Loving someone means loving every bit of them.
Loving their eyes,their laugh ,the way they smell after they come out of the bath and the way they smell late at night... Loving them means accepting every flaw and every quirk. Loving them means a lot of things all more complicated than the other and all together more complicated than every composition written down on any pentagram...
Sixsmith,
Peculiar as it may seem,I believe that you make my heart a better place...
The waistcoat you lent me has started to smell more like smoke,sweat and ink instead of its usual smell of... well,you.
I'll take it as a sign that I need to visit you as soon as possible. I need to put every second in good use.
I cannot waste whatever little time is left of me. And time without you is wasted...
I do believe it has its benefits though,isolation... I composed 2 full pieces while delirius. Truly amazing!
I missed you all this time, even your letters smell like you did you know?
Thats why sometimes I keep one near my pillow at night.
I hope that instead of a yellow paper it will soon be your blond head lying on the pillow next to mine. {with the rest of your body of course! I do think I can put that in great use.}
I can't get out of my room without getting dizzy... walking around makes me sick...
Do you think I'll die? It would be quite a twist of events...
Yours,
R.F.
And even if Robert dies soon Rufus will always keep the letters near his pillow at night. Will always smell the composer in every line and every fold. Because once you've settled into someones heart and they've settled in yours,you never really leave. You always linger for another minute with your suitcase in your hand, afraid to take that step that will lead you out in the cold and the rain.