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Dear Barbie

Summary:

Ken's life in Barbie Land post-patriarchy is going pretty great. Except for the one big regret he can't shake, and it's something he wants to make right. Hopefully the letter of apology he wrote to Barbie will do what he did not do in person.

Notes:

First posted fic ever yay! This started with a simple ask on my Ken RP blog (@cantevenbeachhere on tumblr) that led to me writing this. Hope you enjoy :)

Work Text:

Ken stood on the Beach under a stunningly clear night sky.  The moon was bright and full, and stars freckled the blackness above him, kindly and conveniently illuminating his surroundings enough he didn’t need any extra light.  He’d never known the need to carry a flashlight with him, except in a camping scenario.  Which actually like hardly ever happened anyway.

The pink envelope he held against his chest was pristine, crisp, and covered in horse stickers, beach stickers, and light blue hearts.  On the front was a name written in chicken scratch but still legible.  He wasn’t gifted with great penmanship.  He didn’t have to be.  He could write, and that was enough.  

The problem was there was only a name on the front.  A first and last.  No address to send it to.  That part he didn’t know, but even if he did it, that wasn’t his biggest problem anyway.  There’s not exactly a mail truck that goes from Barbie Land to the Real World.

But this letter really needed to get to the Real World somehow. 

Weird Barbie didn’t know how it could get there without him leaving Barbie Land and taking it to her himself.  As far as she was aware, the “portal” was the only channel between the two worlds, and that was designed for travel, not for a mailing system.

He could just take it to the Real World.  He knew the way, and it was still open for travel.  He could reach the Real Beach and rollerblade his way all over until he found her.  It would be one heck of a challenge, but if push came to shove, he would try it. 

He sighed as he scratched platinum blond hair just above the headband on his head.  There had to be a way.  “What would Barbie do,” he wondered aloud, shoving his free hand into the front pocket of his multicolored sweatshirt.  Barbie would…Barbie would…Barbie would probably sit and think and clear her head.  Like she did that one time in the Real World.

That wasn’t really his way, but since he was trying to get this to Barbie, it would make sense to follow her lead on this, right?  So he plopped down on the Beach, propped his head up against his fists while elbows rested on his knees, and thought.  And thought.  And thought.  Until he decided the only way he could think of that actually held some merit was to go to the Real World himself and deliver it.

…Or since he would go all that way to begin with, just tell her in person.  That could work too.

Leaving the sounds of the dance party at one of the Dreamhouses even more behind him, he set off for the pink sports car with his envelope in one hand and rollerblades in the other.  Could he drive?  He had yet to do so and not for lack of trying either.  The last time, Barbie drove towards the Real World, and on the way back, he had to chase the car all the way back to Barbie Land after barely hanging onto the back of the spaceship.  Still he was willing to give it a shot.  But for some reason, he felt the need to ask the car for permission first.  Maybe because it drove off without him last time.

“Ummm,” he said quietly as he approached the unused pink sports car.  “Hi,” he gave a little wave, “look I promise I’m not gonna cause any trouble or wrecks or anything, but can I like drive you to the Real World for a minute?”  He held up his envelope as if showing it to the car.  “It’s kinda important.”  Whether he was expecting something to happen or not, nothing did happen, and he decided to take that as a good sign.  “Okay.  Cool, thanks.  This Ken is gonna sit up front this time.”

Ken didn’t get as far as he had hoped because once the car got right to where he would climb into a speedboat, a great wind started to stir and blow towards the Real World.  “Wind?” he wondered aloud in surprise, feeling the ends of his hair flop and smack against his head.  “There’s no wind in Barbie Land!  Like…hardly ever!”  He looked over to the waters the speedboat rested in, and they looked rocky.  Which made him feel all icky inside, in what he understood from Ordinary Barbie was an anxious feeling.  “What now?”

The pink envelope in his hand flapped frantically, like a bird begging to be let go, and he looked between it and the world beyond the speedboat repeatedly.  That icky feeling just got bigger.  He shook his head and said to himself or maybe the wind or the envelope or just anyone who would listen, “No, I can’t!  How do I know it won’t just get lost if I let it go!”

But the wind kept blowing, and the envelope kept flapping insistently.  And though he didn’t get an answer to his most important question, he closed his eyes, took a breath, and let go of the envelope.  

He snapped his eyes open wide to watch it zoom off on the wind current, soaring free and true.  It would indeed go beyond the speedboat, beyond the rocket ship (for magic could do whatever it wanted here), beyond the tandem bike, camper van, and snowmobile to the Real World.

For the second time that day, Ken felt that his cheeks were damp as he watched the envelope disappear over the horizon.  The ickiness was gone, replaced by a feeling that somehow, someway, his letter would find its way to her.  But also replacing the ickiness was a familiar ache, a longing for something he wanted but just wasn’t meant to have for the time being.

A part of him was hoping he would be able to tell her in person.

Maybe someday.


