Chapter Text
Cheongah doesn't remember when she began using her Instagram account as a digital journal, but it's cathartic, in a way, to be able to release her thoughts somewhere. When she'd first started, Cheongah had considered making her account private, but quickly found there was no need—people ignored her just the same online as they did real life.
Perhaps if she was more honest with herself, she'd admit that she wants to be like other kids, who have public Instagrams to talk and post and tag their friends in anything and everything.
Instead of posting fun hangouts and pouty selfies, though, Cheongah posts sporadic pictures from her gallery. Mostly from her walks, taken when she particularly likes the lighting or composition of her surroundings.
The pictures are secondary to her thoughts, though, which are the main focus of the posts. Through the captions, Cheongah can speak freely, even if it is into the void; something she certainly couldn't do in real life. And so Cheongah’s content with her faceless account filled with mundane photos and embarrassingly honest thoughts, there for no one's eyes but hers.
At least, that's what she had intended with the account. Cheongah stares at this notification in confusion.
yeonse006 commented on your latest post.
What?
Cheongah, feeling a strange fluttering in her chest, clicks into the post, sees that it's the one with the picture of a courtyard attached to that hospital. She'd passed by it on one of her afterschool walks last week, and something about the atmosphere had prompted Cheongah to pull out her phone and snap a picture.
It was a bright courtyard, for sure; ample sunlight streamed through the clouds onto the open grass, but something about it felt empty, hollow. The kind of atmosphere that made the scene interesting enough to document.
It seems like yeonse006's comment is moreso about her caption than her picture, though. Cheongah had penned that one the day she got Sekyung's farewell letter, pouring the frustration and regret she had felt onto the screen.
Too much kindness can hurt someone. Below it, where there should've been a blank space like all her other posts, was the comment: Me too.
What?
Cheongah taps on the profile, sees that it's a faceless account with 4 followers and 1 following: Yeon Sieun.
She's inclined to believe it might be a troll account, but to be fair, her own account is faceless with 0 followers and only 1 following. Cheongah snoops further, trying to get a gauge on this user: 0 posts, 0 highlights, and as she swipes to the tagged folder— oh.
There's actually some substance here, a few posts with blurry shots where the frame is half-blocked by a hand swatting the camera. Cross-referencing with the account's four followers; these must be her friends.
Cheongah peeks into those accounts and finds much more activity than this faceless one, feeds full of inspirational quotes and anime scenes and basketball stills.
She feels a twinge in her heart as Cheongah stares at the account, cursing herself for getting her hopes up. The account is similar to hers yet different in the one way that matters: its owner, this Yeon Sieun, clearly has friends, lively and joyful ones, even if her own social media presence is scarce. And yet she'd commented on Cheongah's post, saying Me too to her woes about the malice of kindness.
Cheongah frowns. What do you know?
“Download Instagram!” Suho had said. “Follow me back!” he'd said.
Personally, Sieun didn't see the need when they already had their native messaging apps. All he needed to do on his phone was talk to Suho, so apps like Instagram with unnecessary features and buttons didn't appeal to him.
As much as he grumbled about it, though, Sieun couldn't refuse Suho anymore these days.
Maybe ever, Sieun thinks.
Ever since Suho woke up two months ago, Sieun has felt like the hole in his chest has both shrunk and expanded. Shrunk, because his best friend, his guardian angel, had returned to him, alive and whole and smiling that same rueful, boyish smile. Expanded, because now Sieun didn't know how to act or breathe normally when they’re together. Whenever Suho is near, Sieun's chest would get tighter and his palms would start sweating like he was going to enter a fight, which makes no sense. Sieun never wants to fight Suho.
In that first month, when Suho was still staying at the hospital for recovery and physical therapy, Sieun thought he could handle it. As he sat in school and watched the achingly slow clock tick, his mind’s eye would run through all the coma research he'd done, and when the last bell finally rang, Sieun would come straight to the hospital.
