Hamilton Prep

Chapter 10: Vitale- Dear Caldwell, Letting Go-

September 21, 2013

Dear Caldwell;

I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, writing this letter- that I won’t ever really send to you- seemed like a good idea.

This is where the good idea ends, and the relentless pining begins.

Every time I close my eyes, there you are. Your eyes. Your dimpled smile. That stupid tie wrapped around your forehead.

It's so pathetic, this ceaseless yearning that I have for you. The urge to run my fingers through your hair. The want for your lips on mine. The insatiable desire that I have to fix that broken look on your face when you said that you wouldn't tell me about your episodes. It made me want to protect you, made me want to fight for you, made me want to love you. But it's so damn hard because I know I shouldn't. I know the correct thing to do would be to cut my losses and just let go. That would allow all of this be easier for me, and probably easier for you too.

You see, the problem is that I don't want to let go. I don’t want to forget about that time you ate mud, on a dare, when we were just kids. I don’t want to forget how you swung your arm around me- as if we had been pals forever- and took me under your wing because that’s just the kind of person you are. I don’t want to forget you.

At the same time, I would fucking love to forget. Forget the smile. Forget the dimples. Forget your mother’s involvement with mine. Forget you and your stupid impact on my life. Forget that you were the deciding factor. Hell! Maybe I’d just like to be straight so that I could have the ability to stop dreaming of you. To stop wanting you. To stop needing you.

Dammit, Caldwell! Can’t you see what you’ve done to me! I used to be halfway normal in your presence, but now? I can’t even form coherent sentences, let alone hold a calm conversation.

I have no idea how the hell I’m going to get through this school year without dying; between you- with your looks, strength, manliness, and the fact that you are the star of my incredibly dull life- and Princeton- with his homophobic tendencies, and the fact that he has implanted this seed of doubt in my mind about whether I am really just a young, scared, boy, or something that has been created by the devil himself- I really don’t see my survival as an option.

If you can still believe, after all that, I still don’t want to let go, you would be correct. I don’t want to let you go, Caldwell. I just want you. All of you. Every inch. I want my name to echo through your thoughts every second  of every day, like yours does in mine.

It’s you. It’s always been you.

Judging by this churning I feel in my stomach, it’s time for me to make a decision.

If I had it my way, we would have already acted out half of my fantasies, and begun work on yours- because if these feelings were mutual, you surely would have thought about me too, right? But because we are not fated lovers or even playing for the same team, I see no more use in all this.

I think I’m in love with you, but I need to let go. I don’t want to, but I’m going to.

This is me,

Vitale Monroe Nova, letting go.

I sealed the envelope that contained my letter and shoved it in my desk drawer. I had a sudden sense of pride flood through me; I think taking Mr. Gatz's advice by writing that letter made me genuinely feel better.

I smiled down at the closed drawer and turned around triumphantly, striding out of my room.

~

It was a cold sort of silence that was passing between The Prince and me. On his side there were harsh, sharp-as-samurai-blade, glares given to me from under his heavy-lidded stare. My side was persistently indifferent. I wasn’t going to let his bad attitude ruin my shining mood.