Work Text:
July 1, 1997
We were young once, old friend. Do you remember?
In this cell the years go by, and I have nothing left but memories of a life I can no longer live.
Do you still think about that summer, my friend? Do you remember when your hair was red and mine was gold?
I can still feel the phantom touch of your lips on mine, your smile against my mouth, your breath mingling with mine.
We used to hold each other under the sun in those summer days, young and powerful. Together we felt invincible, unbeatable. We used to hold each other with only the sunset as witness, until the sun was a sheer memory and the stars painted the sky with their dim light. We were two halves of a whole, lonely and empty without the other. Did you feel that way, too?
Do you remember when we laid next to each other near the river, talking about everything and nothing all at once? Do you remember how it felt like, being the one the other wanted?
I held your hand, then, because I could. The most serene expression would appear on your face when I did, and my only wish was to be the person who gave you peace.
What happened to us, Albus?
I wonder: are you still mine, as I am yours?
Is it foolish of me to hope that you still long for me, like you once did?
Because I yearn for you, still.
Every moment without you is agony, and your absence is driving me mad.
I miss your taste on my tongue, your touch on my body. I miss your breath on my skin, your hand in mine. Gentle, always so gentle you were. Have you caressed other men with the same gentleness you used to bless me with?
I am under no delusion: I know the boys we were are long dead, and I fear I was the one who killed them, for you ceased to live as her cold body touched the floor, and I died the moment I lost you.
Believe me when I say that I never meant to purposely hurt you, for my love for you was real, and it still burns with the same intensity, if not more.
I only have one regret.
I wish I could tell you that the weight on my soul is the one of the people I killed, as I am sure it is the answer you would like to hear. But I am afraid I must disappoint you once again, my dear, because there is nothing I regret more than leaving you.
But I was blind, and I didn’t see that the reason behind the emptiness I was haunted by was the cold, untouched side of the bed I woke up to. It was too late when I realized that nothing was worth losing you.
You were the best part of my soul, you always have been, and I hoped to see you one last time before the end, but when has life ever been fair to us?
Was it scary, my love? Or did you find peace in the arms of what we fought so hard to conquer? I am old and tired, Albus, but the thought still scares me. He is coming for me. For you. For both of us. Because my story is yours and yours is mine.
We will find each other again sooner than you think, and it is both terrifying and exhilarating.
Rest in peace, my love. I know you will be waiting.
Entirely yours,
Gellert