(By this time, he had quit hakwon. No point in going if he was already top of Eunjang and studied better at home anyway, and Sieun sensed that his mom could tell something had shifted in Sieun's life and didn't fight him on it. Good.)
Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Suho move and talk for the first time in nearly two years, though. That first day, Sieun had just set his bag down as the doctors and physical therapist prepared Suho for his session.
His breath had quickened and his hands began sweating, but Sieun ignored it, determined to be available and ready should Suho need anything during his physical therapy. He'd read up on it beforehand and knew what to expect: faltering, shaking, frustration and sadness from the patient.
What he hadn't expected was for Suho to turn to him as he stood by the edge of the bed—gripping his walker—smiling cheekily and calling out, “Sieun-ah!”
Sieun's knees had nearly buckled then, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality that this was Ahn Suho, living and breathing and calling Sieun's name so sweetly.
Perhaps a bit insanely, Sieun wanted to crawl into Suho's skin, settle beside his beating heart as proof that Suho was really here and to ensure that they would never be separated again.
Even when he was discharged and Suho spent every waking minute at Sieun's apartment, it never felt like enough.
So when Suho suggested he download Instagram, Sieun couldn't refuse. How could he deny Suho this semblance of normalcy as a teenager when he was already robbed of so much?
Of course, once the others caught wind of it, it quickly became much more annoying. They'd insisted he let them follow him and follow them back too, but Sieun wanted to be contrary and only allowed the former. Humin had made a whole fuss when he'd said as much, but Sieun didn't care.
The only account he followed back was Suho, and even if his feed was virtually identical to Humin and Hyuntak’s—sports clips and too-close selcas—Sieun didn’t care as long as it was Suho.
Yawning now, Sieun stretches from the hunched-over position he was in while studying. On his phone, he sees a notification from Instagram, from Suho's DMs with him. The corners of Sieun's mouth lift slightly as he opens the message.
Suho had sent him three reels, each attached with his thoughts:
This cat looks like you
Let's go here sometime
Come watch me play basketball and I'll make this shot for you lol
Sieun can't stop the small smile from spreading on his face as he replies to each message.
I look like a hissing menace?
Sure, Suho-yah.
I always watch you.
Pleased with Suho's messages, Sieun exits the DMs and feels a whack to his chest as he comes face to face with a picture of the courtyard of Suho's hospital.
For a moment, his mind races.
Did Suho return to the hospital and take this picture? Why didn't he tell me?
Sieun's smile slides off his face and his eyes flick to the account name. It’s not ahnsh006 like he thought, but rather vilavi1009. Sieun quickly scans the picture; it’s taken from the sidewalk, some distance away from the interior of the courtyard where Suho had gazed at him with that soft smile, asking Have you been well?
Then he glances at the caption, and this is where his heart really stops.
Recently, I read this quote online. It said, “The only thing fair about life is how unfair it is to everyone.” I wonder, in that case, if there are others who are like me.
Someone had extended their kindness to me, and I had tried to bat it away. After all, it never worked out for me in the past to tolerate other people. But she kept trying, and for some reason, I let her. I responded in kind. Foolishly, I began to hope that, maybe, this was my chance.
With that in mind, I tried in earnest to stay near this person, but she suddenly moved away, and left me only a letter.
Of course, I should have expected it, but I still hoped.
Too much kindness can hurt someone.
Sieun blinks, his misty vision clearing up again as he rereads the words. Too much kindness can hurt someone.
He looks back up again at the picture of the courtyard. Too much kindness can hurt someone.
Sieun’s body feels heavy. It’s true, he thinks. Too much kindness can hurt someone.
He takes a breath, begins to swipe out of the app, but releases his finger. Somehow, it feels too cruel to just leave the post, leave this person who's hurting with feelings Sieun is all too familiar with.
He clicks on the comment icon, sees his own blank profile picture next to the blinking cursor, and types, Me too. Sieun hesitates, staring down at the words on his screen, and finally hits post. He closes the app, then, and takes a breath.
Needing to squash the heaviness in his chest, Sieun puts his phone face down and picks up his pencil again.
