Hey!
Just one thing before you read this. Make sure to pay attention to the dates! They are very quite important.
Okay, hope you enjoy. Or maybe cry? Let me know in the reviews.
-Arvin
Dear Astrid,
June 16, 2016.
A specific question has been overflowing and foraging my mind for answers. A question you asked on our 6 month anniversary at a small cafe; a question that marked my life. I didn't know it at the time but it would tear my life apart like a cyclone in a neighbourhood. You said
"What's the biggest lie you've ever told".
Your eyes sparkled with mischief, one that accompanied a story of their own. I grinned and moved closer to your face, glancing down at your lips. Your chin rested on the palm of your hand and an audacious smile above it.
"You first" I answered. With a quirk of your brow, you adjusted your chin rest so that you were closer to me, eyes never leaving my own.
"I might have told a few to airport security so that I wouldn't miss my flight. I said that my brother was dying and if I didn't get on that plane, I might never be able to say goodbye." You swiped under your eye in mock sadness but quickly regained your smile. The smile that left me wondering; why are you only my girlfriend?
"So, what about you? Biggest lie you've ever told?" You enquired.
I had never been one of lies. I hated telling them and hated keeping them. Simply, I didn't have an answer. I informed you of this to which you pressed "Everybody has told lies, Hic. You've got to have one that hurt the most. One that made you feel so guilty, or filled with adrenaline; it depends."
Little did I know, these words would come back to haunt me.
Dear Astrid,
June 18, 2016.
I always think about things I could've done to change that day. The day my life went astray and chaos rampaged through it. I tried to get you as far away as possible; I couldn't let my life reflect on yours. My whole life had been a lie and I couldn't handle the thoughts that ravaged my mind. You tried to help, you really did. And you were so persistent, so amazingly determined to assist my damaged life. I wonder how things would've played out if I had listened to you? I wonder if your incredible hugs and beautiful smile would have changed things? Ugh, of course, it would've. Of course, I didn't listen. But I knew I couldn't. You asked why I wouldn't even as so much glance at you. I answered that there was no reason. But there was. I was afraid that if I saw your heartbroken face, my love would win and you'd be stuck in the mess. Your feet stuck in the quicksand of my life struggling to escape the chaos. But your struggling only made it worse, the sand rapidly approaching your face ready to devour your life like it had mine. You were yelling, grief-stricken by my actions to shut you out. You had shouted
"Why won't you face me? You haven't for the past two weeks! I understand that you're distressed, Hiccup! But your actions toward me have crushed me from the inside out. Why won't you face me!" I could hear the anguish settling itself onto your voice. I could hear sobs forming. I answered
"I-I couldn't" to which you replied with the slam of my apartment door
"No, Hiccup. You just wouldn't"
You were devastated and it was because of me. I could live with that, I decided. But there was something that I most certainly couldn't live with.
I couldn't live with, the biggest lie I had ever told.
Dear Astrid,
June 24, 2016.
She sends me letters, you know. Which is kind of hypocritical of me to say considering what I'm doing now… They all state that she 'would do anything to take what she did back' or that she 'can't live with the thought of her baby boy hating her'. Well, she should've thought of that one, hey? I can't believe I lived 20 years convinced that my mother was dead. And that she did nothing to help. All those times where I just had enough of the bullying, the ignored life I led, and she wasn't there to help. I'm afraid 20 years of suffering cannot be forgiven in a short period of time. I guess it's kind of my fault for being so gullible. For believing that a mother would do anything for their child. I guess I just didn't get to receive that privilege. The privilege of a mother. Perhaps not even the privilege of a father. I don't blame him much, though. It was her fault from the beginning to the end. I know I had never told you how I discovered her. I'd rather not delve into that horror again if that's quite alright with you. Though there were some words that stuck. She had said
"I am so selfish, you have every right not to believe me." My eyes narrowed at her, I had hoped that she felt the hatred.
"If I had stayed with you and your father, you would have been in great danger." I had scoffed at her clichéd words. I finally turned around to face her. I saw eyes that had lost all hope, eyes that seeped with desperation. I felt my body soften. My first thoughts weren't sympathy toward her. It was sympathy toward you. I saw you in her, someone seeking comfort and desired love. When your father had died you turned to me, and you had displayed every one of the emotions that she had right then and there. Fear, hurt, desperation for love, it was all there. I was ready to run up to her, welcome her with open arms just because of the fact that she was hurting as much as you had. But I recalled that I loved you. Not her.
Dear Astrid,
June 30, 2016
Dad had always granted me with stony, hard glares. But nothing was as stony and cold as the stone of his grave. It stared back at me as I sat on my knees and my head down filled with shame, fighting back every tear. You laid a soft hand on my shoulder as you stared down at me. I felt so ashamed, so mortified that this had to occur with you watching every tear fall.
"It's okay to show your emotions, Hic" You had said. "I'm here for you."
"No" I replied.
"What?"
"No" I confirmed, standing up to meet your gaze. "Please go." I wasn't really thinking of how bitter I sounded.
"Hic, just let me be there for you—"
"You have been here for me which I thank you for but I now would like for you to leave. Please." I said. You marched off, not so angry but hurt. All I could do is sigh and think about the chaos that was my life. Thinking about how it is affecting me, my actions, and the people I actually do love. It was only going to get worse, the mess was going to become unfixable. And I needed you to stay out of it.
