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Me every single time🥹🥹🤣🤣

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“You deserve a relationship that enables you to sleep peacefully at night.”

— R.H. Sin

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“The deeper the wound, the more private the pain.”

— Isabel Allende, Paula

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“Sometimes we break our own hearts because we expect too much.”

— Unknown

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10 posts!

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So sorry for not being able to update "To Seoyeon, With Love" for the past days. But here's an update for y'all!

Chapter 6: A Goodbye Unspoken

Sion’s hand trembled as he turned the page in the notebook, the weight of the memories pressing down on him like a suffocating fog. His mind drifted, unbidden, to the last time he saw her—the day she said goodbye without saying the words.

---

It had been an unremarkable afternoon. They had met at the small café near the university, the one with the wooden tables and the smell of freshly baked bread. Seoyeon had been quiet that day, more so than usual.

She sat across from him, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, her gaze fixed on the raindrops trickling down the window.

“Are you okay?” Sion had asked, his voice laced with concern.

Seoyeon’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said softly.

It wasn’t the first time she had deflected his concern, and it wouldn’t be the last. Sion had learned not to press her too hard, believing that she would open up when she was ready.

He had convinced himself that she just needed time.

---

After they finished their drinks, they walked together under the gray sky, the rain a soft drizzle around them. The city felt quieter that day, as if it knew something he didn’t.

Seoyeon had stopped abruptly at the corner of the street where they usually parted ways. She turned to him, her expression unreadable.

“Sion,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at her, waiting.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, her eyes searching his. “Promise me.”

Sion chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “You make it sound like you’re leaving forever.”

She didn’t laugh. Instead, she reached out and hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around him as if she was holding on for dear life.

Sion froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden intimacy, but then he hugged her back. “I promise,” he said softly. “But you take care of yourself too, okay?”

Seoyeon pulled back slightly, her tired eyes meeting his. She nodded, but there was something in her expression—a quiet resignation, a heaviness he couldn’t place.

“I will,” she murmured.

And then she was gone, walking away without looking back.

---

Sion had watched her until she disappeared around the corner, a strange unease settling in his chest. But he had pushed it aside, telling himself that she just needed some space. He hadn’t known it would be the last time he’d see her alive.

---

Now, sitting alone in his apartment, the crushing realization hit him like a tidal wave. That day, Seoyeon had been saying goodbye in her own way. She had known what she was planning, and she had tried to leave him with some semblance of peace.

But it wasn’t peace he felt. It was regret.

Sion picked up the pen again, his hand steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“If I had known,” he wrote, “I wouldn’t have let you go.”

---

Sion stares at the words on the page, the weight of them sinking in. He closes the notebook, his breath catching as he whispers, “I should have known.”

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Click here if you had a bad day

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Chapter 5: What I Couldn’t See

The morning light began to seep through the curtains as Sion sat hunched over his desk. He hadn’t realized how long he had been writing. His fingers were sore, his back ached, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t finished.

The faint chirping of birds outside felt like a cruel reminder that the world continued, indifferent to his grief. But here, in the quiet of his room, time felt suspended—his focus entirely on the letter before him.

Seoyeon, there’s something I need to tell you, even though it’s too late.

He paused, gripping the pen tightly. The words felt heavy, as if writing them would make everything more real. But he had to say it.

I didn’t see you. Not the way I should have. Not the way you deserved to be seen.

---

The memory of her smile lingered in his mind—not the bright, carefree grin she gave the world, but the smaller, softer one she reserved for quiet moments. He had always loved that smile, though he’d never told her.

---

I thought I knew you, Seoyeon. I thought I understood who you were and what you needed. But I was wrong. I only saw what you wanted me to see, and I never looked deeper. I never asked the questions I should have.

His breath hitched as another memory surfaced, one he had tried to bury.

---

It had been a cold winter evening, and the two of them were walking home from a movie. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, catching in her hair and melting against her flushed cheeks.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he had remarked, glancing at her.

“I’m always quiet,” she had replied with a small laugh, her breath forming a cloud in the frigid air.

