Another finished c//omm from @miaulin.bsky.social!

So cute and cozy<3

bsky.app/profile/mial...

:3c

And if you really mean them, you would need to look him in the eyes and say it to him yourself.

Aster barely reaches the end of the letter before he’s grabbing his coat and walking towards the door.

He's on the next flight to your home within the day. He doesn't care how he looks. The days of sleepless nights and restlessness, he doesn't care. He doesn't believe a word you say.

Phone on his hand, eyes on the screen, heart in flames over what he might have done in order for you to distance yourself like this.

Up until after the millionth time of reloading, finally, a single e-mail waiting at the top of the list, your nickname and a single word title.

“Goodbye”

There’s an email in your drafts, and your hands write how much you truly love and want him here, but it always ends with you deleting it.

In the end, after days of worries, Aster sits at his computer, almost obsessively watching for any sign on you.

There is nothing but knowing you're all alone in a city while your heart is miles away.

Neither of you feels right without the other. There’s no normalcy after that. Aster tries again, and your heart breaks with every new email in your mailbox; a few open, the rest you can't bear to read.

You see the phone ring at least a dozen times until you turn it off, laying in bed, quiet once again, with no voice to help you sleep, no story to make you laugh, no sweet nickname whispered when you're seconds away from falling asleep.

Heart more.

Then Svii comes in happily, chatting while you're trying to devise an excuse, but Aster is momentarily distracted by her.

You can hear his frustration, but you quickly take the moment to say a quiet goodbye and hang up before he can react.

Not calling, not being as talkative in messages. Not using the nicknames you'd created.

Aster notices immediately of course. He's so in-tuned with you and how you're feeling just from your voice and mannerisms. He asks if you're alright, what's wrong. The concern bleeding in his voice breaking your

should be able to love in real life and not just on the phone. You feel guilty taking all that space, all that time from him. The messages, the calls. He should be spending more time with her.

The guilt gnaws at your heart. So you start distancing yourself from Aster.

It's an honest mistake; he usually doesn't have to explain it since everyone who knows them knows they're brother and sister, and they look similar, but of course, you don't know. You still haven't even seen Aster, and obviously, you don't tell him anything. Someone like him

It made sense. It was silly of you to think he would choose someone on the phone he’s never met over meeting actual people.

What you didn’t know was that the woman was Svii, Asters' younger sister. They’re very close, and he’d probably forgotten to mention who she was to you.

Aspects of the others lives. Friends, family, coworker’s.

Eventually you hear a feminine voice talk in the background sometimes.

Aster often ends up talking to her, leaving to help her with something, and you feel that twisting knife in your stomach.

Where you don't think about his voice, his soft tone, his laugh, that you wish he could read every mail he sent you just to hear him say it all over again.

Months go by after upgrading from email to phone calls everyday. Learning everything about one another. Even going into the more personal

You’re stammering and saying that you'd like that, hearing his knowing hum that has your cheeks blooming like a fresh-cut rose, and you nearly float into work after you both hang up, a lovesick smile on your face.

Both of you end up thinking about each other the entire day. Not a second goes by

for work, but neither wants to hang up.

Aster can hear your sigh as you sit in your car outside of work, knowing you have to leave. He just laughs that quiet chuckle that makes your stomach flip. He says he'll be waiting when you get out of work if you wish to call him again.

to pay for his phone bill, ashamed and blushing even harder when you hear him laugh, telling you that if he had to pay a million dollars to do it again, he would do so a thousand times more.

You both end up talking even longer, having breakfast, getting ready, all the way up until you need to leave

He'd awoken before you and patiently waited for you to wake up so he could say it personally for the first time.

You feel like you're about to die from the butterflies and shame that you fell asleep last night. Plus, that sweet voice in the morning is not helping whatsoever, but you reply, offering

but he smiles, placing his phone by the bed, not hanging up, but instead, going to sleep right next to you, listening to your even gentle breaths.

Late in the morning you wake up and realize you're still on the phone, and Aster is already there to say “Good morning, Darling. How are you feeling?”

he has ever heard; he feels you calm down, ask quiet questions, and eventually stop crying.

You talk for hours. Up until he waits for your response at one point, and it's answered by breathing—just your breathing. Peaceful, calm, asleep, and he wishes nothing more than to be there now and hold you,

You want to keep listening to his voice about anything. Just don’t stop talking.

And he does.

He talks about his day, about the things that happened. His smile is so soft when he hears you laugh; it's quiet, small, and followed by sniffles, but he thinks it's the most beautiful thing

deep voice.

He talks so softly, asking if you’re alright and if you’ve been crying. It's so soothing and gentle to the point you’re sobbing and hiccuping into the phone, and he gets worried that you don’t enjoy hearing him, but you manage to choke out between the tears for him not to stop.

It takes a few rings before you pick it up, even if you don't want to deal with anything more on this God-awful day.

You end up answering (albeit in quite a rude way) and receive a few silent moments before finally listening to the sound of the nickname your pen-pal has given you in a quiet,

But instead, it feels like you're trying to pretend to be strong but, in the end, slipping up with a “sometimes I wish I could have you with me. Some days, everything feels so quiet here.” And as you dry your tears, thinking not much of it and deciding to go to sleep, the phone rings.

with (he's not. He craves it as much as you do; he's just scared you might think his voice is off-putting or something). That is until you write him one day, way past the time you usually send the email, and it's not like your usual cheery self, always excited to tell him everything you did today.

several times in the letters, the wish to hear his voice, and talk to him. Of course, you love his emails, but sometimes you just wish to know how he sounds. But for some reason, you feel like he doesn't want that yet, and you don't wish to push him into doing something he's uncomfortable

feeling so close, only to finally meet in person after who knows how long?

You fell in love with his writing, then his voice. The longing and anxious need to meet. The first time you talk on the phone, you're both nervous, giggly, and tripping over your words.

It’s something you mention