Title: Letters to the Dead
Pairing: Merome
AU: Letters to the Dead (Soulmate AU) (by me, ayyy!)
Suggested By: LoneShadowFox on Wattpad
Prompt: "Can u please do a rly rly sad...uh...waitlemmethinkofashipthatsnotsetosolace...stillcantthinkofone...got it! A rly rly sad merome? Please? For the llamas? I haven't cried in years and I'm rly scared I'm gonna start bawling at school when they put one of those inspirational videos on. It's actually scaring me. Please? *insert puppy eyes*"
DUDE OMG WHAT THE CRAP THAT IS SUCH A BIG EXPECTATION THO
YOU HAVENT CRIED IN /YEARS/
WHAT IF I CANT MAKE YOU CRY AUGHAHSFL KJ *cue panic*
Genre: fluff, angst
Song: Letters to the Dead (it's on top of the story on Wattpad, and all you FF . Net folks can search it on my YouTube page [hghrules])
Warnings: FIRST PERSON (NOT SECOND PERSON I SWEAR KIND OF) PAST TENSE WHEE OOH WHEE OOH WHAT HAPPENED TO HANNAH- shh, calm down, i'm gonna keep my usual first person present tense thing, i just wanted to do this one mostly in past tense. XD Other warnings: mentions of character death, not suicide.
Word Count: 3,253 HERPADERPADINGDONG THANKS FOR HELPING ME GET OVER MY WRITERS BLOCK, LONESHADOWFOX!
"They're going to pick out their stationary, Mitch," you said, waving your arm out toward the well-decorated store. Painted-on pencils framed the entrance doors, and the windows were made to look like envelopes. It was the most popular stationary store in the state, and, considering that my family was lucky enough to be living in the same town as it, it seemed logical that my sister and her soulmate go there to pick out their stationary. "It's tradition. We learned about it in school, remember?"
I snorted. "Of course I remember it, we have to attend the assembly focused on it every single year." I wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic person ever when it came to the whole soulmate thing. Did they have to make such a big deal out of it? But you, Jerome, you were fascinated by the subject. You couldn't wait to find your soulmate; you read books about soulmates and you watched movies about soulmates and you knew absolutely everything there was to know about soulmates. Ironically, you had yet to find your soulmate even though most of our friends had already found theirs.
Even I had located my soulmate - it was a year or two back when I met her, a sweet girl named Ashley. Our hands brushed and we both felt the tingle, the spark that everyone is always talking about. We stopped dead in our tracks, spun around in the middle of the busy sidewalk, and simultaneously reached out our hands to touch again - sure enough, we sparked the second time, too. Bam - soulmates. It's that easy.
Unless you never feel the spark, which, clearly, you never had. You wanted to, though, you wanted to so badly. I always tried my best to spend more time with you than her, because, pssh, Ashley was fine. She had friends, she had things to do, she was fine. But you? You were alone, mostly. Everyone in our group of friends was moving on, spending more time with their soulmates and less with their tried and true friends. I promised myself I would never do that to you. Even if you never found a soulmate, I'd be there.
"What I don't get is why we have to be here," I finished, glancing over at you. Your hair was a beautiful shade of brown and today it was falling perfectly around your face and your smile was lighting up the whole block and was probably capable of putting the sun out of business and you were just standing there, patiently waiting for me to finish speaking so you could explain whatever concept needed explaining, and I had no idea how you hadn't found a soulmate yet. You were perfect - why couldn't anyone see that? You were the sort of person who it seemed like the universe ought to have broken for, ending up giving you two, maybe ten soulmates simply because you were compatible with and wanted by absolutely everyone. For whatever odd reason, though, that wasn't the case. You didn't have anyone.
You had me, though.
"Because it's an important day for them, and she's your sister!" you laughed, swatting playfully at my arm, and I tried to hold back my grin as I put up my hands in a defensive gesture. It didn't really work - you were always able to make me smile just by being there.
"Yeah, fine, whatever." I rolled my eyes, brushing past you to head towards the store and then grabbing your wrist at the last second so you'd be sure to tag along. "If we must attend, then we shall."
