to discuss. Are you awake yet?" the Korean's tone was urgent.

"If this is about last night, just chill, okay? I was just fucking with the new married couple. Whatever I said at the party, it was the booze talking. Don't take it to the heart." Jackson yawned as he sat up in bed to have a better look at his unsmiling dongsaeng.

"I don't give a damn about last night. I want to see the letters." Jinyoung stated firmly.

"Excuse me?" the rapper seemed confused for a moment.

"The letters you and JB supposedly received from Mark while we were in America. Jaebeom said he gave it to you and you confirmed that the handwriting on both of them were my husband's." the singer stared at him impatiently.

"I burned them." He sighed in frustration as he looked away from the Korean.

"Why the hell did you do that?" the younger gritted his teeth.

"Should I keep them as a souvenir? The content of the one I received gave me nightmare for days! Sorry if I just discarded your shitty attempt of keeping us away from your husband." Jackson ran a hand through his hair awkwardly as he met Jinyoung's eyes again.

"So, Jaebeom told you."

"I must say you are worse than me in some ways." Jackson scoffed as he held the other's stare.

"Was it that bad?" the younger huffed.

"What?" the Hongkonger inquired him with a quizzical expression on his face.

"The letter." Jinyoung's worried look gave him away. The rapper raised an eyebrow at him, but the other looked down to his feet.

"Damn it, man. Why did you tell Jaebeom you wrote them?" Jackson shook his head in disbelief.

"What did you want me to do?! I was there, listening to the alarm in Mark's voice when JB told him about these damned letters. I knew he would freak out as soon as he realized that some stranger out there wrote letters on his name. I had to do something fast and I had to be pretty convincing. There was one single solution that could allow me to protect his mindset and keep it from sailing away. So, I made the two believe that I was the author of those letters. I just hoped that if you still had them, we could find out who really did it." He looked at Jackson tiredly, he sure was experiencing a terrible hangover and he needed some aspirins, but he had to get some answers from the rapper before his headache got worse.

"That was stupid of you, you know? Hiding the truth from him. Actually, you guys should've stayed in the U.S for good. You should be counting your blessings. Especially you! I mean, you got the man of your life, you got him cured and you married him! Geez, you should be thinking about kids and picket fences right now. Yet, here you both are. Looking for trouble in South fucking Korea. Don't you ever learn? Coming back here was a dumb mistake." Jackson massaged his temples as he reflected on the younger's words.

"He's not really cured, you know. There's no magical formula to get rid of it. Neither the PTSD nor his depression or whatever it is he has. Different therapists gave it many names. Nevertheless, his episodes are like cancers, you cut a piece of it and you pray they won't grow back again more aggressive or more lethal. His illness, whatever the doctors called it, it comes and goes. It can be treated, symptoms can be alleviated, but it doesn't fade." Jinyoung's aggrieved features displayed the suffering he had gone through during his partner's neverending treatment in America. An unbearable kind of pain ran through every fiber of his body as he thought of a possible recurrence of those depressing months. The Korean had come to realize that his beloved's vulnerability would always be there. No matter how carefully he tried to manage his condition, that ill seed was already planted deep inside his mind, waiting to be triggered, fertilized by the right set of disturbing circumstances, ready to nurture on his bad days, aching to develop its branches though every cell of his brain. Eager to render him soulless.