May, 1895.

Augustus—

I write to you in great pain of what I am going to need to ask.

Please, my dearest— no, my only real friend— don’t ask me to change my mind. Only you know what it has been to suffer this distance, however peripherally I have allowed the ache to burden you. I beg— beg you, Gus. I need assistance just one more time, and then you’ll be rid of me and this Gordian knot for good. I forswear it.

I’m including an address to the loft I have made a nest of these past months. France— or Paris, rather— has proven quite amenable to one of my afflicted nature. I will not irritate you with the details, but I’ve found the underground here to be particularly useful in exploring both the instant gratification of relief and some longer term solutions. It is for one of these that I ask your assistance, my dearest professor of the dark arts. Come at the end of the month.

What is left of my sanity comes and goes in waves. I would not ask such a thing, nor risk putting ink to parchment in this way if there was anything else to be done. You know me almost as well as

You know me Augustus. You are the only one who could.

I hope I can count on you this one last time.

Willing to be yours alone, in this life and every other,

Vincent

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[The parchment is splattered, messy, crumpled and the owl harried. He’s missing too many feathers and maybe some few marbles. The letter has evidently not been easy to deliver, by either party.]

Gus Lissington & muse song

  

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

May 1895

Vincent,

I’m not sure why you insist on calling me Augustus, when in fact that’s a name that has only ever been used to register my birth. It’s Gus, and always will be, thank you very much. I won’t blame your mind fraying at the edges because you’ve never been good at calling me anything but.

You’ll also have to forgive me, I hope, as your letter brings me a lot of concern. You have never been a burden and although I want to scold you for ever thinking that, I suspect it would fall on deaf ears. (You never were very good at listening, were you?) You don’t have to be gone forever and I never mind helping you when you need it.

I will come.

There is no version of myself that would leave you to this alone. I might be a bit rusty because it’s been a while since I’ve truly broken a curse or helped someone afflicted, but I know everything will come back once I need it. Whatever is happening Vince, we will find a way to save you. To make you whole.

I’ve never been a fan of Paris, but I am sure that you will show me all the nooks and crannies that I missed the first time. I will arrive on the twenty-ninth. Do not disappear on me. Do not try to handle this without me. If I find only an echo of you in that loft, I swear by every curse I've broken I will track you down and bring you back to England lest you try to leave my sight again.

[]Gus[]

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The bottom of the letter near his name is cut, leaving only Gus remaining. The other letters of his name have been enlarged and stuffed in the bottom of the letter. The A has a note on the back - Since you apparently like all the extra letters I don’t use.

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Vincent Iago

  

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