Work Text:
Dear Yoichi,
I apologize that it has taken me this long to return your stuff. You see, I have always had trouble letting things go. Even if they aren’t truly mine.
This parcel contains pieces of clothing that you left at my place. As well as a really battered lighter. I didn’t really take you for a smoker and I think if you had picked up the habit, I’d know. It’s one of those vices that’s easy to detect. And after seeing it so many times hidden deep in your pocket, curiosity took over me. I stole it and decided to hold on to it for a while, hoping you’d notice or ask for it. You never did. You probably thought you misplaced it. I never mentioned a thing, neither did you. I guess if you did, a conversation would pop up and you didn’t want us to have that, did you? Surely it’s important to you. You can have it back now.
As I was folding your things away, I lingered on the task like browsing through old photographs. Longer than I should have. It wasn’t easy. Especially that knitted sweater with the funky geometric patterns? The brown one. I thought it looked hideous at first. Or maybe I was just angry at the time. Angry at the fact that you ghosted me for more than two weeks. I had been sure that I’d take it all out on you. But as soon as you stepped inside with your overpowering embrace, I was completely and utterly disarmed. I think the deep V-neck and fake glasses had done the trick. Because barely an hour later, I was helping you out of those as you began making love to me.
It’s been quite a while since we’ve broken up, I know, but, when I started clearing out the apartment, filling boxes and bags, you weighed heavy on my mind. I even scrubbed every nook and cranny with thoughts of you. It was as if I was doing it for you. Perhaps because I wanted to erase you, I wanted to erase us. I made sure all traces of our former selves were lost to a place unknown to me. If only you could see the way I had the place stripped clean of my life… our life there together. The good and the bad wiped away. It’s silly that I say that. You had been there way too many times, enough to leave imprints of yourself everywhere, without you even living there.
While we are on the subject of erasing, I’m halfway through getting rid of all the photos and videos of us on my computer. I’ve been combing through folders little by little for the past couple weeks. I know I shouldn’t look closely through them and just select all and hit delete and move on. And the way it has taken me this long to actually start doesn’t make it less embarrassing. But it’s so hard, Chi. The ones we took in Nagano during our first few months of dating, “the happy months” as I call them, were the hardest to tackle. Imagine when I realized we hadn’t taken as many pictures when we went back there for the second time. Looking back, that trip was simply a sorry excuse to “fix” whatever we had at the time. We even booked the same rental house for that reason. And yet, I’m almost sure that made the whole experience worse.
I remember stepping inside and, despite myself, was immediately hit with flashbacks of us getting it on at nearly every corner of that poor old house. You were such a good sport though. Obnoxiously hinting at it every chance you get to soften the situation. Had I known it was going to be the last, I would’ve treated you less harshly. But I couldn’t even pretend at that point. Even the hot springs weren't enough to thaw the cold treatment I had put you through. The contrast between those two separate trips was immense. It’s funny how one year can drastically change a person.
Did you know I have so many pictures of you asleep? And how you’re frowning in most of them? I wonder if you miss my bed. You always said she was much softer than yours, and that you loved how she almost swallowed you whole. If I had written this months ago, I’d probably say I’d give anything to watch you collapse on her right now, to witness you fall asleep even before your head hit the pillows, and feeling mildly concerned by how tired you are. The urge to take care of you overwhelmed me each time you were around me. I was absolutely fucked and helplessly in love. There was a point where I almost suggested that you move in with me. But then I dropped the idea when you held me “hostage” at your place to celebrate our birthdays being 10 days apart. My shoebox apartment could never hold a candle to the view you have in your bedroom. But hey, we both know my bed was superior to yours. ;) Ha.
I’m not mad anymore but sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong. Not that I’m blaming anyone but I think it was around the time when you told me a good friend of yours was having serious trouble and you wanted to give them a hand. And with your job alongside that, it might eat the majority of your time. I told you I was fine with it, and that I had been planning to take extra work hours myself for my mom’s treatment, despite my tumultuous relationship with her, I needed the money more than ever. We tried our best to make it work, didn’t we? I know I did. I want to believe we did. I guess, at the end of the day, we’re all just casualties of our adverse childhood experiences, or our early 20s baggage. Or perhaps late stage capitalism. It’s sad how these external forces seep quietly into our intimate lives and slowly corrupt our relationships. I just wished we could’ve handled it all better. Too bad being communicative isn’t our strongest trait.
When we broke up, the reality of that fact was plain and simple. We were done. There was nothing we could possibly do to change it. We’d told each other lies enough to outlast a lifetime. All that was left was to turn around and leave, and you did exactly that. I’d be lying if I say I didn’t wish for you to make a great deal out of it. And because of the composure you had displayed, I blocked you on everything. I didn’t want the knowledge of whether you wanted me back or not to reach me.
That evening, after you left, I had my first drink in 4 years. Believe me when I say I’m not accusing you of anything. I was in the mood for self-pity. I didn’t want to be sober. I didn’t wanna be black out drunk either. I wanted nothing to do with anything. So I lay on my soft bed and thought about us, replaying scenes that would make me feel more shittier than I already did. Our desperate and clumsy first fuck, Mazzy Star playing in the background, all the mind-numbing sex after that, our half asleep conversations, long walks, movie nights, inside jokes, play fights, shared baths, breakfasts at noon, all the kissing and touching and I love yous… your odd fixation with the three moles lined up, Orion’s Belt, as you said, at the side of my neck.
When I awoke the next morning, the curtains were drawn and I was granted a few seconds of total amnesia. That blissful moment didn’t last long, and the facts rapidly arrived one by one — I slept through my alarm, a terrible hangover, and you.
I’m going to spare you the details of how I survived my first serious heartbreak. I’m mostly doing well these days. In hindsight, it was you who helped me. Remember when I told you about my mom’s weak heart? And how her possible death scared me. What you said as an attempt to comfort me, I think, subconsciously stayed with me. I remember you saying, “It’s definitely going to be hard. You’d miss them terribly. Terribly. Soon enough, you’d learn just how deeply embedded they are in your daily life. And now that they’re gone, you feel lost. For a while, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. But once you get back into the groove of things, it’ll still be hard, mind you, there’s no way around it, but you’d eventually get used to it. So all you have left is missing them. And you’d miss them more. You’d miss them more than you did in the beginning. Wait, that’s worse… I’m sorry. I swear I’m excellent at other things…” I think I bursted out laughing by the time you had finished your speech. And you’re right. That is worse! But I had never seen you so transparent. Surely you got carried away. And weirdly enough, it brought me comfort.
Funny story. Just last week, I submitted my resignation letter. My mom asked if this was the first step toward giving her grandbabies. I mostly deflected, laughed it off like she was crazy. But what truly happened was, for a split second, my mind traveled to some infinitely distant space and abruptly cut into this scene of you and this kid in your arms who looks exactly like you. Had she asked me about children during the peak of our relationship, I think I would've said yes. Pathetic as it sounds, I would’ve dropped everything for you. Thinking about it now, it’s good that you didn’t pine for me as much as I did you. Phew, right?
Wow, this is getting quite long, isn’t it? I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m leaving soon and I want to put this all behind me by telling you as much as I possibly can. Let’s continue not seeing each other for the rest of our lives. I wish you happiness, Chi. Genuine happiness. Not that you care.
Love you anyway.
Yours once,
C______