A Clingy Boy Sticking for 15 Years

Canada x Reader


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"Don't worry; I'll be back before you even know it." Those were the words that I heard from (Name) before she left. To be honest, I don't even know what to do without her, but as I wait for her, I'll write something to her—maybe a poem…

These poems written of my love for you,
I've been sending them for 15 years straight
And there's still no reply,
And there's still no reply

Still no reply from (Name), it's probably because I've never sent it to her. "How sweet of you" she will say when she reads it, it took me all of my courage to write to her, of course. It reminded me of the time in high school where she herself gave me a letter—a love letter—I still couldn't stop being flustered about it.

The first year, I was reckless
I wrote each and every day without fail
I licked stamps with insistence,
Sending you my heart's spit

Here I am, in front of my mailbox. I wrote to (Name) each day, but being the tentative person I am, I just couldn't send it. But now, I'll try to send it to her. My tongue is so dry from licking all those stamps to put on her letters, I just hope (Name) won't notice, but I wrote my whole heart for (Name).

The second year, I was still reckless
My house setting ablaze wouldn't even catch my attention
In fact, my clothes caught fire from below,
And by the time I noticed, only the collar was left

Every day, week, or month, I still continued to write for (Name). I devoted all of my time writing for her, even my brother thinks I'm crazy but (Name) was the only one who thought I was sane.

"Bro, our house is on fire!" I heard my brother, Alfred, yelled as he went outside. If he tried to distract me or if my house was really on fire, it didn't matter. I just want to continue writing with my pen and paper on my hands.

When I finally noticed it, I was only wearing my collar and glasses, as everything else were caught on fire. The letters I have written were safe, though.

In the third year, I calmed down
I'd already reached the limits of literature
I published my mixi journal,
And my MyMixis were maxed out

All of my pens, I had, ran out of ink, my literature ran out, too. I tried making a journal online. There, I tried to do all of my letters for (Name). I typed everything about her, from her dazzling (colour) eyes to those cute toenails on her feet that sometimes are coloured depending what she has on mind.

From where (Name) first gave me Mr. Kumanini for my birthday, and for some reason, she laughs when I always forgot Mr. Kumakichi's name. I love that sweet sound of her laugh. "You missed my birthday, (Name)…" No matter, I just hope she'll be happy with all these letters, but… my digital journal had lost its limits, too.

In the fourth year, I wrote for a magazine,
And I branched out into social issues
I decided to release a poem compilation,
And I quit being a salaryman

I took a step ahead, and wrote for a magazine. For sure, (Name) will be proud of me with what I did. I branched out social issues that I wanted to say in the world meetings, too. She would always encourage me to tell what I had in my mind every time I came home from one of the meetings depressed. That silly look on her face kept me amused.

After that one entry I sent to the magazine company, I've decided to release a collection of poems. My boss told me if I kept on doing these things, he'll just have to fire me. Although, I told him I'm quitting my job, anyways, so that I could focus on writing. Oh, and I made fun of him with that silly fake hair of his. (Name) will be laughing when I tell her in the poem.

These poems written of my love for you,
I've been sending them for 15 years straight
And there's still no reply,
And there's still no reply

Arthur and Francis think I'm crazy, because they thought there's no way (Name) would answer back. I just ignore all of their warnings, because I'm too busy writing this, just to get my mind off of them:

Dear (Name),
You've missed another year of my birthday,
But I take no charge of that.
I know you're in some place far away,
And for sure that's a fact.
You know all my love for you is in my heart, where it's at,
Like the love for sardines of a fat, lazy cat.

By the fifth year, I was a pro poet
I captivated women 20 to 34
But since I was so earnest,
I saw other girls as inexperienced pansies

A few years passed by and I was a professional poet. Natalia, Elizaveta, and some other ladies were so captivated with my writings. They told me that they read all of my poetry, from the magazine plus the compilation, and said that they can really feel the mood out of them. Judging from what Francis told me—and since I'm not that frivolous—I only see those women as an inexperienced bunch.

