Dear Henry,
I often think about how our story evolved. How it seems that one minute we were one thing and the next we were something else entirely. How it felt as if we came to our beginning at the pace of a snail but also somehow quicker than a flash of lightening.
Do you remember how it all started? I remember each detail perfectly as it is my favorite story to tell.
You and I grew up together, side by side. My house was nestled right next to yours. Isn’t it strange how that happened? As if we were born into a world where Fate had already decided our shared destiny.
When I finally began to observe everything around me with such newfound curiosity, I couldn’t help my wandering thoughts from straying to the strange boy next door.
You were short and chubby and were somehow always covered in a thin, healthy layer of dirt. I remember seeing you one day as my mother and I walked out of our home.
You were watching from your window, tiny hands cupped around your eyes and pressed against the glass. I don’t know why, but even at that young age, you sparked my interest. I guess it was just meant to be.
The first time I spoke to you was a few weeks later. There was nothing separating your backyard from ours and I saw that you were staring at the tree rooted directly between us. I came outside and stood beside you, peering up into the tree’s bright leaves. I didn’t see anything so I asked what you were looking for and you took a moment to respond.
That was another thing I loved about you. You were so shy and it was endearing. Quite the contrast to my endless chatter.
You told me you were trying to figure out how to climb the tree. In that moment, even though you didn’t know it yet, I knew you were going to be my best friend.
I taught you how to climb that tree and you showed me how to make mud pies. We did this for years, teaching one another everything we knew to the point where we would try to learn amazing things for the sole purpose of telling each other.
I don't know what happened or even when it started, it was so gradual. But I would catch myself doing it and it would always take me by surprise. Sometimes I would just find myself looking at you for a moment longer than I should have been.
There was something so entrancing about the way your hair would curl around the nape of your neck and the way your green eyes would always brighten when an idea struck you.
And I also realized that it wasn't just me. I don't think that you realized that I noticed but I did.
I would catch you from the corner of my eye, looking at me. Then when I would turn and you would pretend you hadn't been doing anything while a bright, crimson blush rose to your cheeks.
It was awkward, I think, for both of us at the time. We were friends and the thought had never occurred to us that we could, in fact, be something more.
Over time, though, you got a little braver. Somehow you became the one who made me blush.
Sometimes we would be talking, or rather, I would be talking and you would edge just the slightest bit closer. It was nearly unnoticeable and I'm sure no one else ever saw it. I seemed to be especially perceptive to any and all of your actions.
When you did that, I would pretend I didn't notice and when you would 'accidentally' bump your arm into mine, I pretended that a sharp jolt wasn't buzzing through the limb.
One day you really took me by surprise and let your calloused fingers brush against mine. I immediately went silent, unsure of what to do. You seemed to think that I was uncomfortable and extracted your hand.
My dear, I was uncomfortable. But I never wanted you to let go.
I think that was the day I knew I was in love with you. I'd had my suspicions but that really confirmed it for me.
No one else could silence me so quickly without even saying a word. I had never been so aware of anyone else in my entire life. No one else had ever had that type of effect on me.
After that day, I didn't how to act. I was quieter than usual and surely you must have noticed. I'm positive that you noticed my change in appearance.
I would constantly check to be sure any of trace of dirt was far from touching my freckled skin. I would twist my auburn hair into different patterns in the hope that it would come across less messy than normal, usually to no avail. And I would always were my prettiest dresses around you and pinch my cheeks to try to make them into something brighter than their normal bland color.
If you did notice, you never said anything. That was rude. I worked hard on that change.
After a couple weeks of that, I was becoming annoyed. Nothing was progressing at all and I thought that I might've imagined your interest in the first place.
That thought left me in a sour place. I was madly in love with you, after all. Although I'm not so sure why. You were so oblivious.
You and I had planned to meet up later that night. That was the night I had finally gathered my courage. I was going to tell you how I felt. I was going to ask if you felt any ounce of what I did.
But that didn't happen.
When we met that night, you told me that you were moving away. I did not believe you at first. I was positive you were just playing some cruel joke.
But you weren't.
I think my heart shattered just a little bit that night.
I never told you what I wanted to. You moved away from Rivertwine a week later, leaving behind your home and town and friends. Leaving me behind.
Perhaps it was selfish that I was most upset about what we could have had and what we never had a chance to explore. I didn't care though. When it came to you, I realized that I was alright with being selfish.
Before you left, we had agreed that we wouldn't forget about each other (as if it were possible) and that we keep in touch. We decided to write letters to each other.
It took me a while to write my first letter to you. I didn't want to except that you were gone. When I finally did write to you, it was brief.
I told you that missed you and that I wished you had never moved away. But I wanted to say more.