My sister picked out a purple and grey envelope and some light grey paper while her soulmate chose red and blue in honor of Spiderman. They compromised for the pen, deciding on a grey one with cartoon spiders all over it. It looked like something from the dollar store at Halloween time. They loved it.
Three days later, we were at your house, playing Minecraft and casually chopping off people's heads. Maybe not the most productive or morally satisfying thing to do, but certainly the most entertaining. "Jerome, the last two are up here by Mid!"
"On my way, Biggums!" you shouted as you sprinted towards me, drawing your prized diamond axe - Betty - and preparing to end the game. "Where?"
"To your left," I replied after glancing over at your computer screen. "I'm behind that tree, see? And the two jags separating us from the winner's title are up by the chests at the cornucopia."
"Think we can take them?"
"Know we can take them. They've got stone weapons and not much armor - not too many lootsidoodles to pick up after the kills, but we're about to win, anyways." I looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. "Charge on three?"
"Three!" you yelled, and we were off, sprinting in practiced and yet natural synchronization toward our targets. "Feel the power of the Betty!" You prepared yourself for the first hit as the targets finally spotted us.
"Die-!" I froze, shocked into silence by... well, by a shock, the kind you get not from a soulmate, but from someone in contact with their own soulmate. I quickly put my hand across yours on your computer mouse, and you started. Soon, though, you got the wordless message not to kill, and so I settled back in my own chair and typed out a peaceful message.
"Are you two soulmates?"
Their characters went still for a moment as they typed, and then the boy's username popped up in the chat with "Yes, why do you ask?" directly after it.
"We can feel the shock of your bond through the computer."
You looked over at me with raised eyebrows, and I nodded excitedly and gestured for you to come over to my computer and try, since I was the only one with an open hotbar slot with which to hit one of the two players. After a moment's hesitation, you stood and made your way over to me, quickly leaning over my shoulder to rest your hand on the mouse.
"It's strong," you typed afterwards, an awed expression on your face, and I suppose this situation must have been Heaven for you, what with how interested you were in the history and science of soulmates.
"Haha, thanks, and cool. I didn't know they could do that." The boy hit my character quickly with his fist, and I furrowed my eyebrows.
Then the girl's message came through. "wow we can feel urs too ^.^"
You shot up and away from me, immediately moving to sit back down in your own chair, and I huffed out a laugh and set my fingers onto the keys. "Funny, we're not actually soulmates."
"pssh whatever"
"Are you sure?"
I stared at both of their messages for a long time, trying to think of something to type that wouldn't sound too much like blatant denial. Of course, I didn't need to deny it. We weren't soulmates, and that was that.
"I'm his best friend, that's all," you typed before I could properly collect my thoughts. "Nice chat tho," and then you killed them and we faced each other for the final match.
A few weeks passed, and then we were at my grandparents' house for their seventieth anniversary. My grandmother was making some lovely meal with my mother and uncle, and my grandfather had walked out of the kitchen to talk to us. "We're glad you were able to visit us, Jerome," he said kindly, making his way toward the back of the couch we were seated on. We were side by side, pressed together.
"I'm glad you invited me," you said politely, because you were glad. "Thank you. I really didn't want to spend the weekend doing nothing."
"Couldn't you have called up one of your other friends?"
You frowned. "I could have, but it wouldn't be as fun as hanging out with Mitch," you said, and your frown flipped into a soft smile when you looked at me. I tried to ignore the weird feeling in my stomach - geez, when would the food be ready?
"Ah, well, again, we're grateful for your company-" My grandfather stopped abruptly after resting a hand on both of our shoulders. "Oh. Oh, I didn't realize you two were soulmates. It's no wonder you'd rather be with Mitch than with the rest of your friends, Jerome. Congratulations, boys."
"Soulmates? We're not soulmates, I've got Ashley back home," I said without a thought, and then I turned back to the game we were playing on the console my grandparents kept there just for us.
"Yeah, he's just my friend," you confirmed, nodding to my grandfather.
"I see. And yet you're-"
"Uh, yeah. I'm his friend as well," you finished for him quickly, and my grandfather smiled sadly at you before calling out a goodbye and walking away.