Dear Astrid,
July 2, 2016
About two weeks after the death and return of my parents you were hurt immensely. And bandages couldn't fix it. I knew the cure. I just needed to enforce that cure and treat you. But it was taking long— why? Because I am selfish. Because the cure would take my whole world away from me and I didn't want that. Though I remembered something my Dad had said.
"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need".
So, from that, I decided I had to try.
"Hic? What is this about?" You had concern written all over you. I shifted in my spot and took a step forward taking a breath to speak, only to release it with a wordless sigh. You furrowed your brows and glanced around. We were in the Berk playground/park. You took a step closer, reaching for my cheek but I stepped back from your reach and informed you of the cure.
"I'm breaking up with you." My face remained emotionless.
"Hiccup?!—"
"I don't think this is working." I said plainly and spun around making a beeline for my car.
"Hiccup?! Hiccup!" You screamed. Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking.
"HIC—up." You were interrupted by a grief-stricken sob. I snapped around looking at you. There are 1,035,877 words in the English language, but there still aren't enough words to express how crushed I was—how painstakingly hard it was, to not keep you as mine. To not kiss you or hug you until the world ends.
"Hiccup?" I remained speechless as you sobbed.
"I-i'm in love with you. So freaking m-much, it hurts." You said. It was the first time you had said it, in fact. Hope seemed to flutter.
"D-don't…" Sob "Don't you l-love me?"
Crush was the sound my heart made.
"No, Astrid. I don't love you."
And, break. There was no longer a heart to feel anything.
Dear Astrid,
July 8, 2016
I'm afraid these letters will soon conclude as I haven't much more to say. Actually, I have too much to say but a pen and paper could never express my words. I'd like to take this time to state a few facts about you that I have collected. You are the most beautiful woman in the world; your eyes will never lose the sparkle that has shone throughout the darkest times. Your personality makes up 3 quarters of that fact. The other quarter is the beauty that you don't seem to see. Like the golden, blonde, waterfall of hair, that glows like rays of sunshine every time I see you.
You are the most amazingly stubborn woman in the world; you won't listen to a word of "you can't". Because you will. You will prove everyone wrong. You proved me wrong when I believed happiness didn't exist.
I believe that your love will be of use to someone else as it got wasted on someone like me. But if they can't list these facts and more, they don't deserve you. No one deserves you like you deserve someone incredibly amazing, and perfect for you. That person is not me.
XxXxXxXxX
Coats on, scarfs wrapped softly around their necks. The people of Berk were in Winter and were feeling it. A young man sat, alone on a park bench. He checked his watch. 15 minutes late. Since when was Astrid late? The man scrolled through his messages confirming the time of the meet.
Hiccup: We need to meet. Berk Park, 3 PM, July 12.
Astrid: What do you want, Hiccup?
Hiccup: Please. I need to give you something.
Astrid: Fine. Don't be late. I don't want to be there any longer than I have to.
The messages read. Yep. Right time.
He sighed and glanced at the thick envelope that sat beside him. Just give her the letters and leave. He thought. He sat there for an hour longer with no messages from Astrid about her whereabouts. Until he received a call.
"Hello?.. Yes, this is Henry Haddock… Astrid?…" And he hung up.
He sat on the park bench staring into nothingness. Until he broke down in sobs. Not caring what the world thought as his whole world was already taken from him.
I never thought I'd be so sick of a colour before. Black. I hate it now. She'd hate it too. She'd compare it to black liquorice sticks then make another detailed explanation of her hate for them. But then make an exception for Toothless' black fur.
I decided I despise the colour black. I decided that in further letters I'll use a blue pen. I don't know what avoiding the colour black will do but I do know that it will keep me from remembering today. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Her mother ruined that for me. Her mother wore her red hoodie then once she saw me gave me the biggest hug saying that "It's okay to show your emotions". The same words that Astrid said to me when my father died. From then I cried.
I stayed behind after the funeral, the thick envelope encasing the letters sticking into my ribs. It sat patiently in my inner coat pocket, waiting to be opened. So I did. I read my own letters and found the very last one in a separate pocket.
Dear Astrid,
July 10, 2016
I have some questions to answer and things to confess.
Why did I break up with you?
Being one.
I discovered the cure for your hurt and that cure was for you to stay away from me, to stay out of my life. I couldn't tell you to stay away because of that amazing (at times) stubbornness. So, breaking up with you seemed plausible. Yes, I agree I'm a jackass.
Why am I telling you all this?
Because I am moving away, until my life seems to not act like a bitch. That's when I'm coming back if you want me back.
And the confession…
I know the answer; to the biggest lie, I've ever told.
The biggest lie I've ever told was that 'I don't love you.'
Because, Astrid Hofferson, I'm in love with you. So freaking much, it hurts.
With all my love,
Hiccup.
XxXxXxxxXxXx
Have you ever been in so much grief that it physically pained you? Yeah, me too. But this time, it was a bullet wound. A scar that will never fade and a hole engraved in me forever.
So, as I lay the last letter down on her grave with tears silently hitting the dirt creating little puddles, my realisation has come.
My realisation, dear Astrid, was that I can't love anything without getting hurt.
So love I shall never feel, again.