Note: this will also be posted on my Quoetev account so if you find it there I’m QUEENSkippy there too so it’s not a thief, just me :)
Warnings: some blood
It had been a normal day for Lohen, just like every day before this one.
Wake up, pray, breakfast, study, watch his mother and father carve and test bows like a single well oiled machine (without ever getting permission to do so himself), study, lunch, study, dinner, prayer, sleep. Repeat.
Except maybe the day wasn’t so normal, because Lohen decided taking a walk before lunch was a better idea than studying the math textbook sitting on his desk.
It was fall. The heavy wind nipped at his ears and the trees were aflame with a beauty only appreciated when you were inside with a cup of warm tea instead of outside, lost after the trail he had been following was covered in a mountain of leaves.
Lohen’s parents would claim Barbados was angry today, but to the little seven year old boy it seemed more like the wind god had caught a cold and was taking it out on everyone else by accident. (His parents would also not like that imagery)
Instead of moving forward, Lohen paused and assessed his situation.
He was lost, yes, but not in any immediate danger. No need to panic. He had been walking in a fairly straight line. If he turned around now he could try and retrace his steps.
Only there was a great deal of rustling and grunting echoing on the wind behind him.
If he was a little older or a little wiser, maybe he would not have gone out to explore what the strange sounds were.
But Lohen was neither of those things. We was a boy born in repetition and molded by it. As he was right now, he had no reason to be scared of monsters in the woods any more than he was scared of monsters in his closet.
All of which his mother had eyed him critically over and explained there were no such things as closet monsters.
Lohen hadn’t thought that logic reasoned out. There were gods but no monsters?
Mother had looked him with her special eye again and said ‘Yes. Your mother wouldn’t lie to you, Lohen.’ So his fears had been tampered and he brazenly ventured closer to the sound.
Beyond a wall of birches, Lohen came upon a most remarkable sight.
“What are you doing?” Lohen asked. Skeptical and judgmental in the way only a seven year old could be.
You looked up from your place on the forest floor, eyes wide and clothes covered in autumn leaves and face streaked with reddish mud as you wrestled with a large hare in the dirt.
The hare was a strange color. A kind of turquoise that reminded him of the pictures of Liyue’s Luhua Pool.
It also had a wire cinching its back right leg, peeling open the skin as the dangling wire dribbled with red blood in a steady drip. He swore he could see a chip of bone peeking out from the wound.
The sight was gruesome, and it made something in Lohen’s stomach flutter.
He couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or not but simply watching a seven year old child(he assumed you were seven) fighting with a beady black eyed hare made him feel downright confused.
You were losing a fight to what was supposed to be an easy lunch. Even a child like himself could catch a hare. All he would need is a rock and a slingshot.
So how were you losing?
“I’m trying to save this rabbit from the wire trap,” you gasped as it kicked you in the chin, both you and the hare looking incredibly offended.
That had to have hurt.
“Thats a hare,” Lohen corrected, not even moving a single foot forward to help you. “And why is it green?”
You looked to him incredulously, like the answer should have been obvious. All raised eyebrows and cocky child-ness that made Lohen want to help you even less. “I knew that. And I don’t know. Maybe it’s someone’s pet?”
“Who dyes their hare green?”
“Again, I don’t know. So stop ansking me. And he’s not green—he’s blue-green.”
Now it was Lohen’s turn to look incredulous. “What’s the difference?”
You opened your mouth to give a retort when you paused, hissing when the hare managed a kick to your neck. You looked ready to burn the hare at the stake before you glanced back up at Lohen and responded. “Dunno’. Sister Philomena is trying to teach me color theory. She says there’s a difference, and she’s right about lots of stuff.”
“Well, you don’t seem to know lots of things.” Lohen said with a frown.
This time you frowned right back at him, though in Lohen’s eyes it was more of a beastly scowl. You were pretty ugly for a seven year old. And stupid to boot.
“Hey! That wasn’t very nic—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when the blue-green hare gave a double kick to your face and twisted out of your grasp, the sharp wire whipping around and slicing across your arm.
You shrieked so loud Lohen’s ears rang. Tears spilled from your eyes as you flinched back. Your good arm cradled the scratch close to your chest, staining your shirt with blood as you whimpered.
It really wasn’t as bad as you made it seem, but to two seven year olds it might as well have been a death sentence.
Lohen stared at your arm, and then at your face. Your eyes were still following the hare after everything it had done to you. Looking closer now, the red mud turned out to be bloody scratches covered in dirt from your scuffle.
You made a move to get up and follow after the wild animal when you whimpered again and sat back on the ground and just cried.
All Lohen could do was stare awkwardly. But then the beating of three feet and the swwsh of wire cutting through grass and leaves approached him at lightning speed. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.
But suddenly he found his body moving on its own.
Lohen lunged instinctively towards the hare making a surprisingly fast escape towards the forest line. It sprinted, kicking up dirt and dust in its mad dash to get away from a quietly sobbing seven year old child.
It was infuriatingly fast. Covering ground like, well…a hare.
But Lohen was smarter. He chased the hare towards a long line of rocks and scooped it up when it attempted to vault over the stones. Fast, but weak—fwph!
The damn thing tried to hit him with the wire. The wire. Indignation rose in his soul and suddenly he was fighting the hare just like you were. Messy, scrappy, like animal against animal.
The hare was a snake trapped in a prey body, Lohen swore it, feeling it wriggle and fight like it had bills to pay by dawn tomorrow.
Only now did he understand your struggle. With its good paws the thing was clawing and scratching at him with a force he didn’t expect it to have. It hurt to get hit with its hind claws especially. If he hadn’t been wearing his winter jacket his skin might have taken serious damage like yours had.
After what felt like a year of wrestling Lohen gave a firm tug to one of its long ears and finally it moodily quieted to a still against him, somehow glaring up at him despite its beady face.
It gave one final swat at his arm and Lohen could already feel the bruises blooming across his arms and stomach.
Maybe it decided breaking its own back to escape him wasn’t worth the effort after its long boxing match with you.
With one arm around the hare, Lohen approached you. You were still ugly sobbing and sitting in a pile of fiery red leaves.
“You can stop crying now. I caught him, see?” Lohen soothed terribly, holding the injured hare out like a doll waiting for transfer.
Lohen didn’t know why he was helping you.
Maybe it was because you were weird, and he felt benevolent enough to grace you with his presence.
