Tae-min said you saw through it. That you knew there was more beneath the surface. I don't know how you knew, but... thank you. For seeing me. Even while you were running.
I'm not angry that you ran. I was hurt — I won't lie about that. But I understand now. Your fear makes sense. I just wish I could show you that I'm not what you're afraid of. That none of us are.
Eat Min-jun-hyung's food. He's been stress-cooking for days and he's driving us all insane.
— Hwan
P.S. I'm sorry too. For chasing you. For not giving you space to breathe. I'll do better.
I set the letter down and pressed my hand against my chest, where the golden amber bond was pulsing with something that felt like warmth. Like recognition. Like the beginning of understanding.
He's not what we feared, my omega whispered.He's just a person. A person who gets tired of pretending too.
I reached for Jin-ho's letter next. His handwriting was the opposite of Hwan's — precise, measured, each character formed with careful intention. But there were still signs of humanity in it — a slight wobble on certain letters, a place where the ink had smudged like he'd rested his hand on the page before it dried.
Keira,
I'm not good with words when I have to speak them out loud. They get tangled somewhere between my brain and my mouth, and what comes out is never what I meant to say. But writing is different. Writing lets me take my time. Lets me find the right words instead of settling for the wrong ones.
I've read your lyrics. All of them. Not just the ones you submitted for the project — I found your older work too. The songs you wrote before anyone was paying attention.
You write like someone who's been lonely for a very long time.
I recognized it because I write the same way. There's a particular ache that shows up in words when the person writing them doesn't expect anyone to really hear them. A rawness that disappears once you start performing for an audience.
Your early work has that rawness. So does mine.
I think that's why the bond felt the way it did when it triggered. Not just biology — recognition. Finding someone who speaks the same language of loneliness. I'm not asking you to stop being lonely with us. I'm just asking you to consider that maybe you don't have to be lonely anymore.
— Jin-ho
P.S. I've been working on something new. A song. It's not finished yet, but it's yours when it is.
Tears were burning behind my eyes now, threatening to spill over. I blinked them back fiercely, but a few escaped anyway, tracking down my cheeks and landing on the paper. The ink smudged slightly where they fell, blurring the edges of his words.
He sees us, my omega breathed, something like wonder in her voice.Really sees us.
I set Jin-ho's letter aside and reached for Tae-min's, already knowing what I'd find there. We'd talked so much at the convenience store, had shared more than I'd shared withanyone except Jeni. His letter felt like a continuation of that conversation rather than a new beginning.
Keira,
I don't really know how to write letters. I've written songs, but that's different — songs can hide behind melody and metaphor. Letters are just... words. Naked and honest and nowhere to hide.
You asked for real. So here's something real:
I was terrified before I debuted. Not just nervous — terrified. I was convinced I wasn't good enough, that I'd gotten lucky in the audition, that any day someone would realize I didn't deserve to be there and send me home. Every practice, every performance, every critique felt like confirmation that I was a fraud.
Do you know what helped? Not logic. Not people telling me I was being irrational. What helped was doing the thing I was afraid of and finding out it didn't destroy me. Performing on stage and not dying. Letting my hyungs close and not being rejected.
You're afraid that bonds will consume you. That letting us in will mean losing yourself. I understand that fear — I do. But I also know that fear lies. It tells you the worst will happen when usually, it doesn't.
The only cure for fear is experience. Is doing the thing you're afraid of and finding out what actually happens.
I'm not asking you to trust us yet. I'm just asking you to give us a chance to show you that we're not what your fear says we are.
Also, Min-jun-hyung is making you food. Please eat it. He's been stress-cooking for days and if you don't eat it now that he can share it with you, he might actually combust.
— Tae-min
