doctor, doctor. || rydellington

✿

final part.
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     Dear Ellington,

     I am so sorry for not responding to your letter earlier. I was too weak. My head has been hurting like crazy, I feel like I'm slowly going insane. I'm not going to make it through the night.

     I was so happy when I got your letter. I have missed you terribly — why did you even leave? I need you. My family only worries about me. You made me feel the slightest bit of normal, even though I already knew I'm about to end. You've been on my mind a lot, too. You're the only thing that distracts me from the pain in my head, leg and chest. The last day I saw you, I attempted to be nice to you. But you left.

     It's okay, it's not your fault. After all, you barely knew me. You never got the chance you deserve. So here it is. Here's everything you need to know about me.

     I'm 22. I play keyboard and I love to sing and dance. I auditioned for Alice In Wonderland, but didn't get the role. My favourite bands are Neon Trees and The 1975 — I saw both of them in concert, more than once. I have four brothers, but you probably already have met them. My favourite country is England. My favourite food is sushi. My favourite film is 10 Things I Hate About You. I've never had a boyfriend before — I have imagined you as my first, though — and I also never have been kissed.

     I've always had a weak heart. Medically and metaphorically. Medically because, well, I'm going to die tonight. I'm going to die from a few simple injuries, like broken ribs. Metaphorically because it decided to fall for you the first time I saw you. I pushed you away for a good reason, Ellington. To quote The Fault In Our Stars: I'm a a grenade, and at some point I'm going to blow up, and I would like to minimise the casualties. I don't want to hurt you.

     I miss you a lot. I'm even crying as I write this. I wish I could have more time with you. But I guess this is where it's going to end.

     It's not your fault, Ellington. I was dumb enough to cross the street without looking left or right. It's not your fault. It was mine.

     I wish I could have more time to fall in love with you — although I barely know what love is, either.

     Love,

     Rydel.

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a/n: this chapter is dedicated to everyone that made it far enough through the story to be reading this right now. thank you.

(: