Work Text:
Percy,
I’m not sure why I'm writing this. I know you’ll never read it. I’m never sending you this letter. I just can’t
I think, I’m looking for some kind of comfort in this. Writing this letter, I can pretend this is a world where I’d send it to you. That you could read this and know how much I love hate loved you. A world where I can tell you everything.
I miss you so m
Please I’m sorry for
I miss you so much I can't even write this stupid fucking letter without crying.
I heard you’re getting married.
I saw your brother the other day, in passing. He told me the news. I know I shouldn’t be upset. I know it’s not my right to be upset with how things ended. I’m sorry. For all of it. I hope she treats you better than I had.
I went through my old things earlier today. Things from school. I found this old wooden box, I hadn’t even recognized it. It was full of notes. Notes you passed me in class. Notes I passed back. Little doodles I had drawn in the edges of my papers. Doodles you saved. There was your old quill, the one you gave me when we graduated. You had said it was to remember you by. It's soft, and light brown. The same honey brown as your eyes. I wondered back then, if you had picked it out on purpose cause of the color. I wonder now if it was ever supposed to remind me of your eyes, if you'd done that on purpose. Perhaps to torture me.
At the bottom of the box was a letter. Kind of like this one. It was addressed to me, unopened. You wrote it to me and snuck it in my box. Do you remember writing me that letter? It said that you loved me. That if I was reading that letter, it was because you had already confessed to me and it shouldn’t be a surprise.
Well. It was. Because you never did. You never told me how you felt.
I just about burned that damned thing but then my tears smeared the ink and I panicked. It's sitting in my living room, away from me now. I tore it in half. Then into fourths. I hate that letter. I hate you. That thing is a whole room away, but it feels like miles, and somehow that’s not far enough. You're in the same city as me. London. It's not far enough. it's not close enough. I wish you were here. I want to kiss you, hug you, talk to you. Yell at you. How could you? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I didn’t love you back? Why didn’t you tell me?
Oliver
Dear Oliver,
If you’re reading this, it means I’ve already told you. Or maybe I just handed you this letter with no explanation. If that’s the case, then here:
I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time. Probably ever since the first day we met, back in First Year.
I’m keeping this brief, cause if you’re still reading this it means some part of you likes me back. Gods, I hope you do
Yours,
Percy