Chapter Text
Dear Columbina,
Over the course of the last three weeks, I have rewritten this letter approximately five times. The first attempt was far too clinical; the second more or less devolved into me listing reasons that you are objectively a massive hazard to my work, and as for the third, I am of the firm belief that it contained far too much passionate language to be considered genuine. (Although it should be noted that Arlecchino advocated hard for that draft).
My efforts only declined in quality going forward, so much so that I've decided to forgo the task of even trying to describe the spectacular failures the fourth and fifth turned out to be.
All this to say, I've made the decision that no matter what direction this version of my letter takes, it will be the final draft that I will deliver to your room tomorrow night. I will not accept criticism or complaints of any sort. I'd appreciate it if you were to do the following once you have finished reading:
If the answer is yes—please store the letter in a secure location somewhere in your room and come meet me in my workshop immediately.
If the answer is no—please burn this letter. Please do not mention its existence to anyone, and please do not try and discuss it with me. I wish for us to continue as we were before, and I would ask that you please not hold the contents of this letter against me. I sincerely apologize in advance for any misinterpretation of our relationship that I may have made, and I am prepared to beg for your forgiveness if you so desire.
Despite how I initially treated you when we'd first met (which I will now concede was admittedly unnecessarily cold), the bond that you so diligently formed and nurtured between us soon after is one that I have grown to cherish above all other things.
I may have not appreciated it at the time, but at some point, sometime when I wasn't paying enough attention, I woke up one day and found I could not be without you. I found that I often spent my time just waiting for when you would invite me into your quarters for tea or for when you'd waltz into my workshop with no prior notice. For on the day I met you, I began to see the world decorated with a new, beautiful color that I had lacked the capacity to comprehend up to that point.
Goddess, this is turning out worse than the third one.
I realize now what this phenomenon, which has up until now seemed so alien to me, truly was. Something that seemed like it was beyond what I was emotionally capable of.
I have come to the realization over the course of the last few months (and perhaps years) that I have fallen in love with you.
Now, allow me to be clear: I only assume this affection I hold for you would be considered 'romantic love.' It has occurred to me that perhaps we are what the humans call 'bffs,' or potentially, 'sisters from another mother.' However, I would be inclined to disagree with these definitions, seeing as I find I desire to conduct myself in what would be considered a non-platonic manner with you quite frequently these days.
Such previously mentioned desires often present themselves to me as hand-holding, sleeping in the same bed, living together, kissing, french kissing, cunnilingus, etc.
Yes, I find I am certain that this feeling I have for you would be considered love of the romantic sort.
I understand that this may come as quite the shock, and I will be the first to admit that I know embarrassingly little about the concept of 'love,' or even 'courting.' However, I know I would like to give it a try. With you.
I hope that you feel the same way. More than you could possibly know.
Columbina, will you date me?
Love, Sandrone