𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟺 ; 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢, 𝚁𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟸𝟺 ; 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢, 𝚁𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

Dear, Lawrence

      It's so dark outside, so rainy and so cold. I couldn't do anything, anything except worry at least. Worry about you, about my future, about whether or not I would have to live the rest of my life watching you from afar. I've always watched over you, but never being able to talk to you? I couldn't do it. I see anything interesting and your face comes to mind, thinking of your giggle and your blush that will appear across the apples of your cheeks when I tell you about it.
     I hate feeling like this, like your something so far away now that I can't even touch you. I can't talk to you, I can't kiss you, I can do none of the things I took for granted. I had wanted to do them for so long, press my lips to your skin and hear you say my name in that loving tone, have you under me and not have to hold back on my tendencies, to just let you see how much I wanted you. But somehow, after all of those years of wanting, after I finally got it, I didn't appreciate it enough.
     I feel like I both remember so vividly, and don't remember at all, how it felt to kiss you, our lips to be pressed in harmony. I hate it. I want to remember every detail of you, every mark on your body, how smooth your skin was against my calloused fingers, but I don't.
     I wish I could just have you for one more minute, kissing you deeply and mumbling how much I loved you into your ear. Remembering each piece of your body that fit into mine so well, just like my mothers jigsaw puzzles.
     But instead I'm just remembering how It took twenty years for me to sway you, to develop my love and adoration completely, to finally make a move. Yet, it only took twenty seconds for all that work to disappear under my hands. I want you back Lawrence. I regret every word I've said and every woman I've touched and every time I denied you and hurt you, to the point that I know I can't take back my actions, I can just fix them.
     I need to fix us, Lawrence.
    Cause I'm realizing that without you, without having you at least be in my life everyday, romantic intentions or not, I'd die.
     I need you Lawrence. I'll have you, I promise.

Love, Tate.

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

     I couldn't stand it anymore, the way the silence made me feel. I was in pain and it wouldn't stop. I couldn't forget about her for a second, or the way she looked at me, or how she felt against my lips, or how she talked.
     I went through the pouring rain, my shoes covered in mud and my hair soaked, but I didn't care. She never cared, she always said when my hair was wet and stuck to my forehead that I looked beautiful. I never once wore an umbrella outside again. I wanted to be her definition of beautiful, of course her type was built off of me though. She's loved me since she was little.

     I walked into the door, nobody was home except Avery, Lawrence, and Presley. I took off my shoes and my over coat, and I began my trip up the stairs. I wanted to see her, I couldn't stop thinking about her and what I did.
    "What do you think you're doing, Tate!?" Avery asks, grabbing onto my wrist from behind, trying to pull me but I snatch my arm back to my side. He caught me, but I have no shame. I turn my head to look at him, my hand lingering on the railing.
     "I can't do this anymore! I love her Avery! You don't understand how bad I hurt her and I- I can leave her, but I can't not talk to her, or stroke her hair... or see her! I'm living in a constant state of pain when I know how bad she hates me, Avery. She loved me just twelve hours ago and I want to go back to that... I miss her... please.." I beg.
     He's my best friend, or at least he was. I assume he'd understand. Even with the regret I know he's feeling too. He didn't think she loved me that much, or maybe he didn't see me loving her this much, with my whole heart and my whole body.
      He stares at me, furrowed brows. His internal battle was on full display.
      "You don't understand Tate! I made you do this for a reason. You weren't good together, she could've done so much more if her love for you wasn't holding her back. You're the problem Tate! I love you to death... but she loved you too much, it was what's best for her. A month of pain for a life of happiness. You didn't love her the same way she loved you, you- you never loved her! She's gonna go to university now and she's gonna meet a guy and make great business opportunities for us-"
     "She's not an object to be pushed around and forced to do what you want her to! She's hurting right now and you caused this! You made me do this! You're not allowed to tell me who I loved."
     "You agreed, and you've always said you didn't want her. I remember. We were 12 years old when I first asked you if you noticed her obsession with you, you said you would never like her. Just a month ago, her head rested on your lap and when we walked back to my house you reassured how weird she was. You didn't want her!"
     "You told me if I didn't do this then she'd be shipped off! If I knew you wouldn't let me see her or- or how bad shed be hurt, I would've much rather her been shipped off with the idea that I love her. She thinks I don't and, I can't handle it. I said that stuff to you so that you wouldn't know. I knew it was going to mess everything up! We were waiting, Avery... I just didn't know how I felt when I was 12."
     "You don't love her Tate! Its too bad, we can't go back! We're too far in!"
     He forcefully pulls me down the stairs in an effort to keep me away from her. I trip over the last step, falling down on the back of my palms and bending my elbow in in the process. I quickly moving to prop myself up against the couch.
     My arm buzzed. I quickly suck in air.
    "Fuck!" I scream, and Presley came rushing down the stairs.
      "Avery! What has gotten into you!?" She asks, staring at him disapprovingly and rushing over to grab a damp wash cloth. As if the dampness would help the internal pain.
     I look at him with disgust, cradling my own elbow. I can only wonder if she was up there with her, if she heard the things I said, if she told Renny the truth.
     Her mood was that of a mother, protecting Lawrence in a way I never thought I would see her do. She was pretty, and her long straight black hair made it all the way down to her waist. Her night dresses always seemed classy and expensive, and she always smelt like clean cotton. She took care of me. She took care of everybody. She seemed like the perfect girl. I understand why I was supposed to be with her, why the Lace's put me in this position.
     However, I never wanted her. Sure, we flirted, but it was only because we had to. I thought I had to love her. And no, I did not a have sex with her.
     I couldn't do that when i'm the back of my mind I always wanted Lawrence to be my first, to feel my love in such an intimate way.