IDK what I'm doing right now. I just wanted to write, so write I must. -C
The first time he reads the letter, he doesn't think it possibly. All of those years can't mean nothing to them. All of those years can't just...Stop existing because of one horrible day. He knew that yes, his boyfriend had been a little off, but he never thought that it would be something this big.
There are teardrops upon the letter. Ugly streaks, smearing the margins and the lines into one. The ink suffers as well. Some parts are torn through when a pen shook too much to continue writing.
Hercules wishes he didn't commit it to memory, but that's how his mind has always worked. It's as if some small part of him is a spy. He's ready to dispose of information after reading it. Which is precisely what Hercules finds himself doing. He tears up the letter and sets it ablaze, taking lessons from Eliza.
Eliza's world crashed down around her all those years ago. Hercules' shouldn't have followed.
The words start echoing in his head as he hurries around the apartment, grabbing all of the things he might need for the bitterly cold January night.
Dear Hercules Mulligan,
I am so sorry for leaving you, but I must. I must find my own place in this world, and I cannot do it at your side. I'm leaving. On one of the buses. And maybe I'll come back, and maybe I won't, I don't know. I just know that I need to carve out my own path, and I can't follow you anymore.
Love,
Lafayette
Those words tear at him as he buttons up his coat, the buttons sliding into the wrong position. It awkwardly rises on the right side, the left side drooping. His scarf isn't tied to help keep out the cold, merely resting on his shoulders. It takes one brisk wind to knock off his knit hat, and his gloves are threadbare. His bare fresh is quite obvious underneath the knitted gloves, but it doesn't matter.
The kind of cold filling Hercules is nothing like the cold outside. The one from the instead spreads from his heart, leaving its icy aches all over. Maybe there is no escape, and maybe there is. However, all he wants to do is plunge all of his feelings into fire, like he had with the letter. Just to feel warm.
Warm equals comfortable. Comfortable equals contentment. Contentment leads to happiness. Happiness leads to love. Love is Lafayette.
A very essential part of the chain is missing. The link is cast somehow, broken from the rest. It's dangling by nothing, and it will fall if Hercules can't find it.
Those are the thoughts, screaming inside of his head, as he charges towards the bus stop. There is no way that he has left yet. Lafayette would take awhile to decide. He would wait too. He would linger to say goodbye to just the environment. The rest of the world didn't get the goodbyes though.
Hercules skids to a stop in front of the bus station. He gets there in time to see a new bus boarding. "Laf!"
He screams the name until his voice is hoarse. He screams the name until he sees the man turn to him on the bus steps. Lafayette's eyes glimmer with tears, and he looks like a wreck. There are deep bags underneath his eyes, and his skin almost looks mangled and too loose for his skeleton. His teeth grind against each other, a nervous tick. Carefully shifting from foot to foot, Hercules easily notes the half-empty suitcase...Or half-full, he supposes bitterly.
"I'll come back!" Lafayette screams in his deep, throaty French accent. It still rings out, and it doesn't seem dampened like the rest of him. It's so lively and energetic and happy to be getting away from Hercules.
Hercules doesn't leave the bus station for a long time. He watches the bus pull away, and he doesn't cry. Men don't cry.
Or, at least, if men happen to cry, they'll do it in the comfort of their lonely apartment, in their empty bed, knowing that they will never get the other half back inside.
It takes one month to stop waking up to expect Lafayette next to him.
It takes two months to stop expecting every text or every call to be from him.
It takes three months to stop finding Lafayette's things around the apartment and breaking down crying.
It takes four months to stop recounting a different story about Lafayette every single day.
It takes five months to stop watching the newsfeed and looking up Lafayette's social media desperately.
It takes six months to stop stocking the pantry and all that it entails with foods that Lafayette loves and Hercules has never.
It takes seven months to realize the inevitable.
It takes eight months to say the inevitable.
It takes nine months to sell the apartment and everything that belonged to Lafayette and start rebuilding himself.
Hercules doesn't know what is worse. Is it the feeling of all hope being lost, the withering feeling inside of his chest? Or is it the feeling of seeing that everything you thought to be true wasn't? To know that the way you saw the world was tinted the wrong way, and you've actually been walking around blind?
When he first sat down, taking orders to tailor clothing for everything, that day, the idea was the same. He never thought it would be much different.
Until he stumbles in, looking oh so lost. However, he's dressed to the nines. The French jacket that he adored to the jeans that somehow hug his legs in precisely the right places. Hercules wants to hide beneath the sewing machine.
He might not have been the person who left. He might not have been the person who betrayed the other in such a horrid way that it took such a long time to get over it. However, Hercules still feels like the reject. Just seeing Lafayette, looking out of place, out of time, in his shop makes his breath come quick. He feels like a convict in front of a jury, ready to be judged for his every single move.
"Hercules?" the man finally asks, realizing that Hercules is not going to be the first person who talks first.
Hercules has always thought of himself as a strong person. He can lift weights, he can lift his brother. He could even lift Lafayette once upon a time. Now, though, all of that is crumbling to bits at his feet.
He forces his resolve to harden the walls around his heart. "What would you like to order?"
"Do...Do you remember me?" Lafayette stammers, looking scared. Like somehow Hercules could forget him.
Hercules glares at him, showing that no, he did not forget. Nobody could hate a stranger with such total malice without a reason. "What would you like to order?"
"Please, Hercules, I'm sorry...But I came back. I said I would," he begs.
The tailor breaks out laughing at that, alarming the other man. After wiping the tears of mirth out of his eyes, Hercules goes back to shooting daggers into him. He envisions all of the words he'd like to say to Lafayette. He wants to say everything that he has made him feel. But who can summarize anguish in words so accurate they cut to the bone?
There is no way. "You're too late."
"Give me another chance. Please. Give us another chance." Lafayette gestures to the two of them.
Hercules wrinkles his brow. "There hasn't been an us in a long time, Lafayette. The moment you got on that bus, you threw away any chances you could have given us. The moment you left with a measly note being the last form of communication is the time you could have come back. If you can't respect me to treat me like a proper human back then, there is no trust now."
"Hercules-"
"We missed our chance. Because you didn't want it. Now, get out."
For the second time, Hercules watches Lafayette walk away. But this time, Hercules doesn't hope for him to turn back and come back. This time, Hercules says goodbye for good and make amends inside of his head.
