Your reflection (SIMPBUR x y/n)

Love, what a word. ~41~

ᵀʷ: ᶜᵘʳˢⁱⁿᵍ

ᴬ/ⁿ: ᴴᵉʸᵃ! ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᶠʳ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ;⁻; ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿ ᵐᵉ ˢᵃᵈ

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{Name}’s pov

It's been a month and a half since that night with Wilbur, and he’s been gone.

Ghosted.

Hasn't messaged anyone, hasn't streamed, no posts, nothing. Almost as if he ran away from the world. But i've gotten things, i've been talking to him. Well he’s been talking to me.

With letters, he’s been sending me little letters with heart stamps on the opening. “My darling, {Name}” Written on the front. I would read them with a smile, swinging my legs off my bed and smiling like a schoolgirl.

I've been keeping them in a shoebox I had stored a while back, finding its home under my bed.

The crisp November air has slowly turned cold, the first small flakes of white puffy snow has already fallen,

without him.

I often find myself wondering, daydreaming about what he’s doing. What that dorky boy has been up to.

I went down the stairs of my apartment, going to the shared mail boxes and opening mine with a key. I smiled as the once empty mailbox had a guest over, a small letter with a heart on the seal.

I grabbed it, biting my lip as I excitedly walked out of the apartment and into the warm coffee shop under it, turning the letter over and finding “My darling, {Name}” written on the back with his curvy handwriting.

Cursive, but with its own twists. Like how some of his uppercase letters looked more alike to the print visions. How on some words he didn't connect the letters.

Maybe I spent too much time admiring how his hands worked on paper, but it was beautiful. A beautiful set of delicate letters, combined into heartfelt words. \

I opened the door to the shop, going over and setting the letter down gently on a spare coffee table. I walked up to the bar, going to the coffee grounds and made my favorite.

As I was pouring the warm liquid into my carryout cup, I looked to my right. There sat the bag of coffee beans, with a piece of scotch tape with “Wilburs dumb coffee beans -_-” Written across it with a sharpy.

I remembered him walking into the shop with it in his hands the first time, begging me to make a cup with them for him saying that they were his favorite. And after that when I was out, he would always come back with a new bag.

“Dark roast, with a tad bit of cream.”

I said to myself smiling, shaking my head and looking down. I grabbed the bag after I finished my own, making another cup of his favorite for no odd reason. I brought the two steaming drinks to the couch, setting them on the table with the letter placed on top of it.

I grabbed the said letter, gently opening it and taking out the worn paper inside. 

Dear {Name}, 

Hello, how are you? I hope you’re good, you don't have to be great just.. Good.

I have missed you, a lot and.. I've also thought a lot. I've thought about what you’ve told me. I think you're right. God, you're always right.

You're like the smell of an old library, ya know that? Somehow, slightly familiar. But at the same time, gentle, and pleasant.

I've been doing a lot during this time of absence, it hasn't been for nothing I promise you.