I wanted to tell you that you were the most important in my life, that seeing your face made me feel better even on my worst days, and that I loved you more and more every time I thought about you.
I didn't, though. I was a coward and I wasn't prepared to deal with the repercussions if you felt differently.
That is one of my regrets. I should've spoken up when I had the chance. I shouldn't have been scared. You've never given me any reason to be.
Instead you and I made small talk, exchanging letters back and forth for weeks on end. You inquired about our friends and I answered. I, in turn, asked you about your new home and if you were making new friends. You answered.
Our conversations were stunted like never before, both of us unsure of how to communicate what we were feeling. It was a hard situation.
Then, just one week before school began again, it was my sixteenth birthday. You had told me through our letters that you were trying to get your parents to let you visit and I guess you succeeded because you showed up.
I heard a knock at the door and I excitedly went to open it, thinking it was the mailman there to deliver your next letter. What a shock I had when I opened the door to your smiling face.
You made that day special for me. Thank you for that.
With only a moment's hesitation, I threw my arms around your neck and hugged you. We hadn't seen each other in months and I hadn't expected to see you for many more, but there you were; handsome as ever and standing on my doorstep, arms wrapped tightly around my waist and face buried in my hair.
That was one of the best days of my life.
When the time came to part once more, I walked you to the door and hugged you again. I was about to tell you that it was great seeing you and that must try to visit again soon. But I didn't get a chance because as soon as my lips parted, yours came down to brush against my cheek. Then you left with a bright blush cascading down from your face to your neck.
That wasn't very nice, by the way. You can't just kiss a girl by surprise and then leave without another word.
You did anyway. You left me standing there on the other side of the threshold while you rushed away.
I was in such shock with warmth still tingling against my cheek that I couldn't go after you. My mind was swarming with questions.
Why would you kiss me? Did...did you like me too? And if you did, why would you leave right after?
As I said, you were the only person in the world who had this effect on me. That was why I was so sure I was in love with you. With a gentle press of the lips, you had left my head swarming and my stomach in knots.
After you left, we wrote to each other more frequently. Well, as frequently as one could when busy with classes. But we always managed to make time for one another.
I was so happy with life right then. I was doing well with school, I had an incredible home, and I had a best friend. Even if the love complication was unrequited.
Although, I really shouldn't say complication. Having that emotion course through me on a daily basis wasn't a complication. It never was with you.
Everything was grand the way it was.
Then I got your letter.
Oh, Henry, I felt so horrible. You were hurting so much and there was simply nothing I could do about it.
Through that letter's messy script, you told me that your mother had passed on.
The sweet woman who had raised you and had always made me feel welcome in your home; the woman who had been kind to everyone she came into contact with.
Her death came out of nowhere. One moment you were having dinner, then the next she was choking and then...nothing.
It was a terrible way to go.
Understandably, you and your father fell apart, wrecked by devastation.
We all attended her funeral with red rimmed eyes and sympathetic smiles. The moment I saw you, standing alone in a desolate corner, I moved towards you. When you saw me, you finally let go and fell to your knees, the thin veil rising from your pain ridden face.
I couldn't take that pain from you, but I could comfort you at the time when you needed it most. I sat next to you and pulled you close, wrinkling the black fabric of my dress. I held you as you cried and mourned, away from all other prying eyes.
After that day, your letters became further and further apart. It hurt, but I understood. You needed time to adjust to your unfortunate loss. And if that meant taking a break from speaking to me, I understood.
But weeks on end without a single word from you fractured my heart a little more., bit by bit. Didn't you miss me like I missed you? Was I being too sensitive about your silence?
I didn't know. All I knew was that my best friend wasn't talking to me and I missed him more than he could possibly imagine.
Weeks went by with still no word from you, and finally I couldn't let myself mope around anymore. I had to get on with my life even if it hurt me every step of the way.
I decided to send you one last letter for your seventeenth birthday. Mine had just passed with no word from you but that didn't matter. Even if you no longer cared for me, I was certain I would always love you.
I wanted to get your attention in this letter so I finally told you. What did I have to lose, really? You already weren't speaking to me.
So I told you everything. I told you about how I wasn't sure when it started but I that cared for you more than I should. I told you that every time we spoke, my lungs felt constricted and my gaze would constantly stray to your mouth. I told you that when our hands brushed by supposed 'accident' my heart would skip and feel like it would escape from my chest.
I told you that your absence of letters had left me broken. I said that whatever had happened to us, I wanted to fix it. I needed you in my life, even if we were never more than friends. I couldn't let us become strangers.
Finally, I wished you a happy birthday. How else could I have ended a letter such as the one I wrote beside the way that I did?
I signed the letter with 'Yours, no matter what happens' and I sent it off.