“Not like this.”

She had hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Just tired, I guess.”

He had accepted her answer without pressing further, though a part of him had known there was more to it. He had chalked it up to a bad day, assuming she would tell him if it was something serious.

But she hadn’t.

---

Sion clenched his jaw, the sting of regret cutting through him like a blade. How many times had he let moments like that slip by, dismissing the quiet heaviness in her voice or the shadow in her eyes?

He pressed the pen to the paper again, his writing more deliberate now.

I should have asked, Seoyeon. I should have pushed past your walls, even when you tried to keep me out. But I didn’t. I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing or making you uncomfortable that I said nothing at all.

The silence in the room felt deafening as he stared at the words.

---

Another memory surfaced, unbidden and painful. It had been during a group gathering—a rare night when their circle of friends had convinced Seoyeon to come out. She had seemed happy at first, laughing at their jokes and joining in on the games.

But as the night wore on, Sion had noticed her withdrawing, her laughter fading into a polite smile. She had slipped away to the kitchen at one point, and he had found her leaning against the counter, staring into her drink.

“Hey,” he had said, stepping closer. “You okay?”

She had nodded quickly, her smile returning like a mask. “Yeah, just needed a breather. It’s a bit loud in there.”

He had believed her, or maybe he had wanted to believe her. “Alright. Let me know if you want to leave.”

She had thanked him, and they had rejoined the group. But now, looking back, he wondered what would have happened if he had stayed with her a little longer, asked her what was really on her mind.

---

You were so good at hiding, Seoyeon. You carried your pain so quietly, so gracefully, that I didn’t realize how much it was weighing you down. And I let you carry it alone.

---

The words felt like a confession, each sentence digging deeper into wounds he hadn’t fully acknowledged. He set the pen down for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady himself.

“Why didn’t I see it?” he murmured, his voice breaking.

---

He glanced at the pile of books stacked on the corner of his desk, many of them ones they had read together. She had always loved stories about flawed, complicated characters—the ones who hurt and healed, who made mistakes but kept moving forward.

“People are messy,” she had told him once. “That’s what makes them beautiful.”

---

Sion picked up the pen again, his grip firm.

You were messy too, Seoyeon. You were complicated and flawed and beautiful in ways I didn’t fully understand. And I wish I had told you that. I wish I had told you that your struggles didn’t make you weak—they made you human.

His hand trembled as he wrote the next line.

And I loved you for all of it, even the parts of yourself you tried to hide.

---

He paused, his eyes scanning the words on the page. They felt incomplete, as if they weren’t enough to capture the depth of what he wanted to say.

I loved you for your strength, your kindness, your stubbornness. I loved you for the way you made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. And I loved you for the way you saw me, even when I couldn’t see myself.

---

His pen stopped moving as another moment rose to the surface of his mind.

It had been one of their last conversations, a quiet night where they sat by the river, watching the water ripple in the moonlight.

“Do you ever think about what comes after?” she had asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the current.

“After what?”

She had hesitated before answering. “After everything. After this life.”

He had frowned, unsure how to respond. “Not really. Why?”

She had shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I just wonder sometimes. If we leave anything behind. If people remember us.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he had said quickly. “Anyone who knows you could never forget you.”

She had smiled then, but it had been a sad smile, the kind that lingered in the corners of her eyes.

“I hope you’re right,” she had whispered.

---

Sion blinked back tears, the memory hitting him like a tidal wave.

You don’t have to wonder anymore, Seoyeon. I’ll remember you. Every piece of you. And I’ll make sure the world knows who you were.

---

If I had one more day with you, I’d spend it telling you all the things I couldn’t before.

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Chapter 4: The Weight of Words

The room was growing darker as the evening deepened, but Sion didn’t bother turning on the light. The glow from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, giving everything a dim, muted quality. It suited his mood.

He stared at the words he had written so far, the sentences weaving a tapestry of grief and longing. But there was so much left to say—so many things he’d kept locked away, buried beneath fear and pride.

