The Storyteller (Oikawa Tooru x reader)

25. cinema paradiso

Dear ____

You probably weren't expecting a letter from me; which isn't exactly surprising, since we haven't been in contact for about… gosh, how long has it been? I do believe it's been a decade. 

A lot can happen in a week, so I can only imagine just how many events have come and gone within your life.

Yet, although we haven't heard a single piece of information about each other for approximately ten years, I did manage to hear one thing, the other day.

Somebody made a passing comment about you getting married.

At first, I couldn't quite comprehend it, so I asked again, but was met with a shrug, and not much other details.

So I had to confirm it for myself.

I went all the way to see your old friend (forgive me, I've forgotten their name), to ask if the news was true.

And it was.

So, I suppose I wrote this for two purposes, as strange as it seems.

Firstly, I have to congratulate you; for some reason, in the back of my mind, I'd had this trivial hope that one day, you'd turn up at my doorstep, looking to rekindle our long dead relationship. But it seems that idea has finally bitten the dust, and since you're getting married, I assume that you have moved on a rather long time ago.

(I can't exactly say the same for myself, but we'll get to that later.)

Secondly… god, there's no easy way to say this. It's hard enough writing this as it is; I don't even know why I'm torturing myself by allowing myself to think of you. For some odd reason, I genuinely believed that you would come crawling back to me, searching for forgiveness, and begging me to give you another chance.

And within my head, I'd ponder over the notion, before rejecting you bluntly, with grace, poise and a cold politeness, which would break you in the way that you broke me.

The expression on your face would be enough to satisfy me, and would open a new chapter in my life, where I wasn't haunted by the thought of you everywhere I went.

You just… wouldn't be there anymore.

Not while I was shopping (where we first met).

Not while I ate pork cutlets (your favourite meal).

Not while I bought a book by Ransom Riggs (your favourite author).

Not while I looked down at the mass of cars that trundle down the road I live over (you seemed to like watching busy streets).

Not while I watched the leaves turn from luscious green to deep brown (signifying the beginning of your favourite season).

It would be almost as if you had never existed in the first place.

You'd be a name I didn't remember, a face I did not recognize.

Just somebody that I used to know.

It was a sad, sad fantasy. A rather macabre and sadistic one, one I am ashamed to have kept hidden in the depths of my torn imagination. 

However… now, I don't think I'll ever have the chance to do it. 

Besides, when I conjure up the scenario, I cannot see myself turning you down; in fact, when I watch it, as if I turn on a television in my mind, I can only stare, as I drop to my knees, and apologise to you. 

It's a blow to my pride every time I find myself tripping over that line I drew, when I refuse to acknowledge the fact that I'd take you back without any form of logic in my decision. 

And it's silly; because now you're getting married, and I don't know who you're tying the knot with, but it's abundantly clear I no longer plague your thoughts, in the same way that you plague mine.

You probably laugh, if your head ever brings up my name, associating my presence with a joke of a relationship, between two stupid kids, who truly thought that their bond would last past high school. 

I find it rather underwhelming that I have not moved on. What happened with us is way in the past, and when you stroll down memory lane, perhaps you recall those times with a fond smile, and turn to your new partner to tell them about it.

When I stumble down that street, I fall flat on my face, and cry till my eyes sting, willing for you to come back.

Pathetic, I'm well aware.

But hearing that you're getting married has maybe… set me free, in a way. What I'm doing isn't good for me, and I just needed one last factor to tell me to let go.

And I suppose this is it.

Yes it, hurts, but I'm going to use this as an opportunity to learn how to think of you in a way that doesn't cause me to tear up every time your face enters my mind.

This letter is to tell you how much I've missed you.

This letter is to tell you that I'm sorry.

This letter is to congratulate you on your marriage.

This letter is to help me look forwards and not back anymore.

This letter is to say goodbye.

I wish you the best of luck in the new phase of your relationship.

I would offer you to come round, so we could catch up, get something to eat, laugh about our most treasured times together…

… but I think I might be a bit too busy for that.

Sincerely, ____

Your teacher read the last few lines of your story, before wiping their eyes quietly. "This is very good, (L/n)," they informed, giving you a smile.

Your lips quirked upwards. "Thank you. I had to get a lot of help to correct my spelling."

"I'll pass this onto Hinata-sensei," your professor declared, folding up the sheets. "You'll definitely get a passing grade in Japanese with this."

"Thank you," you breathed, eyes instinctively flickering over to the window of the classroom, where Oikawa stood outside.

In response to your look, he held up a peace sign, and grinned widely, while mouthing; "It's a beautiful piece of writing. What did you expect?"