Maybe it was because seeing you try to save the hare from a bloody demise while getting all scratched up moved him to help you out.
Or maybe he just wanted a friend.
His parents certainly weren’t abusive people but they just seemed to have forgotten the laws of childhood and the need for friends. So they never really let him out of the house to just play.
Maybe with you around, that would change.
You wiped at your eyes, only succeeding in smearing a smudge of blood onto the corner of your lip as you looked up at him.
Straight in his eyes. Eyes he had been told were like pools of water stained with blood.
You hiccuped and sniffled like a snotty kid, and Lohen thought that was exactly what you were. A kid. Someone his age.
“I don’t know how to get the wire off.” Is what you whimper out instead of a thank you or I’m not crying like Lohen thought you might say.
He stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded, and then his gaze turns to the fuming, bloody hare in his hands.
And he realizes something.
“Neither do I.”
Credit to @/cursed-carmine for the rose divider! And if anyone finds the artist of the Lohen divider/banner at the top please notify me so that I can change it or credit them!
Look at me, finally posting a story I promised you :)
(Likes and reblogs give me every + the expectation to write more, energy won’t hold me back from posting so don’t worry! I write this for all the Lohen lovers looking for a good long chapter fic of them as childhood friends)
Pls be patient while I try to fit Lohen into character, seeing as we know very little of what he was like before the accident/10 yrs old and traumatized I am doing my best to improvise :D thank you!
A Good Bunny Stays in Her Pen | lohen x reader | NSFW | multichapter | masterlist
synopsis:
You hate your job at the cabaret club. It’s draining, dehumanizing, and you always stumble home smelling like cigarettes. You wish the degree pinned to your wall had gotten you the career of your dreams instead of a mountain of debt, but life’s never been fair to you.
So maybe you should have been more cautious when Mr. Perfect came rolling through. Maybe you should have stopped staring into those red-blue eyes like you’d get drunk off them.
But you didn’t. And now, it’s far too late for you to harbor any regrets.
themes:
porn with plot, psychological, slow burn, modern au, yandere!lohen, bunny-girl-hostess!reader, detectives of favonius, codependency, vigilante justice, obsessive/possessive themes, unhealthy coping mechanisms (murder, repression), explorations of childhood trauma, analysis of legal systems and cabaret clubs, explorations of sexual trauma, PTSD, unreliable narrator, developing relationship, white knight syndrome, lohen can save you, you can fix him...right?
characters:
lohen, female!reader-insert, rosaria, varka, mika, theodore, adorno, mona, barbara, jean, +more to come...
current progress:
Chapter [3/?] | 14k | ao3
Disclaimer: Please note that this is a mature series intended for adult readers. There will be many dark and possibly discomforting scenes in the chapters ahead regarding trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, violence, and codependency. There is explicit sexual content, but this is more of a Plot with Porn story than Porn with Plot. If you are uncomfortable with NSFW, you should be able to safely skip the sex scenes without missing out on much.
With that said, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy!
welcome to the landing page for A Good Bunny Stays in Her Pen! if you would like to become one of lohen's bunnies (tagged whenever i post lohen x reader) comment, and/or send me a message/ask! thank you!
masterlist | ask | ao3 | more of this pair
summary: lohen wants you to hit him, but you're a lover, not a fighter. he wracks his mind for a solution to his conundrum, only to settle on the best possible solution: if he wants you to roundhouse him into next week, he'll just have to make you mad.
themes: established relationship, assistant-librarian!reader, attempt at humor, silly references, playfighting, floor sex, light teasing, insufferable!lohen, inspired by various lohen memes/tumblr postings, they're in love your honor ♡
word count: 3k | ao3
♡ (one of author's personal favorites)
You really weren’t sure you could follow this tutorial of his.
“So you step back with one foot like this,” Lohen said, tilting his body with the backward movement of his leg. “Then you hold your hands like this. One by your chin, one in front of you. And when you go to throw a punch, you just—.” He pivoted on his right foot, launching the fist by his chin straight forward as his body snapped with the motion.
“Wham! Like that.” He grinned, placing his hand on his hip. “Easy enough, yeah?”
You felt a nervous sweat dot your brow. Wringing your fingers before yourself, you said, “Um, show me again?”
“Sure, sure. Step back like this…one fist to your chin, the other in front…then wham!”
The way Lohen’s fist punched through the air was already giving you a heart attack. You gawked at him when he started to bounce back and forth on his heels, explaining to you, “You can even throw a jab like this! Then a straight! Then a good old uppercut!”
His lithe body moved through the steps as your mind struggled to come to terms with them. Massaging your hands together, you winced when Lohen let out an excited laugh. His crimson eyes twinkled as they stared at you, a smirk pushing one corner of his lips higher than the other.
“Oh, don’t look so scared. It kinda turns me on.”
“Shut up,” you said, heat pooling in your cheeks. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“What? That’s, like, kinda the whole point.” He grinned, popping his eyebrows at you. “Come on, you know you wanna try it. Give it a go. Hit me!”
He spanned his arms out like he was waiting for a hug, but you knew Lohen better than to assume that. You probably would have preferred if he was in a snuggling mood, though, because you weren’t even sure how to approach the act of punching your boyfriend in the face.
“I don’t know,” you stammered. “It doesn’t really feel natural. Like…I don’t think I’d be able to hit you just because you asked me to.”
“Bun, you’re overthinking it.” He flapped his fingers inwards, towards himself. The smug grin on his face persisted when he said, “Just do it. Will it help if I tell you I want it?”
Not really, because you could already tell that’s what he wanted.
“Hm.” Lohen crossed one arm over his chest, the other coming up with his pensive fist. He rubbed his chin, observing you with a raised eyebrow as he continued to let out thoughtful hums. He raised one eyebrow, let it fall, then raised the other eyebrow, and let that one fall too.
“Stop doing that,” you mumbled. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Oh yeah?” Lohen asked, shifting his brows across his forehead again. “Does it make you mad?”
“Not mad, just uncomfortable—.”
“What if I burned down the library?” he asked chipperly. “Would that make you mad?”
“What?! I’d be devastated!” you shot back. “Lisa and I have spent so long arranging every text in that library! There’s centuries of knowledge in there! You can’t just go and burn it down!”
