Rk900 One-Shots

unsent letters

(human rk900)

She clicked her pen twice and let a silent sigh escape, running her other hand through her hair. Why was this harder than it should be. Her therapist told her to write letters to people she should let go of. To help her stop thinking of everything and anything.

She needed calm. For once in her life.

Tonight, it was now or never.

Dear Conan,

To hell with this, you're never gonna see this anyway and if you do, you're going to throw this away. I completely understand. Or I don't. Frankly, I never planned on writing this. Here goes nothing.

I can say sorry a thousand times and it'd sound empty to the both of us. Or just me. I could repeat your name like a mantra, whisper apologies and mean them, all the while you turn a blind eye. It's fine. Not really. If it makes you feel better about yourself—mostly boost your ego—ever since that night, I can't get you out of my mind.

I could wake up one day and forget my name, but I'd still remember yours.

I could forget everything but remember the way you smiled at the rain. It'd brighten my day each time. In front of fireplaces was one of your favorite spots, especially the one your father had. I remember I could never understand how you could fall asleep on the couch listening to the crackle of the flames. That was until I did with your arms wrapped around me. I can remember the times you were bundled up on the fold-out couch next to me, a boyish grin on your sleepy face. We must've loved the only room in your parents house with no heat.

Our first Christmas together, I bought you a grey beanie. The Detroit snow would get caught on the hair that couldn't fit. Sometimes, when we went on late night walks because I couldn't sleep, I snuck glances over to you while we walked through the park a few blocks from my apartment. You'd look down at me with that devious look and that smile. Those pearly whites. No wonder you had girls flocking.

You were so carefree and unafraid of anything and so selfless. So damn selfless. The way you gave yourself away just for others to be happy. I always wondered if you were happy. I thought you were, I knew you were.

I was jealous of you.

The wounds you came home with were proof you would die for anyone.

My friends said it was last, I guess they never thought it wouldn't.

Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

Please stay warm, it's supposed to be cold this weekend.

Love,

She paused before signing her name, looking over the words one last time. As she put it in an envelope and sealed it, she scoffed, nobody sends letters anymore. He'll never see it.

————-

Dear Conan,

It might be a little weird to say this, but I'm not here for weird, I'm here for supposed closure. That is, according to my weekly appointments. I haven't dated anyone since you. It's been almost four months. I haven't been counting or anything, I haven't had time for much actually. Been burying myself in work and... trying to forget you actually.

You, on the other hand, probably have changed. New girlfriend, I'd assume. You should, good for you, genuinely. You deserve to be happy. More than me.

They'd be lucky. So lucky. I hope they get your laugh. I would go through hell and back just to hear it one more time. Music to my ears. Just to make you happy.