[ a letter written on lovely paper with a rainbow sheen on the edging, in ink that shimmers between purple, blue, and a deep green, which comes rolled up into a scroll and sealed with a golden wax mark that holds a pot with a small 'plant' of origami lilys. ] I'm going to write this knowing you won't want to read it. You'll get angry as soon as you read that. This too. But you'll come back because at the end of it, we are a curious being. We crave the satisfaction of understanding.
Even when it hurts.
I'm going to guess at this stage of things that you've decided I 'chose' Charlie over you. Arthur has probably gone to talk to you because I told him nothing and he can't leave well enough alone. I hope it didn't go too poorly. He loves you but he can be brusque when he's upset. I hope Jedao has given you comfort. I won't talk to him about this, just as I didn't talk to Arthur. You deserve to have people hear and understand your side of things.
I don't think you understand mine. But I'm going to try here, where you can shout about how I'm a fucking fool all you want without me interrupting.
I refuse to choose, and I refuse to choose even if it means my death. I would rather not exist than choose.
Because choosing *is* death.
There is no winning in choosing between the people you love. There is no way for love to grow or deepen or to keep loving if one has to choose between the people one has already chosen to love.
Because even for the one you pick, they will never stop asking even if they don't do it out loud. Every person you love becomes their competition. Every new potential person to love a danger. And the love you would have with anyone else has to be carefully groomed and maintained exactly in a certain way or that person you picked will begin to be afraid. And how can you do something that makes the person you love afraid? The picked person won't be able to form meaningful bonds or love with any of those people you're carefully maintaining a distance or even anyone else for fear of losing your favor. And all of this leads to resentment. And resentment from both, to both, eventually destroys love.
Leaving you alone. All you did was hurt everyone involved, everyone you wanted to love. I don't want that, for you or for me.
Back again? Thank you.
You think I don't understand, but I do.
When you showed up, I had so much anxiety. I had so much fear. You hadn't tricked Arthur, you hadn't blinded him. He asked for 'you' even though he didn't know it at the time. He was angry and frustrating and awful to you but he was those things with me too. And you didn't kill people he loved. You didn't ruin his life. You didn't take everything from him. You learned so quickly and with people already used to me, most people were kind and sweet, and those that weren't were outrightly so. You were bold and you did things that I only grumbled to myself about, asked things I wanted to know but was too cautious to. Arthur wanted to apologize to you, felt an obligation to you, wanted to help you and from where I sat, you hadn't done anything to earn it but, apparently, be better than me.
Jedao adopted you, gave you his name.
I had to find my own.
When Sheehan told Arthur he was in love with him, it was fine. But when Arthur returned that love, I thought he'd choose Sheehan over me too. I thought my world was over. I thought it was proof that I was a nice project, someone Arthur felt bad for at best, needed at worst. That Arthur cared for me but now that he had someone real, someone who was a person, a whole body, who had a life and a parents and was normal, that he'd be done with me. He didn't need to be alone now and he had someone better.
But then we talked. And he told me that there's all kinds of love, and that the love he has for me and the love he has for Sheehan are different but they're both love. Just like there's all kinds of poets and all kinds of songs and all kinds of stories and all kinds of art. And none of them can replace the other. You can want to read or listen to one or another at different times but they're all beautiful. They're all wonderful. If you love them, if you choose them, they're all a part of you. And loving people is like that. That's when I got to stop being afraid. So I want to share this lesson with you.
Because this sucks. I know this sucks. Feeling this sucks. Being afraid like this sucks. This situation sucks. This very situation is one of the reasons I never wanted you to have to hold the King's memories. Because I want you to be as free from who he was as you can. And I wish it was easy or simple to make Charlie understand, but unfortunately the King pulled a lot of bullshit with fucking with people's head, so it's going to take time. I'm working on it. Because I think you'll both be happier once he can accept the King is dead.
It's the only way to make him more dead, after all.
I love you, Edwin. I love you so much that I need to make a new word to describe the way I love you.
And I'm going to bet that when you heard me tell you all the times I chose to love you, you thought that I was pulling up some list of reasons you owe me and why you should do what I want and stop being upset.
That is not what I was saying.
I was trying to tell you all the times I chose to love you. I was trying to remind you all the times when I just loved you and didn't choose and didn't let choosing get in the way of loving you. That loving you or not loving you has always been a choice that's about you and me and no one else. That no one can destroy my feelings for you.
I don't know about vice versa. That's not my decision to make. But that's how I feel.
If you think you ruined anything, you didn't. Not with me.
If you think I regret anything I've ever done to love you, I don't. Not one bit. I'd do it all again. In a heartbeat.
If you think I'm angry at you, I'm not. I'm hurt.
If you think hurting me is a terrible sin and you're terrible for doing it, you aren't. Hurting is what happens when you love someone like we love each other. It's not the end of the world.
I feel... hollow. Empty.
I slept for the first time just to stop being conscious for a while. I was still afraid but I couldn't handle thinking anymore. Feeling anymore.
Don't feel guilty about that. I don't want that.
