Work Text:
My lovely Jane,
Why do you shine so radiantly? Beneath your reticence lies a beauty so grand I could not describe it, not could I carve it in a statue. You wouldn't happen to know the answer, would you? Your humility, as admirable as it is, blinds you to your magnificence - instead, you would deflect my compliments with high-pitched laughter and a "what are you talking about".
(Secret: although I was initially saddened to see you reject my heartfelt thoughts, now, I praise you only to hear you giggle sweetly, for it brings to mind the resonant chiming of bells.)
Does it shock you that I am in love with you? Surely not. When I tuck you in bed, after you come home from a late night shift, I must be gazing at you with yearning and want. Why would you ask why I care for you? Are my affections for the purity of your soul unapparent? Have I not commended your heart of stone - firm, steadfast against your parents who disapproves your gender identity - enough? Were my gifts - born of time and money - insufficient to convey the depths of my fondness for you?
You always decline them. I wonder why. Have you never considered I would be delighted to see my presents in your shelves, wardrobes, and near your working desk?
You would remember I won you a toy from the claw machines (against the odds). You were so elated - yes, I remember, the smile you exhibited was so mesmerising I would slice the memory off my brain were it to be displayed in museums for all to see - hugging me, before holding an oversized fluffy pigeon toy and struggling to fit it along with our other groceries in the trunk of your car. When you brought it to work, told me your colleagues questioned you on it and envied your toy and that you were proud, I was overjoyed. A hunger I never knew existed sated with a simple action.
Of course I would get addicted.
Time and time again, I would treat you with lunch, dinner, breakfast, and a very optional (to you but not to me) supper. Offer movie tickets and claim you need a break to steal you away from your work. Gift you clothes when your socks and shirts had holes. Buy you furniture that broke from overuse (side note: it is endearing how attached you are to objects, though the frequency required to clean your room less so). Replace the phone you dropped in the ocean. Invite you to a spare room in my house free of charge.
You noticed. Unfortunately. You rejected subsequent gifts, explaining you cannot accept this much from me. Thus, I hunger, I crave and I want so desperately to show you: no, it is I who takes from you when I give. It is I who becomes full on the sustenance that is love.
Would it be excessive to implore you accept this letter?
Signed,
I don't need to. You know who I am, for I am the only one who would do this for you.