My dearest Ines,
I don't plan on sending this letter, so I'm not really sure why I'm even writing it. Wait, scratch that. I'm writing it because hopefully one day, in the future I'll be able to give this to you one way or another. I'm writing this because I need to let this all out before it explodes from within.
I'll keep this letter safe. I have a box, filled with memorabilia I don't want to lose. It's charmed, so no one can get in except for me. Or George, he's the only other person that knows where it lives. I know about his too, you know, just for worst case scenarios.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm wasting my time explaining all that, I need to get onto the most important thing.
It's valentine's day today, obviously from the date, Merlin, crap, anyway. it's valentine's day, and I'm taking someone from Ravenclaw out to Hogsmeade on a date but all I can think about is you. Which is awful, both for the girl and for you, because you're in a relationship with him, and God, I feel like a prat.
All I can think about is you, Ines, and it's slowly driving me crazy. Because all I want to be able to do is to tell you how I feel. And my feelings are built upon love. Upon admiration. Upon every single positive emotion there is. Because I feel all of that towards you.
You are my best friend, but you're also so much more than that! You're the sun, the stars, the moon...you're everything. You are everything to me, and it hurts so much I can't tell you any of this because he got there first.
He got there first, and I can't even be mad at him because no one knew. No one knows, present tense. And I think it kills me a little more everyday.
I told you in the last letter I was happy for you. I think I might've lied. I'm happy you're happy, but not that you're happy with him. It makes my skin crawl when I think about him holding your hand. Him telling you he loves you.
Because it should be me. It should be me telling you I love you. It should be me telling you everything will be okay. It should be me getting to hold your hand, to hug you.
But it's not. Maybe I should just accept the fact I was too late. And maybe I will.
I hope one day I'll be able to whisper the words I love you. To you. And even though it's selfish of me to think, I hope you two will break up.
Because I will be there to fix you back up. I always will be.
Yours,
Freddie.