“Mm,” Lohen said, his teeth biting into his grinning lower lip. “I like it when you yell at me…but I’m afraid that won’t stop me from burning your precious books to the ground, sweetheart.”
“You’re not actually going to do something like that. I know you’re just saying that. R-right?!”
The words left your lips, but your brain was already fixated on an image of chaos. Lohen, sneaking into the Knights of Favonius library with a match in his hand, waiting for you to organize every last book return and label each new addition before casually setting the place ablaze.
Oh, that was definitely a possible outcome. Knowing him, he’d be so covert about it that you wouldn’t even notice until the whole place was nothing but ashes.
“You’re maaad,” he said in a sing-song voice. “So mad you could punch me. Right?”
“Are you trying to threaten me into beating you?!”
“Pft! Oh, come on, you know I’d never do that! It’s just a bit of light coercion.”
Was he bluffing or was he serious? Did you really want to wait around and find out?
“Hey, what was the name of that porn book you’ve been reading?” Lohen asked, tapping his chin. “The one from that series you’ve been waiting on for the past two years?”
Your cheeks smoldered into flames. Indignantly, you snapped, “Fate’s Glimmer is not a porn book! It’s a romantic tragedy that analyzes the conflicts between conquest and birthright—!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Lohen waved his hand dismissively, his smirk growing wider. “I’m pretty sure you left your porn book on my nightstand. Wouldn’t you just hate if something were to happen to it? I mean, you went and got the collector’s edition and all…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Waste of money if you ask me. Why read porn when you could just fuck me—!”
—WHAP!
Lohen’s head whirled from the impact of your fist against his cheek, his words struck dead on his tongue. Your knuckles protested with throbbing pain, but by the Archons if it didn’t feel good to wipe that smug smile off his face. It was one thing for him to burn down the library, but to incinerate Fate’s Glimmer: Collector’s Edition Vol. 24? He had gone too far!
“It’s a romantic tragedy!” you barked. “It's a brilliant analysis on how war impacts families and intimate relationships! Any explicit content is solely for the purpose of accompanying the plot, but you wouldn’t understand that, you…! You…! Ugh!”
Lohen’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide during your whole tirade. As you came down from your moment of fury, you quickly snapped back to your senses.
You had just punched Lohen in the face. Over a book. You assaulted your boyfriend; over a novel.
You winced. “I’m sorry—.”
“—fuck,” Lohen said over you, red seeping into his face. He tongued at the inside of his cheek, moaning. “Good job, Bun. Now do it again.”
“You are just so—!” Your hands curled up into fists before you let out a ragged sigh. “No, I’m not going to hit you again!”
His eyes turned half-lidded, a perverse smile settling across his lips. Slowly, he drawled, “Then I guess I’m gonna piss in your porn book.”
Before you could stop yourself, your body was launching across the room, barreling straight into his.
Lohen liked playfighting a bit too much. Maybe it was because you’d stand no chance against him in a real fight—and you wouldn’t ever be foolish enough to try. Since he couldn’t spar with you, he spent most of his time finding other ways to force you into a tussle.
His face loomed over yours, cackling.
“Hey, Bun! Remind me what the characters in your ‘romantic tragedy’ were doing in that last chapter you told me about?!”
You let out an anguished groan, heat bathing your cheeks as you stared into his mocking red eyes. Lohen laughed, his hands pinning your shoulders to the ground, and in a teasing voice asked, “Why the hesitation, sweetheart? I thought it was an analysis on war!”
“Ugh, screw you!” you spat, pushing up into his chest with the flat of your palms. “Corina and Zand finally reunited after a whole year! It’s only natural for there to be tension!”
“And what did they do during their glorious reunion? What’d they do with all that tension—huh, Bun? Enlighten me!”
You shoved your body weight forward, and even though he was far stronger than you, he pretended to flip onto the ground anyway. He grinned from ear-to-ear as you sat atop of him, your hands curled into the collar of his shirt.
“They’re in love!” you sputtered, the burning sensation in your face intensifying. “They haven’t seen each other in a year! It’s only logical they would…!”
“It’s only logical they would…!” he mocked in a high-pitched, girly voice. “Logical they would what, Bun? Do a little bit of this?!”
You yelped when he bucked his hips underneath you, sending you bouncing atop his lap as his laughter filled your ears. You pressed your hand to his mouth, trying to suffocate those uncontrolled chortles under your palm, but Lohen only moaned and bit you.
“Ow!”
“You like that, bunny?” he asked, his grin splitting his face in two. “You wanna bounce on me just like Corina bounced on Zand?”
“Stop!” you whined, stuck between a strange cross of irritated and horny. “You’re so annoying!”
“That didn’t sound like a no to me!”
His hips popped up into yours again, the bulge in his trousers meeting the skirt of your dress. Glaring at him, you snapped, “You can’t seriously be horny right now!”
“Oh, yeah,” he groaned exaggeratedly. “Yell at me some more, won’t you, babe? I might just bust.”
“Why are you like this?!”
“Oh, I can be worse! Wanna hear my best impression of you when you’re bouncing on my dick?”
“No, of course I don’t—!”
“Ah, ah, ah!” he mimicked, rutting up against you all the while. “Lohen, slow down! I’m gonna cuuum!”
With a furious scream, you lifted him by his collar—which he let you do—before thrusting him back into the ground. His laugh was borderline-maniacal, tears budding at the corners of his eyes as he play-struggled beneath you. But before you could think to move, your world was spinning, and with your back pressed solidly into the ground, Lohen was on top of you again. He rutted against you with sharp, sporadic thrusts, mimicking, “Lohen, Lohen, Lohen!”
“Fucking stop it!” you blurted.
“Oh, but you’re wet, aren’t you? I don’t even have to touch you to feel it.”
No you were not wet for Lohen while he dryhumped you across the floor of your living room and imitated the way you moaned for him when he fucked the living soul out of you—.
“I’m wet,” you mumbled, your heart pounding against your ears.
“Of course you are,” he purred. “Your brain’s all addled from that porn book of yours. You don’t even notice how horny you get when you read it, do you?”
“Stop,” you complained, pressing your eyes closed. “I most definitely do not get horny while reading it.”
“You do,” he purred, hips rocking, hands rising to your face. “I sit and watch you read sometimes. When you start biting your lip, that’s how I know you’re at the smut part.”
“I don’t do that,” you protested.