Gloria knocked on Barbie’s door with the mail in hand.  To say she arrived at work surprised to find a pink envelope with stickers and blue hearts all over it on her desk was an understatement.  How it got there, she’ll never know, but her curiosity to find out what was inside was too much to make her wait until lunch to deliver it.

Good thing Barbie was off today.

The blonde opened the door with a warm grin and a peculiar look on her face, like she was trying to make sense of why Gloria was here instead of at work.  “Gloria!  Hi, what’s up?  I thought you–”  Her friend interrupted her by flashing the envelope in front of her face, and Barbie gasped.  “Where…?”

“On my desk at work, and before you ask how, I have no idea, but I’m dying to know what’s inside.”

So was Barbie, and she snatched the letter from Gloria’s grasp and walked inside, trusting her friend would follow and close the door behind her.

Ken .

Ken wrote to her?  It was a gesture that warmed her heart.  She would be lying if she said she didn’t wonder about everyone she left behind in Barbie Land, so any news from home was welcome.

The script was messy but very much Ken, and it surprised her how the sight of his words just made her homesick and happy all at once.  Until she noticed dried splotches scattered across the page, staining it a little bit.  Like tiny droplets spilled onto the paper.  Wait…no, those couldn’t be.  It wouldn’t be the first time Ken had shed tears, but the sight of them on the page made her heart constrict. 

Did something bad happen because she left?

Dear Barbie,

Hi!  It’s Ken.  How’s the Real World?  How’s being human?  Do you like it?  Is it fun?  Are you doing cool things?  Taking the Real World by storm?  I bet you are.  You are Barbie after all.  Are you happy?  I hope you are.  You deserve to be.

I know I’m probably the last person you’d expect to get a letter from.  Honestly, even while writing this, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to get this letter to you.  Maybe I shouldn’t even write the letter at all, maybe I should go to the Real World and tell you in person. It’s important enough I should. 

Maybe I should.

Maybe someday.

But for now, this will be good practice for what to tell you in person. Practice makes perfect, right?  That’s what they tell me anyway.  My attempts at doing flips say otherwise but whatever.

I’m getting off track!  Sorry sorry sorry sorry, anyway here it goes.  Ready, Barbie?

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the whole patriarchy thing.  I’m sorry for brainwashing all the Barbies…and I guess to some extent the Kens too.  I’m sorry for taking over your Dreamhouse and throwing all your stuff out.  I’m sorry for making you upset and for hurting you through all of that.  I thought maybe it would help me feel better after a long long looooong time of just not feeling great, but it didn’t.  It just made me feel like a big jerk, and I’m sorry I was a big jerk to you.  

I’m sorry that I tried to make us something you didn’t want us to be…and was probably being really annoying about it too.  I’m sorry I didn’t learn how to start living for me while you were still around.  This whole “Ken is me and that’s enough” thing is great!  But it’s kinda confusing too.  Still trying to figure out what that means, and while I do that, I still find myself looking for you.  I guess that’s the part of my - what do you call it - script?  Programming?  Whatever it is, I think that will be the hardest part to let go of because it’s the biggest part, the only part really, I’ve known for like 60-something years.  That’s not your fault though!  I guess it’s not exactly mine either, but I still feel like I should apologize for that.  I’m still working on it, I promise.

Anyway, I’m not exactly sorry I still look for you in my life because just because the whole “Ken is me”  thing is becoming an actual thing, it doesn’t erase how important you are to me.  I’m sorry I placed too much importance on you when it came to defining me.  That’s not really fair, is it… That’s like a lot , and you already were a lot even before that.  Not just because you’re Barbie, but because you’re your own person.  Barbie is enough as is, and you know what?  That’s probably the easiest part of all of this for me to accept because I’ve known that all along.  I just showed it the wrong way.  And I’m sorry for that too.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this in person when I had the chance.  You were really…kind to me and brave the last time we talked, and I should have been the same and apologized right then and there.  I just…I dunno.  There was a lot going on, and it was hard to wrap my head around it.  It’s not a good excuse, but it’s the only one I got.

I miss you.  It’s really really weird not having you around anymore.  I miss you.  We all do.  But you’re right where you need to be, and you’re happy.  That’s what we want most for you.  

And I still love you, Barbie.  I don’t know exactly in what way I do, but I still do.  That much I know to be true.  I always will.  And I know in some way, you love me too.  Not in the way I always hoped you would, but that’s okay.  I don’t know if that’s truly what I want either honestly.  Like I said, still figuring that out.

But if you ever need a friend in your corner to cheer you on and be the biggest support ever?  You know where to find me.

Always yours,

Ken

"Oh Ken,” Barbie whispered as she blinked away tears that blurred her vision.  Gloria, thankfully, was patient and silent as she gave Barbie the moment to herself.  The only reason Barbie remembered her friend was there at all was because she wrapped a comforting arm around Barbie’s shoulders.

Barbie didn’t know how she could make it happen, but the fact this letter got to her from Barbie Land was a miracle, bringing with it a staggering hope.  Maybe she could at the very least send one back.

“I need a pen.”

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