25 Letters [h.s]

Letter 16

I couldn't get myself to talk to Louis. I needed time before I could face him again, all the missed phone calls and voice messages from Louis proof of my cowardliness. I know I talked to him at 5 in the morning, but only because I knew he was half drunk. It was like a practice round for the real thing.

Besides, I was busy with homework, with friends, with school. I went over my excuses over and over in my head, as though if I could believe them maybe Louis could too. I met up with him on Monday morning, today was Friday. Since then I've fully moved back into my old apartment, went out to lunch with a few friends and struggled to keep up mentally.

I checked my phone for the time, 1:32 pm. Ten minutes before my next class, and three more hours until I'd get back to my apartment. I sat alone outside eating a taco from one of the venders outside, going over the papers for my next class in fear that I may fall behind.

Shuffling through my bag, my right hand clasped an envelope and I decided if anything was going to get me through the day, it would be letter number sixteen.

Dear Anastasia,

It's a bad day. We all have great days, when nothing at all seems to matter and happiness has it's own plan of finding the good in virtually everything. 

We all have bad days too, like the yin and yang. The good and the bad. But my bad days are the worst for me, today's no exception. 

Today feels like cumulonimbus clouds clouding my brain. I can try to fake happiness, but it's not going to get rid of the storms in my head. It seems like the only cure for days like this is Vodka. Eight shots of it and I'm cured, until it wears off and explodes into a volcanic island. 

For the first time since I've even had 'bad days' the vodka didn't work. I still feel sadness pulsing through my veins at three in the morning instead of alcohol. I want to forget yet I'm only remembering and it kills me. I'm so scared Ana, I don't want to feel like this forever. I don't want bad days to turn into bad weeks. I want to be happy I really do. I want to not feel like there's always a piece of me missing because I am incapable of feeling how I felt when I was 18 when all I knew was opportunity and high hopes and open doors. As hard as I try, as much poison I feed myself, I can't forget my deepest secret- I shouldn't be with you Anastasia. I knew who I was before we started dating. I knew I was fucked up and depressed. I wanted to fix myself, but you were better at fixing me than I ever could be. I shouldn't of put that on to you, it's so unfair. That's one thing I can never forgive myself for doing. It was selfish, I'm so sorry. I'll jump off the bridge sorry, and I will enter the ground sorry for putting you through the hell I had to go through. 

Love,

Harry. 

"Anastasia! we've got maths next. Walk with me?" Dani, who I obviously had math with was towering over me. I struggled to look at her, as the sun was right next to her. I nodded and gathered my things, letting her lead the way and the conversation. I wan't even listening, just nodding whenever she looked over at me with a smile.

//

I counted the assignments I had to complete in my head as I searched my bag for the keys. My ears were plugged into a Bon Iver song, hoping the sounds I was hearing could ease the stress. I didn't even bother to look up as I pushed my body through the door, threw my keys on the counter and poured myself a drink.

My fingertips searched my playlists for another song I could emerse my brain into. I brought the whiskey I had poured myself to my lips, feeling it burn down my throat like everything in my neck was gasoline and the alcohol was fire. I looked straight ahead, and I knew the heartbeat in my chest didn't speed up because I could feel the liqour kick in. Was I imagining it? Down the hall, sitting on my couch was a shadow. I couldn't make out the figure because my eyes needed to adjust, I squinted and opened up the telephone app, nine already pushed in.

"Ana? It's only me Louis." I let out a breathe and closed my eyes, thanking god I wasn't about to die. 

"Louis what the hell? How did you get into my apartment?" He walked closer to me, I moved closer to the door.

"Your parents!" I searched his face for any evidence of a lie. He flipped on a light switch, and his face became visible.

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk, we haven't done much of that lately." I stood there, not breaking eye contact with Louis. He knew full well that nothing about what was going on was fine by me. "I mean I have, you haven't. Listen, I know coming in here without your consent is such a douche move of me and you can tell me all about it and scream at me and throw whatever you want at me. Just please Anastasia, I need to talk to you." Almost without blinking and without losing his gaze, I sat back down on my couch. Louis muttered 'thank you's under his breathe and was quick to sit down on the couch across from me.

"Okay Ana, assuming you haven't heard the voicemails and read the text messages, the one thing I want to let you know is you're right. I gamble a lot. I'm great at it, only because I'm good at math. And drinking. And smoking weed, and cigarettes and cigars and basically whatever smoke will come out of, you name it, I've done it. But Ana I swear to god there's so much more to me than some washed up twenty something year old. I know this goes without saying but just for the record- I like you. A lot. It always occurs to me how twisted this whole thing is, how hard and messy everything that's happened. Hear me out though Ana, you don't deserve to pick up the pieces and regret things. You are allowed to move on Anastasia, you really are. You are allowed to be happy and if you get any happiness at all from me, I'd be glad to stick around." Louis finished with a deep breath and I couldn't help but simply look at him. He seems so flustered but somehow relaxed, like everything he has ever needed to say was out there on the table and it feels peaceful to get the thoughts in your brain into words. The weird lighting made his jawline stand out and if nothing else, I needed a second to look.

It was my turn. "I'm a pretty fucked up person as it is, Louis. Most days I don't want to even leave my bed, hell most days I don't want to be alive. I have a lot wrong with me, my boyfriend died and now I'm left reading a shit ton of letters from what's basically what is now human remains. How fucked is that? But you, Louis Tomlinson, out of everything I am, you are my biggest flaw, and we both know goddamn well that's the truth."

Louis wouldn't look up from his shoes, but I could tell he was slightly nodding his head. "I understand. See you soon I hope." I watched as he got up and left, maybe I told him too much. Maybe he opened his eyes and saw that I wasn't right for him. He pulled the door open, it was now or never I kept telling myself.

"Wait! Louis come back wait." He turned around, I could smell his cologne and the only logical explanation for what I did next was his scent clouded my judgement. I knew it was my voice who spoke next, but it was like I was watching a version of me speak, letting another, more bolder person step in for me. "Can you stay? You know, just for the night? Only if you want to."

"Yes. Yes I would love that Anastasia."