I don't know how to end this except to say I miss you and that I love you and that I *am* here whenever you're ready.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a couple of days later
[ a letter written on lovely paper with a rainbow sheen on the edging, in ink that shimmers between purple, blue, and a deep green, which comes rolled up into a scroll and sealed with a golden wax mark that holds a pot with a small 'plant' of origami lilys. ]
I'm going to write this knowing you won't want to read it. You'll get angry as soon as you read that. This too. But you'll come back because at the end of it, we are a curious being. We crave the satisfaction of understanding.
Even when it hurts.
I'm going to guess at this stage of things that you've decided I 'chose' Charlie over you. Arthur has probably gone to talk to you because I told him nothing and he can't leave well enough alone. I hope it didn't go too poorly. He loves you but he can be brusque when he's upset. I hope Jedao has given you comfort. I won't talk to him about this, just as I didn't talk to Arthur. You deserve to have people hear and understand your side of things.
I don't think you understand mine. But I'm going to try here, where you can shout about how I'm a fucking fool all you want without me interrupting.
I refuse to choose, and I refuse to choose even if it means my death. I would rather not exist than choose.
Because choosing *is* death.
There is no winning in choosing between the people you love. There is no way for love to grow or deepen or to keep loving if one has to choose between the people one has already chosen to love.
Because even for the one you pick, they will never stop asking even if they don't do it out loud. Every person you love becomes their competition. Every new potential person to love a danger. And the love you would have with anyone else has to be carefully groomed and maintained exactly in a certain way or that person you picked will begin to be afraid. And how can you do something that makes the person you love afraid? The picked person won't be able to form meaningful bonds or love with any of those people you're carefully maintaining a distance or even anyone else for fear of losing your favor. And all of this leads to resentment. And resentment from both, to both, eventually destroys love.
Leaving you alone. All you did was hurt everyone involved, everyone you wanted to love. I don't want that, for you or for me.
Back again? Thank you.
You think I don't understand, but I do.
When you showed up, I had so much anxiety. I had so much fear. You hadn't tricked Arthur, you hadn't blinded him. He asked for 'you' even though he didn't know it at the time. He was angry and frustrating and awful to you but he was those things with me too. And you didn't kill people he loved. You didn't ruin his life. You didn't take everything from him. You learned so quickly and with people already used to me, most people were kind and sweet, and those that weren't were outrightly so. You were bold and you did things that I only grumbled to myself about, asked things I wanted to know but was too cautious to. Arthur wanted to apologize to you, felt an obligation to you, wanted to help you and from where I sat, you hadn't done anything to earn it but, apparently, be better than me.
Jedao adopted you, gave you his name.
I had to find my own.
When Sheehan told Arthur he was in love with him, it was fine. But when Arthur returned that love, I thought he'd choose Sheehan over me too. I thought my world was over. I thought it was proof that I was a nice project, someone Arthur felt bad for at best, needed at worst. That Arthur cared for me but now that he had someone real, someone who was a person, a whole body, who had a life and a parents and was normal, that he'd be done with me. He didn't need to be alone now and he had someone better.
But then we talked. And he told me that there's all kinds of love, and that the love he has for me and the love he has for Sheehan are different but they're both love. Just like there's all kinds of poets and all kinds of songs and all kinds of stories and all kinds of art. And none of them can replace the other. You can want to read or listen to one or another at different times but they're all beautiful. They're all wonderful. If you love them, if you choose them, they're all a part of you. And loving people is like that. That's when I got to stop being afraid. So I want to share this lesson with you.
Because this sucks. I know this sucks. Feeling this sucks. Being afraid like this sucks. This situation sucks. This very situation is one of the reasons I never wanted you to have to hold the King's memories. Because I want you to be as free from who he was as you can. And I wish it was easy or simple to make Charlie understand, but unfortunately the King pulled a lot of bullshit with fucking with people's head, so it's going to take time. I'm working on it. Because I think you'll both be happier once he can accept the King is dead.
It's the only way to make him more dead, after all.
I love you, Edwin. I love you so much that I need to make a new word to describe the way I love you.
And I'm going to bet that when you heard me tell you all the times I chose to love you, you thought that I was pulling up some list of reasons you owe me and why you should do what I want and stop being upset.
That is not what I was saying.
I was trying to tell you all the times I chose to love you. I was trying to remind you all the times when I just loved you and didn't choose and didn't let choosing get in the way of loving you. That loving you or not loving you has always been a choice that's about you and me and no one else. That no one can destroy my feelings for you.
I don't know about vice versa. That's not my decision to make. But that's how I feel.
If you think you ruined anything, you didn't. Not with me.
If you think I regret anything I've ever done to love you, I don't. Not one bit. I'd do it all again. In a heartbeat.
If you think I'm angry at you, I'm not. I'm hurt.
If you think hurting me is a terrible sin and you're terrible for doing it, you aren't. Hurting is what happens when you love someone like we love each other. It's not the end of the world.
I feel... hollow. Empty.
I slept for the first time just to stop being conscious for a while. I was still afraid but I couldn't handle thinking anymore. Feeling anymore.
Don't feel guilty about that. I don't want that.
I don't know how to end this except to say I miss you and that I love you and that I *am* here whenever you're ready.
Your loving brother,
John