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Summary: Four years and continents apart. What keeps Yi Jeong and Ga Eul's hope alive are the letters that they write to each other from time to time…

LOVE LETTER

XI

(I)

"Turn here," she said softly. "Then go straight and turn to the right."

In a couple of months, it would be two years since he had left for Sweden. After countless words and ink and paper, countless nights and days of longing for him, here he was beside her, so close she would feel his warmth. And of all times, her mouth and heart would choose to clam up. She just didn't know what to say.

From the corner of his eye, he glanced at her and saw that she was looking out the window. She looked worried and that in turn, made him worried. After their letters, he would have expected less of this sudden awkwardness and uncertainty that had suddenly descended on them once they had left the club. But words were one thing and real life was another. Both of them had changed in ways that perhaps had not been fully revealed in their letters. But she was still his brave girl. Yi Jeong could pretty much guess who had been responsible for telling her his whereabouts and he was torn between the urge to either thank or strangle Woo Bin. The former because Ga Eul had helped him to avoid falling back into the trap of his former life, the latter because she had been forced to stand there and relive painful memories that he had given her.

"Are you cold? You forgot your jacket," Yi Jeong commented as he turned down the air-conditioning.

"No, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head gently. "You can stop here."

As Yi Jeong locked up the car, she walked to the door of the studio and fished around in her tiny sling bag for the keys. Her hands were shaking slightly, both from excitement at Yi Jeong's presence and nervousness as well. Behind her, she sensed his approach. Did he have to stand so close? And just where were those darn keys?

"Aish, you forgot to bring them didn't you?" He sighed and grinned down at her.

"No I didn't. If you would just move out of the way since you are blocking the lamplight…" she replied testily. Thankfully, at that moment her fingers closed around a familiar star shaped object and triumphantly, she pulled out the key chain and dangled it in front of him. "See."

"It's about time," he said and Ga Eul stuck out her tongue at him before unlocking the door. The familiar smell of clay greeted him as they stepped into the warm darkness. Ga Eul was groping around for the light switch when Yi Jeong suddenly reached out and stopped her.

"Eh?"

"It's better this way. Besides, excellent night vision is but one of my many attributes."

"Why you ego—"

He stopped her by taking her hand and pulling her along. Why was it that the quips could come fast and furious but his real feelings remained stuck in his throat? Maybe that was why he didn't want the lights; it might be easier to talk that way, the shadows gave the illusion of being hidden.

Her pulse was leaping like a mad thing and Ga Eul prayed that Yi Jeong would not be able to feel it. It was hard to think and therefore easy to just follow him in the dark, the warmth of his large hand engulfing her smaller one.

"Which room do you normally use?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the room where you work."

It was a good thing she hadn't switched on the lights. Her entire face was red, and while she couldn't see him smirking at her, she was pretty sure that he was. "Second room to the right," she muttered.

There was a little more light in this room because of the windows that overlooked the small garden Teacher Jun tended to when he wasn't working on his pottery or teaching. It was small but cosy, with a large worktable and bench plus a display cabinet filled with pottery that his students had given to him over the years. It was her favourite room and had become her unofficial studio here. To Ga Eul's disappointment, Yi Jeong let go of her hand and walked over to the table.

Yi Jeong took a deep breath, tried to calm himself as he surreptitiously wiped his palm against the leg of his pants. It had been another lifetime ago that being alone in a dark room with the opposite sex had given him sweaty palms. But this wasn't just any girl; it was Ga Eul yang. In an attempt to distract himself, he walked over to the work table and picked up a simple butterfly that she had made. It was plain white, unglazed and without any pattern, a tentative first attempt.

Quietly, Ga Eul sat down on the bench, watching him as he stood in the dim light, appraising her work. "I'm working on making some ceramic ornaments. Some of my students will be moving to another class at the end of the year. It would make a nice going away present."

"Yes it would. But… it's not as nice as a letter."