He picked up the pen again, his hand steady but his heart heavy.

Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you everything?

---

He remembered one of those moments vividly. They had been sitting on a rooftop one summer evening, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun set behind the city skyline.

Seoyeon had leaned back on her hands, her face tilted toward the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she had said softly.

“It is,” Sion had replied, though his gaze hadn’t left her.

She had glanced at him then, her lips curving into a small smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” he had said quickly, looking away.

“Liar.”

She had laughed, the sound light and free, but there was something in her eyes—a quiet curiosity, a silent invitation. He had felt the words bubbling up in his chest then, so close to spilling over.

Tell her, he had thought. Tell her how you feel.

But he hadn’t. He had swallowed the words, letting them sink back into the depths of his heart.

---

Sion pressed the pen harder against the page, the letters bold and deliberate.

I wanted to tell you so many times. But every time I got close, I convinced myself it wasn’t the right moment. Or that you didn’t feel the same way. Or that saying it out loud would ruin everything we had.

His hand stilled for a moment as he stared at the sentence.

But the truth is, I was a coward.

---

He could feel the weight of the memories pressing down on him. All those missed opportunities, all those moments where he had chosen silence over honesty.

There was one night in particular that stood out—a night that haunted him more than most. They had been walking home after a long day of exploring the city, their conversation meandering from topic to topic.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Seoyeon had asked suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.

“Sometimes,” Sion had replied. “Why?”

She had shrugged, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. What I want. Where I’m going.”

“And?”

“And... I’m not sure,” she had admitted, her gaze fixed on the ground. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

She had stopped walking then, turning to look at him. “I want to be with people who make me feel alive. People who make me feel like I matter.”

Her words had struck something deep within him, and for a moment, he had felt the urge to grab her hand, to tell her that she mattered to him more than anything.

But all he had said was, “You do matter.”

She had smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes he couldn’t place. “Thanks, Sion.”

---

His chest tightened as he thought of that moment. It had been the perfect time to say everything, to lay his heart bare. But he had let it slip away, just like so many others.

I should have told you then, Seoyeon. I should have told you that you were the only future I could see.

He stopped writing, the weight of the confession leaving him breathless.

---

The sound of the clock ticking filled the room, a quiet reminder of the time slipping by. Sion glanced at it briefly, but he didn’t care how late it was. He had waited too long to say these things—he wasn’t going to stop now.

You once told me that words have weight. That they can hurt or heal, depending on how they’re used. I didn’t understand what you meant at the time, but now I do. My silence hurt you in ways I can never take back. And my words—my lack of words—failed to heal you when you needed them most.

His grip on the pen tightened as he wrote the next line.

I hope, wherever you are, my words can reach you now. I hope they can give you even a fraction of the comfort you gave me, even if I’ll never know for sure.

---

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as the memories continued to wash over him. For a moment, he let himself linger in the past, recalling the way her laughter had sounded, the way her presence had lit up even the darkest days.

But beneath those bright memories was a darker undercurrent—the moments when her light had flickered, when her laughter had felt forced, when her smiles had failed to reach her eyes.

He opened his eyes and picked up the pen again, his heart heavy but resolute.

---

Do you remember the poem you read to me that day in the park? You said it was your favorite, but you didn’t tell me why. I didn’t ask, either. I just listened to you recite the words, your voice steady but soft.

He could almost hear her voice again, the lines echoing in his mind:

"It is not the storm that drowns me,"

"But the weight of the water I cannot escape."

“I should have asked you why,” Sion murmured to himself, his voice trembling. “I should have asked what you were carrying.”

---

He returned to the page, his pen moving with a new sense of urgency.

I didn’t ask you about the storm you were fighting. I didn’t see the weight you were carrying. But now I do, Seoyeon. I see it. I feel it. And I wish more than anything that I could have been the person you leaned on when you needed it most.

---

The room grew still again as he finished the sentence, the ink drying on the page. Sion set the pen down and stared at the words, his vision blurring as tears filled his eyes once more.

“I’m sorry, Seoyeon,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

---

Sion wipes his eyes and picks up the pen again.

