Chapter Text
He stared down at a black page. He hated blank pages. He hated writing too if he was being honest. It felt too vulnerable. Felt like his mother could get her claws all over anything he put on paper. But he would write. He would write because he couldn’t speak to the one person in the world he needed to speak to. He would write for his sun. He would write for his one true love.
He sighed. His hair fell into his face as he pulled out his quill, and gently dipped it in the ink bottle.
My Dearest,
It’s torture without you. Living, that is. Every morning, I wake up and I turn to you, ready to share all the dreams I had about us, but you’re not there. I know you still exist, somewhere in this terrible world filled with horrible people, but when you’re probably across the world, the loss feels as great as death. I know I can’t send this, my mother would never allow it, but I wish I could see you. She refuses to let us return to Castelluccio. I miss you every day.
You always hated my tragic love stories.
Now you are one.
Mournfully, R.A.B
Darling,
I’m so confused. Every letter I send is returned right back to me. Did you move? Did I get the wrong address? I miss you. I miss your pretty curls. I miss your quiet laugh and the books you would take everywhere. Do you still read? It’s been 4 years and I think about you every day. I still visit Castelluccio every summer in hopes you’ll return, but you’re never there. This is the most confusing part; the house stands empty and gathering dust. If you’ll never come back, why doesn’t your mother sell it??? It’s terribly frustrating. I still think you’ll come back, but you don’t.
It’s been 4 summers. 4 summers without you. I miss you. That’s all I do these days. I miss. I miss. I miss. Lily and Rem think I should get out of the house more, but I can’t bring myself to. I’m rotting. I’m rotting without you.
Love and tears, J.F.P
LETTER RETURNED TO SENDER
My Heart,
It was one of the bad days today. I miss you.
I saw Pandora today. I talked to her about you. I heard our song on the radio today and I cried all into the night. That song was playing when we first met. Even when I tried to get some reading done, I couldn't get you out of my head. It might have been a mistake to re-read Song of Achilles. I couldn’t eat either. One of the cooks made a similar ricotta pasta to the one we shared on our 8th night together, you know, the one with the sausage?
I feel terrible for the poor woman. As soon as I took a bite I burst into tears. Luckily, my mother was away on a business trip, so she couldn’t question me.
Missing you every day, R.A.B