Lams oneshots

The Final Bow

Dearest, Laurens

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Alexander sighed, running his hands through his thick, greasy locks. "Shit... this- I can't believe Im doing this..."

I write to you on this night in hopes of

He slammed his pencil down on the table before he could finish the next sentence. He covered his mouth in frustration, blinking back stinging tears. After 5 years, he never thought he would actually be writing this letter. The thought hadn't crossed his mind since the beginning. But now? It was all he could think about. His mind raced. What does he do now? Years and years of this, and now it's over. Should it really be over? Could it really end now? Or... maybe it already did. Maybe it was always destined to end this way.

He scribbled out the last line of text

My dearest companion, Laur

No.

My beloved, Laurens

Does it really matter now? Does it matter who he is? It's all come to an end. Nothing matters now. He looked towards the window, out at the sawing trees in the breeze. He remembered climbing them with Laurens, but he never did. It was a distant memory that did not seem to be his. He glanced through the dark trees to the shinging moon, peeking through the branches and illuminating the wrinkled paper in front of him. The moon was familiar, too. A distant memory of stargazing under the moonlight with a certain freckled boy faded just as quickly as it came.

For the first time ever, the man who couldn't seem to stop writing... was at a loss for words. He couldn't find the right thing to say to bring everything to a close. He'd never had to say goodbye before.

Or... maybe he did.

It was painful. He remembered it. Of course, how could he forget? He had to say it multiple times now that he remembered. But how is that possible? Having memories of losing someone so important to him multiple times, but only having one of him. But every time it was so... vivid. It had to be real. It was a memory, wasn't it?

Why does he remember writing this letter before?

Dearest, Laurens

Cold in my professions warm in my friendship-

No, it can't be.

He can't possibly have written this more than once. It's a sickening feeling of Deja vu.

His throat stung from the pressure building up, a dull pain through his throat and behind his watering eyes.

"Please... I just- Dont make me do this again. I beg of you! Please, I know this has all happened before!" He screamed to nobody in particular. "You think this is all a game, do you?! Our lives are something to be changed at will?! You are in control, so why do you hurt me?! Hurt us?! WHY IS IT- Why... why is it always him?"

Because you love him. Everyone knows that, even in the history books, it's clear as day. Your story is rewritten to fit something you wish you had. Sometimes it doesn't end happily, but sometimes that's how it is. But you dont have to fret any longer.

This is the end.

Every word you so effortlessly had inked on the paper, nearly nonstop. Words you couldn't seem to recall writing before filling your head, you couldnt possibly have written these words before. To one man. Sometimes, with a deeper intention behind the letters, sometimes it was on the complete contrary. Does this seem familiar to you?

Alexander covered his ears, the echoing voices breaking through shield across his consciousness. Mumbling hushed prayers as images of a bedside flashes through his vision. He'd done this before, too. Was there anything he hasn't done?
You've been through many lives, many times different from your own. And you've lost him many, many times. He's lost you many times before as well. A plethora of written notes sits at his feet. He doesn't remember ever writing them. He choked on tears as he skimmed his eyes over all of the sickly pale letters. Blood and wet ink mixed on the stiff pages. It was vile. "I love you," written on the corner of the page covered in the vile mixture in painstakingly familiar handwriting. Of course, he knew the handwriting. The sound of a gunshot rang through his ears-