A/N 1: First of all, lizzy: "Words can't wield the matter". Oh how I loved loved loved writing these letters for you. I meant what I said. Shoot me a pm any time.
A/N 2: This will be the last installment. The story ends the way it began: with lizzy. There will not be another letter for the epilogue. I did not hold back to make this as cheesy and sweet as possible.
A/N 3: If you enjoyed my letters you will probably also like my Brittana- fic "We fairies that do run". It's a coming out story, though… not quite…. I put a lot of heart into it and consider it one of my best. It's also a reference fest.
If you're up for something entirely different, check out "Teammates". It's got/is going to have Brittana and Faberry and monsters and battles and humor and RPG stats and I'm thrilled to now be able to jump back into that fantastic world. It's really something I'm just doing for fun… and at the same time that shit's dead serious to me.
Last but not least: Find me on Twitter (relax_o_vision) or Tumblr (relax-o-vision) or livejournal (you guessed it: relax_o_vision). Stick around. Make requests. Recommend stuff to me. Don't be strangers.
Chapter 8:
Dear Brittany,
I wish there were words that can describe emotions. I know what you might be thinking now: we do have words for exactly that purpose!
But what does "anger" really say? Does "sadness" capture the true meaning of what you feel? Does "confusion" make you feel lost? Does "jealousy" make your stomach churn? Does "frustration" mean anything at all?
What about "happiness"?
And what about "love"?
Is that an adequate phrase to express how my heart starts to bounce and my face turns hot and the little hairs on my neck rise, how my lips dry immediately, just because you look at me?
Is there any combination of letters that explains the back flip my heart performs each second I get to be with you? Does "love" include all these things about you that make sunsets and daisies and freshly cut grass and the air after a summer rain seem pale and meaningless in comparison? Does it emphasize enough how you illuminate all these little things about life, how they become even more colorful and lively just because you are? Just because we are?
It's imperfect. It's a label, nothing more, a crude abbreviation.
What we know as "love", not the word, the meaning behind it, is a wild mixture of physical reactions and thoughts and hopes and expectations and in the end pure bliss. A tingle inside of me that makes me feel small and big and proud and insecure all at once.
And although I know that there cannot be anymore than just my body and my brain, "love" feels like there is more; something eternal, sacred, something so huge that it can't possibly be seen or understood. Something that exceeds whatever syllable my tongue could form or my pen could write.
"Few men have ever seen a God and those who have can never fully grasp Her true nature. So they build these images, dull dissimilarities after their own reflection instead." *
Arawn was right:
Something that big is too complex for our brains to comprehend.
You cannot hold onto it with words.
Words fail me when I think of you. Words fail me when you press your lips to mine, or I press mine to yours; when we kiss and touch and stroke and tickle and poke and trace and nibble and lick and smooch and taste. Words fail me whenever your skin touches mine.
They dissolve in front of me, like glass regressing to a million grains of sand before being carried away by a light yet sudden breeze.
Words fail me when you dive into my eyes, show me all your unconcealed weaknesses and strengths.
Words fail me when you sink into me, make love to me, caress me, hold me close, take care of me, hold me closer, sink into me again.
So please excuse my clumsy, my very flawed attempt to convey what happened to me, to you, to us:
Today, for the first time, we made love.
Whatever else that means.
- S.
Dear Brittany,
You are still asleep and I don't have much time.
You are gorgeous and I'm so lucky.
You are lying next to me and my world is complete.
I'm so lucky.
I can't wait to spend my life sleeping next to you, sleeping with you.
I can't wait to spend my life being awake with you.
- S.
Dear Brittany,
29 letters I've written to you.
The first one sealed my fate. I didn't know it back then, I didn't want to know it, but this first letter marks the moment when I fell for you. There it is, black on white with a date and signature: the best moment of my life.
What a journey this has become. Unbelievable how I lost myself in Latin love letters, in Shakespeare, in song and poem, myth and saga when it was all there in my third letter to you: I should be lost in you.
It's almost laughable that I managed to dedicate 29 letters to you and only two short notes actually reached you. How is it possible to write so much about every emotion I've had, about every event that brought us closer and I never talked to you about it? I'm sure it made sense at the time.
There is still so much you don't know about me. There's so much to learn.
That's another thing I'm looking forward to: Learn and teach everything there is to know.
No more hiding. No more acting. It will be you and me stripped off all our shells.
Maybe one day I will even read these letters to you. Now that I know you will be willing to listen my melody can finally reach you.
Thinking about it… these 29 letters would make a good book. The story of us, of how we found each other. And the last page will be that picture, the first picture of us, the picture of our first kiss in public.
The title could read:
"Lovers without realizing it"
or
"Unconventional Assistance"
or
"Dear Brittany"?
… well, I'm sure we will come up with a better line together.
But, Britt, although our fairytale ends here, our story isn't finished and neither is my collection of charms or my letters.
Every day with you is worth a charm, it is a charm; and every day I get to spend with you deserves a letter, for every moment is precious to me. I will continue writing to you. I will use every word, every combination of letters, every syllable I can imagine, every sentence you could think of, every phrase and expression there is and I will write them all down and turn them into love for you.
How many languages are there?
I promise, Britt, I will use them all. From this day on forever I will write to you a little note, a scribbled piece of something to let you know how I feel. Every day.
I will write an ode to your hair, a love song to your lips, a haiku for every time you overwhelm my senses with one of your adorable habits.
Every panic attack will be rewarded with a poem. Every time you flush crimson and make me swoon I will sit down to write a note. Every time your face is telling me a whole novel whilst your lips keep shut you deserve a little letter.
I will count the little light freckles on your face.
One… two… three… four…
If I didn't like them so much I'd kiss them all away one by one.
A word for each and every one of them.
For every sigh.
For every moan.
For every whimper.
For every kiss.
For every whisper.
For every touch.
For every smile.
For every skipped heart beat.
For every time you let go off the ground and teach me how to fly.
Every day for the rest of my life.
- S.
*This is a crude translation from the German version of "The four branches of the Mabinogion" by Evangeline Walton. One of the best books that were ever written!