I went back to focusing on video games, trying to ignore the way you scooted that extra inch away from me and kept dying onscreen.
The next month saw us standing hesitantly in front of the painted pencil-outlined doors, not because one of us was ready for our Stationary Day, but because you wanted to get your stationary early, and on your own. Well - you wanted to get it with me. Not as soulmates, but as friends being there for each other. For comfort and support and stuff.
I was starting to understand why my sister wanted me there at her Stationary Day.
"So, what kind are you looking for?" I asked awkwardly, not sure what to do in a place like the stationary store.
"I don't know - something that fits me, I guess." You were just as uneasy in the middle of the foreign shop, but you were also determined to get this done.
"Hmm. Why are we here again?"
"Because," you paused, choosing your words, "I'm afraid I won't ever find my soulmate."
"Then what's the point of getting stationary? Only your soulmate can write to you."
"Well, yeah, but... I thought, you know, for tradition. For the sake of it, for the... experience."
"Yeah, I guess you're right - wouldn't wanna miss out on something as cool as this," I huffed sarcastically. You forced a smile, and I wished I could take the words back. "Sorry, that was wrong. The whole soulmate business really is pretty cool, I just don't find this bit that exciting. And, anyways, we shouldn't be talking as though you'll never find your soulmate - you'll find them. Of course you will!"
You forced the smile again, and I sighed internally. I wished I could make you truly smile. "I'm sure I'll find them. I'm just... not sure if they'll want me."
My eyes widened. "Wha- duh, they'll want you, Jerome! You're friggin' awesome! Anyone who got blessed with you as their soulmate would be praising every deity they could find."
"Thanks," you responded quietly, and I finally got to see your real smile again as you turned away. "I think I'll go for brown."
"I thought you didn't get to pick, and you were just kind of drawn to it."
"Not so much 'drawn to' as 'amazed by,'" you said, shrugging as you picked up a small stationary set. "Are you getting yours today?"
"Might as well."
"Without Ashley?" You frowned, and I copied your shrug from earlier.
"Ashley's not ready. I am. You are. Why not get it over with?"
"All right," you agreed, and we started wandering around the shop.
Not ten minutes into our (quite boring) search, I found my set. A red and black checkered envelope, some barely red-tinted paper, and a plain black pen, all of which seemed to call out to me from half way across the store. The moment I saw the set it was like I knew they would be in the hands of my soulmate one day, and I could picture them writing me my letter. "Woah," I whispered, because I had to say something.
"Did you find your set?" You asked excitedly, running across the room to find me.
"Jerome, I- wow. It's not even that spectacular, why am I so amazed?"
"That's how this works, Mitch."
"Hmph." I turned away from the set, snapping out of their odd trance. "Well, you know what? I'm a rebel. I'll get this set instead." I picked up a random stationary set, one that happened to feature Winnie the Pooh amidst cute little stickers of Piglet and Tigger. You raised an eyebrow, half in horror and half in amusement, and I had to laugh. "Hey, why not?"
"Because this is one of the most important days of your life," you reminded me, eyes still wide.
"Pfft, it's November 23rd. So what?"
"Mitch, you can't just- it's fate, the choosing of the stationary-"
"Well, if it's fate, then I'll be holding red and black checkered stationary in the end. For now, I am going to buy this Winnie the Pooh crap, and I am not going to buy anything else. Ever."
You shook your head, but I couldn't tell whether it was in disappointment or amusement. We paid for our stationary - you'd ended up with brown-tinted paper, a dark brown envelope, and an ornate brown and silver pen, and, yeah - it fit you. Just like you said it would.
You were amazing. You still are amazing, in my mind. In my brother's and sister's minds, you are nothing but dead, nothing but a body buried six feet under, but you will always be so much more than that to me.
I was horrified when you died. It was so sudden, so unexpected, so... so unworthy of taking your life. You deserved a hero's death, and instead you were taken by a car crash. A car crash. A car, such an enormously casual and common possession, an inanimate object, took your life.
And it wasn't fair.