I hope you knew how much I loved you. Even if I never had the courage to say it.

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Chapter 3: The Spaces Between Us

Sion sat back in his chair, the pen resting loosely in his hand. The rain outside had stopped, leaving behind a deep, heavy silence that seemed to echo in the room. The paper before him was beginning to fill with words, but each one felt like a drop in an endless ocean of things he wished he could say.

The weight of the silence reminded him of the times he and Seoyeon had drifted apart. It hadn’t happened all at once—it was gradual, a subtle shift that neither of them had noticed until it was too late.

---

“Do you ever feel like we’re just... missing each other?”

Her question had caught him off guard one evening. They had been sitting on the steps of his apartment building, sharing a quiet moment after a long day. She had been staring at the sky, her knees drawn to her chest, the streetlights casting a soft glow over her face.

“Missing each other?” he had echoed, confused.

“Yeah,” she had said, turning to look at him. “Like we’re in the same place, but somehow we’re not really there with each other.”

He had laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “That’s... a weird way to put it.”

She had smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe. But it’s how I feel sometimes.”

---

Sion clenched his jaw at the memory. She had been trying to tell him something that night, but he had brushed it aside, chalking it up to one of her cryptic musings. Now, he could see it for what it really was: a plea.

He leaned forward and began to write again.

I think I understand now, Seoyeon. What you meant when you said we were missing each other. You were trying to tell me that you felt alone, even when we were together. And I didn’t see it. I didn’t hear you.

His hand stilled, the weight of his confession pressing down on him. How many moments like that had there been? How many times had she reached out, only for him to turn away, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice hers?

---

Another memory surfaced, unbidden and painful. It had been a quiet afternoon, the two of them sitting in a café near campus. She had been unusually quiet, stirring her coffee absentmindedly as she stared out the window.

“You okay?” he had asked, barely looking up from his phone.

“Yeah,” she had replied quickly, her voice light but unconvincing.

He had nodded, accepting her answer without pressing further.

Now, he could still see her face in his mind—the faraway look in her eyes, the faint downturn of her lips. She had wanted him to ask again, to push past her walls. But he hadn’t.

---

Sion gritted his teeth, frustration and guilt warring within him. He had always thought of himself as a good friend, someone who cared deeply for the people in his life. But with Seoyeon, he had failed.

I should have noticed, Seoyeon. I should have seen how tired you were, how much you were carrying on your own. But I didn’t. I let the spaces between us grow wider until they swallowed you whole.

He set the pen down, his chest heaving. Writing these words felt like ripping open old wounds, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to say it all, to lay everything bare, even if it was too late.

---

His gaze drifted to the photograph on the desk. In it, Seoyeon was laughing, her hand raised as if to shield herself from the camera. She had always hated being photographed, claiming it made her feel too exposed.

“You were never afraid to hide, were you?” he muttered, his voice bitter. “But I should have looked closer. I should have fought harder to see you.”

The silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He grabbed the pen again, the urgency to keep writing overtaking him.

---

Do you remember that night we walked along the Han River? You were so quiet that I joked about you losing your voice. You just smiled and said, “I like the quiet sometimes.” I didn’t realize that your silence wasn’t peace—it was pain. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I just let it go.

He paused, the pen trembling in his hand.

I didn’t realize how much you lived in silence, Seoyeon. You hid everything so well, behind your jokes, your smiles, your laughter. You made it so easy for everyone to believe you were okay. But I should have known better. I should have seen past the mask.

---

The memories came rushing back now, one after another—the little things he had overlooked, the subtle signs he had ignored. The way she had started canceling plans more often, saying she was tired. The way her texts had grown shorter, her replies less frequent.

“I thought you just needed space,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought... I thought you’d come back when you were ready.”

But she hadn’t.

---

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. When he opened them again, he stared down at the letter, the ink smudged where his hand had pressed too hard.

I failed you, Seoyeon. I failed to see the spaces between us, to bridge the gap before it was too late. And now I have to live with that.

