It's You ~ KyuMin
Title: It's You: Unaddressed Letter
Author: miangel
Pairing: KyuMin
Genre: G
Disclaimer: Kyuhyun belongs to Starcraft; Sungmin belongs to his pumpkin cookies and pink bunnies
Summary: The letters never had an address, never had a name, yet it connects two hearts through the hands of faith...
Sungmin was there again, sitting in his usual spot by the sun-streamed windows that made up the front of the small, cozy café, with his cavity-giving hot cocoa placed a little to the right of his occupied right hand, a couple of pumpkin cookies accompanying the beverage and a pale pink set of stationery on which he poured out his attention on. He had written that day’s date on the top right hand corner of the pallid pink paper as he did every other day. An equally light pink envelope lay waiting. All he had to do now was wait. Wait for that precise time of day when his inspiration would come by and fill his mind with so many thoughts, his heart with so many feelings, his being with so much unsaid content, that the only rational thing to do to stop himself from exploding was to write it all on that letter.
At first they were mere letters, compromising of sincerely heartfelt confessions of his most inner feelings, but at times he would compose lyrics, or poems. Most days they were mere words that released all his unspoken expressions, his ungranted wishes, and his dreamy hopes. He wrote them all, each and every one, with each stroke, each dot, each word leaving a sense of profound meaning and love that had those letters ever been read by anyone, tears would come to their eyes at how deep their hearts had been touched. The letters were nothing less of a released part of Sungmin’s heart that he knew yearned for his love to be returned.
Sungmin felt a small smile creep onto his lips, creating a picturesque scene as the afternoon light beamed down upon him in a golden frame and seemed to light up the young face. He glanced at his wristwatch and readied himself for what he knew was about to come. It was the one repetitive moment that lit up his otherwise dull days. It was the one event in his daily routines that made it worthwhile to get up every morning and properly prepare himself for the world. And that single moment, for that day, had now come.
The weather couldn’t have been better; it couldn’t have done more justice on the leaping feeling tugging at his heartstrings as his eyes watched that lone figure pass by the café windows. The figure was lone, yet not lonely. He merely depicted a sense of independence and self-comfort, an aura of undeniable confidence emanating out of him. His outfits were never overdone, nor did they indicate his lack of attention towards appearance; they were casual yet promoted his most prominent features quite well. The black trousers trailed smoothly down his long legs, moving swiftly with his long, sauntered strides, the matching black blazer framed his lean figure in a broad square, crinkled slightly at where his hands were buried into his pockets and the buttonless shirt he wore inside showed just enough skin to make anyone curious enough to see just a bit more.
In five long strides, the man had passed the café and disappeared into the afternoon crowd, invisible to anyone who had not been waiting patiently for the few seconds that he would pass. But to Sungmin those short seconds seemed like a lifetime. He was, again, mesmerized by the charm, the beauty and the perfection of the man who only took up but a nano-part of his everyday life. His heart had floated above cloud nine and was doing more than just somersaults in the air. And it was then and there, just like it had been any other day, that the inspiration of his silent, observing love was translated into words now imprinted in Sungmin’s handwriting.
This time it was neither a song, prose nor a poem; it was merely a letter. A letter of deepest confession of how Sungmin felt for the handsome stranger. Yet it held just as deep a meaning as any of his previous letters. And just like all the previous letters, the words were now securely encased in the sanctuary of its envelope as Sungmin stepped out of the café and walked the short distance towards a dark blue postal box. He put the edge of the envelope to his mouth subconsciously as he thought to the past four weeks when this routine had commenced. He thought back to the first time he had sat in that café, and the stranger had passed by, sending his feelings into a tumultuous leap of joy and bliss. Then he thought back to the four weeks where he had sat, observing and writing, yet never taking any action to act on his heart’s behalf.
At that last thought, he felt his heart clench. Unrequited love was one thing, yet loving a complete stranger whose mere identity was a mystery was nothing short of impossible. Sungmin had constantly fought with himself to break out of his hiding and bravely introduce himself to the stranger. Yet he was scared. He was scared the stranger would fall far out of the illusion Sungmin had built over the month. He was scared that his perceptions of the stranger were far from the truth. He didn’t want to confront his fear that if he knew the stranger, then all of this, all of what the stranger had unintentionally given Sungmin-comfort, hope and inspiration-would be deprived of him. More than anything, he was afraid of losing the man.
Sungmin couldn’t imagine what his life would be without the nameless man. His precious seconds at the café, waiting for the man to pass was the sole reason his life meant anything to him. Half of him yearned for his unknown love to be returned, for his dreams to come true, for all the feelings he has spilled out to be known by the man. Yet another part of him stubbornly insisted that this was better; his silence and his distance would cost him less pain. Thus as he inserted the letter into the slim hole of the postal box, these conflicting feelings continued to rage inside Sungmin, just as they had any other day. And he walked away, head hung, arms wrapped around himself to try and provide some warmth, leaving behind yet another unaddressed letter to the person with whom his heart belonged to.
