THE BLACK PHONE IMAGINES/PREFERENCES

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲? | bruce yamada

SOMEWHERE, FEBRUARY 1978.

You couldn't take living in Northern Denver anymore. 

The idea of staying there until senior year sounded like hell. The town was boring, and you didn't have friends. People constantly bullied and made fun of you. Almost nobody cared about you. You felt lonely there. So you ran away. You took the first bus away from home once you could afford it. 

You were currently staying at your distant relatives' house in another state. Not the first state you would choose to live in, but it was the closest. It's been eight months since you left, and you didn't contact anyone from Denver. 

Except for one.

Bruce Yamada was the only person that held you back from escaping Denver. He was the closest person you have met to being perfect. Everything about him was lovely, from his personality to his looks. You loved him more than anything in the world.

When he found out about your plan, he begged you not to leave. You snuck into his room the night you left. It pained you to leave him like that. But he had friends, unlike you. Bruce could easily find another girl that loved him as much as you did. You thought Bruce would be fine and he would forget you. That's what you wanted to believe.

But he never moved on. Every month, he'd mail you a letter. You sent him one a week after you moved, and since then, you've received letters in a small white envelope.  

You sat at your desk, staring at the most recent letter he sent. You haven't replied to the last three, hoping he would give up on you, but he never did. It was frustrating. You reread the letter for the last time before storing it in a shoebox full of the other notes he sent.

- 

Dear Y/n,

I've noticed you haven't been responding. Have my letters been lost in the mail? I certainly hope not.

Anyway, how have you been doing? I'm doing alright. It would be better if you were here. I miss you a lot, you know. 

I know, it's been eight months, but I don't know. There was something about you that I adored. I don't know why I continue to write these. 

You were the first girl I loved, and I don't think anyone would make me feel the same as you did. 

Remember the day when we kissed the first time under that tree? Well, I'm currently writing this letter under that tree. I go here a lot. It reminds me of you. 

Again, I miss you lots. It would be best if you came to visit soon. I hope to write back. I love you.

Love, 

Bruce Yamada

-

A single tear fell down your cheek and onto the smooth paper. So, you decided to write him back. It would be your final letter to Bruce. You wanted to give him closure.

You leaned on the back of your chair, sighing. You tapped your ballpen on your desk repeatedly, thinking of your final words to say to your first love. It was strange to feel these things at such a young age. Love is unpredictable, whether it is good or bad.

As much as you didn't want to let go of Bruce, you had to.

Hours later, you finally finished writing your letter. You knew it would hurt Bruce on an astronomical level, but you had no choice. Reading all these letters and noticing how Bruce's messages got more depressing each time was painful.

The next day, you nervously slipped your letter into the mailbox, double-checking if the address was correct. While walking away, you wiped your tears and wore a blank expression.

You didn't want to hurt Bruce. But that's how life is. It's brutal.

-

DENVER, COLORADO. MARCH 1978.

It's been a few weeks since Bruce sent that letter. Was it too much? He thought nervously. Bruce received your letter the night before, but Bruce couldn't read it. He was too nervous and excited. 

He stayed at his desk, contemplating whether to read it right away or wait. Bruce tapped his fingers on the table, swerving his chair from side to side. 

You haven't responded to him in four months, so he was curious to see what you sent him. Unfortunately, it wasn't the hopeful message he thought it would be. 

Bruce gently tore the envelope open and took out the note, anxiously unfolding the message. He took a deep breath before reading the letter. 

-

Dear Bruce,

It's been a few months. How was your day?

I'm sorry I haven't been responding to your letter. I have a lot to say, but I didn't know how to form it into sentences.

I've been doing well. School's not that bad here. I think I like it more here than in Denver. It would be a hundred times better if you were here, though.

As much as I love and miss you, I think you should stop writing notes to me. 

Don't get me wrong. I love receiving them, but I find it difficult to see that you won't move on from me. It's been eight months, Bruce. Forget about me. Find a new girl to fall in love with, someone that'll love you more than I did.

I'm saying the opposite of what you wrote last month, but you should listen. I think it'll be better for you and me. 

I don't plan on coming back to Denver. There's nothing there for me except you. Maybe you could visit instead. 

I miss you. I miss our dates, our study sessions, and your face. I miss it all. I would do almost anything to see you again, Bruce. All I want to do is to be with you again. But I can't go back to that shithole. I never want to remember that place again. You were the only person I liked there.

Please don't write back. I won't respond. I hope you get over me, Bruce. Please do. Don't be alone forever. There are millions of people better than me. You'll find one.

I love you. Until next time, Yamada.

Lots of Love,

Y/n L/n

-

That was painful to read, especially from someone you loved most. The idea that your favorite person wouldn't come back to see you hurt. Maybe you would've been an exception, but you weren't.

Bruce aggressively crumpled up the paper and threw it into the trash, burying his face in his arms. He was too angry to cry. 

However, he understood why you said that. Bruce should get over you, but he couldn't; he loved you more than anything.

He took the letter out of the trash can and reread it. Thinking about it for a moment, Bruce took the message and placed it in his drawer. 

As much as Bruce loved you more than anything that existed, maybe he should move on. 

-

A/N:
I'm sorry...
I hope you enjoyed this...
This was inspired by "How Was Your Day?" by singer beabadoobee (my love)
Y/n sucked in this, I know! I thought this was a creative idea for a story.
I'll try and write cuter/happier stories from now on. I wanted to try this out!
—12/5/2022