He stopped, his breath hitching as a sob threatened to escape. The tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, streaking down his face. He let them fall, unashamed, as he clutched the pen like a lifeline.

But I need you to know this: even with the spaces between us, you were never alone in my heart. I loved you, Seoyeon. I just didn’t know how to show it.

---

He leaned back in his chair, exhausted from the effort of pouring out his heart. But a new memory surfaced—one that he had pushed away for months.

It was their last shared moment, just a few days before she was gone. They had met at a small bakery near her apartment, sharing pastries and tea. She had been quieter than usual, but her eyes had held a softness he didn’t understand at the time.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she had said as they parted ways.

“You’re the one who needs to take care of yourself,” he had replied, laughing.

Her smile had faltered, just for a second. “I mean it, Sion. Promise me.”

He had nodded, not thinking much of it. “I promise.”

Now, the weight of those words crushed him.

---

He picked up the pen again, his hand steady despite the tears still falling.

I broke that promise, Seoyeon. I didn’t take care of myself, and I didn’t take care of you. But I’m going to try now. I’ll keep writing to you, and maybe, somehow, that will be enough.

---

I hope, wherever you are, you can forgive me, even if I can’t forgive myself yet.

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5 posts!

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Chapter 2: The Weight of Regret

The room was still except for the soft scratch of Sion’s pen against paper. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. Each word he wrote felt like peeling back a layer of himself, exposing the raw ache that had been buried for months.

Do you know what I regret most, Seoyeon?

He paused, staring at the words. There were so many answers to that question. Too many. He drew a shaky breath and pressed on.

I regret the things I didn’t say. The words I swallowed because I was too afraid of what they’d mean or how you’d react. And I regret the times I let you slip away when you needed me most.

Sion’s hand trembled, and he dropped the pen, rubbing his eyes to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He could feel the weight of all the moments he had taken for granted—the quiet evenings spent talking about nothing, the laughter they had shared over terrible movies, and the countless times she had reached out to him when he had pulled away.

“Why didn’t I try harder?” he whispered to the empty room.

---

His mind wandered back to one of those moments. It had been a rainy day, much like this one, and Seoyeon had shown up at his door, soaked to the bone. He had stared at her in disbelief, umbrella in hand but unopened, as if she had walked through the storm on purpose.

“What are you doing here?” he had asked, stepping aside to let her in.

She had laughed, shaking water from her hair like a drenched puppy. “You weren’t answering your phone. I figured you were either dead or sulking. Turns out I was right about the sulking.”

He had frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m not sulking.”

“Sure you’re not,” she had teased, plopping down on his couch and tugging a blanket around her shoulders. “That’s why you’ve got the blinds closed and a face like a kicked puppy.”

He hadn’t said anything, just sat down across from her and stared at the floor.

Seoyeon had let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back, tossing her wet hair over the back of the couch. “You’re so bad at this, you know. If you keep everything bottled up, you’ll explode one day. And I’ll be the one who has to clean up the mess.”

“Hey,” she had said after a moment, her tone softening. “What’s wrong, Sion? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” he had replied, his voice flat.

Despite himself, he had laughed. “That’s not how emotions work.”

“Maybe not, but it’s how you work,” she had said, her gaze piercing. “You think you’re sparing people by shutting them out, but all you’re doing is building walls between you and the people who care about you.”

---

Sion’s heart ached at the memory. She had always seen through him, cutting past his defenses with a sharpness that both terrified and comforted him. And yet, despite her clarity, he had never been able to offer her the same in return.

He picked up the pen again.

You were right, Seoyeon. About everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping my struggles to myself, but all I did was push you away. And when you started pulling away too, I convinced myself it was fine—that you’d come back when you were ready. I never thought you’d leave for good.

---

“It’s not pointless. It’s fun.” She had twirled in the middle of the field, her hair catching the breeze. “When’s the last time you did something just for the joy of it?”

He hadn’t had an answer. But as he stood there, watching her carefree laughter, he had felt something shift inside him.

---

Sion gripped the pen tightly and returned to the page.

