Louis Tomlinson Imagines

U.N.I.

Credit : anonymous on tumblr

You came home from school and your roommate was waiting for you in the living room. “This was in the mail for you.” She stammered. She held out the letter. You took it from her hand and noticed the writing on the front.

“Oh.” You whispered. “I’m just going to take this to my room to read.” You looked up at her. She nodded. You walked into your room. The letter in your hand was from your ex-boyfriend Louis. It had been six months since you broke up and moved out. You opened the envelope and took a deep breath before reading the page. 

“To My Angel,
I’m just going to start off by saying the only thing that really matters; I miss you. But that’s me being selfish. I saw you today, visiting with your friends. It was the highlight of my week. How pathetic is that? Seeing you across a crowded cafe, not even talking to you, was the best thing I can remember happening in a while. 

You were right, though. We needed this split. I was becoming detached. There just wasn’t enough time in the day for work and you, and you deserve someone who can give you more than 2 hours a day. And with you starting school in a different city, it would be next to impossible to try to catch you between classes. It would also be unfair of me to expect you to be waiting for me whenever I had the time to talk to you. 

I have to tell myself this everyday. Every fucking day, because sometimes I get so mad that I let you go. And you’d think that maybe repeating this mantra would help, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing I can do to make this pain go away. And I have to keep pretending I’m okay because no one understands how it feels like a knife waking up every day alone. Especially after waking up to you every day. 

It’s understandable if you’d rather keep things going the way they are now, but I couldn’t keep going without having you at least know how hopelessly devoted I am to you. 

Yours Always, 
Louis”

You put the letter down on your desk. It still hurt you to think of Lou and the idea that he was hurting just as much ripped you apart. You pulled your phone out of your purse and dialed his number. The answer was almost immediate. 

“Listen, I know, that letter was inappropriate. But I don’t regret writing it.” He said quickly. 

“What if I told you I missed you too?”
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.
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xx.