He's quite magical...

The interesting thing is that, despite his claim that Nora is both June’s and his best friend, and a moment when he says he needs to get more friends aside from her, Nora is not really referred to as one of Alex’s friends. There are constant talks about Alex having no friends, both from others and from himself, not counting Nora.

17 May 2022

My love,

Well done completing your first year of law school, or as you and your underslept compatriots call it: 1L. I think I speak for us both when I say how glad I am that the year is done, but, my god, what a wonder to watch you in command of your powers. Your tenacity and grit are exceeded only by that wicked, insatiable mind of yours. I've never doubted this course for you, but I am certain now more than ever, that you will be the stuff of nightmares for your opposing counsel. We are tremendously lucky to have you on the side of good.

I'm sorry I couldn't be with you to celebrate the last of your exams. I hope the flowers will suffice.

While doing research at the library recently, I came across an 1857 compendium of Victorian flower language and predictably became obsessed with it. Ranunculus is said to mean, 'I am dazzled by your charms', so naturally, you require this. I know we've discussed this already, and you've assured me that your classmates will take you out and get you too pissed to even remember about me, but I fear I am troubled by a more selfish prospect: my absence from your memory at such an important moment.

At some point in the early days, I resigned myself to witnessing your best from afar. I imagined reading your accomplishments in the news, clasping glass champange flutes from the back corners of halls in spotlights in which you stood. At my most masochistic, I would conjure the cool shadow of your gaze as I shook your hand, a state guest at your wedding. I am not yet so accostomed to our new reality to have forgotten that feeling. I want to be with you always; present and part of everything.

As I packed to leave, I found myself reminiscing on the letters we used to write. I wonder if you might indulge me in writing each other again. Proper paper and ink letters. We could keep them in the safe in my closet after reading, no one else would ever know they exist until we drop dead of old age and our great-grandchildren published it posthumously to rapturous praise, of course.

What do you say, my dear scholar? The return address on this envelope is Shaan's personal inbox, so anything sent there comes directly to me by his hand. Might you spare your sweetheart a missive or two from your cluttered desk? It could even be a bit cheeky if you wanted. It could be anything, so long as it was from you. I could use the entertainment where I'm going.

Remember to look after yourself darling. I'll know if you don't.

Yours incessantly,

May 20, 2022

H,

I love this idea. Wow. I've missed this too. I'm so glad my boyfriend's a genius. I never realised how much I missed it until I picked up my pen. Maybe I tried to think of our letters as something I did more for you than for me, so I missed it a little less. But, that's bullshit. I needed it too.

I think about you so much sometimes I don't even know where to start. This page seems like the place.

Let's see. Give me a second to remember how to do this. All the writing I've done for the past year has been in legalese, except for my texts to you, which you told me are, quote 'borderline incomphrensible'. Not my fault you were raised in a haunted tower by evil governesses and don't know memes.

Currently, I'm sitting on your couch. I don't really like being at my place right now, and David doesn't like it when my neighbours make noise, so I've been spending a lot of time at yours. You probably already know, given I'm sure your security team logs every time I use my key, but I like it here. It smells like you, it feels like you.

I used to imagine what kind of place you'd design for yourself if you could, and this is so perfectly you that I swear my brain quiets the second I'm inside. I love all the pens lost inside this couch, I love the stinky artisnal cheese in the fridge, I love your fingerprints on the kettle, the way you fold your sweaters. I love the picture of you and Bea on the piano, the one where you're 12 and she's 15 and she's wearing all that eyeliner and you're looking at her like she's the coolest girl in the world. I love the Chelsea scarf over the fireplace even though Pez told me they're shit and I should support Arsenal. I love that you've already accumulated a dozen cookbooks, and I would say there's no possible way you've opened all of them, but I can see the sticky tabs and sauce stains from here. I love your books and your rainboots by the back door. I love how the corner of the rug in your study curls up just a little because you toe at it when you're thinking. I love your smell on the bed sheets.

I miss you so much already. I swear I spent every possible second that I wasn't at school or studying with you. But I still didn't get enough of you to last me until July. I should have been more careful about storing you up. I was burning through you like like there was all the Henry in the world and now I'm in a Henry shortage. It's awful.

Write back soon, okay? It'll help me miss you less.

Love you,

WHAT

OH MY GOD

well I guess it is a show about bringing things back from the dead but