Letters to YoubyXavier Sainte©
As the night grew later and the red that was seeping into your cheeks began to fade I realized it was never going to happen. So long have I wanted to touch you, to feel you skin that I have moved past longing and ventured into obsession. But tonight isn't the night I tell you, so I laugh at your jokes and listen to the story of you most resent heartache until I can no longer bare the sound of your voice taunting me. I excuse myself and hide in the bathroom, trying to suppress my impulses and halt the inevitable torrent of tears. Meanwhile you wonder into my room, innocent of my feelings you notice something that I should've put away before you came over. The box laying on my bed is lined with the softest velvet I could find, the letters written in a patient hand on parchment and sealed in wax. You recognize the memory, the stories I've told you about my past. And you begin to move past it when you see your name on one of them. Curiosity gets the best of you and you pull it out to get a better look. As you shift the contents to remove the letter you discover that they all have your name on them, and there are so many.
Fear is what you want to feel, but something else tears at your heart and you open the letter in your hand.
"I know my last letter was a bit of a throwback to the ones I first wrote, things that I want to do to you, thoughts of wanton lust and untamed passion. But I know you liked it anyway, you always do. Or at least I would hope... this one will be softer I promise, not less but more of the things that you really deserve.
You enter the house tired from a long day, your clothes feel restraining and sticky. All you want is a hot bath and your favorite music... and me. You call my name but there is no answer, odd but not unusual. You walk towards our room stripping as you go. When you reach the bathroom you find it the way you love it. I must've known it was what you needed. You lower your body into the hot water and let the relaxation begin. You close your eyes and soon your mind wanders, then you realize your favorite song is playing softly. After a while you leave and wrap yourself in the robe laid out for you, almost floating into the bedroom you fall into the bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.
You loose connection to the world as you sleep in absolute safety, then as you begin to dream your body forces you awake. Something feels familiar and pleasant, you open your eyes and feel me beside you caressing your hair..."
Suddenly the door to the bathroom begins to open and you are forced out of my fantasy. You need to keep reading, you need to know. So you grab the box shove the letter inside and close it quickly, then turn and run out of my house. At your car you fumble with the keys starting to become frantic, the thought of me finding you is unbearable. Guilt and fear echo through your mind as you race away. You drive longer then you intend to, occasionally daring to take momentary glances at the object of your duress.
Instinctively you go to one of my places, one that I showed you that I had hoped would show you my mind, and my hopes... but didn't. And you park struggling to push the fog of confusion and the lingering traces of alcohol from your mind. This was the last thing you planned on doing tonight; good times with a dear friend were all that you had in mind. For several minutes you argue with yourself that the letters are none of your business, but curiosity and something even more primal makes you reach for the box. You search for the letter you were reading before but can't find it so you pick one at random. It is my first letter to you, the one where I tell you in my clear prose that I need you more then I need air to breath. I write of my love and how it grew from a modest affection, to a full-blown obsession, I loved you in spite of my sexuality not because of it. Then I go on to list all the reasons you are the one I was made for, and how I could make you happy. Your interest has grown from simple curiosity to a quest for something you can't even describe. Then as you feel the spark of something you get to the last line, "which is why I can never tell you how I feel, if you didn't reciprocate my emotions I think I would die." And a tear forms in your left eye, followed by several more.
The next few hours are a blur as you read dozens of my pages, thousands of my words. At the bottom of the box you find an audiotape with your name on it. Hesitating slightly you place it gently into your car stereo. Then you hear my voice, not the soft and often quiet voice I use to speak, but a strong soprano, singing love songs to you. Letting the music speak to you, you lean your head back against the head rest and cry letting all your conflicted emotions wash away.
Slowly you reach up and start your car again, driving slowly back to my house. Where you find my sitting on the porch, my face lined with tears. I begin to stand and mumble incoherent apologies, but you place a gentle hand on my shoulder and push me back down. Then to my shock you lean down and kiss me softly on the lips, and then you allow yourself to fall into my embrace. Finally after several minutes of passion you pull away and say the thing that I never hoped to hear, "I love you too."