“Yeah you do, Bun. And you start looking around too, trying to make sure I can’t see those filthy little pages of yours.”
Of course Lohen would notice something like that, even when you thought you were being covert about it. There wasn’t much you could hold over his head in the surprise variety—you even stopped trying to hide his birthday presents after the third foiled attempt. After you got together, he suggested that next time you cut the gimmicks and show up with a bow taped to your tits and a dagger in your hand.
Lohen’s laughter drove the scene from your mind. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your mouth, after which he said, “Want me to fuck you?”
You closed your eyes and whimpered, “Yes.”
Your fingers curled into Lohen’s shoulders as he moved atop of you. Legs tucked over his back, you encouraged the forward motion of his hips with each of his hard thrusts. Lohen nibbled at your chin, his nails scratching against the hardwood floor beside your head.
“You’re so embarrassed,” Lohen said, laughing against your jaw. “How adorable.”
Your cunt throbbed in response to his provocation, squeezing around his girth. Lohen’s tongue plopped onto your chin, and with a lazy drag upwards, smeared his wet saliva all over your face. When he reached your mouth, you stubbornly kept your lips pressed closed.
“Huh?” he asked. “You don’t want your kisses? When you’re the one who always whines about them?”
He snapped his hips forward again, making you release a strained moan into the air. The way Lohen fucked into you mashed against the sweet bundle of nerves pocketed inside, and he wasn’t a stranger to abusing that. He angled himself better for it, and it was somewhat painful when he stabbed into it again, but your pleasure was undeniable. Lohen tried for your mouth again, and you quickly clamped your panting lips shut.
He chuckled, his teeth nipping your upper lip. You flinched, and he giggled more.
“You mad at me?” he asked teasingly. “Just ‘cause I made fun of you for reading erotica?”
Your brows furrowed together. “It’s not eroti—! Mm!”
Ah, he had gotten you with that one. While your mouth was open, snapping at him, he had leaned down to slot his against yours. His hot tongue broke past your lips, waltzing around between your teeth like it owned the place. He moaned against you, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks, and gave you another solid thrust.
Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt. Eyes fluttering shut, you felt yourself slip into a state of pure bliss.
But then things started to get cold. You thought you were imagining it at first, that maybe it was just a shiver, but then your teeth started chattering against the soft of Lohen’s tongue. He crooned a naughty little giggle, and the reason behind your frigid state became startlingly clear.
Shuddering, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body further into yours. You turned your face away from his kiss, clinging to his warm frame as you barked, “Why are you doing that?”
Of course, you were referring to his inappropriate use of his cryo vision. Lohen snickered.
“I like it when you cling onto me,” he purred. “Makes me feel good.”
“It’s c-cold,” you complained.
“Then I guess you’ll have to cling a little bit harder.”
“Lohen…”
You groaned, but you wrapped yourself around him tighter anyway. With both arms and legs holding him in a vice-like grip, you hooked your chin over his shoulder, your cheeks warm. He nuzzled into the side of your face, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek all the while. For a guy who complained about the mundanity of kisses and cuddles, he sure was a hypocrite whenever he was on top of you like this. You had even started wondering if he liked it more than you did.
Your palms, flat against his back, stroked across his blue button down. He let out a breath against your cheek.
“You feel good,” you murmured.
His hips stuttered. Lifting his face back over yours, Lohen grinned at you, red consuming his cheeks from ear to ear.
“Yeah?” he said. “You like me or something, Bun?”
You cracked a smile back, rolling your eyes. “You’re so silly.”
“Heh…cheeky girl. I’ll show you silly.”
He rammed into you harder, his brows furrowed, but with a satisfied smile still etched across his face. You moaned his name, your eyes trained on that wicked grin of his. When his mouth descended onto yours, you dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt.
“Mm,” he moaned. Between wet, sloppy mashes of his mouth against yours, “Gonna fuck you silly, Bun.”
Embarrassing, but you liked the sound of it.
“Gonna make you go, oh, Lohen!”
Okay, now he was just being a dick. Your cunt was still throbbing though, so what did that say about you?
“Ah, Lohen, stop!” he mocked, his shoulders shaking with his laughs. “Good impression, no?”
“Can you not make fun of me while you’re fucking me?!”
“Aw, but I like it! You’re so cute when you’re mad, Bun!”
“Just shut up and fuck me!” you sputtered.
“Ha! Well, if you insist.”
“Oh,” you moaned suddenly, feeling the stroke of his cock shift into a pound. His tip fucked that spot you adored like he’d never get a chance at it again, and as pleasure shot through your core in hot waves, you sputtered, “Yeah, just…just like that.”
“I’m gonna make a bingo card next time,” he purred. “Fill it full of the shit you say when you’re about to cum.”
Why, oh why did you like it when he made fun of you like that?
“I wonder if it’s gonna be slow down! or not yet! this time. What do you think, Bun?”
“Slow down,” you slurred, your heels digging into his hips. “Fuck, Lohen, slow down.”
“Like music to my ears.”
“I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. “Please stop.”
“But I want you to cum, pretty girl.”
Oh fuck him.
Lohen laughed when you slipped into it, your hands clawing at the back of his shirt while you mewled and moaned the exact way he had made fun of you for. You felt the sting of his hips into yours, a bit of biting cold that he couldn’t control, preceded by the lively throb of his dick inside you. Your back arched as though you were being pulled to Celestia, but Lohen’s body kept you tethered, holding you right where you were.
“Fuuuck,” he drawled, his eyes unfocused. He grinned, but the expression twitched, shifting his face between a smug one and a desperate one. Fingers clawing into the floor beneath you, Lohen half-spat, half-moaned, “Bunny.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were cumming again—.
“Good…good job,” he said, his voice lilting into a whimper. “You’re my…my everything, Bunny.”
Tears budded at the corners of your eyes. Holding him ever so tight, you whined back, “I love you.”
He exhaled a shaky laugh. Lowering his head, the tip of his nose brushed against yours.
“Pretty girl,” he crooned. “I love you more.”
With an ear-splitting smile, tears ran down your cheeks as you laughed. Lohen craned down to kiss you, swallowing your giggles and salty tears along with your hot tongue.
“Mm,” he said when he withdrew. “Still gonna make that bingo card.”
Your smile immediately fell flat. Whamming your fists against his shoulders, Lohen only nuzzled into you and laughed.
