Work Text:
December 15
Somewhere too damn cold
Mi corazon de melon,
I’m not sure I’ve ever been this cold. Of all the places they’ve sent us, all the places I’ve been, this is the worst it’s been. I’m just an idiota from Miami, what do I know about cold? The socks you sent me are wonderful though-I think I’d have lost toes by now without them. Pope, Benny, and Will say thank you for their goodies too; Christmas came early for the lot of us.
They’ve promised we’ll be home by Christmas, at least by the 25th, so make sure my stocking is up on the fireplace, querida, so Santa knows where to find me. As if he needs that to know my place is always beside you.
They’ve kept us busy out here, though no new scars for us; I know that will make you happy. Even so, I miss you every waking moment. I miss your smile over coffee, your soft touch when I get home, your warmth in bed beside me. And I hate being away from you most when you’re having a hard time. I want to be there, reminding you every morning, noon and night that you are perfecto, that you are hermoso.
Mi sol, I know you have spent your whole life being told everything about you was too big: your voice, your emotions, your mind, your body. And somehow, they told you at the same time that you weren’t enough, that you lacked something to make you “good enough.” I wish I could go to every moment you were told these things, the times when little girl you was told her big emotions were just “overdramatic,” when teenage you was teased for your curves, and kiss away the scars the words made on you, on your heart.
I watch you try to make yourself small, to hide away your eagerness, your enthusiasm. You back away from comments that show your brilliance, your passion. And all I want to do is tell you how wonderful you are. I love everything about you, from the way your eyes light up when you talk about Star Wars, to the way you get so excited about a new recipe you found that you almost babble the words in your haste to tell me. And you know that I love every single curve of your body, every smooth plane and soft edge. I want to worship them every moment when I get home to you. I want to remind you how perfect you are.
I love you more than my stupid words can really express, mi amor. You know that words are your strong suit and not mine, but I won’t stop trying until you believe me. And believe me forever.
That’s how long you have me and my heart. You patched it up for me and it beats just for you, querida. We’ll be home to you soon, so save me some Christmas cookies.
All of my love always,
Frankie