Dear Alec,
I hate what you did. I don't hate you but I hate what you have done to us. I thought we were stronger than this. I thought you were above this. Camille spins a web, a web so tight it's hard to break. But I never thought you'd be stupid enough to get caught. You were though. You got caught.
I doubt I'll ever send this letter, but it seems the best way to get my feelings out. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to lose you. But I don't understand what I ever could have done to make you want to do that to me. Was it jealousy? Were you scared for the day I might move on? The day long long after you died that I finally leave the stage of grief behind? The day that happiness is finally attainable? I thought you loved me? I thought you would want my happiness? I thought you cared.
I saw your face when you heard what I said. When I told you our love didn't matter. When I told you I loved you, but that it wasn't enough anymore. It felt as if I had kicked a puppy. As if I had punched a small child. I saw your bottom lip started to protrude, your chin start to wobble, your eyes filled with tears. But I couldn't take it back. What I said was true. Our love isn't enough to overcome your jealousy. It can't obscure what you did. What you tried to achieve.
Your stuff was gone today. When I came home. I unlocked the door and it didn't feel like home, it was as empty as my heart. I couldn't sense your presence, the memories we once shared. As I stared at the couch, remembering everything, I realised that what we had was better than anything I have ever experienced in the past. Better than Will. Better than Camille. Better than anyone. I loved you Alec, I still love you. And you love me too.
I miss you. But I can't have you back. I can't need you back. You need to trust in me. Believe in me. But you don't. You trusted Camille. You believed her. Not me. You could've spoken to me. How could you keep me in the dark. How could you ruin the love we once shared. When did it start? When did you start to plan?
All my recent memories are tainted, tainted in a blood red tinge that reminds me of Camille. Of what you both did.
I can't help it though, looking back on earlier memories. Your shocked face when I hit on you, the moment you realised that you were gay. That day, that day we tested the fearless tune on you, when you almost came out to your parents. It was as if all your secret thoughts came pouring out your mouth in a torrential flood. I wonder what would happen if we used it on you now? Or if you had been brave enough to tell me what you wanted. A real mundane relationship. A marriage. Growing old.
I didn't know what you wanted, Alec. But maybe if I had things wouldn't have ended like this.
God I hope this isn't the end.
I still love you. I do.
Malec