the late morning light in hongjoong's apartment filtered through the crooked blinds in soft streaks, striping the floorboards in uneven slashes. the building creaked the way old bronx buildings do, radiators hissing in the background, the faint sound of someone dragging furniture across the floor above him, and the quiet hum of traffic far below.

his tiny kitchen still smelled like last night's dinner. he had not opened a window yet. had not touched his breakfast either, just let his tea go cold on the counter while he sat cross-legged on the floor by his bed, laptop perched on a stack of books.

the screen glowed with the familiar 'connecting...' message until it blinked into life, revealing dr. hwang's warm face, half-shadowed in the soft light of his own office.

"morning, hongjoong," the therapist said, adjusting his glasses. "how are you doing today?"

hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, already messy from sleep. he had not bothered to change out of his oversized t-shirt. "i'm okay."

dr. hwang gave a slow nod, the kind that said he had heard the word, but was not convinced by it. "okay," he echoed, tapping a pen against the side of his notepad. "what does 'okay' feel like for you today?"

hongjoong shrugged, then pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. "like i'm not drowning. but i'm not really floating either."

"still treading water?"

hongjoong nodded. "yeah."

dr. hwang gave a small smile. "well, that's better than sinking. i'll take it."

for a moment, the silence between them was comfortable. familiar.

dr. hwang glanced at the window on his end, then back. "how have the past few weeks been? any changes since we last talked?"

hongjoong rubbed at his temple. "not really. just... routine stuff. baking a lot. prepping for school. trying not to overthink every second of my life."

dr. hwang chuckled lightly. "i think that's a very noble goal."

hongjoong offered a faint smile in return, but his fingers twitched in his lap.

"i've been thinking about something," he said quietly, eyes not quite meeting the screen. "something i haven't really said out loud."

dr. hwang leaned in slightly, just enough to signal he was listening without pressing.

hongjoong hesitated for a breath, then shifted on the floor and reached behind him. under his pillow, there was a folded sheet of paper. it was creased and soft at the edges from being taken out, re-read, and hidden again.

he held it up for a second, then dropped his hand. "it's a letter," he said. "to seonghwa."

dr. hwang's eyes softened. "you mentioned you'd been writing things you never got to say."

"yeah. i wrote this a couple weeks after... after that night. the one where i showed up drunk again."

the therapist nodded slowly. "the night he told you he couldn't keep doing this."

hongjoong nodded too. "i couldn't stop thinking about it. not just what he said, but how he looked when he said it. how tired he was. like i'd drained everything good out of him."

he exhaled hard. "i wrote it all down. everything i should've said sober. everything i couldn't admit."

"and what have you done with the letter since?" dr. hwang asked.

hongjoong laughed, but it was humorless. "slept with it under my pillow. like some pathetic, grown-up version of the tooth fairy."

"you're not pathetic," dr. hwang said gently. "you've been doing real work. showing up for yourself. that takes courage."

"yeah." hongjoong's voice dropped. "but i never gave it to him."

"what's been stopping you?"

hongjoong looked away. "i guess... part of me felt like i didn't deserve to give it to him. like the only right thing left was to let him move on."

dr. hwang did not rush in with an answer. he let the silence hang there a moment before he spoke again. "you've been spending the last six months trying to better yourself. and you have."

hongjoong chewed his bottom lip.

"you've built a routine. you committed to something for yourself, culinary school. you've taken a hard look at your own patterns and choices. and most importantly, you've done all of it without using seonghwa as a crutch."

"because i didn't want to break him again," hongjoong said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"i know," dr. hwang replied. "but there's a difference between protecting someone and pushing them away because you're scared you're unworthy of love."

hongjoong flinched at that.

"you've been telling yourself this story," the therapist continued, "that if you let him love you, you'll only ruin it. because of your past. your patterns. your fears."

hongjoong's eyes burned, but he did not look away from the screen this time.

"but people aren't fixed puzzles," dr. hwang said. "you're not finished yet. healing isn't about becoming perfect before someone can love you. it's about learning how to stay. to show up. especially when it's hard."

hongjoong swallowed. "he told me... he said it felt like every time he opened the door for me, i walked through just to leave again."

"do you think that was true?" dr. hwang asked.

hongjoong thought for a long moment. then nodded. "yeah. i think i was scared of how real it felt. scared that if i stayed, i'd mess it up and lose him anyway."

"so you chose to lose him first." dr. hwang said matter of fact.

hongjoong closed his eyes. "yeah."

dr. hwang let out a breath. "what do you want now?"

hongjoong looked down at the letter in his hands. "i want him to know. even if it's too late. even if he's already moved on."

"then tell him," dr. hwang said. "drop it off. no expectations. no strings. just the truth."

"what if it hurts him again?" hongjoong asked, skeptical.

"you've already hurt him by leaving him out of your life," dr. hwang said gently. "but this is honesty. it's not a plea. it's not manipulation. it's you letting him see where you are now."

hongjoong nodded slowly, pressing the letter flat against his leg. his hands were shaking a little.

dr. hwang gave him a small smile. "you don't have to be perfect to love someone, hongjoong. you just have to be willing to stay."

hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.

"and what about school?" he said, trying to steady his voice. "i start monday. i haven't been in a classroom in years. what if i suck at it?"

"you won't know unless you try. you know that is true," dr. hwang said.

hongjoong felt his throat tighten again.

"you've built a life," dr. hwang said. "now you get to live it."

outside, the street noises were louder now. someone's car alarm went off and was quickly silenced. a bus screeched around the corner.

"it's still scary," hongjoong admitted.

"of course it is. change always is."

"but you think... it'll work out?" hongjoong asked hopeful.

"i think," dr. hwang said with a soft smile, "everything works out one way or another. not always in the way we expect, but in the way we need."

hongjoong looked back at the screen, breathing a little deeper now.

"thank you," he said.

"you're the one doing the work," dr. hwang replied. "i'm just here to remind you that you're allowed to be loved."

they wrapped up soon after, scheduling their next session for the following week. when the screen went dark, hongjoong sat in the silence for a long time, the laptop closed beside him, the letter still in his hands.

he read it one more time. every line. every shaky truth he had not been brave enough to say out loud.

then, carefully, he folded it again. slipped it into an envelope. sealed it.

he did not know what seonghwa would do if he read it. he did not even know if he would read it.

but for the first time in six months, the thought did not scare him too much.