What a pain of a boyfriend. He was stupid, reckless, and borderline psychotic.
Yet in the depths of your heart, you knew you wouldn’t want him any other way.
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✨⋆˙⟡ ad astra abyssosque! ⋆˙⟡✨
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masterlist | ask | ao3 | more of this pair
synopsis: they say poetry and letters were humanity's earliest means of expressing their thoughts. as such, will it be able to absolve the misunderstanding between you and lohen?
lohen x fem!reader, childhood friends to strangers to lovers. university au.
a/n: this is so late send help and also hopefully the text chats are ok👍
tw: self- hatred (reader) and mentions of illness (lohen)
masterlist here!
chp 2: your hatred sets this lifeless heart afire.
in the past eight weeks, you've figured out three things about lohen from his letters.
one, he has a friend named illuga whom he frequently hangs out with and a senior named varka whom he challenges on a daily basis. you suspect that both have been blackmailed by lohen because you can't fathom the possibility of anyone willingly forming any remotely positive relationship with that man.
two, he's frustratingly good at switching to another subject and giving non-answers whenever you ask him about seven years ago.
three, he's part of the university's boxing club and wants you to visit him at practice one day. you wish that you could ignore it but lohen, being the detestable roach he is, has been asking in every single letter.
for five consecutive weeks, there's always some mention of "come see me wipe the floor with 'em!" or "my victory would've tasted sweeter if you were here." or "will you PLEASE come see me fight? pwetty please with a cherry on top?"
he'd drawn a chibi of him with big googly eyes for the last one. you used a pen to cross the eyes out.
it's no surprise to you that lohen chose to join such a club. when you were younger, he'd jump into any fight he could, even if he wasn't one of the kids who started it.
it didn't matter if the other person was taller, older, or sturdier than him, lohen would still barrel into them and throw punches with all his force. you still remember the time he tried to fight your father because your old man's teasings made you cry, climbing onto the table and launching himself off it to land on your father's back.
lohen had used gravity to weigh himself down, putting your father in a chokehold and causing the poor man to bend backwards while trying to maintain his balance. he only let go when you bit his arm, crying for him to stop.
his parents came knocking on your door after, apologising profusely and making lohen kneel on the ground to ask for forgiveness. instead of being furious, however, your father hurried to scoop him into his arms, a hearty laugh erupting from him as he said:
"if this rascal becomes my son-in-law in the future, my daughter will surely be in good hands!"
you think your father must've had the oxygen cut off from his brain for too long to have made that statement. he wasn't the one who had to deal with a lohen drunk on post-fight adrenaline and patch him up biweekly.
you hate it, truthfully. you hate the word 'fighting', you hate anything related it, and you hate the colours red and purple because they always appeared when lohen was hurt.
you hate how red stained your hands and the gauze you'd use to dab against his cheek, the vibrant colour smearing its trail across.
you hate how purple dotted his features, like some painter's ugly and careless mistake on an otherwise flawless canvas.
you hate how the skin on his knuckles were irritated and torn, the old bruises on his back barely faded before new ones took their place.
you hate how you insisted on him coming and going through the back door, not wanting your parents to see him in such a state.
you hate how your eyes would sting whenever you caught a glimpse of his scars or felt the hard calluses that littered his hands.
you hate how lohen still dared to smile as you cried, pleading for him to not be so reckless.
"i've gotten better at all this, see?" he'd coo, voice soft and syrupy. "been getting hurt less too."
"don't worry, i'll become so skilled that you won't even need to patch me up next time. so don't cry your pretty eyes blind."
lohen would say all that and still come back injured, the bruises and cuts and scars all fusing together to form some hideous amalgamation that seemed to grow larger each time you saw it.
"but if it bothers you so much, i'll let you draw over them. do anything you want to me." he'd say, handing you a box of those washable kiddy markers and lohen would sit perfectly still, allowing you to doodle whatever came to mind.
you'd draw flowers and vines on the days you weren't too upset about it all, and scribble out his scars on the days you felt the need to be angry at something else other than lohen.
the art, if you could call it that, barely did anything to soothe your displeasure or your worries. it'd all disappear by the time he took a shower, and anyone could tell that it was a thirteen-year-old's crude handiwork.
still, lohen glowed with pride when he looked into the mirror, the compliments flowing out of him like second nature.
a liar, he is. lohen's never cared for aesthetics. how would he know the difference between a masterpiece and a disaster?
you hate how you fell for the words of a liar.
you hate even more how you still care for said liar.
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"now here's a face you don't see every day! (name), right?"
some guy calls out to you with a wide grin on his face, waving as he approaches you. you almost glance behind to see if he was greeting someone else, but upon closer inspection, you recognise him to be the man you asked to pass on your letter all those weeks ago.
tall, burly, blonde, an undeniable presence...so you actually met varka himself all those weeks ago. lohen's description of him is surprisingly accurate, even with little detail. subconsciously, you straighten out your posture.
it's an exaggeration, but you swear varka seems to grow larger as he nears you. and to think lohen pits himself against him on a daily basis? how is he still alive?!
even though his imposing stature intimidates you somewhat, you flash what you hope to be a relaxed smile.
"and you are varka, i presume? it's nice to meet you. officially, i mean! lohen mentions you a lot. thank you for helping me the last time."
"oh, don't mention it! any friend of lohen's is a friend of mine." varka laughs amicably. "he's told us all about you too. you look just as he described! you two are pen pals, huh?"
"not by choice. kind of." you mumble out, half in jest and uncertainty. the pen pal project's somehow brought the both of you closer together, or at least allowed you to feel a sense of normalcy around lohen.
you're not sure when it happened, but the meetings became more frequent as the weeks passed, and you found yourself looking forward to see him, laughing at his jokes more and reciprocating his teasing from time to time. just as you did in childhood.
the change frustrates you more than it confuses you, in the way that your brain and heart had seemingly forgotten everything when lohen apologised and asked you to give him more time.
in the eight weeks that have passed, your subconscious mind has apparently made the decision to forgive him.
should you forgive him?
you don't get to dwell more on the question as varka claps a large hand on your back, the force knocking the wind out of your lungs and making you stumble forward slightly.
"yeah, that kid has some...interesting qualities. it takes some time getting used to, but i can vouch for his character. he's a good apple, that lohen."
"though blemished on the outside, the core isn't rotten at all." you recall your father describing him as such too.
