𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟷𝟺 ; 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟷𝟺 ; 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎

Dear, Lawrence December 2, 1889

      I cannot seem to stay asleep, so I guess I'll be writing to you at four in the morning. Though I love dawn, I wish I could spend this morning with you. Yet, I'm afraid I've ruined that opportunity for myself.
     Every time I see you I debate whether or not to kiss you, and every time my heart wins, I get too nervous to stay afterwards, in fear of how you'll react or what you'll say. But this time you kissed me back, Lavender.. my Lavender.
    I know I'm immature, running from my problems, quite literally, but I'm scared of what you'll say. It just changes things after what you said, that your feelings never changed. I have a battle in my head, wondering if I should let myself love you or live each day at the service of your brother and sister.
     I just wish that I knew a little earlier how I felt. I could've saved us so much pain. I could be with you, happy. I can only wonder if that will work now. I sit, thinking of the logistics and wondering if you're worth it no matter what. I can't help but feel that you are.
     
     If I'm honest, I wish I didn't love you, but also I love it at the same time. I love looking at you, and seeing you, and talking to you. I get jealous whenever I see you with another guy. Especially now that I know you could actually be with them... I got angry just with you looking at Winsley and I feel sick to my stomach about it. I feel like I'm broken.

I'll figure it out.

Love, Tate.

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

     I woke up to a pounding on the door and sigh, "Goddamnit Lawrence! Why'd you block the door!! You haven't done that since you were little what're you doing in there!?"
     I groan, "I was tired and wanted to fall asleep in silence for once... I've had a weird day."
    "Ugh... well," Mama starts as I move the thing from blocking the door. I sleepily fall back into the bed.
      Tate's trench coat surrounded my body, a little wet from melted snow. It was warm... I used it as a blanket.
     The door opens and she smiles at me, undoing my hair from a bun and smiling, "Brush this out and then come downstairs, we're having dinner with Mr Tillings again. He's supposed to not have much time left..."
     "Oh dear..." I mumble, partly in distress over Mr. Tillings but also loathing the fact that I have to go downstairs and face Tate again after not only him kissing me, but having kissed him back.

     I've never done anything real with him before, and oh god does it feel utterly shameful to do. "Well..."I mumble, grabbing a hairbrush and scraping it through my frizzy hair before I start walking down the stairs. "I just need to change out of-"
     "Fine just come down quick!" She interrupts with a whisper-yell, going down the stairs in a rush. I sigh. He's seen me in worse clothes of course, but I wanted to look my best, I wanted him to regret running.
     I put in one of his favorites, a light blue and lavender dress with a low cut and sharp drop corset, the shoulders draping off my true ones and landing gracefully on the tops of my arms.
     As I walk down the stairs, I hear talking from the dining room. Tate's voice ringing happily as he responds to his father. His father seemed happy, calmer than before.
     I think he wants to be with his wife again. I know it.
     "Well I've been playing since I was young, dad-"
     "Oh don't act like you're not still young and pristine boy! You age with dignity and not without pride!" I hear them speak from the stairs as I round the corner with my mom.
     "Here's the lovely lady!" She says with a light laugh, going and sitting down as I walk nervously to the table and take my seat. I was across from him. He stares at me for a moment, his jaw slack.
     "Hello..." he mumbles ever so slightly, but his voice sticks out from the rest. They all greet me with hellos and good evenings, I smile at them all except for him. I skip over him.