Pen Friends (Phan)

Chapter 5

It had been half a year since I'd moved house, meaning it was now the Christmas holidays and I was observing my Christmas holiday tradition of alternating between playing video games, scrolling down tumblr and wasting my life away on YouTube while stuffing my face the whole time. I was having a great time procrastinating and postponing all homework and school projects until the last few hours of the holiday. I knew I'd regret it when the time to do the work came but hey, a tradition was a tradition.

Due to going to a college and not joining in the middle of school everyone had been in the same position as me - friendship groups hadn't been established yet so I'd fit right in and I'd made a few good friends. My new best friend was called Jake, and although we got on great it wasn't the same as the friendship I'd had with Phil, and it couldn't fill the hole Phil had left. Each time I started to forget a little another letter arrived to remind me, and each time I came home to find another one waiting for me I felt so horrible because I didn't deserve to have him faithfully keep writing those letters to me when I'd been such a terrible friend.

I'd been getting one almost every week, every two weeks at most and they just piled up. I'd dedicated a whole drawer to them because I couldn't bear to throw them away but only two of them had ever been opened. I knew I'd promised to stay in touch and that I'd told him I'd definitely write back, but I just couldn't do it.

I'd opened the first two that had arrived and even replied to the first, but even in letter form Phil had been able to tell that something wasn't quite right. In the second letter he'd asked me if I was ok, and I couldn't force myself to lie to him, and somehow that resulted in me never sending him any letters back. Everything in my everyday life was fine and I'd been coping with the move and the loss of all of my friends quite well, but losing Phil wasn't something I managed to handle quite as well.

I'd taken out blank sheets of paper countless times with the intention of writing him a letter back, even just to say hi and reassure him that I was indeed still alive, but I was too scared to despite how much I wanted to talk to him. I'd finally managed to start getting over him, and it would kill me if I fell in love with him again. He lived too far away, he didn't feel the same was and he would probably hate me if I told him.

He keeps sending you letters though, even though you haven't spoken to him in half a year. That has to count for something.

It did count for something - a good friendship. While that was great and had made me really happy in the course of the five years I'd known him, moving away had given me the excuse I needed to end our friendship. I'd always told myself that I was perfectly happy being just good friends, best friends even, but it hadn't been enough. Of course I wouldn't have forced him into anything but staying friends with him when I needed more had killed me a little more every day, sometimes even reducing me to a sobbing mess because I couldn't cope with being so close to what I wanted but unable to have it.

So the replies stayed unwritten and the letters stayed unread. Although I'd finally started to get over him my belief in that was too shaky for me to be willing to test it out. I didn't plan on touching those letters until I was completely certain I was safe, and maybe not even then, but I wouldn't ever get rid of them either. Proof I wasn't quite over him I guessed, and I was certain that I would always have a soft spot for him in my heart regardless of what happened.

*****

I was happily watching one YouTube video after the other while steadily shovelling crisps into my mouth when the bell rang. I paused the video I was watching and glared in the general direction of the front door, hoping the person would go away so I wouldn't have to get up to answer the door. When the bell rang again I sighed deeply and moved my laptop onto the couch, grumbling to myself. If this turned out to be some carollers or someone wanting to ask me a tonne of questions for some sort of Christmas questionnaire I would probably resort to violence.