Brand New Glass

by BlackBaby

They fixed the glass you know. Brand new glass, shiny and perfect, like nothing ever happened. I hate it. It's like they're erasing you. It's like you vanished, and everything that happened in my apartment never happened. Except you're gone, and that's how I know it's real. one/shot takes place after Volume 8 rated T for cursing

Dear Ken,

Hey. It's been a while, hasn't it? If I could talk to you for real I would, but we both know it can't happen. I've decided to write these letters because, well, it's the only way I really feel like I'm with you. I know you're not here to respond to me and say badass things like you used to do, but it'll have to do. This letter is important to me, because even though I know you'll never get to read it, it'll let me pretend you're still here. Maybe that's not healthy, but who cares? I think I'm entitled to a little wallowing and self pity, you know?

Sorry to start your letter off on a sour note, but it's been one hell of a ride since you left. Sometimes I just want to sit. Maybe you thought I was going to say, "sit and think", but I wasn't. If I could, I would never think again. Thinking is putting everything out in the open. You're gone, I'm an alcoholic, so what? It's better to pretend that nothing's wrong and to go to work and talk and sit and eat and sleep and work and work and work. Everything's fine, let's just go on with life like nothing bad ever happens.

Everything's not fine, Ken. Everything's fucked up. I need you so bad right now, but you're who knows where, and I'm alone. Every day I have people by my side, Mal, Natara, Kai. Especially Kai. But I've never felt so alone in my life without you.

They fixed the glass you know. Brand new glass, shiny and perfect, like nothing ever happened. I hate it. It's like they're erasing you. It's like you vanished, and everything that happened in my apartment never happened. Except you're gone, and that's how I know it's real.

They're still investigating the son of a bitch that killed you. I know it should be enough that they're looking for him and the Kraken, but it's not. The way he charged in with only one goal, to kill you, makes me think that catching him and having him rot in a cell for eternity won't make him regret ending your life, or even see any wrong in it at all.

I'm a fucking wreck, Ken. I don't think straight anymore. I just keep listening to the last voicemail you left for me over and over again. Just to hear your voice gets me through the night. It's become like a ritual for me. Brush my teeth, put on my pajamas, down a glass of wine, listen to your voicemail, go to bed. It's been like that since the day you died, except sometimes I upset the routine when I have two glasses, or when I don't go to bed.

You mean so much to me, Ken. More than you ever realized. I'll never think about anyone the way I thought about you. You honestly showed me a new way to live. I know I'm really not honoring it now, but I don't see the point of living the life meant for both of us by myself.

I miss you Ken. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss your chef's hat and your impressions and your courage. I miss the guy that could make me breakfast after I spend the night at your place, and tackle a huge cartel hit man through a glass window to save my life.

I know you're not suffering, so I guess that's a plus. I just wish you were here so much. There were so many things we could have done together that we never got the chance to do! I'll regret not telling you I love you more for the rest of my life. Being your girlfriend, even for the short amount of time we had together, was amazing. You showed me how great life can be if you spend it with someone you care about, and now that you're gone it's all weighing down. You're never coming back, and it hurts. It hurts like a slap in the face.

Sometimes I wish it had been me. You deserved the chance to live so much, you did so much good for everyone around you. But then, I think about you feeling all the pain I'm feeling and I dismiss it. No one should ever have to feel this horrible feeling I have inside, especially not you Ken.

It kind of upsets me to think that you'll never read this, and you'll never know how much I care about you, but that's life. You live, and sometimes, shit happens. I've always known that, but I guess having it happen for real made it different. Like it's personal now.

I love you Ken. I always will. I know you're up there somewhere, probably living it up in heaven, and that's a comforting thought. I wish you were back here, with me. Holding me, and telling me that everything will be okay. It's not okay, and it will never be the same, but here's to hoping that someday, our paths will cross again.

I'll drink to that!

Or maybe not.

Love always,

Amy