It was raining in Grendale again. Thin silver sheets tapped against the windowpane of Sylan's room, the kind of rain that didn't soak through your clothes but found a way into your bones. He sat on his bed, a tattered notebook balanced on his knee, pen hovering over the page like it was too heavy to move.
The letter had no address, no stamp, no envelope. Just his handwriting in the middle of the page:
"Dear Kant,"
He stared at those two words for a long time, as if they might vanish if he looked away. But they didn't. They never did.
"I thought moving would make it easier.
It didn't.
I thought putting space between us would clear my head.
It didn't.
I thought not seeing your face every day would help me forget what it felt like to hold your hand.
It really, really didn't."
He scratched his pen against the corner of the page. The ink had started to smudge from his fingertips but he didn't care.
"I'm not angry at you. Not really.
I knew what I was getting into.
You always had your father's shadow wrapped around your shoulders . I know what it means to be the golden boy in a town like Helldale.
You couldn't choose me.
I get it.
But it still hurt.
Because I chose you.
Every day, even when it meant hiding. Even when it meant not kissing you when I wanted to. Even when it meant walking away."
He paused.
The pen dropped gently from his fingers and rolled across the mattress.
Bison leaned back against the headboard of the bed and stared at the ceiling like it might tell him something.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
"I miss you.
I miss the way you looked at me when no one was around.
The kind of look that made me feel like I wasn't wrong for being who I am.
Like maybe the world could be okay.
But I didn't want to be your secret anymore.
Not again.
So if this letter ever finds you... just know that I loved you.
I really did.
And I still do — just not enough to keep waiting."
He signed it with his name, even though he knew it would stay in this notebook forever.
No stamp. No address. No envelope.
Just truth on paper.