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But I couldn’t hold you forever. I had to give you back. It killed me to see you claimed as my brother’s son. Every moment I spent apart from you was agony.
I know how your mother is, but believe me when I say that she loves you as much as she can. After you were born, she changed. She was sad and then angry and then apathetic. I was so worried about her, but she wouldn’t listen and she wasn’t mine. So I devised a plan.
Maybe I could save you both. Maybe I could fall in line and stash money away while making up for all the love they failed to give you.
I should have left with you years ago, but your mother wouldn’t come and I couldn’t leave her. I’m sorry for not taking you sooner, for any time you spent unhappy because I was greedy, because I wanted you both.
I hope that even if I am gone, I did succeed in saving your mother too. I hope that your mother leaves with you and the two of you are free and happy, but if I couldn’t convince her, if she was scared, I want her to know that I understand and I love her and I always have.
But this letter isn’t for her. This letter is for my son. My son, who has whole universes inside his head. My son, who can turn thoughts and feelings and senses into sound like alchemy, like me. My son, who is so much more than his talent. My son, whoshows kindness in ways that are unexpected, who is passionate and slightly terrifying in all that he is capable of.
If I’m not here now, the fault lies only with me, and my brother. None of this was your fault. You cannot blame yourself. We all should have been better for you and I’m sorry that we weren't.
Even though I can’t be there to watch you grow up, the fact of which pains me greatly, I already know how your story will end. You are a force that cannot be reckoned with. I know you’ll find your way. You will always be my light in the darkness.
With unending love,
Krasimir Velishikov, your father.
PSif you’ve decided to stay in Bulgaria and join in our family ventures, I’m not upset, so long as it was your choice and not made in fear.
There wasa reason why Alek wanted to read his uncle’s letter at Alder House; he wanted to have elephant-size doses of benzodiazepines on hand should he need to spend a few hours, or days, in a hazy give-no-fucks fugue.
Alek was completely overcome with the loss of his uncle all over again, but it was worse, so much worse than when he witnessed his uncle’s death, because it wasn’t his uncle who died, it was his father and the pain was like every single nightmare that replayed the moment of his father’s death had all turned into arrows that pierced the center of his chest like a target.
He noticed the ringing first, a high-pitched keen that hehadn’t heard in weeks. His pulse was a violent, dizzyingly-fast staccato. He couldn’t breathe; it was like he was pulling air through a mile-long straw. His vision tunneled.
Ian tensed around him.
No. “I’m okay,” Alek insisted.
He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to think only of his lungs expanding, and then emptying. Once. Twice. By the third deep breath, the tempo of his pulse was noticeably slower. Another deep breath and the ringing had stopped. Using Ian like a metronome, Alek matched his breathing to Ian’s calm and steady rate.
“I’m so proud of you,” Ian said, resting his cheek against Alek’s shoulder. “But I can't help but feel cheated.”
Confused, Alek turned. Ian lifted his head. Their lips were inches apart.
“Your dad really knew how to write a letter and all I’ve gotten is pornographic Post-it Note animations from you.”
Alek sniffed, smiling as he faced forward again. He appreciated Ian offering him levity if he wanted it, and he did. “I am positively shocked you were able to read any of that, given it’s written in Cyrillic.”
Ian nipped a light bite to Alek’s neck, tickling him with his deep laughter. “Oh, I have no idea what that says—I’m just going off length alone.”
“What about while we were passing notes in the hospital? Doesn’t that count?”
“I’ll allow it.”
Alek filled Ian in on the contents of the letter. “I wish I’d read it sooner,” Alek said when he was done.
“I know,” Ian murmured, his mouth still on Alek’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Alek,” and it wasn’t a token apology, an automatic response to a shitty situation, because Alek heard the sadness in Ian’s words, the shared grief that was there.
Ian turned Alek to face him and the intensity in his dark brown eyes, the ardent love and awe, hit Alek like an anvil to the head. He saw stars.
“Thank you for telling me, for trusting me,” Ian said.
“Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t.” Alek sat sideways on Ian’s lap. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Say what you have to say,” Ian said, voice rough.
