Work Text:
Vincent keeps an envelope tucked deep in his desk. It is not that Eugene doesn’t know what is inside. No, he is well familiar with the cream colored paper with frayed edges.
But rather, as he opens the envelope with shaking fingers, he is surprised the contents remain. “You kept this?” he asks as Vincent joins his side. Time has rendered his lock of hair brittle, but the color is still dark unlike the graying of his hair now.
“I looked at it every day I was in space,” Vincent says. “I never stopped when I got back on Earth.”