Their eyes met and she wondered if he felt that same wave of emotion that suddenly robbed her of her breath. Gently, he put the butterfly down and sat beside her. "Aren't you going to ask me how things went tonight?" he finally asked.

"You can tell me if you want to. I think I have done enough prying already," she said wryly.

"Well, I must say that taking your advice hurts."

Ga Eul pressed her lips together. 'Talk about twisting the knife in deeper,' she thought, more than a little pained by his words.

"But it's the same advice I gave you, isn't it? Pressed, moulded, carved and cut, and having to endure more than a thousand degrees of heat. That's what gives us a strong heart, that's how we know what truly belongs to us."

"Sunbae, is there something—"

"I'm tired," he interrupted quietly. "Tonight was…" His eyes stung and his throat felt thick. "…terrible." He couldn't have said more if he had wanted to.

If he had been hers, she would have taken him in her arms. She would have pressed her lips to his temple and held him as tightly as she could. But he wasn't. So all she could do was look at him and wish that she could take some of his pain.

"Ga Eul yang, may I?"

She blinked in confusion. "Yi Jeong sunbae, what?" He was looking down at his hands, and she couldn't quite make out the expression on his face.

"May I?"

Slightly perplexed but not willing to quiz him further, given the current mood he was in, Ga Eul nodded. "Mmm, I –I guess so. Yes."

If he thought too much about what he was going to do, he would never work up the nerve to get it done. Before he could stop himself, he shifted a little away from her and then lay down on his side, his head on her lap, his face resting against the soft material of her skirt.

For a moment she remained frozen, nothing less than astounded by his actions. "Sunbae…"

"Only a little while," he whispered. "I just want to rest." He was glad that the lights were off; it lessened the intense vulnerability of his position. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it in his ears. But this was something he had wanted to do ever since he had seen her. Small talk would not do, and things had changed too much for them to go back to the way things were in the past.

Hesitantly, Ga Eul put a hand on his shoulder. When he didn't shrug her off or tell her to stop, she took it as a sign of silent permission. Lightly and slowly, she stroked her thumb over the smooth material of his jacket. She refused to analyse what was happening. If she did, she would lose the moment.

He felt the feather-light weight of her touch and found it comforting. Pressing his face against her lap, he closed his eyes. It felt safe here.

"I was never enough." The words poured from his lips, unbidden, unrestrained. There was no sound in the studio, save for their breathing and the soft voice that he recognised as his. "She loved him more than us, more than me.

The first time it happened, I was six years old. I didn't know why they had taken her, where they had taken her. I had been in school and no one would tell me."

In her mind's eye she could see him, a bewildered little boy asking frantically for his mother. Her heart ached and she couldn't stop the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She learnt that the first time his mother had sent him to look for his father, he had only been fourteen. That had also been the first time he had caught his father together with another woman. "It was a night of many firsts for me," he said ironically. "I thought I would get used to it, that's what I would tell myself. But I never did."

"But…but you're not going to do it anymore?"

She felt his warm breath on her knee as he exhaled. "No, I told her that tonight."

"H-how did she take it?"

"They had to sedate her," he replied flatly.

"I'm sorry."

He heard the slight hitch in her voice and turned to look up at her. "Are you crying?" She tried to turn away and wipe the tears but he brushed her hand aside and cupped the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. He ran his thumb over her cheek, felt the softness of her skin, the wetness that stained his skin. Many women had cried when he had left them. None of them had ever cried because he was in pain. None of them had even realised there was more to him than his playboy façade. "You silly country bumpkin…"

His fingers were exerting gentle pressure, and she complied, leaning down as she lowered her face to his. Yi Jeong knew without a doubt that he was going to kiss her. He didn't know if this was love, perhaps wasn't ready to think of it as such. But if tenderness and yearning and needing equated to love, then he was head over heels for this girl.

The soft curtain of her hair fell about them. He could smell the faint peach scent of her shampoo, could feel her quivering against him as he rubbed his nose against hers. The warmth of their breath intermingling in the darkness, her tears on his face, and the sweet, sweet taste of her mouth on his as their lips finally met.