Cheongah stares at the comment again. Me too. It was a new day, and yet all throughout school today, Cheongah's mind kept coming back to yeonse006 and her mysterious comment.
Does ‘Me too’ mean she's lonely too, like me? From her friends’ accounts alone, it seems not, but Cheongah still isn't sure.
She makes up her mind, then, and takes a screenshot of the comment. Tapping on the profile, Cheongah presses message and begins typing.
Cheongah: Who are you? What did you mean by this?
You sent a photo
Staring once more at the screen, Cheongah awaits her reply.
Bzzt.
Sieun, having just bid Suho farewell from his apartment, feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It's probably Juntae or the others, but a small part of Sieun hopes it's Suho, texting him from his walk home.
Sieunieee it's so lonely walking home like this, I miss you, he might say, and Sieun would reply, You saw me ten minutes ago, even if he secretly agrees, that he misses Suho too.
Turns out it's neither. His DM channel with Suho is grey, the last message already read—You can come over—and above it, the bright blue of a message request from vilavi1009. Curious, Sieun taps into the request.
vilavi1009: Who are you? What did you mean by this?
vilavi1009 sent a photo
Sieun clicks on the account, notes the bare highlights, 0 followers and 1 following, and 32 posts. He gives a cursory glance over the feed; the photos are organic, with an amateurly cinematic quality to them.
The latest post is the one he'd seen, the one of the courtyard—Sieun's chest squeezes again looking at it.
He clicks it and reads through the caption, then scrolls and reads a couple more posts. It seems vilavi1009 just posts their day-to-day thoughts, but there's a distinct note of melancholy in each of them.
Someone tried to talk to me today. I just put in my earbuds and ignored them. Every day, I can feel their stares on my back. I'd prefer if they just pretended I didn't exist, rather than glare at me without a word otherwise.
Sieun gets a strange sense of deja vu and returns to the DM.
Sieun: My name is Yeon Sieun.
Sieun: I just wanted to say that I can understand your sentiment, with too much kindness being a vice. That's all.
Sieun waits. Would it be too much to say that I’ve been in their position before? Even if their account is public, the utter lack of external activity makes their posts feel more private, more vulnerable.
vilavi1009 is typing…
vilavi1009: What, you've been hurt before too?
Hm. That’s blunt. Sieun frowns lightly.
In a way, he answers in his head, and thinks of Suho. But I've seen kindness cost someone else a lot more than my hurt.
Sieun: Yes.
He hesitates.
Sieun: I also lost someone once, like you described, but they came back.
yeonse006: I also lost someone once, like you described, but they came back.
Cheongah stares at the message, thoughts jumbled in her mind. On one hand, she feels resentment: what, this person's going to comment on her woe-posting and say I can relate, but I've got it better than you now?
But on the other hand, Cheongah feels hope beginning to flutter again, even as she tries to stamp it down. Maybe, if this Yeon Sieun isn't lying and she was also lonely, like Cheongah, but got through it, then Cheongah could survive too and have real friends like the ones on Yeon Sieun's account.
Cheongah: Did it take a long time?
Cheongah: My name is Cheongah, by the way.
Sieun is typing…
Sieun: Yes. Two years. But I’ve found some great people since, and they've helped me.
Sieun: If this is too forward, sorry. I saw on one of your posts that you put in your earbuds every day and tune out everyone else.
Sieun: I did that too, before I met this person. I also wanted to ignore him, but he persisted anyway, so he just became part of my daily life.
Cheongah takes in the information, processing how Sieun is apparently more similar to her than she thought. Would Sekyung and I have been like that, if she hadn't left?
Sieun let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, staring at his last message. I also wanted to ignore him, but he persisted anyway, so he just became part of my daily life.
It's cathartic, almost, to be able to reveal these details to someone virtually unattached to the situation. Juntae and Hyuntak and Humin only know bits and pieces, can guess at Sieun and Suho's dynamic pre-coma, but this is the first time Sieun's actually divulging the specifics.
To a stranger online, Sieun thinks wrily.
