Chapter Text
Lucy stares down on the empty journal page, pencil ready in hand to write. But she is unsure. Unsure how to phrase, what she is trying to convey, without leading them into a wrong direction. Not that there is right and wrong in this entire endeavor. Not anymore. Too much has happened and changed to determine, which path is the ‘correct one’. Or if there actually is something as ‘the right path’. She doesn’t believe in that. But she knows something her past self doesn’t. And it’s so, so very important.
She rubs her forehead and heaves an exasperated sigh. Again, she sets the lead onto the paper. And draws it away, seconds later.
She proceeds like this, over and over, indecisive – until the heavy weight of two large hands comes to rest on her tired shoulders. She instantly, intuitively, relaxes into the familiar warmth he radiates behind her back and leans against his chest.
He remains silent, but his sole presence eventually helps her to form a sentence to begin with.
Again, she brings pencil to paper and lead scratches across rough white.
Dear Lucy,
this may be strange, for I am addressing you, my former self, personally in this text…