Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and mature content.
All names are changed and some clarifying/translatory edits were made. Otherwise, this is the letter in its purest form.
Brandy was taking part in a spiritual retreat. To show support and encouragement for him, the retreat directors encouraged his loved ones to write letters for him. Being someone who was part of a close friend group of his, I naturally wrote one for him. It was about one in the morning when I wrote this. Exhaustion tore down my adherence to conventional good writing, and the restraint of my feelings.
This is my letter to brotherhood.
I’ll be the first and say we hella drifted apart. From [Class 3-C] and [Class 4-D], I think we walked our own separate ways, somehow. To me it’s nothing to feel too bad about. There’s the loss aversion, yes, but it’s a part of life. People go in, and people go out. You shouldn’t feel too bad about it.
However, what still remains was [our mischief when we were still in the gang]. Those will never leave. You know, we’ll graduate one day. I’ll say goodbye to every single person I know in high school. I’ll go into college. Grind in, day in, day out. Join orgs. Make comics. Find love. Date her. Two weeks turn to two months into two years. I graduate. I’ll move out. I’ll get a job in line with what I’m passionate about, and as does she. Life has its ups and downs, but the trajectory’s nothing but upward. I’m happy.
One day, on a seemingly normal day of work, she opens an apartment door to find me on one knee and with a ring on my hands for her. She cries. She rushes out, then comes back to say yes while laughing and sniffing at the same time. Six months later we’re married. The wedding was all white, in a beautiful but simple place we both picked out for each other. Everyone claps when we kiss. The reception, the food, the guests, the music, everything was wonderful.
On our honeymoon to Boracay, we make love. This time it’s overflowing with joy, and it shows in the way she hurriedly breathes and trembles whenever we climax and I see it in a glimpse of her lips in the dim, pre-dawn light of our hotel room. She sighs after we do it one last time and falls asleep on me. The sun is slowly rising up. But I can’t sleep.
Because even while she’s fast asleep next to me with her head on my chest, as I stare up at the white ceiling, there’s nothing on my mind other than that time when we and the boys watched that Nude Beach hentai on your sofa, on three separate phones. All in perfect sync. My penis grows erect once more at the memories of it, and I find myself smiling. It’s weird, but weren’t we all, and didn’t we take joy in that? The tripled sex noises of the anime girl we were all giggling about echo in my head. Your father never found out. My wife will never understand. I will never forget.
When I’m sure that she’s in deep sleep, I take care to rest her head down ever so gently on the bed, and get up. Facing the sun, I make a phone call for you and the other boys.
I may be one end of the world, and you may be at [the other end] at this point. There’s nothing to be sad about. It’s a part of life. However, the memories persist, and you have a part in them. My wife will never understand. But you, and the other boys, will. Thanks for being part of those memories.