Dear Fisk,

I hate you.

Now, anyone that is reading this would probably look at it with disbelief and call me a liar, but the thing is, Fisk, 'tis the truth.

I hate you.

Of course, at first 'twas not like that. I didn't hate you then. I was a knight and you my squire, my best friend. You meant a great deal to me, and I would like to think, back in the day, that I was the same to you as you to me.

I hate you.

When we first met, I remembered thinking how different you and I were, me with my like-to-be-thought-of honest intentions, and you with your con man past. I thought then, when I bought your freedom and you stared at me with those dark, yet bright eyes, eyes filled with distrust and dislike, I thought I could work and change you, make you a more noble man.

Time passed, and bit by bit, scenario after scenario, it seemed that my plan was slightly working, yet you were so stubborn, so unreachable, that at times, my thoughts would turn to giving up on you entirely and leave you to your own devices in the world.

But I didn't. Even now, today, I still don't know the exact reason why.

It was in those fateful moments, I would think that no matter how strong-willed I am, I can't change someone like you.

I was proven wrong, all of it.

You prove to me that you were already a good person, and I a hypocrite.

Looking back on that line makes me laugh.

You proved me so, so wrong, in more ways than one.

But then, I didn't trust you.

Like a spoilt child, I had expected for you to trust me, never once thinking how that if I wanted your trust, I must give mine in return.

You helped me realize that fact after you saved me from Ceciel, saved me in my darkest hour, and at that time, I had honestly thought you had abandoned me.

What a fool I was.

As time passed on, we became ever more close. We could now consider each other the close of friends and correspondents.

Things would've been fine the way they were.

But it never turns out that way, not for me or you.

After Rosamund eloped with Rudy, I was, of course, heartbroken.

I had tried my damn hardest to court her, tried to make her fall for me, but it didn't work.

She still chose Rudy over me.

Thinking back on that particular fact is still painful. To be rejected like that, 'tis like being stabbed a hundred times, or better yet, having been forced to drink Lady Ceciel's potions.

Pain.

And you've seen me, Fisk, at my worse and best, you've seen me pine after a lost love, seen me grieving over what was never meant to be.

And I suppose, that's why you let me have my way.

I still remember, Fisk, despite my claims, that night. I don't remember it clearly, true, but the experience…is unforgettable.

Camping in the woods once again, the night was quiet, the stars were shining gently, the moon was luminous. 'Twas a lovely night.

It didn't matter to me.

I was still mourning over Rosamund and her rejected love towards me.

You, with your inventive ways, had alcohol. Of course, seeing my depressing face everyday must've finally made you at your wits end, so I don't blame you.

We got drunk and had fun, laughing and making jokes, and I had even forgotten everything about Rosamund.

The only thing that was my focus then, was you.

You weren't a woman, far from it, but you had this…allure that drew me in, with your soft, dark eyes, and strange, yet somehow sweet smile that never reached your eyes.

Call it a moment of lunacy, but I did it.

I leaned over and kissed you.

Feeling you and your warmth made me forget the pain of losing Rosa, made me forget for just a mere moment, and it didn't hurt as much anymore.

I had to have more.

So I took you that night.

You protested, struggled, plead, and fought, but I had you, regardless.

Heat, moisture, skin, it was a calamity of turmoil and limbs that felt so…amazing.

Come morning, we neither spoke of what had happen or what was said. We merely acted like nothing of the sort had occurred between the two of us, and we continued on.

We both knew it was wrong, having relations with the same gender and all, it was against the law, in fact.

I knew it was wrong. I felt disgusted by what I was doing, guilty over what I had done.

But it helped keep the pain at bay.

In spite of my thoughts against everything, I still went after you, taking you, and as time went by, you stopped protesting, also, accepting me.

The nights we were in each other's embrace, the feel of each other's breaths, kept the pain, the longing away for but a few moments.

It would always return.

I craved for that pain.

I know I told you before that I didn't want it, but in actuality, I do. It made me more focused, made me realize what I couldn't have, yes, but it told me what was right and what was wrong.

It was my reality.

And then it changed.

You were the reason.

You made me change, you began to…influence my thoughts. Made me think things I shouldn't think of.

I hated you.

But it was my fault that it happened that way, and I couldn't lay the blame on you.

Things would've been fine if you hadn't interfered.

Night again. The fire was like a fairy's playful light.

It was my birthday.

I remember you smiling, laughing, making joy ring around the wooded area.

I felt happy, warm, and…

And then you leaned, breathing out that you had a gift for me, and I close my eyes to receive it.

I hadn't expected a small weight on my lips and a whisper of 'I love you.'

To say I was shocked was an understatement, Fisk. I was confounded, bewildered, and disgusted.

Man was not meant to be with a man.

If you had been drunk, I would have forgiven you. But no taste of alcohol lingered on your lips, and your eyes, for the first time, told the honest truth.

I grew angry.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, we weren't meant to be like this.

I rejected you. I screamed at you. I cursed you. And I watched as I broke your heart.

Despite my doings, you still stayed, still cared, and it made me evermore angry.

I told you I hated you. I said I didn't care about you. I snarled out that I didn't care if you had died or lived, just to get out of my life.