You didn't write back.
Pretending, even to myself that I was okay, that I didn't feel like I'd been stabbed in the chest, I went on with life. What else could I do? Wait in the hopes that you might one day show back up? That one day you might return what I felt in even the smallest doses?
I couldn't. I needed a distraction. And that's what Evan became.
I met him at school the summer following your mother's passing. He was a handsome boy who was both kind and smart. I thought he could help me get over you, because frankly, it was getting a bit ridiculous. I couldn't keep living with a gaping hole in my heart and walk around as if everything was just dandy.
It hurt, Henry. Did you realize how much I cared for you? I made it as obvious as I possibly could.
Anyway, Evan and I became something; I'm not sure what. He held my hand and we were always around each other.
But whatever it was that we had, it obviously wasn't all too strong.
You see, Henry, I don't know how it was for you as I did not know if you ever liked me in the way I liked you, but when your first love simply stops talking to you, it ruins you in a way.
When Evan kissed me the for the first time it was also the last. When his lips met mine, I remembered how I much preferred the feel of your lips, even if they only ever touched my cheek. When he held my hand, I found myself imagining your rough fingers brushing mine in place of his. When we talked, I couldn't help thinking of how much your opinions differed from his.
It was constant.
Evan must have noticed too, because we eventually came to a mutual agreement to no longer see one another. You have no idea how relieved I'd been that he hadn't fallen in love with me.
For me, love for him had never been possible; my heart had been yours for years although we had both ignored it. But Evan, I had been scared that I might wreck him as you had wrecked me. I didn't want to hurt him. I knew how it felt.
Finally, since it was apparent that forgetting about you wasn't an option, I decided to confront you in person. I'd given you space, now I was finished.
I went to your home and found, not you, but your father. He seemed a mixture of happy and sad and anxious. Did he know that you had stopped writing to me? Did that ever come up between you two?
I suppose it doesn't matter.
Amidst our small talk, I eventually asked him where you were. With a bit of reluctance that you could tell he tried to conceal, your father informed me that you had a new job. Or rather, you would soon. You were at an interview.
An interview for a job further from me than you were now.
I was about to leave, considering whether to come back later when you would be home or not come back at all. Maybe this had been a mistake. I was going to leave but then your father invited me to stay for dinner.
I don't know if he was just being kind or if he knew that you would be home by then and he thought that we should talk but, nonetheless, I stayed.
Your father has always been so kind to me. He's such a sweet and considerate man. It makes sense considering he raised you. Not all of it came from your mother.
After we had finished dinner, it was late in the evening and we sat together at the dining room table catching up. Then suddenly, the front door creaked open.
Your focus had been on the door handle when you first entered the room; when I caught sight of you for the first time in nearly a year.
You had grown. You were taller and your shoulders were broader and your features looked sharper. But underneath the new angles, you were still Henry. My pulse spiked painfully within my body.
Your father cleared his throat and you glanced over towards us before looking back towards the door. I don't think you fully registered what you were seeing because a second later your gaze flew back. Specifically to me.
We stared at each other for a moment, not saying a word as your father stood up, feigning exhaustion. He left the room quickly, only the sound of his retreat echoing through the house.
I didn't know what to do at that point so I stood. I hoped you wouldn't be cross that I came to see you, but at the same time I didn't care. Seeing you now was enough to make up for everything that hadn't happened between us.
Your voice broke the silence, deeper than I remembered, "Is that really you?"
A smile twitched at my lips, "Hello, Henry."
Without another word, you strode forward, gathered me around the waist, and pressed your lips to mine, hard.
My stomach dropped to the floor as a surprised gasp escaped me. All at once I wanted to push you away and tell you that you couldn't just kiss me; not after such a long time of silence. But, simultaneously, I also wanted to return your embrace and at long last find comfort in everything that you encompassed.
In that moment, we were both so tense, unsure of what we were doing or what we wanted to do. It was so ridiculous. We were like children again.
A bit reluctantly, you pulled away.
"I am so sorry," you whispered, breath hot against my tingling lips.
"Why?" There was no need to elaborate. I wasn't asking why you were sorry. You knew what I was asking.
Your green eyes flickered up to mine. They were filled with as much sorrow and regret as when your mother passed away. You twined you fingers with mine and tugged me towards the door, "Come on."
You settled on the wooden, porch steps and I followed, sitting down beside you. I remember this night with such clarity almost like it just happened yesterday instead of the five years that it has been.
