CHAPTER 69
Noeul Jung
Nice, France
December
Duri, oraenmaniya.
How are you?
Holding a pen feels a little awkward when we talk so often, but there are things I still can’t say out loud. Things that sit too deep in my chest and refuse to become words when I hear your voice.
Maybe that’s why I’m writing to you.
You have always made it difficult for me to hide.
It’s been almost seven months since I left Korea. My wounds are still here. Some probably always will be. But for the first time in years, I can say this without feeling like I’m lying:
I feel like myself again.
Not the Noeul I was before Haneul died. Not the boy I was before Gong became ill. I don’t think I can ever become that person again.
But I don’t want to anymore. I want to be the person I am now.
And now I need to tell you something I’ve been avoiding for far too long.
I think about you all the time.
I miss you. I miss your stupid jokes. Your tattoos. Your terrible habit of watching me when you think I don’t notice. I miss hearing you call me hyung. I miss your arms around me.
Sometimes I close my eyes and remember lying beside you, listening to you breathe.
And instead of fading with distance, my feelings for you became clearer.
I used to wonder whether I loved you because you saved me. Whether gratitude and love had become tangled together somewhere along the way.
I don’t wonder anymore.
I love you, Duri. I love your stupid jokes. The way you make me laugh when I don’t want to. The way you can be gentle without ever making me feel weak. I love the boy who used to follow Ji-Woo into our house and eat everything I cooked.
I love you because being with you feels easy. Because I can be myself.
If you still carry me in your heart, I want to see you again.
I’m planning one last stop before I return home.
Germany.
Your homeland.
I’ll be staying at the Hotel Rothenburg Haven in Rothenburg ob der Tauber from Christmas Eve until the end of January.
Come with me.
I want to see the places you told me about when we were younger. I want you to show me the food you missed, the streets you remember, the things you loved before Korea became your home.
There’s one more thing I need to tell you.
This is harder.
For years, one of my greatest fears has been becoming like Gong. Because we were identical twins, I know his illness means my own risk is higher. For years, every depressive episode, every nightmare, every moment when reality felt strange made me wonder whether it was beginning.
I was terrified that one day I would look at you and become someone capable of hurting you. That fear was one of the reasons I kept pushing people away.
I don’t know what my mental health will look like ten years from now. Neither of us can know that.
What I can promise is that I won’t hide from it. I’ll continue therapy. I’ll ask for help. I’ll be honest when I’m struggling. I won’t make you responsible for keeping me alive or making me well.
And if your feelings have changed while I’ve been gone, tell me.
It will hurt. But I’ll survive it. See? I’m finally learning.
But if they haven’t changed…
Come to Germany.
There’s one more thing I haven’t written yet. Perhaps because I’ve been saving it for last.
Saranghae, Duri.
There. I finally said it first.
I hope I’ll have enough courage to say it again when you’re standing in front of me.
Until then,
Jal jinae.
Noeul
P.S. This painting is yours.
And if you look carefully, somewhere inside it, you’ll find home.