flightforfreedom | MoM IC Inbox

It's been eleven hours, forty four minutes and seventeen seconds since-- eighteen-- nineteen-- fuck! Forget the seconds part. It's been eleven hours and a bit since we last spoke! Since your last message. Sorry it's been kind of weird the past few days. Kind of from both of us? But I got busy... I had, uh, a lot to do. Things went down. You probably know about a lot of it. And you're probably, like, tired. You're home soon! Today, right? Fuck, I'm so excited to see you, you have no idea. Anyway, eleven hours and fifty six minutes since you've been in my life. Fuuuuuuck thaaaaaaaaat!

[ definitely read this message for too long before sending it. definitely should have gone back and edited what he wrote. ah well. ]

Thirteen hours and fourteen minutes! Get on your game, dude. So, okay, I'll give you something to read on the flight home? Can you read while you're flying? I mean, you probably can, if you can give a dude... uh. Nevermind. Let's see. Uh, skipping over all the... bad stuff that went down recently... It was Peter's birthday! I forgot to tell you. I made him a bracelet, put some dates on it. He seemed to like it. It's like two weeks until my show starts filming... I really hope none of the contestants try to kill anyone. Or, like, I do, but like, in a fun way. A fun and cool way. Rolling thunder and blustering winds. Not plant monsters. Something. I don't know. Sorry.

Edited 2018-01-22 06:07 (UTC)

Nearly fifteen hours??????? Hey. Listen. I know you're probably packing and doing all your cool grown up military dude stuff, but this is weird and it's weird not hearing from you and I'm kind of worried and this is weird. And I'm worried. I'm worried. I'm also emotionally parasitic and desperately feed off the energy of all the people important to me, and you're, like - prime beef. You're a cow, with a big, juicy liver that I'm burying... into... parasitically... to steal... what? What the This metaphor got weird. I just meant I get all my energy from you and there's only so much faux optimism I've got without getting a Poe Dameron Recharge. So... I guess I could have made a battery metaphor instead of a blood-sucking parasite metaphor? I don't... hey. THIS TEXT IS REDACTED

Sixteen hours, sixteen minutes. I hope I didn't do something to piss you off? I touched on it before - but I know things have been weird between us the past few days. Like, I'm not imagining that, right? It's stilted. I think. The things we talk about. You haven't been starting conversations with me out of nowhere, I haven't been getting much back from you. Sorry. If you're annoyed at me, I'm probably, like... making things worse by being clingy and trying so hard. I don't really know what I'm doing. Or what I've done. Just that it's there. Something something maelstrom of darkness. Sorry. I hope you're okay, in any case. And I hope we'll be able to spend a day together when you're back, still. If you want. No pressure. Um, buddy.

Seventeen hours and thirty four minutes. That's when I noticed your ID was offline.

I don't really know what to do. If you're gone. So much still left unsaid. I've already told you far too much, but there's so much still left unsaid. Losing you like this - after a month of waiting to see you again in person, of dreaming about you meeting my family - would be the most callous, heartless thing this universe has done to me. I don't know what to do. Fuck. If I can wait for you to change your mind, I can wait for you to come home. I'm not gonna, like, assume the worst. Things'll be okay. 24 hours. I'll hit you again on, uh - fuck. Tuesday morning. Yeah? I was gone for 24 hours, Archie was gone for 24 hours, my other friend was gone for 24 hours - It's just the porter glitching out, or something. I'm gonna avoid the network for a while, because I don't want to see anyone talking about this, so hit me here, yeah? Or I won't know when you're back. 24 hours.

You're still not here. 3AM. Name's still grey. Lifeless. More than twenty four hours since it went dark. I think. I'm losing my sense of time. I should have messaged you yesterday. Tuesday. Like I said I would. I just kept waiting for you to reach out first. You should be back by now. I talk to my parents. Like they're here with me, even though they aren't. Helps me make sense of their deaths. I don't want to do that to you. I don't want that to be what I'm doing. I'm gonna keep waiting. Poe, I fucking love you. More than anything. Anyone. Never loved a person like I'm in love with you. Never will again. I don't believe you're gone. I don't believe I've lost you. Not to him, not to the void, not to a cold and broken future where your name becomes a memory unfamiliar to my lips. You are every good part of me made whole. Everything I've ever wanted to be, ever wanted to protect. Someone with cause and strength and the ability to change the future and make the men and women who came before you so, so, so, so unbelievably proud. If you're at home, there's a chance you're... There is a chance you've died. I know that thought is a part of you. You told me as much, in space, in not quite so many words. The way you reacted to my thoughts of death in the Cessna - We're both soldiers, in a sense. I understood. And - If you died - You would have been fucking amazing. How many people did you save? How many lives did you make better, even at the cost of your own? Fuck, you would have been radiant. The brightest star. A name known throughout history for whatever great deed you went out on. So many of us are filling the shoes of heroes, being told that's who we are once we come to America. I've only met a few imPorts I would compare to the heroes I've known back home. But you - Your bravery, your devotion to the greater good, your fucking dedication to doing the right thing and just being you -- There are none more heroic than you. None braver. No one better. I know you don't believe me when I say how much better my days are when you're in them. I know that's my fault. For pining, and for waiting, and for holding out hope, and for not being able to let go of the part of you that's still mine, even though that's what you've been trying to do. But when you come back - today, tomorrow, next week, next year - I'll Fuck. Fuck this.

Just. I'll be here.

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PORT OUT DRAMa 1/???

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... forward to wednesday morning what s Up

k done eat it britt