❝love, Louis.❞ [l.t.]

fourth

ichigo ichie (n.) lit. "one time, one meeting"; an encounter that only happens once in a lifetime, reminding to treasure every moment, for it will never recur.

Dear Maddie,

So, here we are. My next letter, the big one. I keep having to rub my hand sweat off onto my tracksuit bottoms. I'm so worried what will happen to me thinking back to that time. Though it was wonderful, you know how flaky my emotions can become, and with you gone, they've only gotten weaker.

I hope my hand doesn't cramp up. I want to write about this in one shot, otherwise I'm afraid I'll have a breakdown. Which will be okay, since I'm at home. I can go sit outside against the wall, cry, and then smoke the pain away. Sounds like a productive day to my ears.

Talking about us hits me in the heart, you know? It's like a constant twist and burn, like my heart is trying to feel the way it did during the beginning. My heart isn't the same anymore. No, it's broken, beaten down, rusted and dark. It's brittle and thin. It's pumping blood to keep me living with the least amount of work put into it as possible. Sometimes I can't even feel my pulse when I reach up and dig my fingers into that spot in my neck where you supposedly feel it. Maybe I'm the living dead; I feel like it. I'm surprised it hasn't just stopped, leaving me to fall flat on my face wherever I was standing. Sometimes I feel like I would appreciate it.

Anyway, on to the most important thing. You.

We first met five years ago, yes? I remember the exact day too, May 14th, 2010. I was eighteen, fresh out of school and celebrating my summer before uni working at The Busy Bean as a freelance performer for a few months. I got by on tips and free espressos, though the boss Mark sometimes slipped me a few bills for my trouble. Customers liked me and my shows brought him money, so he decided I deserved part of the profit. But I didn't want to do it for the money. Music was my passion, and I felt like sharing it with everyone. People would come to the coffee shop just to hear me sing, and singing they would receive.

I couldn't forget May 14th 2010 even if I tried. It was raining, like every other bloody day there in Donny, and I had just finished one of my sets. I was wrapping up the cords from the guitar and setting them down on top of the speaker once I heard the bell on the door ding another time. But when I glanced over my shoulder to see who was walking in and then laid eyes on you, I never had stood up faster in my life. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and was taken aback by your beauty. I'm pretty sure when you looked back at me I saw you giggle from the expression I held. But I had no control over it; I was mystified by you. It was the ichigo ichie of my life. (That, of course, is the word of the day. Just throwing that in there.)

Your hair was damp because of the rain and you ran your hand over it to slick it back. I had never seen such a beautiful color of hair before. Even with the darkness keeping the suns rays from reaching you, your hair held a glow in its brunette glory. You hung your long, black coat on the rack and pulled at the sleeves of your sweater, which was dark purple, over sized, and knitted.

Purple! That's it ! God, I almost forgot about your present! I'm sending a bouquet of purple orchids with this letter. You know why, don't you? You were wearing purple the first day I saw you (ironically it was also your favorite color at the time, it was constantly changing), and orchids are your favorite flower. We still have that garden of them in the back that I still try to water and keep animals away from. I hate gardening but you loved it, digging your hands in the dirt just to feel the skin of the world we all walked on everyday. The skin of the world that kept us all alive, breathing, and what created us in the first place. So, even though I despise it, I get down on my knees and keep them looking pretty just for you. Just in case you somehow are ever able to see them again.

Back to the story.

You sat down at one of the tables closest to the window and asked Mark for chamomile tea with a side of honey to drip into it. When he brought it to you, I had never seen someone look so angelic sipping from a steaming cuppa while doing absolutely nothing else. You drank it like a cup of whiskey and sighed once you finished. Just watching you caused my heart to beat louder than it ever had before. You fiddled with your fingers and begun to stare out the window, blinking only when necessary as you watched the rain pour down.

I was wishing for you never to close your eyes; they were the prettiest of blue. Like the cloudless sky during high noon, or the color of the sea off of some Polynesian island. I had gotten compliments on me own eyes before, but yours... I was left breathless. They captured me the one time you shifted your view over to me, and I panicked so horribly on how to respond that I opened my mouth to say something... and then farted.

It was a bad one too, smelly and quite loud. I was utterly mortified and left my mouth hanging open, but all you did was give me a small smile and a nod of the head. Mark talked to me after my shift ended and said it was one of the funkiest reactions he's ever seen a guy have to a girl. You had no idea about it at the time, and you don't know how blessed I felt knowing that. All you knew was that I was an eighteen year old lad blushing and stuttering over you, and had no acknowledgement not that sounds had come out of my anus and left me more speechless than you did.

I told you what really happened many many months after we started dating, and I remember you finding it to be one of the funniest stories you'd ever heard. I pretended to be angry with you for that, giving you the silent treatment, but with your sad eyes and pouting lips with your hand constantly tugging on my shirt I failed miserably after five minutes or so. I wish I hadn't done that. That only took five minutes away from me that I could never get back, minutes I could have spent talking to you, complimenting you, kissing you all over your face. Those minutes could have been used for good, but god damn my soul, they weren't.

I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry. I wish I could have spent every minute I could have talking, looking, being with you. I didn't think my time with you was ever going to end.

But things don't always happen as we expect them to, now do they?

I hope you love the flowers. My hand has started to cramp and I need to go see my mother. She's been bugging me with calls for days, trying to reach me and get me to come up to the house. I wish you were coming with me. That would make this feel much more like leisure than work.

love, Louis.

****

OKAY HI ALL YOU LOVELY DOLLS. I'm so sorry it's taken me foreeever to post the next chapter of this. School (life in general though) has been a bitch and has tried keeping me busy every second that I have. But, I found time to write this over the last two weeks! It's longer than usual, so I hope you enjoy it .x