𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟹 ; 𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝙷𝚎𝚛

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟹 ; 𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝙷𝚎𝚛

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

Dear, my Lawrence, my forever, my love

I'm pathetic, Lawrence. Tears won't stop soaking the paper, ruining the ink you purchased for me on a trip to London. My time is spent scribbling all of my words to you. Yet somehow, I can't stop crying.
I rarely cry, I didn't cry at my mothers death, I didn't cry at my broken arm, I won't even cry at my father's death, but I've cried over you repeatedly. Every time I cry when I lose you, and somehow I didn't take the hint that maybe I should've kept you safe with me.
I've spent enough time recently thinking of us, how I treated you, how much time I wasted, that I remember each time I cried.
I cried after you told me you loved me, that first time outside with your hands wrapped around me when we were only 17. You asked if I would ever love you the same way I did Presley. I knew I loved you, or at least I used to, but at that moment, the month after I decided to elope with Presley, you told me, and for once I didn't want you. Well I did, but I didn't want to. So I told you no.
I blame it on me, but I also blame it on you, Renny. That I said no, I mean. You chose the first month I started pursuing Presley. I didn't love her. I never did. I loved you, I always had, but that month I made the stupid decision to go for her. Your family wanted me to choose her, I felt obligated.
If I had waited a month, or if you had done it earlier, we would've been happy right now, together with none of this having ever happened. However we can't, because I said no.
I felt terrible when I said it, covered in rain and silt, and I knew immediately that I shouldn't have. But I couldn't take it back.
You cried. In my arms. All while I knew I loved you and that I just didn't have the gut to say it back.
I held you and I smelt the warm vanilla in your hair and your clean jasmine perfume, I felt your soft skin under my touch and I heard your soft cries, and I somehow still told you I didn't want you. even though your touch is the only thing I loved. I was so endearing during this, because how I adored you, and your touch just made me want to scream my desire for you.
I should've said it, I should've pushed it out, but I didn't.

Now, I've once again regretted not tell the truth.
The way you looked at me, the way the words flew out of my mouth like nothing, I'm disgusted with myself just how you are with me.
I look out the window and see Avery's arms around your broken, wet body just as mine had been before.

I'm sorry my Lavender.

Forever yours, Tate.

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

"She's fine.." I mumble, "Just didn't feel well."
A lie like this, in this cocky and disgusting tone, only made me feel more disgusting. My stomach flipped, coiling within itself as she struggles to put her shoes on. She was shaking, her shoulders slouched and her face displaying unwavering shock. She was frozen.
Lawrence looks at me one more time, her eyes full of pain and disgust, and my stomach churns. I wanted to spit it out, to just tell her how much I loved her and take my cruel words back. I wished nothing more... but I couldn't. This was for her.

I look back on today, the moment standing still as our time together flashes before my eyes. I realize that now, truly, is the last time she will acknowledge me. Her eyes were stone set on my own, pleading for me to reveal any form of remorse. I couldn't. I could just hope that somehow she could read my thoughts, know the truth.

I knew that that was one of the last times she'd ever look my in the eyes again, that this morning was the last time I'd ever kiss her, and that her I love you was the last one I'd hear. So I pay attention while she looks at me, it was only a second or two long, but I wanted to make it feel like it lasted forever. Even if it's the most hurt I've ever seen her, I wanted to keep her face in my head. I replay our story. I couldn't help it as I watched my world walk away from me.
The train, the trip, the letters, the kisses, the desire, the planning. Now, I only plan for a day she will graze my hand at the dinner table once more.