𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟸 ; 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟸 ; 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

To my Deepest Love,

I've always been honest to you, especially now more than ever. I never wanted to lie, and since I must today. I have to at least tell you how I feel in my letter.
But now, I don't have time.

Until I see you again, until our lips meet, and until you love me, I'll be waiting.

forever yours, Tate.

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

I lift up my dress and fluff it out a little before walking in, passing the scurrying servants and Presley and Koremen sitting at the table. I rush up the stairs to ensure Mr. Tillings doesn't see me in this state. The dress was the one Tate had made for me. I knew he'd notice. Nobody else has. I walk into his room, immediately seeing him laying on his bed with his hands on his stomach. He looked blankly at the ceiling.
I immediately begin talking, "God Avery is in such a bad mood, Tate! He made me walk in the rain alone and I swear I've never been this wet in my life and it's right before the dinner and my mom told me not to look unpresentable because she wouldn't be happy and I don't wanna make her mad again-"
His head turns over to me slowly, stopping my train of thought with his pleading, red eyes. Something must be wrong. He stands up, closes the door completely, and then grabs onto my face and kisses me harshly, deeply, longingly.
I smile against his lips, "Okay, wanna actually use your words and have a conversation now?" I ask and he laughs lightly.
"no. well yes of course but also god I wanna kiss you more."
I laugh. "Well do my hair first because mom is going to get so angry if I look like this during the dinner."
He nods, pulling me onto his bed in front of a mirror, where he stands up and begins to braid the front pieces of my hair back, so half of it was in a braid crown and the other half was straight down my back. He savored every touch he had on my body, doing it lightly and giving me goosebumps from his touch.
He was so warm.
"Look," Tate mumbles, staring at me in the reflection of the mirror. "I'll always love you. Always."
I laugh, "However hard it is for me to believe that you love me now, we have so much time for me to understand. What's wrong? You can tell me Tate.."
He shakes his head, kissing my neck right next to the hickeys he left earlier that are covered by my hair.
"No, Love. You have to understand now. You have to. You have to understand that you will always, no matter what, be the one for me. Be mine."
I stand up, my hair finished and his face full of sorrow. I furrow my eyebrows, confused. He kisses me, kissing down my neck and onto my exposed chest, down my arms. He pushes me onto the bed, lifting up the fabric of my dress and grabbing onto my thighs, his body in between my legs.
"What? What're you doing Tate?" I mumble, and he groans. "I need you to know it.. I need you to."
He was so desperate, needy. His hands grab my boobs through my dress. His hands were so so so much bigger than mine.
I moan, trying to pull myself together. "Tate.. we can't right now... we have time.." I say between moans, trying to convince myself too.
He looks up at me, falling onto his knees in desperation and kissing my legs. "You're beautiful, Lawrence."
I push him to the side, laughing nervously. I get on my knees on the bed so I can see him, and grab onto his jaw, leaning down to kiss his lips and smiling. "Nothing bad will happen, Tate!"
"I'm scared, Lawrence." he mumbles, shaking his head. I sigh, I know what I have to do even if it gets held over my head.
I need it, either from everything with Avery or from just the sheer feelings I've had for him for so long.
I do. I love him. I really do.

"I love you, Tate." I assure, and his eyes begin to water, my stomach churns.
  He grabs onto my face, looking into my eyes and pressing his forehead to mine. "Oh, darling.."
There's a pause between his sentences, his next step unknown.
"I can't make this any harder than it will be for us." He finally speaks, right before we get called down to dinner. He holds my head in his hands, pulling me in and kissing my one more time. His lips engulfed my own, subtly but with dominance. I felt his love, as if he kissed sermons into me. He pressed his lips so fully against my own, staying still and soaking in my energy.
     Yet, as his soft lips pull away, slowly and delicately, his whole demeanor changes before my eyes. He throws on his overcoat, turns, and walks out without me, without another word, leaving me yearning for more.