Work Text:
She shuffled through the letters on her desk with a long, exasperated sigh. Really, it was a struggle being so popular. So many people were just dying to get her attention. However, her patience and time were both in short supply. She beckoned over a bot, nearly settling the letters into a single thick pile, and got to work.
First up, Pierro. Ugh, toss!
Second, Arlecchino. Meh. If it were truly important, she could just come to see Sandrone herself. Why even bother sending a letter? Next!
Third, Traveler. Uh, no thanks. Sandrone hardly had any interest in doing the homeless favors. Specifically that homeless person, who simply couldn’t seem to stop stealing Columbina and Arlecchino from Sandrone’s side. Really, who did this person think they were?!
She fed that letter to the bot.
“Bye, bye,” she sang, watching the letter crumple up behind gnashing, mechanical teeth.
She turned back to the pile, already bored, already annoyed and-
“Whaaat?!”
She seized the letter, lifting it high.
Tiny stickers decorated its surface. Little crescent moons and sparkly ribbons rested in the corners while tiny kuuhenki and little forest animals danced along the envelope’s borders. There was no doubt about where this letter had come from. No doubt about who had wrote it!
“Columbina,” she whispered, running a finger along the letter’s face.
She whipped her head from side to side, but there was no one around to bear witness—no one except the bot, anyway, and who would it tell?
It was just her and the bot, her and Columbina’s letter.
But just to be safe…
She tapped the bot’s head. “Go sit in the corner!” she said hastily.
It dutifully rolled away, chirping.
As soon as it was gone, she reached for the letter and brought it up to her face. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of winter iceleas, of cold brisk winds and sweet, faint touches of vanilla. Of Columbina, so far from Sandrone now, separated by mountains and oceans and sea.
She tore the letter open without a second thought and tucked the envelope into her top desk drawer for safe keeping. The paper was smooth beneath her fingers, and she committed the feeling of it to memory.
Sandrone scanned the looping handwriting with relish.
Hello Sandrone,
Do you miss me?
Things in Nod Krai are boring without you, though I am not without company. Lauma often comes to visit, bearing with her our sweet forest friends and treats. I have not much seen the Traveler as of late—
“Good riddance!” Sandrone sniffed.
—but I trust they are doing well, wherever their journey has taken them. They were the one who proposed the idea of writing to you actually. I have missed you after all, Sandrone, and often find myself wondering what you are doing without me. The taste of tea often brings you to the front of my mind until I can think of nothing else. Likewise, whenever I find myself in trouble, I cannot help but think about what you might do or say.
Sometimes, I even find myself dreaming of the way you cry my name.
“Columbina!” she cried, scandalized.
I had thought I might even be cursed with how often I found myself thinking of you, with how badly my heart aches in your absence. It has all been very confusing, but I asked Lauma if I might be ill, and do you know what she said to me, Sandrone?
She said that these are the symptoms of love.
I thought it was strange. How can love make someone feel so terrible? But I suppose it is only because I miss you so badly that I ache so terribly, Sandrone. I miss you like I miss the moon, so much that it aches deep inside my chest. A physical pain, like I am falling apart all over again, like something is wrong deep, deep inside.
“What?” she squeaked. She clapped her hands over her cheeks. Her face felt as though it were aflame.
Do you miss me like I miss you, Sandrone? Do you miss me until your chest hurts, until you can hardly think straight? Do you miss me when you sleep at night, when you reach over and realize there’s no one there beside you, that the bed is cold where the warmth of your body once was?
Do you love me like I love you, Sandrone?
I think you do, even if you don’t say it in so many words. But it’s okay, Sandrone, because I know. I know. I know what you are feeling, what you are thinking without you having to say so.
I am thankful we cleared all of that up before you left. I think this letter might have gone very differently if you hadn’t kissed me, Sandrone.
Sometimes, when I can think of you and nothing else, I remember that kiss. It’s almost like the memory of it is keeping me company while you are gone. It was my first kiss, did you know that? And it was cruel of you to leave me wanting more, Sandrone, after giving me only one. So very, very cruel.
The Traveler thought it was a little strange that I call you only my dearest friend. They said that friends do not usually kiss with tongue or sleep in the same bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. They said that this is what lovers do, that you are my girlfriend and not only my friend. That if I only called you my friend, it might hurt your feelings or create a misunderstanding.
But I will admit, that confuses me. Are you not my girl friend already? Or does girlfriend mean something else? Is it another word for lover? I suppose then that we are girlfriends, unless you would prefer that I call you my lover.
It doesn’t really matter to me. You are Sandrone to me and that has always been enough. My Sandrone. There is no one else like you in this world, after all, but I think I should ask what you would like to be called anyway because the Traveler says it is the right thing to do and the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.
So will you be my girlfriend, Sandrone?
(Please check “yes” or “no” on the slip below and send it back to me. This is how Grandmaster Varka said the kids do it these days, and he gives good advice so I trust that there is wisdom in this. The Traveler, too, said that this is how it must be done.)
Goodbye, Sandrone. Until we meet again.
With love,
Columbina
She set the letter down carefully.
Stood.
And did three lops around her desk, heart pounding, brain scattered, face burning.
“Columbina!” she shouted as she hurled herself into her desk, fumbling with the letter, scrambling for a pen. “How dare you just write that kind of stuff so shamelessly?! You must think this is real funny!”
She slammed a hand against the paper, pinning it in place. She colored in “yes” as black as night.
“Stupid Columbina!” she shouted, scribbling furiously. Her face felt hot. So hot! “Who sends this kind of stuff?! Who writes this kind of stuff?!”
And what kind of idiot responded to it?!
“Me!” she wailed.
She shook herself wildly, attempting to banish thoughts of Columbina from her head, from her mind. Tried to will herself back into composure.
She cradled her head in her hands. It was impossible!
“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” she grumbled, wiping her eyes. She stuffed her answer into a separate envelope, fingers shaking. “I miss you too, Columbina. More than you could ever know.”
The moonlight pouring in through the windows seemed to shift in answer.