You taught me how to live, Seoyeon. How to see the beauty in the little things. I didn’t realize it then, but every moment with you was a gift I didn’t deserve.

He hesitated, then wrote:

You mattered. You mattered more than you’ll ever know.

Sion pauses, staring at the words. He whispers, “Did you know that, Seoyeon? Did you know how much you meant to me?”

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Chapter 1: The Letter Begins

The rain tapped softly against the window, a rhythmic sound that filled the stillness of the room. Park Sion sat at his desk, his head resting in his hands. Before him, a blank sheet of paper lay in stark contrast to the clutter of his surroundings—books stacked haphazardly, a mug of cold coffee, and the photograph he couldn’t bring himself to put away.

Seoyeon’s face smiled back at him from the picture, her head tilted slightly, her eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and warmth that only she could manage. He’d taken that photo a year ago, on her birthday. She had hated it, claiming her hair looked terrible that day, but he had insisted on keeping it. Now, it was all he had left.

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. How long had it been since she was gone? Three months? Four? Time had blurred, stretching endlessly in her absence. The world outside moved on, but Sion felt like he was standing still, trapped in the same moment of loss.

For weeks, he had avoided thinking too deeply about her, fearing the weight of the emotions he had kept locked away. But tonight, something felt different. The words he had been carrying in his chest, unspoken and unresolved, had grown too heavy to bear.

Sion picked up the pen and stared at the paper, his grip tightening. How could he possibly begin? What could he say to someone who wasn’t there to hear him anymore? He felt foolish, yet there was no one else he could turn to.

Finally, he pressed the pen to the page and began to write.

Dear Seoyeon,

I’ve thought of you every day since you left. Some days it feels like you’re still here, like I’ll turn around and see you leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling at me with that look you always gave when you thought I was being ridiculous. But then reality sets in, and I remember.

His hand paused. The memory of her smile felt like a knife, sharp and unforgiving. He swallowed hard and continued.

I didn’t know what to say when I lost you. I still don’t. I’m not even sure if you’ll ever “hear” this, but I need to say it anyway. I owe you that much, at least.

The words began to flow more easily now, as if a dam had broken inside him.

Do you remember the first time we met? You probably don’t—it wasn’t anything special to you. But for me, it was the first time someone like you noticed someone like me. I was sitting alone in the library, buried in that terrible philosophy textbook, and you walked over with that easy confidence of yours. You said, “You’ve been frowning at that page for twenty minutes. Want me to burn it for you?” I thought you were crazy.

A faint smile tugged at Sion’s lips as he wrote.

But then you sat down, grabbed the book, and started flipping through it like it was nothing. You said, “The trick is not to take it so seriously. Just focus on one idea at a time.” And somehow, you made it make sense. After that, you just... stayed. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. I never told you this, but that day changed something in me.

The rain outside grew heavier, the rhythm intensifying, but Sion barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, traveling back to the sunlit library where their friendship had begun.

---

He could still picture it so vividly: the smell of old books, the soft rustle of pages, and Seoyeon sitting across from him, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. She had looked so alive, so vibrant, as if she carried the light of the world within her.

“What’s your name?” she had asked, propping her chin on her hand.

“Uh… Sion,” he had mumbled, caught off guard by her directness.

“Well, Sion, you look like someone who thinks too much.”

He had frowned at her, unsure whether to take offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need someone to remind you that life isn’t just about solving problems.” She had smiled then, a playful grin that was impossible to resist. “Lucky for you, I’m very good at that.”

---

Sion blinked, the memory fading. He stared down at the letter, the pen trembling slightly in his hand.

You did remind me, Seoyeon. Over and over again. You were the one who pulled me out of my shell, who made me believe there was more to life than just surviving. And now you’re gone, and I don’t know how to live without you.

The words blurred on the page as tears welled in his eyes. He set the pen down and rubbed his face, trying to steady himself.

“Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath. But the pain was relentless, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He glanced at the photograph again, his voice barely a whisper. “Why did you have to leave?”

