Below is an abridged letter from Alex to Henry, as read out by CMQ at obsessed fest:
I love this idea. Wow. I've missed this too. I'm so glad my boyfriend's a genius. I never realised how much I missed it until I picked up my pen. Maybe I tried to think of our letters as something I did more for you than for me, so I missed it a little less. But, that's bullshit. I needed it too.
I think about you so much sometimes I don't even know where to start. This page seems like the place.
Let's see. Give me a second to remember how to do this. All the writing I've done for the past year has been in legalese, except for my texts to you, which you told me are, quote 'borderline incomphrensible'. Not my fault you were raised in a haunted tower by evil governesses and don't know memes.
Currently, I'm sitting on your couch. I don't really like being at my place right now, and David doesn't like it when my neighbours make noise, so I've been spending a lot of time at yours. You probably already know, given I'm sure your security team logs every time I use my key, but I like it here. It smells like you, it feels like you.
I used to imagine what kind of place you'd design for yourself if you could, and this is so perfectly you that I swear my brain quiets the second I'm inside. I love all the pens lost inside this couch, I love the stinky artisnal cheese in the fridge, I love your fingerprints on the kettle, the way you fold your sweaters. I love the picture of you and Bea on the piano, the one where you're 12 and she's 15 and she's wearing all that eyeliner and you're looking at her like she's the coolest girl in the world. I love the Chelsea scarf over the fireplace even though Pez told me they're shit and I should support Arsenal. I love that you've already accumulated a dozen cookbooks, and I would say there's no possible way you've opened all of them, but I can see the sticky tabs and sauce stains from here. I love your books and your rainboots by the back door. I love how the corner of the rug in your study curls up just a little because you toe at it when you're thinking. I love your smell on the bed sheets.
I miss you so much already. I swear I spent every possible second that I wasn't at school or studying with you. But I still didn't get enough of you to last me until July. I should have been more careful about storing you up. I was burning through you like like there was all the Henry in the world and now I'm in a Henry shortage. It's awful.
Write back soon, okay? It'll help me miss you less.
blakekathryn
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
izzy806
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
romaincrisis
