❝love, Louis.❞ [l.t.]

sixth

karios (n.) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time andplace that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, works or movement.

Dear Maddie,

I'm fine today. I didn't stop in to see Napeer for my usual appointment for the first time in five months. It was bloody fantastic. I felt so liberated, so free. But let's not talk about what happened this week any further in detail, alright? I'm still trying to get my anger under control. You always said I had issues letting go of stubborn feelings, and I guess you were right. I know you'd be telling me "I told you so, didn't I?" and ruffle up my hair if you were here. I guess I'm lucky in that sense, since my hair is sitting quite nice today. I brushed it and left it down, just how you liked it.

Did you see the word of the day? Karios? It perfectly describes the moment when I first spoke to you. Do you remember? It was a few weeks after you started regularly coming to Busy Bean. You always would come on Tuesday's and Thursday's at three, and on Sunday at noon. You would sit there at the same table near the window every time, the seat facing the area where I played. The only drink you would get was that chamomile tea with a side of honey to dip into it. You got it your first time in here and were hooked on it forevermore. Heh, it reminds me a bit of how I'll always be hooked on you. You're my chamomile tea with a side of honey, baby.

Anyhow, you would typically just look out the window whenever you could come in. Whether it was rainy or sunny, those beautiful baby blues would always be stuck to the road just behind the glass. But sometimes while my set was on I would catch you stealing glances towards me sitting atop of my stool. One time I got you to look at me for a full thirty seconds, and it still registers as one of the best accomplishes of my life.

It was after the third week of your typical routine that the courage I had been spindling up inside of me. It was Thursday, and I had spent most of my available moments watching the clock. "You'll go barmy," Mark told me after he finished up a new pot of coffee. "if you keep looking out for that girl."

I just shook my head, stuck my shaking hands in my pockets, and snuck look towards the door as the time ticked down. Soon it was three, and after a few minutes of panic, on-the-verge-of-vomiting waiting, you walked in. With the warm June weather setting in, you exposed some of your skin in a yellow dress. The sun made your skin outline with such a heavenly glow I almost had to grab my jaw to keep it attached to my skull. Just seeing the full extent of your arms and the skin up to your knees was enough to make my hands sweat even more. And not in a sexual way; yes, I was attracted to you in that way, (do not laugh at me if you read that.) but you looked beautiful, almost like a princess. And looking like a princess, I wanted to treat you as such in every tender, physical way possible.

That was the first time you officially acknowledged me. You walked in through the door just to my right, and as I turned to look at you as discreetly as I possibly could, you looked over at me, smiled a bit, and then walked over to your spot. I almost had my heart break through my chest and follow after you. Mark looked over at me with a humored expression, but I ignored him and sat down on my stool, wiping my hands on my pants so I could properly play my guitar.

My set was hard to play that day. Do you remember why? I don't know if this was a conscious decision on your part, but you didn't just stare for half a minute this time you were here. Oh no, you watched half of a song, a whole minute and forty five seconds or so. I struggled to find the right chords to play and the right tune to see in, with my fingers going numb and my throat closing up. To have you watching me for that long felt like such a gift, and it hadn't even been an occasion for me to get one.

You got your tea and watched the window for the rest of the time. You constantly fiddled with your feet though, uncrossing them and then wrapping one around the other. The chamomile didn't seem to do it's job in calming you down. You were anxious about something, and that also contributed to the struggle I had while playing. I was more concerned about what was bothering you than whether it was a sharp A or C that was coming up in the note order.

I remember the reason for your nervousness was for me to finish my session. At the time I had no idea, otherwise I would have chucked the guitar at the wall and given up the music to finish it up as soon as possible. You told me about the same time that I told you about my farting incident. Which, by the way, I will never ever bring up with you or anyone else ever again. You wanted me to finish my session so you could talk to me.

You wanted to talk to me. You wanted to talk to me. You wanted to talk to me. You wanted to talk to me.

I had just finished my original acoustic version of Make Me Want to Die by White Reaper (which, by the way, is a song that reminded me of you and was the only reason I sang it at a coffee shop. You know that song, it doesn't fit in with the feeling of a coffee shop, now does it?) when you got up from your seat. I thought you were leaving, but as I put my guitar down and reached over for my water bottle, I saw you walking over to me. I put the bottle to my lips and kept from looking at you so I wouldn't start choking on the water, though that was unavoidable when I heard you cough under my breath and stood three feet in front of me, those eyes of yours gleaming bright.

"Hi," you said softly; it was the first time I had ever heard your voice so close. The only other words that came out of your mouth around me were "the chamomile tea and honey on the side, please."

I spit the mouthful of water I had back into the bottle and swallowed air I needed to breath. You startled me and usually that got me irritated, but since it was you I was just... shocked.

"Hey," I responded, trying my best to keep my mouth from falling open onto the floor.

"I liked the set today. You sing really nicely."

Your voice melted in my ears and warmed me right to my core. I stuttered to tell you thank you since I was so struck by you, and I was pretty sure the tip of my ears got red from it. I was glad my hair covered them so you couldn't notice and ask about it. I wouldn't want to scare you away with my answer of "oh, you know, you're just so beautiful and speak like an angel my body just can't help but react this way!".

"T-thanks. You're, um, someone that usually is around when I play."

"Yeah, I like the songs you do, especially in your voice, so I really like listening."

God, how you were making it hard for me not to reach out and clasp you in a never ending hug. How could someone be so damn marvelous?

"I just wanted to let you know. Thanks for the show," You reached out and stuck three pounds in my tip jar, and I only could respond with a "you're welcome". Thinking back on it, I totally regret not thanking you for the tip. The only thoughts that could come to my mind were so blurry and fritzy that my manners seemed to slip from my head.

When you went to the door, seeing that the conversation kind of dissipated, I could feel a call out to you crawling up my throat. Before I could stop myself I had my hand locked around your arm, and you turned back to me with raised eyebrows. I asked you what your name was, and you smiled. "Madeline," you told me quietly. "I already know your name." When you told me that I was sure that I had flat lined. You had known my name, but how? When? Why were you interested in knowing it?

"You do?" I questioned, sure the look on my face was the reason you were biting your cheek to keep from laughing at me.

"Yeah, you're Louis."

And I knew in that exact moment, Madeline - with your body ten feet from mine, your smile wide and as bright as your eyes, the warm air bringing out the equally warm feeling in my heart even though it ached from your departure - that that was the moment I fell in complete and utter love with you.

This letter has been long and my fingers have been crampin' for some time now. I think I'll go and take a walk, stretch my legs and circulate the blood to my toes since this put me in a more optimistic mood. :) It's sunny, just like the day we first talked.

Happy days... ?

love, Louis.

****

Hello hello! First time saying hello here as a 17 year old and I've been DYING to update this story. I loved writing this chapter (which is why it's long, sorry about that...) and needed to post this as soon as possible. The feels were just too much man.

GOD I SHOP LOUELINE SO MUCH, GaH !

And I know I said I would update this letter once I hit 1K, but because it being Madeline and Louis' "first meeting" anniversary (happy 5 years!), I thought it was impossible to wait till then.

So enjoy, vote, comment, share. x