By the sixth year, my body was ruined
I'd already passed 2,000 poems
Not a bone hadn't been broken,
Not an organ hadn't been damaged

My body was in pain everywhere. I have at least written up to two-thousand letters and poems. I went to the doctor to get a checkup, but it looks like not a bone or an organ broken or damaged. If (name) was here, she would just kiss my pain away.

In the seventh year, I was in perfect form
So today, I'll compare you to something
Perhaps you're like extreme ironing
Perhaps you're like a compound inner product space

I feel so much better now after resting so much. Today, I'll compare her to something strong. She used to iron all of laundry less than two minutes or that she used to take up all of the space in the bed "Aha, (Name)" but I didn't mind that, she was unconsciously doing that. The house was so much warmer with a single smile of hers.

Even in the eighth year, I didn't change
So today, I'll compare you to something
Perhaps you're like winning every match in 16 sumo tournaments
Perhaps you're like an AMPA glutamine receptor

After a year, I was still fine and the house was getting chillier. I'll compare (Name) to something, today. I remembered the time where she flipped Cuba's entire weight over her when he had mistaken me for my brother again and started beating me up. I really thought she was a wrestler in her past life.

These poems written of my love for you,
I've been sending them for 15 years straight
And there's still no reply,
And there's still no reply

"You're standing in front of the mailbox again, Matthew, what?" I heard Arthur said as he passed by. Well, I am standing in front of it but there's nothing he can do, I really miss her. "Oh (Name)…" I whispered in front of the mailbox after slipping the envelope in. I think there's not going to be another reply.

On the ninth year, I had an accident
Apparently I suffered quite a blow to the head
And though I'd forgotten my own name,
I remembered only that I loved you

I woke up in some place peculiar but familiar room. I recognized the place completely; I was in a hospital room. "Ah, you're finally awake," a nurse said when she entered the room. She gave me a wallet and explained "It seems that you suffered quite a blow to the head, the doctor said you can finally exit the hospital since you have recovered." With that, she gave me some glass of water and left the room. I looked at the wallet she gave me, thinking that it's probably mine.

The contents in it were some cards, money, and a picture. It was a picture of a girl with (length) (colour) hair, whose eyes were closed and smiling warmly right at the camera. I turned the card over and something was written on it: "(NAME)" Maybe that's her name. I don't even remember my own but I'm pretty sure I loved her very much.

Through the tenth year, through the eleventh year,
My memories didn't return
And yet, I loved you
All I could want was your reply

Most of my memories still didn't return, but I love (Name) so much. Although, I began writing to her since I knew her address on a note back in my house. I wonder if she's really a nice person before I forgot everything. Well, all I hope she replies and we can meet each other so I can ask her what happened before everything was erased.

Through the twelfth year, through the thirteenth year,
My memories didn't return
But I still loved you;
That was all I had

I found a talking polar bear in my house. I was freaking out at first, but I think I know him. His name is Mr. Kumachiki or Mr. Kumakichi? I think I also forgot his name, so I asked him. My memories still didn't return, though. But the bear asked me the same thing. I wish my memories were back, but I still love (Name) and that's all that matters.

Even by the fourteenth year, they still hadn't come back
Every day was frightening and uneasy
I just wanted a glimpse at you
I just wanted a word to you

I'm still the same from before, my memories still hadn't returned. I was so scared and edgy; I thought that my old self didn't want to remember anything that's why I'm like this. I wrote to (Name) every day, though she never replied. Why wouldn't she? I just wanted to see her, besides from her picture, I just wanted a word from you, (Name).

I lay down on the cold concrete near my bed while grasping my head. "Why can't I remember? Why can't (Name) reply? (Name)…" I whispered. The tears were welling up in my eyes. And then, random flashbacks were showing right before my eyes. My head hurt so much, until I realized it. My tears were heavily flowing because they represent something else.

In the fifteenth year, my memories returned
I remembered everything, and burst into tears,
Because I remembered...
That you died 15 years ago

She was already dead. (Name) was dead. I recalled getting a call from work that stated the love of my life was dead. Everybody was flabbergasted, they, too, lamented heavily on the topic. I remembered (Name) giving me a poem right before I went to work that very day. It was a poem that represented every memory we spent.

