The letters were pen and paper covered in tears and unsaid words, which hung on the empty wall opposite of Jongin's bedroom. The lack of windows in this room made him grateful for this privacy. Hands still neatly manicured, he traced his index finger on the bottom corner of the page. Slowly, up and down, up and down, until his finger started to burn. Jongin's eyes were fixated on the letter.
It was bleeding. Jongin peeled his eyes away from the words of Kyungsoo to see the beads of blood that started to drip off the corner of the page. It stung. Whether it was from the cut or from the tears pooling from his eyes, he wasn't sure. Ducking his head under the door for safety measures, he headed to the bathroom.
Feeling sick at the sight of sink turning a pale red, he looked up. He saw a boy with a face too thin to match his broad shoulders. He was a doll dressed up in clothes far too old for him.
Jongin hated looking at the mirror. It reminded him of what he wanted to hide from everyone else. They were everything Kyungsoo could see right through.
Walking back into his room, he grabbed as many letters he could grab with one go and left his apartment. Greeted with kisses from the cold and embraced by the harsh winds, he stomped through the fresh, white snow. Slowly, snow fell and landed on the pages leaving small drops of water where they had once been dry of tears. Maybe at one point there was a time when Jongin stopped in the snow and waited for Kyungsoo to hurry up and walk faster so they could build a snowman. Maybe they still remembered the first time Jongin nervously held Kyungsoo's hand, but they both couldn't feel it. Jongin remembered that now, and damned the frost for temporarily leaving him without feeling. He wished it was that cold now.
He looked down and frowned. He memorized this one already. Jongin could no longer hear Kyungsoo saying the words. Suddenly, Jongin was a child again. All he wanted was to hear Kyungoo's voice again. It stung to see the perfect handwriting.