"anyways," varka continues, "what brings you here? exercise, check out the boxing club, or..."
he waggles his eyebrows up and down, his voice teasing as the look on his face turns mischievious.
"or you're here for that certain someone i just mentioned?"
"no! of course not, why would i...?" you immediately spew out, denying your intentions.
varka stares at you. you stare back at him.
eventually, you give up on lying to yourself that you are not there for lohen and admit defeat. (guess your pride can take a few hits.)
"lohen...said he had a match today. i came to support him." your mouth feels like sandpaper after your admission, the words almost foreign to hear. what exactly is lohen doing to you? first he makes you question your own resolve, and now this.
"is that so? guess he won't be craning his neck looking for you in the crowd this time!" varka chuckles. "lohen's a bit busy prepping, but you'll see him in the ring soon. in the meantime, why don't i show you around?"
the thought of refusing his offer crosses your mind just once, but you agree in the end, not wanting to seem rude. might as well spend your time wisely instead of standing around.
"i don't mind. curious to see what that guy gets up to in his free time anyways..."
"great! follow me then."
there isn't much to see apart from what you noticed when you first stepped in here. there are people milling about everywhere, either working out at various corners or chatting with their friends. weaving through a few bodies, you find yourself running a little to keep up with varka's large steps.
he's well-liked, you can tell. each person who has walked past greets with either a high-five or fist bump, and varka responds to each one with a laugh and a call of their name.
with such an easygoing attitude, the possibility of him willingly choosing to be lohen's friend doesn't seem too far-fetched now.
the two of you walk around for a while more, with varka introducing you to the various equipment and some more of his friends, before you guys decide to take a break and park yourselves near a water cooler.
"so, what do you think? pretty impressive right?"
"well, i can understand why lohen calls this his 'happy place'. ample space to fight, enough punching bags to use..."
"i bet he considers me to be one of those punching bags too." varka says the words with a certain despondence, and you let out a small cough to hide your snort. he sighs before turning to you with a sparkle in his eyes, an excited expression on his face.
"enough about me. you've known lohen since childhood, right? how was he like as a kid?"
"there's not much to say. he hasn't changed much from when we were younger, still eager to fight and annoying as ever." you don't elaborate any further after that, hoping that the answer was enough to satisfy varka.
huffing, you point your gaze towards the ceiling, as if you'd find some hint as to why life is so complicated and messy.
even if he did, i wouldn't know. the thought is left unsaid in your heart, but you get the feeling varka heard it anyway just by observing your body language. he clears his throat and continues.
"well, i can tell you're special to him. he wouldn't be spending his time writing all those letters by his own hand otherwise."
"he doesn't write by hand?" you tilt your head, confused.
varka grumbles, scratching the back of his neck. "every time i ask lohen to fill out anything, he hands it off to someone else to write. it's always someone else's handwriting i'm seeing! does he really think i can't tell?"
shaking his head, he nudges you lightly, eyes kind and comforting.
"but when it comes to you, he's suddenly so eager to grab a pen and paper! i swear, the difference is like night and day. i've caught him hiding in the locker room a couple of times scribbling away too."
something in your chest comes alive hearing his words, the heat rising to your cheeks as you try your best not to look so happy. you don't even know why you're happy.
"i didn't know that." you say softly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible, trying to concentrate more on the fact that lohen apparently avoids paperwork like the plague.
"lohen re-reads the letters you send before each match as well. i'm guessing it's like some extra motivation for him. he always looks so pumped up after and knocks his opponents down twice as fast."
varka laughs and pats your shoulder once before retracting his hand, stance gradually becoming more casual as the conversation goes on. his next words come out almost nostalgic, like a dad who's seen his son grow up and finally step out into the world.
"there's not a lot of people lohen's close with, y'know? it's hard getting him to interact with others, and he doesn't trust easily."
"being around you brightens his day a lot, and i couldn't be more grateful myself that another person is looking out for him."
"you're something good for him, (name). with you around, i won't have to worry as much anymore." his eyes seem to shine as he says so, the twinkle equal parts proud and relieved.
you're certain you're not as important as varka makes you out to be, yet you can't ignore the earnestness in his tone when he tells you of lohen's actions. you know he isn't lying.
unsure of what to say, you settle on the first thought that comes to mind.
"i'll look out for him."
varka nods, patting your shoulder once more. "thank you, really. sometimes lohen lies to me about his condition and pushes himself too far. i've had to force him to rest a few times now."
you pause for a moment, registering what he just said in your mind.
"what condition?" you ask tentatively, the surrounding noise suddenly going mute as you wait for a response.
it's varka's turn to look puzzled now. the expression causes unease to settle low in your gut. "his condition." he repeats. " you don't know? did lohen not tell you?"
your mind races through the letters and texts you've been exchanging with lohen in the last two months, but you can't recall a time where you heard a mention of any condition.
has he been hiding one from you?
your surprise must be clear to see as varka seems to realise he said something he shouldn't have. it looks like he's about to play it off, but you speak up before he can.
"varka, is lohen sick?"
"shit, he really didn't say anything. o—of course not! lohen's as fit as a fiddle!"
varka sputters and averts his gaze from yours, his confident persona now nowhere to be seen. it only makes the unease in your gut settle even more.
"you're a bit too nervous for someone claiming that everything is fine."
"it was a slip of the tongue! i was...talking about his general condition!"
"didn't sound like that to—"
the toll of a bell interrupts you and people start to move, with the lights dimming and focused solely on the boxing ring. when you look at the stage, you spot him.
you hear varka sigh, seeing him turn to face you in your peripheral vision.
"(name), i think it's best if you heard it from lohen himself. it's not my place to say anything on the matter, i'm sorry."
as if that bastard would tell me! you want to shout and demand an answer from varka, but it's obvious he won't give you one even if you try to question him.
you take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, trying hard not to snap at him.
"...i understand. you don't need to apologise."
varka nods in response, wearing an apologetic smile as he starts leading you through to the centre of the crowd.
"thank you. c'mon, we need to find you a good view. lohen will kill me if i let you miss anything."