These poems written of my love for you,
If they kept piling up, would they someday reach you?
In your former room,
Every day, they stacked upward

I know now why I started to write letters and poems. All of them were stacked in one box under my bed, the letters that I've sent previously. I hoped that every time they started piling up, it would reach her… but I was too foolish for that. They were under or next to the bed (Name) and I used to share. "Used to…" I started weeping again, falling into the heaps of letters with my address. Right from the beginning, I was too hopeful that everyone thought I was too desperate. The feeling of her cold hand right before she went away… I still felt that.

I couldn't see you anymore,
And I kept loving you
But I thought we'd meet again,
And you disappeared again

"No, (Name), no you can't leave me!" I clutched her hand tightly inside the ER. She was soaked in blood, her eyes that once were shining and beautiful, were now dull and lifeless. That filthy man who ran into her and did nothing should pay, but (Name) didn't want vengeance.

My tears were staining her pale face while she gave me her last warm smile. (Name) touched my cheek very weakly "Matthew, I want you to be happy when I'm not around." I held that hand close, trying not to cry again "Don't worry," she coughed, "I'll be back before you even know it." That long beep ended her life. Her eyes were closed and her hands became limp. I started to sob again while shouting her name.

"(Name)…" he said in his sleep as he stirred. He suffered enough pain, I told the Boss in the clouds, so I asked him that to permit my plan but he said he'll think about it. Matthew was asleep in a pile of poems I've read many times before. I'm glad that he still did this; he's such a wonderful guy.

I saw a new one and picked it up slowly. He stirred and turned, eyes are still closed. Sometimes, he's so adorable the way he sleeps. I gave him one quick kiss on his cheek before going away "You've been patient enough, so please wait a little more before we meet again, my dear."

These poems written of my love for you,
I've been sending them for 16 years straight
And there's still no reply,
And there's still no reply

~~~~

"Hey Matthew, wanna go hang in a bar later? Awesome chicks will be there" I heard the albino exclaimed when he saw me. Five years had passed since the whole incident and I'm actually feeling better now. "No… thanks, Gilbert. And you already know" I responded while looking at my watch, indicating it's already noon. The albino gave me a sad smile "Dude… I know I'm just trying to cheer you up"

"Thanks… but the only "chick" I loved… was her" He gave that laugh of his before patting my back and left. Right now, I'm at a crosswalk waiting for the 'walk" sign. I got my old job back but I'm still keeping those poems. I'm pretty sure where she was, she was happy.

The 'walk' sign blinked and it was time to go. "Oh my, that kid is going to get hit!"

"What the hell, it's red right?" The crowd stopped in their tracks. The truck was still going and it was going to hit the boy. I heard the crowd gasped in shock, just like what happened to (Name)… but it all happened so fast and I was planning to save him. The truck beeped and stopped at the side, the driver went down to see what happened. Everybody went to the area where it the driver stopped. I heard a cry and people asking if they were okay.

"Are you okay?"

"Is the boy safe?"

"You're so heroic!"

"No harm done—well just scratched" one voice responded to the million questions. The boy cried and went to his mother. I came over to inspect who it was that saved him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Can we bring you to the hospital?" The voice denied and said that the scars were okay enough to represent what she did. She… The voice sounds as familiar as I got closer. Everyone seemed so relieved, they patted her or thanked her as they left and go back to their normal duties. But I was too curious who it was.

"Man, it got tattered… Oh well, no harm, no foul" The person's backside was shown to me. The person seemed to be a female, wearing a (colour) dress that got dirtied with asphalt. Their hair was all over the place, she surely sounded like a little younger than me. Once I caught the colour of her hair I widened my eyes "(N… name)…"

She stopped dusting herself and turned around, but the glare in my glasses blocked the person's upper body "Are you referring to me?" I squinted hoping to get a glimpse of the truth right in front of me. The person sounded so much like her, I wanted to know more "(N-name)…?" I stuttered.

She stopped in front of me by a couple of inches and said very sweetly "I don't see any (Name) here except for me." A tear dropped when the glare was gone and there she was! She smiled and gave me an envelope that was written to her by… me!

I embraced her tightly, crying, when I heard her soothing voice said:

"I'm back, Matthew. I missed and love you very much."