Our Yeah | #WattPride (Completed)

Guesses

Dearest Peter,

Skipping the unnecessary greetings, I wanted to say that I miss you a lot. Also, I've been stumped for the past few weeks on both my homework and thinking of what you grabbed from my room back at the vacation house.

I did not have the slightest elegancy to ask Rebecca what would be missing in my room for that would be cheating, she knows my room better than I do I'm afraid. Speaking of my room, I never did tell you that I haven't changed my sheets all summer song, at least, not since you first slept on my bed.

Your scent never left that bed the moment you set your body there for one night. I never had the courage to admit this in person hence I'm writing this to you now. Don't laugh.

I don't know if Rebecca washed them after we left, but knowing her, she must have already done them by now. She always liked the house very tidy even if I tend to dirty it up from time to time.

Now, onto the task at hand... Below are my best guesses on what you could have possibly taken from my room that's something so small, but not too small without me noticing. I hope you won't hold a grudge against me for doing this and hopefully end my endless agony of wondering what you've taken.

My first guess would be the blue stress ball that you seemed to like squeezing from that day when you took me home because I was sick. Another guess would be my pen from my desk that I use for my music, I remember you commenting about it when I was doing desk work that one rainy day when I asked you to sleep over. My next guess would be my guitar pick, but I wouldn't know if you classify that as something too small so I'll leave it at that. The last thing I could think of is the cassette tape that I forced you to listen to on the last night you were in my room.

I've never had the best deductive skills I admit, so I hope you'll make it easier for me.

With Love,

Alex

I re-read the letter once, twice, three times just to see if there's something that I can add more to it, and I did wanted to add more but I couldn't. I wanted to tell him so much more, as if I'm casually talking to him right now, like he's just in front of me so many weeks ago.

I can't however. I know it's not the same, I know he knows it too. I long for the day we see each other again, but for now, I guess I have to settle to sending him letters. If I ever did tell him more than what I've written, this will turn into a novel instead of a one page letter like it is now. I wanted to though, so much, as long as he reads them.

I've written so many that I've lost count, and they've all ended up inside my drawer gathering dust. Hidden from sunlight, hidden from Peter's eyes, hidden from everyone else. But, maybe one day I'll have to send them to him. Just a small bag full of forgotten letters.

Maybe.

I folded the letter, put it in an envelope, wrote the mailing address, stamped, licked then mailed it. The hard part here is the waiting. The wait takes days, sometimes weeks.

After all that, I sat on my bed, feeling emptier than usual. The wait begins.

I really do miss Peter a lot. The letters really don't do much, but it's all we have and it's all we can do right now. I wanted more. I do.

I look at the sunset outside, the fiery orange colors are spread across the sky like water on the ocean. It reminds me of summer and of Peter. Tears flee from my eyes as I stare at the sky being engulfed slowly by darkness. Are we both seeing the same sunset now?

I hope so.