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your hands are cramping up and cold sweat is beading at the nape of your neck.
you're nervous. really, really nervous. with each punch lohen's opponent swings, you glance away, not wanting to see whether the hit connected or not.
the organ in your chest squeezes and pulses with each minute the match goes on. you find yourself praying silently, hands wrung together and nails digging into your own skin. to who or what for, you don't know, but you hope someone receives it either way.
you don't cheer, and you don't clap, watching that familiar stranger trade blow after blow, and take blow after blow. under the bright lights, red and purple once again create the painting called 'lohen'.
you can't understand his motivations or his insistence, nor the reasons behind his actions. perhaps you never will.
the referee holds lohen's arm up, declaring him the victor of the match. cheers and whistles erupt all around, the cacophony deafening amidst the slowing beat of your heart.
over the noise, varka projects his voice.
"lohen! look who's here!"
lohen's eyes flicks over to your general direction, eventually meeting your own. in an instant, the fire in his gaze seems to burn even brighter, his teeth now fully bared and smile split wider.
he waves at you and seems to say something. you can't hear him, but you can make out one of the words to be 'wait'.
there's pure joy pouring out of him, like a beacon illuminating the dark night. for a moment, your nervousness seems to melt away.
lohen's right where he wants to be, you think.
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about five minutes later, your phone buzzes.
if you had a hitlist, lohen's name would be at the very top.
shoving your phone back into your pocket, you resolve yourself to the waiting game and step out of the gym, deciding to sit on a bench nearby.
the late afternoon sun warms your skin and the balmy summer wind kisses your cheeks. in the blink of an eye, half the year has passed, while you and lohen have been pen pals for two months.
two months, and yet he's told you almost nothing about his reasons for leaving. furthermore, he seems to have kept you in the dark about something for longer.
"sometimes lohen lies to me about his condition and pushes himself too far." the sentence has been bouncing around in your mind for a while now, its phrasing and implication too serious to ignore.
the initial questions of what and when pop up first, then comes the why and how.
like why didn't you notice something, anything sooner? how serious is whatever he's ailed with? when did he get sick?
how lohen didn't tell you, who was supposedly so special to him, about this matter at all.
has he ever really seen you as his friend?
the further you go down the rabbit hole, the more your mood sours. at some point, tears begin to sting your eyes and you dig the heel of your palm into them. no wonder lohen calls you heulsuse.
you pinch yourself, hard, hoping the sting will distract you from your overthinking. it barely helps, but at least it's something else to focus on. the indent stays for a good minute before it fades, leaving no trace.
"screw you, lohen."
"oh? i heard my name."
jumping out of your skin, you whip your head up to see lohen looming over you, now changed out of his gym clothes and freshened up. there's a faint scent of mint coming off of him. his hair is slightly damp as well, the water droplets dripping onto his sweater.
"...that was quick. you texted me three minutes ago." you gape, still recovering from the scare.
lohen quirks an eyebrow, sitting himself on the armrest of the bench, resting an arm on the back and leveraging his position to lean in closer to you.
"what're you talking about? it's 4:12 pm already. and here i thought you'd chew me out for the two extra minutes."
"it is?" you glance at your phone, frowning when you see that the time is indeed 4:12 pm. seems like you were daydreaming for longer than you should've.
lohen pokes your cheek, the gesture prompting you to throw him a glare. he laughs and raises both hands in surrender, his glee in your annoyance unmistakable.
"you look a little lost." he says matter-of-factly. "what's running through your mind this time?"
lohen's observation irks you a little, more specifically the ease in which he deduced that you were thinking about something. though the frown you're sporting probably aided in his conclusion as well.
suddenly feeling conscious of your facial expressions, you angle yourself slightly away from him.
"nothing important."
you're a liar. you are such a liar, lohen, you want to say.
you move up from the bench, mostly fearing that you wouldn't be able to control yourself from punching or slapping him if you sat next to lohen for a minute longer.
"let's go, i'm getting cold."
"cold? in this weather? okay, hey, don't walk so fast!"
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the walk back is quiet, apart from the sound of your footsteps hitting the pavement.
the sunset dips the sky in hues of orange, baby pink clouds covering its vast expanse. it's similar to the one back home in millhaven, where there are flower fields aplenty.
in your youth, you'd help your mother harvest flowers for her perfumery business. the both of you would wake up bright and early, filling big baskets with all kinds of flora.
"handle the blooms gently and don't crush the petals. most importantly, take your time." your mother would remind you. by the end of it all, your hands would be stained with different colours and carry a sweet fragrance.
as the sun rose, the golden glow would make the fresh dew on the petals glimmer like jewels.
you should really plan a trip back home some time after your exams, if only to see that view again.
the sweet reminiscence is short-lived, however, as you bump into lohen. (who very obviously stepped into your path, causing the collision.)
"woah! careful there. are your eyes working alright?"
"my eyes are fine. you should watch your feet." you spit out the words, stepping to the left to move past him. lohen mirrors you, blocking your path.
okay, that's fine, you'll just go right and—yep. he's standing in front of you once again.
"what're you trying to do?" you question.
"oh, nothing at all. don't you think this particular spot is suitable for a fulfilling conversation?" lohen responds.
the two of you are literally standing in the middle of a footpath, the only ornamental piece in view being the school fountain. there isn't much traffic due to the hour, so it only emphasises the barren nature of your surroundings.
you stare at him, unimpressed by his excuse.
"forget me, you should get your eyes checked."
"i'll have you know i have 20/20 vision. but back to my point..." lohen moves closer to you, his demeanour suddenly becoming more chipper as he languidly drapes an arm over your shoulder.
"you finally came to see me today! i thought i was dreaming when i saw you."
when he doesn't let go even after you jab your elbow into his stomach, you resign yourself to your fate and allow lohen to guide you forward.
"it was a last-minute decision and i just wanted to see if you were as good as you claimed." you argue, looking away to prevent yourself from being blinded by the sparkle in lohen's eyes.
he lets out an amused huff. "and? did i live up to your expectations?"
the voice is eager and anticipatory, taking on a higher note than his usual tone. from your peripheral vision, you can see that lohen's looking at you intently, popping his head into your field of view to meet your gaze.
"i wasn't watching too carefully." you trail off, your eyes flitting over lohen's appearance. there's a bandage on his cheek and minor bruising at the corners of his lips. he must've gotten hit hard during the match earlier.
a part of you withers.