***
His worst fears came true; his deepest nightmares became reality. For a week Sungmin had sat at his usual place, at the usual café, with all his usual writing needs, at the exact usual time. Yet for a week, his paper remained blank, unwritten and unmarked with any of the emotions they would usually commemorate. Everything was the same, nothing out of the ordinary had seemingly changed. However, to Sungmin, nothing was as it had been for the past four weeks.
The man had not shown.
On the first day, Sungmin had panicked but quickly consoled himself, reasoning that it was nothing unusual for the guy to not walk by. Maybe he passed a little earlier. Or maybe he took a different route. Or perhaps he had other things to attend to that ruined his routine. Sungmin had left, disappointed, yet assured that it was a minor glitch in his days. No letter was sent that day.
On the second day, Sungmin’s heart began to worry. What if he would never show again? What if he would never see that figure and all his perfection again? What if last week had been the last time Sungmin would ever enjoy the pleasure of love flooding through his very veins at the mere glimpse of the man? But like the first day, Sungmin reassured himself that it was nothing to worry about. Maybe the man was sick and had to have bedrest for a couple of days. The thought of the man being sick made Sungmin want to do everything in his power to make sure he was returned to his usual healthy form. But he didn’t know the man. He didn’t know where he lived. He didn’t know anything. And so his letter was once more empty and unsent.
Day three, four and five were the worst for Sungmin. He was certain now that he might never see the man again. He would never see the familiar figure brighten up his day in ways the sun would never be able to do. He would never again console his heart with the wonderful feelings of love that overwhelmed him everytime the man passed. His heart ached tremendously and it was all he could to prevent himself from breaking down before he reached home, the paper still unwritten and untouched. The letter was not sent.
On the sixth day, realization came to him, wiping away any last traces of hope within him. He had brought this upon himself. He had been given the chance to experience love yet never acted upon it. He had given enough time to build courage upon himself, to practice the right words, to sort out his feelings and make sure of what they were, but still, he did nothing. And now he realized that this was the punishment for letting love slip through his very fingers.
The last day of the week was a determining one for Sungmin. He was there, in his usual spot, with his usual array of paper and pen and coffee and cookie, but his heart was gone. He had come without hope, his fingers no longer encircled anticipatively around his pen, ready to make its mark on the letter. He had come to convince himself that this was the end of his sunlit days, the days that the stranger had unknowingly filled Sungmin with immense bliss. Life would return to its dull drills and Sungmin would have to face harsh reality after that day. His motivation, his fire, his passion to wake up every morning was now gone. He would continue living out of spite.
Despite his empty heart, Sungmin picked up the pen and began printing words onto the untouched paper. He needed to write his own closure, he needed to make sure that any remaining bits and pieces of feeling he had towards the stranger would be put into the letter and forever sent away with it. It was the only way he would be able to live on and put his heartache behind. His handwriting didn’t change, the paper was the same, the pen had the same intensity and colour, but his feelings were now different. His words held sorrow, regret and grief. He was imprinting his own heart into the letter and closed it off with a full stop. The dot indicated the end of his silent love.
Sungmin tenderly folded the letter and placed it within the envelope, making sure to take great care that his heart that he had so delicately left with the letter would not break more than it already had. His walk to the postal box was heavy in step. The weather that final day was different than all the other days of the past five weeks. The clouds were dark upon the sky, the wind blew harshly against the tender faces of pedestrians and the chill bit through even the thickest of coats. Sungmin embraced the painful weather, feeling it express his crushed heart. There couldn’t have been a better atmosphere to put a close to his foolish love.
Yet as he made to send his last letter to its unknown address or name, fate blew its immensely strong breath and whipped the letter out of Sungmin’s hands. Sungmin’s quick reflexes had him chasing the flying letter, his eyes wide with horror that his last, final letter would not reach its destination. None of his letters had ever reached their destination; they were unnamed and had no address, but some part of him felt that the symbolic gesture of putting them in that big blue box was enough to assume his feelings would reach somewhere, not necessarily at the man they were directed at. And so he ran after the letter, fighting against the hard wind, blowing in the opposite direction.
Then everything stopped. The wind, so adamant on pushing Sungmin back had now stopped. The letter, flailing about in the air out of Sungmin’s reach had stopped. Sungmin himself had come to a halt. The world was still inevitably moving, yet time seemed to stop for Sungmin. He watched as one edge of the letter delicately kissed black, polished shoes when gravity pulled it onto the ground now that the wind had stopped taking control. His eyes widened as long, slender fingers touched the enveloped letter and brought it up into firm, assuring hands. He let out a gasp as the tall figure straightened up, one hand in his pocket while the other fingered the letter curiously. Sungmin could not stop his seemingly dead heart from pounding uncontrollably in his chest when he saw that face: the eternally windswept, dark hair that fell messily around a slightly pale and thin oval face, the pink, bow-shaped lips that never needed a pout to show its tantalizing curves, and those dark chocolate windows that Sungmin had only ever dreamed of seeing.
