Valweld'mion Gi'ila's Letters to Faelyn Ar'aphine, Letter 7: An Apology

Dear Faelyn,
 
Normally I delight in writing your letters. I think of what you must look like when you read them. Can I make you smile? Laugh? Blush? When you smile, I can see your freckles in your dimples. (Did I ever tell you that?) Whatever delight I hope to see across your face, I am content to bring you joy.
 
Never do I like to imagine you frowning, but I know there is seldom else to do with this letter. There is little joy in it, only hope.
 
I know I hurt you. I’m sorry. If I’d known it would only cause you pain, I would have never breathed a word of it. I hope you will give me a chance to explain myself, knowing I did not intend you harm.
 
Of late, you have mentioned how cold your bed is for lack of me. I thought someone else could fill the space I left... at least while I was away. My journeys away from you may be long. It is a concern of mine that you do not feel alone. I know you have Dahlia, Terestri, your friends... but I am scared you will be miserable for want of a lover beyond what my voice and letters can give you. If you took companionship beyond me, I would not mind.
 
And of course I want for you beyond your voice and letters, but there is no misery in it.
 
Someone else won’t fit the space I leave for you. To try to find something for you would make me miss you more in seeking people who have freckles in their dimples or teeth in their laugh or lingering mischief in their voice. None would ever be right for what delight I take in the flicker of glee in your eyes.
 
My broaching of the topic was meant to be an option for us to discuss. For me to tell you these things and time for me to listen to your side. Then, after all of that, we could decide together if it was something that could improve our lives. I feel as though you took it as a choice I had made for you or an action already been taken. You’re right that I should not have begun this over Sendings. It was... foolish. I’m sorry for that, too.
 
You asked if I could not wait or if I was eager and for a moment I did not know what you meant. Then your words clung to my heart like poison, filled with dread and pain. The implications of what you must think of me still leave me breathless with hurt. Have I misunderstood? If not... why do you feel this way about me?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
When I first wrote this letter, it bled my hurt more than I’d ever wish upon you. Anger was there, too. For a moment, I lost sight of why I was writing it and why I wanted you to read it. Right now I sit with reminders of you close like the flicker of your music box beside my hand. I remember the starlight and ocean and magic everytime I hear it playing. If anything could bottle a memory, I’m sure it would be something you made.
 
That night we danced in Port Kahale, did you hear me helplessly whisper “tha gaol agam ort”? You drew it from me like a breath. I hardly knew I’d said it myself, it felt so natural a beat in your song.
 
And what a song you played.
 
When I was too young to know better, I tried to imagine the whole of a perfect song. It had to be everything I loved, of course. Starlight and ocean and magic. Silly. Childish. Impossible.
 
But you gave it to me anyway. As many times as you may protest it was my idea... you placed it there and made a wish I’d forgotten come true. How could I not say, “tha gaol agam ort”? How could I not want to do the same for you? To find a wish I can make true?
 
I love you. There is no other way to crystallize the memories and opportunities I have with you. You have given me so much. If you were to decide this is where we end, I would grieve you and move on, better than I was before I met you because of you. But... I wasn’t ready to say ‘goodbye’ when I did. I’m not ready now.
 
I want to fix this, but I don’t know how to do that alone. Can you help me find the steps like you did in Kahale? Show me what you want, what you need, what you’re thinking. I’ll await your reply.
 
I’d like to still be yours,
Mion
 
P.S. I’m sorry you didn’t like my joke.
 
Maybe.... Why was the picture sent to jail?
 
It was framed!
 
I am not very good at non-situational humor.
 
I’m sorry.