XLI ||| December 25th of 2020 (I)

From: A.LF

<alf.weeknd@gmail.com >

To: P.BG

<pbg.prada@gmail.com >

Sent: Friday, 25 Dec 2020, 00:25

Subject: Marry Christmas🎄

First of all, are you alright, P?

You didn't send anything, I found it weird, I hope to God that you didn't get COVID and passed, or I'll have to go to haven or hell, wherever you are, just to grab you back here. I'm worried, but I'm hoping that nothing happened to you.

Marry, Marry Christmas, P ❤️

It's been 5 years that we're pen-pals now.

It's been a tough year on us all, haven't it? So many things happened, and I have to confess that more than a handful times I found myself wanting to break our deal to only speak on Christmas, because I wanted to talk to you, to tell you what's been happening, to ask you how you were.

But I didn't want to break a deal with you, so I kept quiet.

I think when we said it would be our best year, we end up jinxing it, because it's been the worse year of my life after the one my dad passed away. Seems like the heavens are furious with humanity, because there's no other explanation to how the world is being punished. So many innocent people died. I can only hope none of your family and loved ones did.

You're the only one I communicate with in this email, it was my first email, I did it when I was 9, I changed the handle when The Weeknd first album came out and never again. It's like a letterbox solely for us to speak with each other. I may have been using the drafts as a diary, saying things I wanted to tell you but didn't.

I thought I was in love with my girlfriend, she was amazing, she is amazing still, you probably remember her. Back in late October this year, we completed 2 years together, more than I've ever had, and I was planning on popping the question, because I didn't want to make her wait for too long, since we were serious. But then, on the morning of our 2nd anniversary, she called me to have a serious talk.

She broke up with me friendly, not because I did something bad, or because she did, but because she loved me only as a friend, her attraction for me died, and she was starting to fall in love with her best girl mate who got single, since she's bisexual and her best mate is a lesbian. I respected and still respect her. I'm genuinely glad that she had the balls necessary to come clean and break up with me before doing anything like my first girlfriend did.

We talked about how this was the behavior we thought to be right, some years ago. I think she did great.

But for my own good, I decided to cut ties.

She's still friendly with mom and my sister, but not really friends, and I cut ties with all of her friends, to avoid going to the same places. Because we broke up and I thought it would be better to help me move on, if we were to not see each other again, which was easy because she moved to California a week ago with her now girlfriend, and I'm happy for her, truly.

Before she left, she came to me, even though I had been avoiding her, and told me to try going after the girl that I was actually in love with. She told me she looked through all of our emails one day, and that she had the certainty that I was actually in love with... well, with you, but was in denial, scared of being rejected. She said I couldn't settle for what was comfortable just because it was nice, because it wasn't what I truly wanted, and that she wanted to see me going after what and whom I really love.

It's true. She's was right, and I'm scared, but I don't think it's okay to keep it to me, because in the middle of this pandemic, all I could think about was if you were alright. If you were alive. If you were sheltered, safe, and being taken care of. I thought about your grandmother, because I know you love her so much, and I was worried for her health, as much as I was for my mom and my sister's.

Look, P, I don't want to push anything.

If you're dating, I'll respect, and not touch in this subject for as long as you are with somebody else, even if you end up marrying the bastard. Sure, I would be very jealous, but I'll respect you.

I don't know if this is love, but I know it's there.

It's alive, it's strong, it's overwhelming, and I don't know what to do with it, but I know that I feel whatever this is because of you. I'll move out of the US next year, and I hope we could meet in the UK if you're okay with it, if you're single. Even if you're not, just as your mate, I'll keep respecting the lines you draw.

But I can't, not, be honest with myself anymore.

I found myself reading our emails over and over again, laughing like an idiot, blushing like I never did. I listen to the songs of your favorite artists and remember you. I re-read the books you recommended me and they remind me of you.

I find myself having a craving for tiramisu and bubbly Italian wine, just so I could have something that I know you liked to have too.

I dream of you, I think of you, and I yearn for you.

Even if I end up embarrassed as hell, I want you to know this, P.

I want to know you, I want to know all of you, I want to meet you, and I want to touch you, and to kiss you, and to fall in love with the parts of you that I don't know yet. I want to me your best mate, your confident, I want to be your lover, I want to be the target of all your attention, of your love, of your anger, of your smiles and giggles, of your tears, of your desires. I want to be the one who makes your body burn, I want to make you yearn and crave for me maddeningly like I do for you.

To see how you look like, to know your name, to see you, to hear your voice, to touch you, to kiss you, and to do so much more. I want to be the one to satiate your insatiable hunger in bed, I want to make you cum with my fingers, with my tongue, with my cock, and I want to have sex with you, to have you for myself. To call you mine, to own every part of you.

I want to cook with you, to eat with you, and to eat you. I want to be the person you think about when you touch yourself, when you feel turned on, when your cunt is soaked and desperate for something more, something I hope to be the only one able to give it to you, P.

I've stayed so many nights awake trying to think of which name yours could be, all names that start with P, all the ones I could think of that originate from Europe or that links back to it.

If you are available, please, tell me.

Tell me you feel the same.

Say you yearn for me as ardently as I do for you.

Tell me I didn't imagine anything when I felt a flirty cheeky tone in the way you spoke to me, when I felt a hint of jealousy, a hint of desire.

Tell me it's not in my head.

Tell me you also have a crush on me.

But if you don't, if I'm wrong, I beg you, don't give me hope. I might not be able to get through it if you do.

Yours,

- A ❤️