So here I am, Astrid. I am one sorry-ass, homesick gullgosse listening for the sound of tomorrow. It’s no good pretending I feel one way when I feel another. I can be a good soldier and let my feelings show. If I do it here, no one will know. If I don’t do it here, no one will know. And I want it to be known, so here goes, darling girl.

I want you so much and I need you right now.

I miss you. I think I will always miss you. Sometimes it’s a freckle on my elbow. Other times, like tonight, it’s a disease in my bones and my senses ache, ache, ache to drown in you again. To see and touch and hear and smell and taste you. I want to make love to you again. So badly.

So badly, Asta, I want you so badly.

I think I might be going crazy with it.

The desire waxes and wanes between lofty and obscene. One moment I’m staring at you all moon-eyed, quoting romantic poetry. The next moment I’m on my knees at your feet, unhooking your garters and begging to fuck you.

Is that shocking?

It shocks me. Look at how my handwriting jostles around the word ‘fuck.’ I winced writing it, but now it’s settling on my eyes and the sound of it is getting comfortable in my brain. It’s disengaging from the sordid and crass, and slowly turning divine. Intense. Even beautiful. I want to be your lover again and feel that sweet understanding between us when I’m fucking you into beautiful pieces… And don’t think this can’t go two ways, my darling, wonderful beauty. I know what strength is in your glorious body so climb up on top of me, hold me hard, pin me down. Make me beg and don’t give a choice or chance, just take me for your own pleasure and obliterate me as an afterthought. Use me, command me, fuck me. I’m yours.

I am, honest to God, blushing right now.

Oh what the hell, I can write it here. I’m not long for this world so I can tell you everything in these pages. You’ll never know.

But maybe you will. Maybe you, future Asta, is reading this last entry of my diary, because Hook sent it to you after I was killed tomorrow.