Chapter Text
There’s a flock of students crowded around a bulletin board in the foyer near the canteen. Everyone is clamouring to see the name at the top of the lists: the number one student of each major’s final year project.
Jay’s not expecting much. He loves his degree, and though he had as good of a university life as the next person, he’s never been outstanding. Consequences of choosing to major in literature despite his less-than-enviable flair for words. So when Sunghoon elbows him harshly in the ribs, pointing and saying something that sounds a lot like
“Holy shit dude, how’d you do that?”
Jay has to rub his eyes once, twice, and three times. He blinks blearily at the piece of paper, before reality crashes over him.
English Literature; Class of 2025
- Park Jongseong
In his 23 years of life, he’s never been number one. Jay almost believes that this is some well thought out, elaborate prank carried out by his juniors to toy with his feelings. All at once, a multitude of feelings floods over him like a wave; a mix of relief, pride and-
Fear.
The thesis of the number one student gets displayed on a large poster board for the rest of the semester, all the way up till graduation. Jay’s tongue feels like its grown to triple its size, choking him and rendering him breathless, unable to speak. Sunghoon’s babbling next to him, and people from his faculty are patting him on his back, but Jay just wants to dig himself into a hole and never come out. Eventually, he elbows his way past everyone, ignoring Sunghoon’s calls. He walks, brisk walks and finally runs, all the way to the faculty offices. He pounds on the door until a small woman opens it with enquiring eyes.
“Yes, student?”
“I- I need to speak to Mrs Yoon, it’s about my thesis.”
“Oh? I thought you’d be most pleased with the result, Mr Park. I was very much impressed by your work.”
A stern woman strides out to meet him, while the small woman slinks away back to her desk, glancing back once at Jay’s sweat-ridden face. The English Literature department head stares back at Jay with piercing black eyes.
“I- I came to ask if it was possible not to display the thesis-” Jay’s clumsy tongue trips and fumbles over itself as his brain works to find a reason that doesn’t sound absolutely absurd.
“I know.”
Jay stops abruptly, voice dying in his throat. What?
Mrs Yoon holds the door open, gesturing at him to come in.
“Your thesis was a lot more personal than any of the others. In fact, I dare say it was the most personal piece I’ve read in the past 5 years.”
Jay walks numbly next to her as they make their way to her cubicle. Like Mrs Yooon herself, her office is sterile and sleek, not a trinket in sight, not a piece of paper out of place. He feels himself sitting, still not processing what she means. Mrs Yoon sits opposite her, something kind lighting up her dark irises.
“Do you mind sharing with me, who it is you fear will be reading your thesis?”
Jay’s eyes snap up, something akin to whiplash striking the back of his neck. “I- how did-”
“Mr Park. I’m not sure how to put this differently, but your thesis sounded a lot like a… like something for someone to read. Something you’ve been holding in for a long time, with the way it flowed. Beautifully, might I add. Someone was meant to see those words, and I don’t mean the marker.”
Astute as ever. Jay’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, tinted pink and red and all the hues in between, flushed down to his neck.
“It reads like a-”
“Like a love letter.” He whispers finally, more to himself than anyone else.
Mrs Yoon smiles gently at him, spreading her hands wide. “Indeed. If someone wrote those words about me, I would be most touched. But I get the sensing that you haven’t said anything to this person. And you don’t want them to read it through a laminated poster pasted on a wall for the entire student body to gawk at.”
Jay nods. His foot has started tapping, and his palms are clammy.
“I- I didn’t mean to write it like that.”
A penciled eyebrow rises, not really believing him. “Oh? That’s a shame. I found it hard to find a way to improve it.”
Jay’s cheeks flush harder at the compliment. “I- Thank you.”
“Mr Park, forgive me for saying this. I might be overstepping my boundaries as your professor, but I am also a human.” Something else in her features softens, and suddenly Mrs Yoon looks 10 years younger, youthfulness colouring her face.
“I was also once in love and unable to say a word. So, much like you, I wrote it out. Not as a thesis, I was not as brave as you are. I think I understand. I admire you, Jongseong. And I think you need to give yourself a chance.”
A set of papers is set in front of him, the title of his thesis glaring back at him. Bold, accusing. Jay winces.
“I won’t put it up, Mr Park. Not yet. They’ll ask me for it, and I really do think you deserve all the attention. But I know this is personal, this letter. There’s 2 weeks until the last day that I have to submit something to the general office. I’d like to submit yours, since other professors and visitors might be able to get a look and recognise your talent, which is obviously good for your future. That’s 2 weeks to… shall we say, bare your heart? I know it’s a big ask, Jongseong-ah. So I understand that if after 2 weeks, you still don’t want it up, I won’t submit it at all. Park Jisung’s work isn’t half bad, and god knows he’d be grateful for the attention.”
Jay swallows.
“It’s a beautiful piece, Jongseong. And you are a beautiful and kind soul. I want you to be happy, but I won’t force you to do anything. Just know that I have your back, as you youngsters like to say it.” Mrs Yoon’s eyes are twinkling, and Jay feels the knot in his chest loosen slightly. He brings himself to nod, jerkily. His hands are entwined tight in his lap, knuckles turning white.
By the time he leaves her office, he’s trembling from head to toe. Both from the praise he had never yet received in his life, and from the anxiety coursing through his veins at Mrs Yoon’s words.
“I think they could love you back, Jongseong-ah.”
Jay’s thesis starts like this.
They say that the saddest word in the English language is “almost”. Almost there, not quite touching. Almost done, not quite finished. Almost together, not quite one.
I would like to argue that “everything” is a sadder word. Throughout my life, he has always been everything to me, and me to him. But somehow, everything was still not enough.
I became everything when we were 13, when we were young and innocent and had enough bravery to face the world without heeding the warnings of those who had lived more days than we. The ones that warned us of people out to hurt us, those with malicious intent.
Nobody ever warned us about hurting each other, not when we were everything to each other.
But our everything fell apart when we were 18. Or maybe it was just my everything that crumbled at my fingers, not his. Our everything became bigger, with one more pair of bright eyes and the kindest smile I had ever seen in my life. I thought this everything could last.
It would last, if only humans had greater control over our emotions.
Even when we fell apart, I was still everything. The last sincere statement, spoken by an 18 year old body in that 13 year old voice, just barely cracking at the edges.
“You are everything to me, Jongseong ah.”
I didn’t feel like someone’s everything. I felt like something I cherished deeper than my own soul was slipping through my fingers like sand, and I was powerless to stop it.
But how could I hold this against him, when I too had dimmed the lights of someone’s eyes? Someone loved me, so wholeheartedly, while I was looking at someone else. I’m still looking, if I’m being honest.
I’d do anything to get my everything back, to be back to when we were 13, fearless and loving.
But I just turned 23, and my heart aches for two.
So, to my everythings: I’m sorry, and I love you.
Mrs Yoon was spot-on, but she had missed out two very crucial components of his thesis.
- There were 2 people he was hiding from.
- He needs to say I love you and he needs to say I’m sorry. He’s not sure to whom he needs to say what, though. Maybe both, to both.