You just smiled a sad, shattered smile, and replied you understood.

The pain in my heart amplified ever more greatly, and I began suffocating.

I miss Rosamund, I needed her. I loved her.

But you, you were always there to remind what I have done and how revolting I was.

I hated you.

Months passed, and we had finally bitten off more than we could chew.

Bandits were in this mess, and we were caught in the middle of it.

The townspeople were in a panicked frenzy, and we needed to get them out, lest they all get killed.

But somehow, someone had to drive the bandits away.

That moment came, and you stepped up, volunteering.

It was just to distract the bandits, right? Easy job.

With that same, broken smile on your lips, you told me to lead the villagers out to safety while you went to distract the bandits.

I agreed, and we both began to set off.

A woman watched, with wide eyes, and intoned softly, "Master Fisk, please-please don't die."

You merely smiled again. Never answered.

As the people went, me about to follow, you said, softly, "I love you, Michael."

I ignored you and walked away, not checking on you, but knowing you were gone.

The townspeople were safe.

The bandits were no where in sight, and the distraction was deduced to have proven successful.

You haven't come back yet.

And I was glad.

You made me think too much, Fisk. Made me think things I shouldn't. Made me…

The emptiness in me grew.

I became so angry, empty, and so dark.

I should've been glad you were gone. Should've rejoiced.

Everything reminded me of you in your absence.

The horses were uneasy, True looked off in the distance, as if to wait for someone. The nights alone would take me back to nights with you, and I would grind my teeth and scream, trying not to remember. Your shirts were in Tipple's bag when I was rifling through it for some medicine, and the smell of you hit me, making me remember.

The emptiness began to hurt.

It shouldn't hurt, this pain.

I loved Rosamund, didn't I?

But thinking about her now proved to not be enough.

You invaded my thoughts constantly, driving me insane, making me so angry.

I wished you gone, wasn't this what I wanted?

You hadn't come back yet, and I was supposed to rejoice over that fact, wasn't I?

But I didn't, couldn't.

Unwillingly, I began to miss you.

Not hearing your voice, or breathing the same air you breathed, began to plague me as you weren't there.

And truth of all truth, I realized it.

That I love you.

I hate you for making me feel this way, this wrong, wrong feeling.

But I can't deny it any longer.

Knowing that I love you, I began to remember what I had done, did, said to you.

I grew restless, guilty, and wished you were back so that I could beg for your forgiveness.

I didn't care that you would probably hate me, didn't care how much you would want to hurt me.

I just want you back to me.

And then the townspeople found you.

Or, more accurately, what was left of you.

Thinking back on it, I still feel repulsed and dismayed, but most of all, lost.

You stupid fool.

The men who found you looked shaken as they told me the cause of your death.

Your 'distraction' was actually fighting against the bandits.

Somehow, you managed to kill the total three of them, somehow. But for the reward of your victory, you died.

Stab wounds all over, blood coating your clothes almost like a second skin, you…

You fool.

I felt empty.

I tried to forget you.

Sleeping with other people, drinking it all away, I even went back to Rosamund and Rudy.

They found out what had happened, and were grieving over you, comforting me for losing you.

I kissed Rosamund.

Rudy was furious, of course.

But Rosa, dear, sweet Rosa, realized why I did what I had to do, and forgave me.

And then, I realized, that no matter how much I try to find someone else, no one could replace you, no one could be like you, because I truly, irrevocably, love you.

I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for not realizing that I did love you, no matter how much I denied. I hate how self-sacrificing you are. I hate you for loving me, especially when I didn't deserve it. I hate how you didn't stay alive long enough to let me apologize to you of what I said and did.

I hate you because I love you.

Twisted logic, I know. But 'tis true.

I miss you. I want you. I need you.

I love you.

But 'tis too late to tell you now.

I tried to follow you.

Rosa and Rudy wouldn't let me, dragging me back instead.

And in the most bastardly twist of fate, they sent me back to father, saying how I had saved multiple towns from the bandits, and that I should be redeemed.

Father, eager to bring me back into the family, eager to bring the family back on good names and terms in society, had me redeemed, the bastard.

I tried to tell them that it wasn't me that saved those towns, it was you, but no one listened to my protests.

I'm locked in my father's estate and I cannot escape. I'm under constant watch to ensure that I wouldn't try something that would create my death.

I miss you, Fisk.

I hate you.

I love you.

I'm sorry, so sorry for not telling you.

I love you, Fisk.

More than I realized, and more than you comprehend.

But now you're gone.

Gods, Fisk, why did you have to leave…?

I love you so much, couldn't you realize that, you fool?

I love you.

Sincerely,

Michael.

Baron Sevenson watched his son grimly, noting how Michael sealed the letter and left it to the side, walking up and out the room.

Rupert came in, indescribable look in his eyes.

Baron Sevenson strode over and picked up the letter.

"Letter number 365," the man murmured. He shook his head. "It has been a year, now… Why can't the fool give up?"

The day grew dark once more.

End.

Uh….this was rushed. Whoopsies. Sorry for the crappy writing….*sad face* I might rewrite this one day, yep yep.

Reviews are loved…? 8D