The Letters He Never Sent || Minsung

17

Current
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I feel like a fucking idiot.

"You been receiving letters from your ex?" He puts down his glass, which is filled with red wine.

"It appears so." I say.

I take a sip of my own wine as I feel him eye me up and down. I cannot believe I have done this. I am not even thirty minutes into this damn date and I already messed things up with this guy. God, I hate this dating thing.

"Well." He says. "That's definitely new."

I nod. I don't think I want to tell him how this ex also committed suicide nine years ago, and that these letters are from a literal dead man. I think that will just become the number one reason why he should walk away from this date right now.

It's my second date with this man. He is an elegant man, I like the way he carries himself. He takes a breath and lifts the napkin off of his lap, smiling.

"Is it a man or a women?" He asks.

I furrow my brows. I don't get why the gender of the sender matters one bit. "It's a man."

I'm going to tell him the gender of my ex, not the gender of who is sending the letters. Only because, I still have absolutely no idea who is addressing and mailing these letters to me. In fact, some of them aren't even mailed. Which, opens up a whole new world of questioning.

"Oh?" He says. "I thought it would be an crazy ex girlfriend or something. Or at least I was hoping, so I didn't have to worry about it since you are gay."

Shit. Maybe I should have just lied and said it was a women. How am I even supposed to assure him it's not a big thing?"

"Well you don't have to worry either way." I say to him. "It doesn't mean anything to me, at all. In fact, I have been throwing the letters away when they come."

That's a complete lie, considering the fact I actually am hoping to go home and see a red velvet letter sitting on my front porch. I won't dare say that to the man in front of me, however, he is already giving me looks.

"So you don't read them?" He asks, trying to confirm. "Like at all."

I nod.

He cocks a brow. "How did you know it was your ex sending them?"

Loads of ways, do you even know how getting letters in the mail works? I think in this moment I realize how different we really are. We have quite an age gap, if anything he might just be using me as a sugar daddy or something. There isn't much sugar that daddy can give, though.

"Because I opened the first one, and saw it was from him. The rest of them have been discarded, the envelope is always the same." I say to him.

He nods his head.

I nod mine too, talking another sip of my wine. I'm waiting for him to say his goodbyes and never text me again, and I can see in his expression he is debating on if he should leave now or after we get out food.

"I think I'm going to go." He says.

I sigh, I guess he decided now was the best. "Please don't, I really like you."

I don't really like you all too much, but I have nobody else in this shitty word to give me the attention you do. Except my therapist, but she is only open two or three days a week.

He gives me a look, then sighs too. "I'm sorry, it's not you it's me."

Well that's a shitty excuse. I think now that he just pulled that card out, I might not even be interested anymore. I watch as he gathers his things and walks off without another word. I might be the red flag here, but he isn't so great after all.

I sigh and call a waiter over to pay for the meal. I think maybe, that's why he left so fast. I pull out my card and come to the realization he probably sped off so fast because he didn't want to pay for a meal he was having with a man who was still tied with his ex.

I let out my nth sigh as I exit the restaurant, heading to my car to go home. The drive home is boring, but it's pretty with the dark sky and lit streets. I love driving home in the dark.

I pull into my apartment complex, getting out of my car as I do so. I still live in the same complex from high school, I couldn't bring myself to leave after everything that has happened in this house.

Maybe the guy was right, maybe he should be worried about the ex sending me letters. Because those letters are making me realize that if that boy was still alive, I would be with him right now.

I would be showering him with love, I would be raising dogs or cats with him. Maybe even a child, if I am being honest. I would live in a nice home, drive a nice car, and have a better job than the one I do.

I got into a university after everything went down, but the emotional damage and stress that the death brought me caused me to not go and do real college things. I couldn't even do anything for a year after the death. My schooling was long and drawn out, and I went with the easiest major.

I think it only affected me so much because he was all I had. I didn't have any other serious friendships, I didn't want any. I didn't want any because I had the only person I needed by my side every day.

I sigh yet again as I get out of my car. The question of why he did it is all I can think about as I walk to my apartment.

I know I wasn't the best, I know I couldn't love him to my best ability, but I was working on it. I was getting better. No matter how much I hurt him or how many bad things happened between us, I was getting better.

I am getting door to my door when I stop. I look around, hoping to see anything or anyone. But when I turn back all I saw was what was on my doorstep. There sat, a pretty red velvet letter.