Multifandom Imagines

Brenton Thwaites ~ 5 Reasons Why

This is a letter the reader is writing to Brenton. The parts in italics are the letter. The parts in regular text are set off by squiggles (or whatever you want to call them) and they narrate a situation in which the reader is in that deals with the trait they are describing. They are NOT part of the letter, only merely flashbacks of sorts. Because who wants to read a one-shot that's just a letter? Hope you enjoy! There might be a part 2, where Brenton writes a letter back to the reader.

Female reader.

~~~

Dear Brenton,

You infuriate me. You anger me. You make me feel so many emotions that I can't even begin to describe with words. And you know what? I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate you so much. Thanks for the unnecessary feelings.

I've talked to my friend about it, and she suggested I write a list of reasons why I hate you. I forget why, but it seemed important at the time, and I have some time to write, so why not.

So here's 5 reasons why I hate you.

1) I hate your smirks and smiles you always wear.

It always drives me crazy whenever you smile or smirk, whether it was directed at me or not. It's unsettling, to say the least. I hate how they make me go all jello in the knees. I hate how they give me butterflies in my stomach. I hate how every time you smirk, you always seem to know what I'm thinking, always seem to know how I feel, always seem to be able to look through to my soul and to my deepest, darkest secrets.

~~~

I looked up from my writing, seeing everyone around me in the courtyard. Lunch time was always a time I had time to myself to think. I could always relax under the big tree in the courtyard, observing people and things while I sat with my thoughts and some paper and a writing utensil.

This time, my friend group--which included Brenton--decided to accompany me to the tree. So there we all sat, in the shade of the tree, laughing and having a good time. As I was looking around, Brenton caught my eye and smirked. The smirk. The one that can make anyone swoon.

I felt my face heat up. "What?"

"Nothin'. You look really deep in thought." he replied, playing with the grass. "Kinda cute." he adds as an afterthought.

"Gee, thanks." I mutter, turning back to my writing to hide my growing blush and missing the sad smile he shot in my direction.

~~~

2) I hate your hair.

I hate how your hair always looks so soft and fluffy, no matter how much gel or product you put in it. It makes me so mad that you can get your hair to cooperate with you every day, and how you always make it look good. Whereas with me, when it does decide to cooperate with me, I always somehow make it look worse than when I woke up with it. It's annoyingly beautiful, your hair. 

~~~

My head rests on my arms in the most boring class of existence. My attention can't help but wander as the teacher drones on and on, my ears tuning out their voice and turning it into white noise.

My eyes go everywhere around the room, but they always seem to find their way to the back of the head of the boy sitting in front of me: Brenton Thwaites.

He's recently dyed his hair platinum blond, with the undertones of his hair still his natural brown. But that's not why I keep staring at it. His hair always seems to be in some nice up-do, never having a day where it isn't cooperative. It looks pretty soft, too.