Cheongah: I see. It must be nice, to no longer have to deal with the burden of being alone.
Sieun feels both glad that Cheongah understands and sad that she's still stuck where he was.
Sieun: It is.
Once again, he hesitates.
Sieun: I hope you'll get to experience it too.
Cheongah: …
Cheongah: Thank you.
Cheongah rereads their exchange, her stiff shoulders hunching. A strange person, this Yeon Sieun, but perhaps no stranger than her. Her words were brief, yet direct as they shot right into Cheongah's chest.
When Cheongah finally returns to her painting, the conversation rolls around in her mind. Even though she hardly knows this Sieun person, Cheongah thinks she'd like to.
“Sieun-ah, why do you keep glancing at your phone?” Juntae's voice drifts in from where he's sitting on Sieun's right. It's the lunch period, and Humin had dragged Sieun out of the classroom to sit in the awfully noisy lunchroom, where he, Juntae, Humin, and Hyuntak form a square around the table.
Sieun glances up at Juntae, beginning to reply, but Hyuntak interrupts him.
“Juntae, you should chew your food fully before you speak.” Hyuntak’s words are chiding, but his voice is fond. “And Sieun’s probably waiting for a text from Suho,” he snickers.
Beside him, Humin tuts.
“You wouldn't understand, Gogo.” Humin sighs heavily, a tad melodramatic. “Our Sieunie is simply experiencing young love. A love like that can put anyone on the edge of their seat, waiting for a sign or message.” He places a dramatic hand on his chest, then spoons more rice into his mouth.
Sieun rolls his eyes as Hyuntak retorts, Juntae laughing along with their antics.
Later at home, when Sieun has his notebook and pens laid out in front of him, he picks up his phone again and opens Instagram.
Sieun: Can I ask how you got this picture?
He sends the post again, just to be sure. After a moment, the three typing dots appear.
Cheongah: I took it on my walk home from school.
Cheongah: Why?
Sieun: No reason. You're a student around there?
Sieun's not really one for small talk, but he wants to reach out to Cheongah in some way. What you did for me, I'll try and do for others.
Cheongah: Somewhat. I go to Seowon Arts High School.
Turning to his laptop, Sieun types a quick search and finds that it's located across the river, some distance away from Eunjang. A good fifteen minutes away by bus, half an hour by foot.
Guess she likes walking. A bit strange, but Sieun doesn’t question it.
Sieun: I'm in high school as well. 3rd year, at Eunjang High School.
As if Cheongah wasn't surprised enough by Sieun messaging her out of the blue, she's stunned again by the discovery that she and Yeon Sieun are the same age. She does a quick search on the school, and— oh.
It's an all-boys high school.
Cheongah: You're a boy?
That was a normal thing to ask, right?
Sieun is typing…
Sieun: Yes? If you thought I was a girl because of my name, that's not the case.
Oops.
Cheongah: Sorry for assuming.
Cheongah: But there's probably something you assumed about me too.
Sieun: What is it?
Hm. Should Cheongah tell him? On one hand, Cheongah likes the anonymity of the digital world, where no one can tell that she’s deaf and treat her any differently because of it.
On the other hand, Sieun has already volunteered a lot of information about himself, and seems to somewhat understand Cheongah, somehow. And if Sieun gives her shit about it, she'll just curse him out and block him for being the asshole that has a problem with her disability.
Nodding, Cheongah begins typing.
Cheongah: I'm deaf. Even though I wear earbuds, I can't hear the music.
Sieun is typing…
Sieun: Then it's convenient that we're talking online.
Sieun: But I'll learn KSL, in case we meet in real life.
Cheongah slowly puts her phone down, hands trembling.
Is this what it feels like, to have friends who care?
Cheongah doesn't know if they're friends yet, but she wants to be. At the mention of KSL, though, her stomach twists. That witch has long threatened her not to learn or use it, so Cheongah couldn’t use it even if Sieun learned. Screw her, Cheongah thinks with indignation. If knowing KSL means I can make friends, then I’ll learn it no matter what.