Alfred's P.O.V.

These love poems I've been sending you for 15 years; I haven't got a reply yet, y'know. Why are you taking so long?

In the first year, I was reckless. I licked stamps every day, sending them out every day. I probably used a lot of money sending those letters, but I didn't and don't care.
I loved you then.

I was reckless the second year too, thinking about you the whole time I was away from you. Even the house catching on fire didn't take my attention away from thinking about you. My clothes caught on fire from the bottom up, and I didn't notice until all that was left was my collar.
I loved you then.

The third year, I calmed down mostly. I'd found literature. I published a Mixi Diary and maxed out the hit counter. All my poems went somewhere. I still continued to send you poems, though. Isn't that great?
I loved you then.

The fourth year, I wrote for a magazine. I helped people with social problems. And I decided to release a poetry collection and turned my back on being a salaryman. I still wrote those letters.
I loved you then.

These love poems; I've been sending them for 15 years, and still no reply. Still no reply.

By the fifth year, I was a profession poet. I captivated women ages 20-29. But since I was so dedicated, they might as well been vegetables to me. Those letters kept going from my house, though.
I loved you then.

The sixth year, my body broke down. I'd written more than 2,000 poems for you. I'd broken nearly every bone in my body, and every organ was damaged. I still thought about you through it.
I loved you then.

In the seventh year, I was in awesome and perfect shape. Today, I'll compare you to something. Maybe you're like hamburgers. You're nothing like those horrible scones you cooked, either. Those letters kept going and going.
I loved you then.

I didn't change in the eighth year. Today I'll compare you to something as well. Undefeated in 16 hamburger eating contests-Yeah! I sorta ran outta money so I'm trying to get more to send some more letters…sorry.
I loved you then.

These love poems; I've been sending them for 15 years, and still no reply. Still no reply.

Nobody's P.O.V.

Alfred was coming out of the grocery store, holding a bag that read "Mayu Mart". The sidewalk sign showed a green person walking so he started off onto the street, planning to walk across. A car was coming from the other side, but he was too consumed in his own thoughts to notice. The car swerved and knocked him to the ground, leaving him unconscious.

Alfred's P.O.V.

The ninth year, I got in an accident. I had no memory of anything; I didn't even remember my own name. I only remembered that I loved you. I found a way of writing from the hospital, and sent more poems from there.
I loved you then!

My memory didn't come back the tenth or eleventh year, but I still loved you. And all I wanted was a reply from you.
I loved you then!

I didn't get my memory back the twelfth or thirteenth year. But I still loved you. That was all I had. I sent less poems…
I loved you then!

In my fifteenth year, my memories came back. Awesome, right? Not. I remembered everything and started to cry.
I remembered…

That 15 years ago you died.

Nobody's P.O.V.

Alfred and Arthur were coming back out of the grocery store. Arthur had a bag in his hand that read "Mayu Mart." They were both talking and laughing. Arthur got caught off guard by a kiss on the cheek that came from Alfred so suddenly. Arthur looked away and kept silent, and Alfred was wondering if he wasn't supposed to do that.
This time, Alfred was the one that got caught off guard by a gentle kiss on the lips that came from Arthur. Arthur pulled back with a blush tinted on his cheeks, grinning up at the American, who had a huge smile.
The next week, they were coming out of the grocery store again, holding a bag that read "Mayu Mart." They were holding hands as they walked, talking and laughing. Alfred had seen the sidewalk sign that had a green man walking, so he took that as a sign to be able to cross the street. He stepped on the street, wanting to run across this time. He wasn't paying attention to the yells and screams that came from Arthur, until he got pushed out of the way and onto the other side.
Arthur took the hit for Alfred.

Alfred's P.O.V.

These love poems I've been writing for you; I've been sending these to you for the past 16 years. And still no reply.
I still love you now.

Thanks a lot for everything, bro. Take care. I love you…

Nobody's P.O.V.

There lay a note at Alfred's feet that read "I want to meet you again," That was signed, "Arthur."
Alfred had finally gotten a reply.