The rain outside softened, as if answering his question with silence. Sion sat there for a long time, staring at the letter. He wasn’t sure if he could finish it, but for the first time in months, the act of writing felt like breathing again—painful, but necessary.

When he picked up the pen once more, his hand moved with newfound determination.

There’s so much I never said to you, Seoyeon. But tonight, I’m going to try. I hope you can forgive me for waiting so long.

He hesitated, then added another line.

Do you remember that night under the stars?

---

It had been one of their last happy memories together. The two of them had walked aimlessly through the quiet streets of their neighborhood until they found a park. She had laid a blanket on the damp grass, tugging him down beside her.

“Look up,” she had whispered, her voice softer than usual.

The stars had been unusually bright that night, scattered across the sky like tiny pieces of light. Sion had stared in awe, but Seoyeon’s gaze had been fixed elsewhere.

“Isn’t it funny,” she had murmured, “how the stars look like they’re so close, but they’re really thousands of light years away?”

“Yeah,” he had replied absentmindedly, still marveling at the view.

When he turned to look at her, her expression had been unreadable. “Sometimes,” she said after a long pause, “I think people are like that too.”

“What do you mean?”

She had smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Never mind. Just promise me you’ll always look up when things get hard, okay?”

---

Sion’s chest tightened at the memory. He wrote the next line carefully, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

You always said to look up when things got hard. But now, all I see are the shadows you left behind.

I loved you, you know. I just never told you. I was too afraid.

[inkgraphia]

To Seoyeon, With Love

Sion pens a letter to the woman he loved and lost, pouring out everything left unsaid.

Park Sion sits in the quiet of his apartment, a blank sheet of paper before him. Months have passed since Lee Seoyeon, the woman he loved, passed away, but her absence feels as raw as ever. Struggling to cope with the weight of his unsaid feelings, Sion decides to write her a letter—a cathartic release of love, regret, and longing. As he writes, he journeys through their shared memories, the highs and lows of their relationship, and the words he never had the courage to say. Through this deeply personal act, Sion finds a path toward healing and closure.

Main Characters: Park Sion & Lee Seoyeon

[inkgraphia]

✨Meet Inkgraphia✨

Hi, Inklings! Welcome to my blog! 🌸

I’m Inkgraphia, a fanfic writer with a love for storytelling that’s been going strong for over 13 years. Writing has always been my escape, my passion, and my way of connecting with others who share the same love for well-crafted characters and gripping plots. From epic love stories to slice-of-life moments, I pour my heart into every piece I create, hoping to evoke the same emotions in my readers.

Currently, I’m working on the Blossom Series, which I hope will be my very first WIP (Work In Progress) to be completed. It’s been quite a journey getting here, and I’m beyond excited to share this with all of you!

This blog will be a space where I post updates on my fanfics, sneak peeks, writing reflections, and probably a few fangirl moments about my favorite fandoms. I’m so grateful for the support from my amazing readers, and I hope you’ll stick around for the stories yet to come!

Feel free to reach out, drop comments, or simply enjoy the stories. Let’s make this a space full of creativity, fun, and fandom love!

With love,

Inkgraphia💕

[inkgraphia]

Hey there, Inklings! ✨

First off, welcome to my little corner of Tumblr! I'm Inkgraphia, and I’m beyond excited to finally have a space to share my stories with all of you. Whether you’ve stumbled upon my work by chance or have been following my journey for a while now, I’m thrilled to have you here!

For 13 years, I’ve been creating fanfictions filled with characters, worlds, and emotions that I hope will capture your hearts. This blog will be the hub where I share updates on my current WIPs, post new chapters, and chat with you all about everything from character dynamics to plot twists (and probably some random fandom feels along the way).

I truly hope you enjoy the stories I’ll be posting and that you’ll support me as we navigate these tales together. Your feedback, comments, and support mean the world to me, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts as each new chapter unfolds.

So grab a comfy spot, and let’s dive into these worlds together. Here’s to endless creativity, supportive community, and a whole lot of fun!

Much love,

Inkgraphia💕