Choose Your Prize (George Shelley/Union J)

Chapter Twelve: Letters

A/N: Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? For those of you who haven't read my last update, basically, I was put in temporary stay at an inpatient mental facility in the United States. If you don't know this, I'm from the UK so it was a long travel and it wasn't easy to get internet service.

Basically, all is better now, I'm fine and well and if any of you care enough to know what happened, my inbox is forever open.

I'm pleased to come back and see that I've finally reached my goal of 10,000 reads. I couldn't do it without you guys. I love each and every one of you so so much and I feel as if you deserve this chapter. I hope it satisfies, seeing as I took such a drastic period of absence towards my writing.

Also, this is a different type of chapter because I've picked up a more poetic writing style.

Chapter Twelve

Dear Friend,

     It's been a lovely five or so years, hasn't it? But you know, it's not entirely my fault. Not anymore it isn't. It's kind of fucked up like that, yeah? How we believed that we can go from hate to love, but really it was never more than a little lust at all. How we believed love would last when I stayed here and you went off on your own.

    And it's not like it even happened gradually, no. One day you just woke up, pulled open the curtains of your hotel room to be kissed by the warm lips of the shining sun, and you though, "I'm not going to call today. Or tomorrow. Or ever."

   Don't you find that quite morbid? How you can just give up; no reasons, explanations, justifications, anything? I had to sit around and wonder if you had fallen off the earth or not. How does it feel knowing you left me dangling by a thread, all alone in a vicious world, and you didn't even give a shit?

       I think the problem with me is that I care way too much about people who don't care back. That's why I always get hurt. But it's human. And we, as human, hurt everything. Including each other; especially each other. One of the worst feelings though, is realizing, all this time, you didn't mean as much to someone as you thought you did. It makes you feel stupid and desperate. That's how you made me feel.

        I just need to know that someone out there still cares, and still wants to listen. I want someone to tell me they understand, and truly mean it. I need to know these people still exist, in this cruel, twisted world. Unfortunately, you have shown to me you can't be one of them, which is a pity because I had hope for you.

        Over the years without you, I've found out that times get tough and life gets hard, but it will pass. Now, I'm not too sure. Clearly not everything has passed if I'm writing this letter to you, half a decade later. I feel like there's something left to say, something I'm afraid to say, but I'm not sure what it is yet. It's going to hurt me for the rest of my life, but I understand why. It hurts me, because for some silly reason, I still care. But, you know what they say; life begins when fear ends, right? You're so far away from me, but I'm determined to find you because distance means a little when the person you're searching for means so much.

      We're like a bunch of lines. Parallel lines are very similar and never meet, which is sad. However, all other pairs of lines cross paths at one point, connect, and then they continue on with their lives forever. Is that sad, or am I being poetic?

          I can say I fell in love with the morning and how the crisp sheets hugged your bare arms when you were still groggy. How you steadied your eyes from left to right to be able to stand up without getting dizzy. How you would throw back your head and laugh whenever someone made a joke.

         I love the way you clear your throat and add a little grunt towards the end. I love the way you bite your lip when you get nervous, or when someone knows a little too much of a story. I love the way your cheeks flash pink before you stand in front of a group of people. The way you stare directly into my eyes when I'm speaking, and slowly look at my lips and see if the words I express match my expressions. The way you make your elbow touch mine whenever we sit next to each other, even if you just want perfect alignment. I love the way music can take over your thoughts and make you say everything you have to say.

          I love the pottery shop down the road of your house, with the freckled old woman who waters her daisies and lillies each morning, offering a balloon to the passing children. I love the walk home from your house while thinking about all your little quirks that make you, you. I love when you call me drunk, at three in the night, and you still make me want to get up and speak to you.

           Somewhere in between all that, I noticed I had fallen in love with your existence and presence in my life. You had filled a hole in my heart and I loved every thing that came along with you.

                                                          Although, soon after, I realized; I am not in love with you.

- Ingrid Porter

So, how was it guys? I know it was very short considering the last time I updated, but I felt it was necessary. If it dragged on, it would just be boring. Feedback?x

By the way this was set around 8 years after X-Factor. Opinions? Thoughts? What should happen next? I'm all ears!

Thanks for your patience. x