Work Text:
Hello, my dear Liam
It's been such a long time. I've written many things to you over the years, but nothing that I would actually want you to read.
Well, to begin with, I returned to Britain after being away in the Americas for a while. In that time I received no word from our friends in London, and they received no word from me. It took me a while to get my bearings after what happened. I worked to keep myself afloat for some years, but I couldn't afford to return with you and I refused to let the States be your final resting place so, I stayed with you there. Until I made enough savings to make it back with you.
Your brothers are doing okay. They were not best pleased to see me. It was very painful to them to hear of my survival, to be given some hope of yours, just to be left completely shaken with disappointment. That one day set them both back years in the progress they made to stabilise themselves. You might be surprised to hear that Albert seemed to take it worse than Louis. Well, all I’ll say is that Louis is doing very well in his life and making the best of the circumstances given to him, though last I saw him we did get into a bit of a disagreement. Nothing to worry about, it's all settled now anyway. We met in the middle, so if you're disappointed with the frequency of my visits, you can blame your brother. I visited Albert, and he is in a prison cell of his own making. I tried to convince him to make use of his life in your name. I didn’t get anywhere. My encounters with both frustrated me to no end. But there’s no changing their minds. They’re both as stubborn as you are.
As for John, he had long left 221B before my return and lives now a comfortable life with his wife and two children, if you can believe it. I occasionally make the trip to visit them. The children are happy, well cared for and seem to get along surprisingly well. Their house is full of warmth and glee. I can't see them more than twice a year, for seeing such a happy and fulfilled family leaves me disgustingly spiteful, and my dear friend deserves better than that. Leaving their house strips me of any feeling for at least a week where I have to find myself back to normal all over again. All I can see while I am there, is a reminder of what I wanted to have with you. And this is completely irrational, but, some part of myself blames anyone I lay envy upon for ‘stealing’ that from me. When that’s not the case. I'm well aware its not. I feel it inside regardless.
When I dare allow myself to imagine how things may have been if you hadn’t passed, I must grieve all over again for you. We could have sat at the kitchen table together in the apartment in the States. We could have travelled back hand in hand. Watching the view from the boat together. I wouldn’t have been alone for years, wishing to see just a glimpse of your face again. I hate the world that split us apart so prematurely. I hate that there was a space in every moment of my life carved out for you and I hate that it remains to this day empty. And while everyone moves on and lives their life, no matter how hard I try to do the same, I can't. My whole life had become a shrine to your absence. It's felt daily, and I dedicate my efforts to distracting myself from wanting to think of you.
Because even though it's the most painful thing I can do to myself, I still want you to be in my every thought. I can't bare to let you go even now, after all this time. For if I don't have you on my mind, then for that moment in time you really are gone.
Well, I moved out of Baker Street too. I retired young. I'm helping a family on a farm for my stay. They feed me, and I work the land or the animals and sometimes the housekeeping. The bees are what I most prefer out of all the work. Physical labour helps me not to wallow, it helps me to forget the pain. In the evening we eat supper, then I go to the help’s barn and wallow until I fall asleep - it sounds like a sad life but I don't have it in me to do anything else. Sadder still, once I tried to fool around by myself. The way people in love do. I'd fooled around as a kid, but I still don't really understood exactly the drive toward it that other blokes do. Anyway, bit awkward to go on about it but, I couldn’t do it. Actually I cried. Horrible sort of crying. The sort I hadn't done since the early days. Made me realise that I was keeping it all in still. It come from so deep in my chest. It was so strong that I couldn't help my voice, and I worried that the Tiller’s would hear me all the way from their house. I fell asleep like that, crying your name. The awful thing is it just doesn't seem to exhaust itself. However much I cry or am swallowed in misery, there is always more where that came from.
I have to apologise for all the time I spent angry at you. I’d never felt anything so devastating in my entire existence. I'd never lost myself like that before - never been so broken. Please don’t blame me, it really is horrible here without you. I didn’t know how to carry it all. You broadened my world and made it so vibrant and interesting. But since you left, I can't hear music anymore. It stopped coming to me, so I stopped playing. And when I heard it in passing it would make me incredibly angry. I couldn't tell you why. But any melody, especially a soulful tune, would leave me aggravated beyond belief, and in an inconsolable poor mood.
I would have followed you to the end of the earth, and in a way, I guess I did. Or tried to at least, and failed right at the last second. Why didn’t I go too? I tried to save you, but I only saved myself. Well I deserve punishment for that enough don't I? My biggest fear is that due to my failure, I will find myself burning in hell once I pass over and wont be able to reach you in heaven. As long as I can steal just a glimpse of you there, that would be better than this. The thought that even death might not reunite us keeps me awake in torture at night.
The yearly dates are all terrible. In my experience, none are free of the painful and heavy ache of missing you. Your birthday, nor mine, the day you passed, the day that I regret waking up and finding out, the day I read your letter and we tumbled off that bridge together (the first and last embrace of ours), they’re all awful. But by far the worst one is actually the anniversary of the date we met. Because that was the day my world expanded. Liam. You were beautiful. I hadn't ever seen a view that struck excitement directly into my veins the way your striking eyes did. The way you stepped up to me and gave me a taste of my own medicine, I was swimming in joy. I even loved how inconvenienced you looked by my mere presence- I couldn't get enough of the look in your eye that ached to call me an arrogant prick. That day looks golden, full of light and potential, a big new mystery on the horizon and an angel at the centre of it all. That day represents to me another chance, a new beginning, as if there was ever another ending to this story. It represents to me, the most pure versions of us, when we didn’t know anything and I hadn’t yet become entangled in that plan of yours, we just met like two people do. And found something completely rare and special in each other. Indeed, as two people often do. Coming back to the present from that memory feels like plunging thousands of miles down to hell. I’ll tell you, when I read your letter, I was over the moon to know you thought the same from the very first. Oh, I've tried to remember every word you wrote down. I wish I never lost it. The only evidence I had of your love, gone.
I've babbled on for a bit now. I must apologise for my wallowing, mustn’t be fun for you either. Why is saying goodbye, even on a letter that you won't read, so damn hard. You've been gone so long and I still just cant sign off a damn letter that you can’t even read.
Liam you’re an idiot. The smartest idiot that has ever lived. I hate myself for ruining my life over you. I hate you for jumping. I told you not to and you didn't listen to me. And now you've ruined my fucking life and your brother’s lives too. And I wish I could let you go. I'd just do anything to see your damn face again.
Well. What else can I say? I wouldn’t be writing if I didn't love you.
Bye
Sherly.