"Well?" I'd asked. I was being especially brave that night. And why not? I'd come that far. I deserved some answers.1549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwqVVDcMJxT
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You immediately started your explanation as if you had rehearsed it. "After mom died, I started having these bad nightmares. In them, everyone I loved would die some horrible death and I would be left alone to suffer from grief."1549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4qM7inFFSN
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That had caught my attention. You had never told me about the dreams.1549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCmOr1Sjxo1
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You continued, "In nearly every dream, it was always you. You and I would be having a completely normal conversation and then something would happen to you and you would collapse and start gasping for breath. Every time you would reach for me and I would always start panicking and trying to help you. But nothing helped. You always died because I wasn't strong enough to help."1549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL7OebEOF7m
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You looked over towards me, "This went on for months. I couldn't sleep. Every time we spoke I felt like I was drowning and I dreaded seeing you in fear the nightmares would somehow come true."
I waited in silence for a further explanation. Why was it that I was the one who scared you the most? If you had these dreams about more than just me, then why did you stop talking to me and not your father? What made me so different?
"I finally couldn't do it anymore," you continued. "I'm so sorry, Liv. I just couldn't. I thought that if I could move on and get rid of that fear that I could see you again. It was selfish and wrong and childish. I should've confronted my fear instead of running away; instead of trying to forget you. I'm so sorry."
"You really hurt me, Henry," I said, eyebrows furrowed while my emotions conflicted within. I wanted so bad to forget about this whole thing and just wrap my arms around you. Yet something held me back. We needed to fix this.
You reached for my hand and tried to get me to lift my gaze from the contact. "I know you can never forgive me," you said, "but I wanted to tell you the truth."
"Then why did I have to come find you for you to do so?"
That question silenced you. Your eyes fell and you released my hand. Why were you so uncomfortable.
"I...You're not going to believe me, but I was trying to work up my courage to confront you. I didn't think you'd want to see me."
I wish you could've seen your face. You looked a peculiar mixture of ashamed and nervous; a combination I was trying so hard to decode.
"That's actually not the only reason," you confessed.
"Well then, what was the other reason?" I'd questioned. Somewhere deep inside of myself, I think I knew what you were going to say. I'd definitely imagined it more times than I could count but yet, it still stole my breath away when you said it.
You wrung your hands together, obviously dreading your next words. What were you so scared of? Rejection? When had I ever hurt you before?
"I was-I mean, I am-" You huffed and looked at me before quickly saying, "This isn't coming out the way I wanted it to, but I love you."
You paused, hand running through your hair nervously, waiting for some sort of reaction. When I didn't say anything, you went on, "Um, I mean I'm in love with you. And it isn't new. I've loved you for years and that's why it was so hard not talking to you. I'm so incredibly sorry I never said anything, and well, for everything else and-"
I stopped your babbling by kissing you. I had never heard you talk so much before even when you were most nervous. I guess we had mutual effects on each other.
You pulled away after a second and looked at me in confusion, "Don't mistake me, because this is the happiest I've been in years but you aren't...mad?"
I stared back at your green eyes in silence before I said, "Oh, I'm quite livid. I'm livid and hurt and in such pain but...I'm also so overjoyed."
"Why's that?" you'd asked softly.
"Because now I know that I wasn't the only one who has been miserable for the last year. I'm happy because you love me and I'm happy because I'm finally seeing you again. I love you so much it hurts, Henry. Didn't you get my letters?"
You looked down, "I actually had to stop reading them after a while because all I wanted to do was see you. I saved them though!" you rushed to add.
I coughed a short laugh out of disbelief, "You idiot! If you had read the letters you would've known long ago that I loved you!"
You started to apologize once more but I reassured you that it didn't matter anymore. That moment was what mattered.
You kissed me again and those words repeated through my mind, meaning more to me then they they ever had before. It may have seemed like I forgave you too easily but I don't think that I did.
One way or another, I would have eventually forgiven you so why draw it out longer than need be and make us both hurt even more. This was enough. When it came to you, it would always be enough.
After that, we were together. You started your new job and asked me to move away with you. I accepted without any hesitation.
We never parted, always side by side. I don't think either of us were ever ready to let go ever again. This was what we should've always had before. But our messy path seemed necessary, in a way.
Sure, we probably would've gotten together eventually and lived a happy life together without going through what we did. But with the way things actually happened, it's always felt like we came out stronger for it. We were a stronger, healthier couple for for everything that we endured.
That is why I decided to tell you our story again for our anniversary, my love. I don't want you to feel as if you messed things up in the beginning even though you may have made things harder. Our problems were caused mutually and we resolved them in the same way.
It doesn't matter what happened in the past because, even after three years of being married to you, I'm still as hopelessly, ridiculously in love with you as I was then.
I love you, Henry.
Yours, no matter what happens,
Livia
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A/N: I've never written in this style or this quickly before so this was really a challenge. A fun one though. I hope it was interesting enough to read.
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