Sungmin felt like screaming, he felt like jumping, he felt like moving any part of his body to the extreme to express his jolting heart. But nothing came out of his mouth, and his body remained still, gaze still locked onto that familiar figure. Yet his heart screamed out in its most yearning call:
It’s You!
***
Kyuhyun felt odd. For the past week that he had been forced to stay home and work endlessly on his paperwork, he felt something was missing. Something about his days seemed empty, as if a treat he never knew he had had been taken away from him. He felt his days weren’t complete. He couldn’t figure out why until he was finally able to step out of his apartment that day and greet the cold, windy autumn weather. He passed the rows of mailboxes that belonged to each occupant of the apartment. That was when something inside of him clicked into place.
Could it be? Did he feel this way because for the past week, he hadn’t received that letter? That heartfelt letter, written anonymously and never addressed, but Kyuhyun somehow knew that the feelings expressed in those letters were meant for him. The letter that made Kyuhyun’s heart beat just a tad faster whenever he identified how much love and sincerity was poured into it. The unaddressed letter that lightened up his days and his life.
The first time he had received the letter, he thought it had been a prank. So he questioned friends and family whether they knew of the writer. He found no answer. His colleagues and neighbours provided just as much illumination as his friends and family had. The letter always came with his daily post and never in solitary. He wondered whether the postman had a play in this, but further investigation at the post office stamped out this hypothesis. Kyuhyun was left to ponder blindly at who would contribute so much time and effort to write those beautiful letters every single day?
But soon Kyuhyun learned to stop questioning and merely accepted them. He read every letter with a growing feeling in the depths of his heart. He read them over again before he gave himself up to sleep at the end of the day, making his dreams brighter and leaving him with a residue smile when he woke up. He cherished every word, every letter, every given feeling in the lyrics, poems and mere confessions. He found no way to express what those letters meant to him.
Yet when they stopped coming that week, Kyuhyun felt himself lost. No longer did he have comforting, soothing words to console his burdened mind at the end of the day. No longer did he have something to look forward to, to anticipate and to embrace wholeheartedly. No longer did he feel that unexplainable tug at his heartstring when he realized that someone out there cared for him to endless extents.
So when he walked dejectedly at the end of that horrid week, his steps slow and heavy, he wondered whether he would ever find the author to those letters. He wondered why the person hadn’t just approached him and told him the truth. He wondered if he would ever be able to thank that person for the hope they had given to him each and every day of his life. He wondered whether he would be able to return the love he had received from this unknown person.
The wind was not in its best mood that afternoon and that suited Kyuhyun very well. He was used to the cold world and the bitterness that bit his skin from the chill was oddly comforting. He let the movement of air ruffle his always-messy hair as he walked. He looked down at the ground, watching his feet take each step forward.
Then suddenly it all stopped. His feet stopped, the wind stopped, the world stopped. A very familiar envelope stopped at his feet. He recognized it without effort, yet his disbelief and surprise still made him question its authencity. His fingers touched the envelope and, immediately, he knew it was real. The crispness, the texture and the soft pink coluring of it told Kyuhyun that this originated from the same anonymous author. His mind didn’t think why the letter had dropped at his feet or why it had somehow found him in the middle of the street. He only had one thing in mind and it was directed at the figure that had been running in his direction, obviously after the letter. His eyes landed on the shorter figure who simply took Kyuhyun’s breath away when their gazes locked onto each other.
He didn’t know this man’s name and he knew the other person knew just as much about him. He didn’t know where this man had come from and why he was chasing the letter. But Kyuhyun knew one thing: he was the author. He was the person Kyuhyun had been looking. He was the person who had uplifted Kyuhyun in so many ways with his letters for the past month. Those chestnut orbs, now widened in surprise, confirmed Kyuhyun of his thoughts and brought an end to his search. He had found him.
Kyuhyun’s lips parted ever so slightly, a smile just waiting to embrace his expression and emanate his overwhelming feelings as he took steps closer, reducing the distance between the two. He saw it in the shorter man’s eyes and face; the love, the care, the sincerity that every single word had expressed in the letters was in this man. And Kyuhyun was glad that the letter in his hand was now reunited with its writer. Kyuhyun smiled, an unexplained comfort coming over him as he whispered softly, yet audibly:
“It’s you.”
***
KyuMin!!!!! Happy ending!!!!!
OK. How many people wanna hug me that I made it happy for KyuMin???
This was a little harder to do because Kyuhyun did nothing but walk in the whole damn MV. It's a good thing Sungmin was writing a letter and posting it and that's how the idea came up.
I'm a QMi bias, but I really enjoyed writing this KyuMin fic. Hope you enjoyed reading it!
Comments come with pumpkin cookies!!!
xoxox
miangel