Into the Hornet's Nest

18

          On day 46, as the seasons began to change, the second letter came.

   "Hyung,

          I'm sorry it took so long to write. Sydney is doing well, Honey brings you up from time to time. She isn't doing the best, but I did tell her about you. About us, really. I told her about loving you. She told me that she could tell, and I'm glad that it had been so clear that we loved another even if we hadn't known that yet. She told me that when she met you, she had already known that we would find out in due time. I suppose that time was a bit too late, huh? I feel so stupid for continuing to write to this address, I know how fast you can work. You're probably already gone, but I can only hope these get transferred to you somehow. I know I can't tell if you get them, but I don't know what I would do if I came to find out you never did. I still think about you a lot, I don't think I can ever stop. I miss you so much, I wish I could call and hear your voice. I hope I never forget what you sound like, I wish I could hear you call me by my full name again. Something about that always did something to me, I figured you'd like to know that. I'm doing okay, just been sad about leaving you. I don't feel bad about quitting my job, I don't even mind leaving town. I wish I could have you here, though. I wish I could wake up and you'd be here, telling me I had been talking in my sleep or that I must've had a weird dream. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better goodbye, I don't think I'll ever get over it. I hope you don't hate me for it, I promise I can explain once I'm home. Well, at this point I think home is just wherever you are. Here sure doesn't feel like home. There are no forts, no attic to sit in. I'd rather be with you. Please never forget that I love you, okay? I'm sorry this is all we ever amounted to be. You deserve better.

   I love you, Lee Minho.

          Han Jisung"

          Minho began drinking that day. He never was much for alcohol until that day, where he needed to feel the burn from anything other than his chest and throat. That next morning, he watered his dying roses with a hangover and a lot of regret, having only dreamt of Han being in his arms after his binge and waking up to a lonely bed never made him cry as hard as he had, then. It had felt so real.
          After that, his drinking was far more moderated, only ever using it on the really bad days to cope with the way nothing in the house felt the same since Han left. He began making the house more of his own, hanging photos of loved ones and even printing out a photo of Han to put beside his bed. As pathetic as it made him feel, being able to roll over in bed and look at Han made waking up without him just a bit less painful. He had thanked his past self for taking so many candid photos of Han while he had the chance, even if looking through them made him want to cry and smile at the same time. He began to wonder when the ache would fade, he wondered if he actually wanted it to. Part of him felt that if he stopped aching, it would mean that he wasn't missing him anymore. Even on the bad days, rather than willing the pain away completely, he would let himself look through the photos and read the 'I love you's over and over. If Han still loved him, he would be okay waiting for him. He would have to be.