Polaris || l.s.

interlude 02: letters i can't send

Dated: 1869 - 1875

please note these are just archives which I was actually going to post after the last chapter but then I thought it wouldn't make much sense so here we go.

Again, these are not everything he's ever written cuz if I did that, I'd be spoiling shit so just bits and pieces (but in chronological order).

important: please heed the years and if his suddenly changing emotions don't make sense, dw it's supposed to be that. It'll all make sense in the chapters! Happy reading! Tell me how it was in the comments please.

Comments really do push me to write more 😤

—

01: 1869

I hate you.

I hate you for what you did to my mother, for what you did to my childhood. You ruined it. You ruined my life.

How could I ever have loved someone as fiendish as you? How can you even breathe this freely? Did you never feel even a morsel of guilt pressing down upon your being each time you looked up at the sky and smiled? Or the times when you would drag me to flower fields? Did you know she loved asters, too?

She loved them as much as she loved me.

—

02: 1869

I hate you.

I hate you.

I really do.

—

03: 1869

I hate you. You didn’t deserve any of what I offered you.

I’m glad the troops found me. I would have run away, otherwise. Your presence had started suffocating me.

I hate you. I hope someday I get to say that to your face before I die.

—

04: 1871

I don't want to love you anymore.

I cannot look at the night sky with the same wonder and awe as before. I cannot walk through the gardens without a heavy ache that burns me raw. You caused all of this. You ruined everything good that life had to offer me. You ruined my childhood, my adolescence, and now, my only chance at love.

How could it be that you are the greatest source of my pain yet the only thing that is bounding me from this insanity?

—

05: 1872

Maybe, he will kill me before I ever truly get the chance to learn how to live again.

I’ll be okay with that, I suppose. I don’t want to wither underneath this crippling melancholy anymore.

Maybe, if I stepped off this golden-dusted pedestal of human life, they would finally notice the ghastly stains of blues that mar its surface.

—

06: 1875

And when all the stars align and the sun sets low, I’ll still be waiting for you. Perhaps, we will find love again in the crippling darkness of the night.

In the muddy fields of the asters that I hated so much and you loved so much, in the glistening streams of the lake nearby.

I will look for you, perhaps, you would also be kind enough to save me a place amongst your beloved stars? Would you, Louis?

And years later, when the Polaris stops shining, I would still be stuck in a place where I would continue to admire its neverending light.

Even if it is the very source of my agony.