Your letter gave me a lot to think about, though I can't tell you whether to cede control or not. But I think we both know that vengeance isn't going to be the path we need to go down. I also can't promise that this experiment isn't going to break us even further. But I can promise that I'm with you - to grieve with you, to sit in silence, to scream with, to burn it all down with, and I always believe in you. I gave up everything I've ever known because of that belief - then and now, and I would do it over and over again and again.
There's also one more thing.
This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear. this word is not enough but it will have to do.
I love you - any you. You can tell him that. And read it when I write it to you also even if, as Margaret Atwood said, one four-letter word doesn't seem like enough.
You taught me the importance of free will. Of truth and conviction. I've seen all you've accomplished while not filled with self-hate. You're unstoppable, and you're my Loki. No matter the details, you're my Loki.