"really? that's unfortunate." lohen puckers his lips, his fingers drumming against your shoulder as he sighs theatrically. "guess i'm going to have to fight the thing that stole your attention away from me."
he laughs, but you can see the cogs turning in his mind. lohen's genuinely considering it.
he'd be fighting something non-existent, but you believe he would still find a way. stubborn fool.
the two of you are strolling slowly now. at some point, your footsteps gradually synchronise until the beat of them is indistinguishable on the gravel. the gap in between has been dwindling too, with you and lohen walking hip to hip.
he jumps from topic to topic: school, hobbies, the childhood you shared. it's akin to a performance, really, how lohen's able to switch his intonation and pace so easily.
his voice drags when mentioning mundane things and picks up when recounting frustrating events, each word tinged with an uncharacteristic tenderness.
it makes your heart ache and quiver, hearing such a melody. one that holds so much memory and meaning, from one so close and yet so far.
which is why you need to know.
"lohen, be honest with me."
"hm?"
"are you ill?"
he stops a second later than you, the movement causing his arm to fall from your shoulder. when you turn to look at lohen, it feels like you're looking at a stranger.
they're dark. his eyes are dark. they're dark like the void and lohen is standing motionless in front of you, seemingly unsure of how to react.
"what makes you say that?" he asks, tone low and dull. "do i look sick to you?"
"you don't, which is why i'm asking." you admit, hands clenched at your sides. they've begun to grow cold and slick with sweat. discreetly, you wipe them against the fabric of your pants.
"what did you hear?"
"...that you have some kind of 'condition'. it flares up when you exert yourself."
"anything else?"
"that's all i know. lohen, is it serious?"
lohen stays silent for a minute, gazing at you with this...listlessness about him. it's like his mind is somewhere else while the physical body is in front of you. eventually, he snaps out of some daze and gives you an empty smile.
"it's not. i'm fine, heulsuse." the nickname sounds more patronising than ever coming out of his mouth, and you grit your teeth to tamper down the indignation.
you know lohen is lying. you are certain he is. why can't he just tell you the truth? can't he tell how worried you are for him?
"i don't believe you. it's clearly more than that." stepping forward, you reach out to him.
you barely move a centimetre before lohen takes a step back.
stunned, you glance up to meet utter coldness. there's no trace or hint of the warmth you received from him just minutes ago, and his body language is closed off.
"i said i'm fine. it's none of your business, (name)."
it's pure despise, the way lohen says your name. you pushed him too far, and now he despises you.
it's your fault. you caused this to happen.
"your fault, your fault, your fault." your inner critic chants.
"it's your fault lohen hates you. it's your fault lohen despises you. it's your fault lohen detests you."
"all along, the reason was you."
it is your fault lohen left seven years ago.
"that's not true. how can the blame be placed on me alone? lohen is guilty too!" your inner child cries.
"i wasn't the one who left. i wasn't the one who forsook the other. i wasn't the one who lied!"
"i just want to understand him!"
it is not my fault.
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you hate him. (you hate him you hate him you hate him.)
you hate that lohen left. you hate that lohen lied. you hate that lohen didn't keep his promise seven years ago.
you hate that you love lohen so, so much.
you want to tell lohen how much you love hate him.
"i'm sorry." you mumble. "i overstepped. it's my fault."
without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and leave.
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for the past four weeks, lohen's been writing letters to you.
Title: Week 9, Day 1 of asking for your forgiveness.
to (name),
hey, i know you probably don't want to hear from me right now. (understandable, i was being a dick.)
i want to apologise, i shouldn't have said that to you. it wasn't right and i want to make it up to you.
let's meet up after your classes to talk?
sincerely,
lohen
Title: Week 10, Day 8 of asking for your forgiveness.
to (name),
you must be really upset, huh? you haven't been replying to my letters.
it's so quiet without you around, y'know? when are you going to come back and annoy me again? soon i hope.
i'll be having practice until 6pm today. you can come see me if you want.
sincerely,
lohen
Title: Week 10, Day 12 of Life update
to (name),
figured you'd get tired of reading about me apologising, so here's something new.
i ate the jueyun chilli chicken i wrote about in my last letter.
it was delicious! i burned the roof of my mouth and my tongue is kinda numb, but the pain was wonderful so it was all worth it. woke me up for my next class.
i went with illuga. you should've seen the look on his face when he took a bite! i laughed so hard water shot out of my nose.
don't tell him, but i actually sprinkled a few more chilli flakes onto his portion while he wasn't looking. i know, i know.
"lohen, you can't do that!" that's what you'd say, right?
don't worry, i apologised after. thank goodness illuga's so kind hearted.
let's try some together next time.
sincerely,
lohen
Title: It's Week 11 and I broke my arm and nose! (surprise!)
to (name),
no joke, i actually fractured my arm and broke my nose. here's what happened.
this guy called ajax joined the club recently. he's a pretty good fighter and is tough as nails, so naturally i wanted to test my skills against him. (one of the best ideas of my life.)
we started sparring, things got a little heated, and next thing i know i'm knocked onto the floor and blood's gushing out of my nose and my arm's twisted in an awkward angle.
i did manage to bruise his eye and break his jaw though before varka caught us. (unsanctioned fight, he was pissed.)
long story short, i have a new friend now! and varka's banned us from being within ten feet of each other. we're planning how to bypass that.
i'm healing well and i'll be back to normal soon.
sincerely,
lohen
p.s. sorry if my writing's all wonky. ajax broke my dominant hand.
Title: just checking in
dear (name),
i hope you're doing well. it's been about four weeks since that day. i haven't heard a single peep from you since then as well.
i wonder if you've been reading all these letters. if you didn't, well, that's okay too. i'm not going to stop either way.
varka probably told you before, but i absolutely hate writing. maybe you figured it out too, with the number of times i asked you to do my homework with me.
i still remember how we used to huddle up together solving math problems, with you holding the pen and me providing the answers.
writing is so inefficient. there's simply no way one person can truly convey what they want to say through words on a page, much less if that person has so much they want to say. it's why i prefer 'doing' instead.
i've been told by different people that the desire to write often just needs a reason, like how you just need to find someone to be brave for in order to have bravery. i honestly think it's nonsense.
as corny as this sounds, you are my reason to write.
i write because i don't want to be a stranger to you again. i write because i don't want to live another seven years without you.
if writing is the only means of communicating with you, then i'll write as many letters as i have to to bridge that seven-year gap.
you make me a different person, (name). a better version of myself.
i've never stopped thinking about you.
sorry. was rambling so much that i'm running out of space now.