If I had been there, if I had been beside you, with you, I could have helped, I know I could have. I don't know how, but- but I would have helped. Maybe it would have been like when someone gets hurt, really badly hurt, but then their soulmate heals it all with a simple kiss. Maybe it would have worked for us since we've been best friends for so long, since I liked the thought of loving you more than the thought of loving Ashley, since you didn't have a soulmate, since I was the closest thing you had. Notch, I should have been there. If only I had been there.
Jerome, you are the bacca to my benja. You are the furry friend who keeps me up all night with video games and prank wars. You are the one person I can always trust, the one who stands by me when others run away. You're the one I'd like to spend my life with. I would trust you with my life. I would give you my life.
I don't even know if this will work. I wasn't your soulmate. I shouldn't be allowed to send one last letter to you now that you're dead.
It doesn't matter. I'll try it anyways. Maybe, if we're lucky, it'll send when I put it in the mailbox. The universe will see the special brown-tinted stationary that is bound to your soul, and it will know that the letter is meant for you, that it needs to get to you no matter what. It'll work. It has to.
You are my best friend, Jerome.
Always.
And I wish I'd told you that more often.
With Love Realized Too Late,
Mitch
☼☼☼
I found it. The red and black checkered envelope and the red paper and the black pen. It's up here. Down here. Here. Whatever.
I'm wasting my words. I was told I only have five hundred to write to you with, since I wasn't your soulmate.
You were mine. I wasn't yours.
Oh, five hundred words. Five hundred words to say everything I never said. Notch, how can I fit it all in?
Mitch, I love you. I loved you. No, I still love you, even in the afterlife, even here - wherever 'here' is. I felt the soulmate shock every time we touched, but you never did. When we were together, people would come into contact with me somehow, think you and I were soulmates, and then come into contact with you and immediately be met with the lack of shock that meant we weren't. What were they to believe? What was I to believe?
I knew I loved you. I knew you were my soulmate, even if I wasn't really yours. That's all I knew.
I knew you were my soulmate from the moment we met - we were only nine, so I told myself I couldn't be sure, but I had felt the spark. I remember getting all excited, looking up at your face to see your reaction, but you didn't seem to have felt it. I told myself it wasn't the soulmate shock, it was something else, and I tried to move on.
But I kept feeling it. Every time my skin so much as brushed yours, I felt it. You were my soulmate.
But I wasn't yours.
It hurt when you met Ashley, because that was what tied the knot - I would never be your soulmate, because Ashley had already filled that position. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice girl, and I hope you're perfectly happy with her - but I wish I had been in her shoes.
I don't understand why the universe messed us up. Well. Messed me up, at least.
Life is so unfair.
Oh, five hundred words. Death is unfair, too.
Actually, I don't really have all that much left to say to you, Mitch. I could describe every situation in which something happened that you didn't quite understand at the time, but that certainly won't fit into five hundred words. Nothing I want to say will fit into five hundred words.
Except that I love you.
I'm so sorry if this letter makes you uncomfortable, Mitch. I'm so sorry if it screws up your relationship with Ashley. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be sending this.
But I have to. I can't just not.
It's okay, by the way. You shouldn't blame yourself. Yes, you were my soulmate, so you might have been able to heal me in the crash, but, honestly - you would have been hurt, too. We might both have died, and wouldn't that be terrible? No letters to the dead then.
Anyways, I don't blame you, so please don't blame yourself.
You know, Mitch, those last few paragraphs of yours are pretty sketchy. Half of your letter is pretty sketchy, actually. Does it mean what I think it does?
Did you love me back, when I was still living and breathing in front of you?
I love you.
Five hundred words.
That last paragraph hit 550 words. I love the person who judges these letters, too, for letting me hit 550 words and keep going. I can't delete or erase anything. Silly drawbacks of not being complete, official soulmates.
Well, I guess I'd better wrap this up, then. I love you, Mitch. I love you. I miss you. I hate that we won't be able to write more often, like real soulmates. I love you. This is my first, last, and only letter. I wish it weren't. I love you.
I love you, Mitch.
Goodbye.
~Jerome