28 March 2014
Dear Zayn (still not sure if I can call you that. Am I overstepping my boundaries?),
It’s been over a month since I’ve written you. Oh, how time flies! Did you miss getting my letters? Of course you didn’t; you probably think I’m a proper creep. Quite honestly, I don’t blame you. There you are, sitting in your cell just minding your own business, when all these letters from a silly kid start pouring in one day, asking to know every little tidbit of information about your life and you’re supposed to think it’s normal? No, I definitely wouldn’t expect that of you. Niall Horan is not—and never will be—normal. It’s probably crazy, continuing to write to you, seeing as you don’t seem to want to reply, but I felt as though I had to give it a shot. You know what they say. Third time’s the charm, eh?
Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! My project, you know, the one about you? (I daren’t bore you with the details for a third time, no worries!) Anyway, it’s all done and handed in. It was nothing special, honestly. I got a decent score, by all means. I received a B+, so I’m not complaining. I just wish I could’ve spiced it up like I’d originally planned by writing it in your perspective, but oh well. Not that I’m blaming you! God, I sound like a fucking prick. That’s not what I meant at all. How shall I rephrase this? Well, if you recall me telling you, I only truly enjoy writing when I get to talk about something I have a great passion for. When I find a topic I’m interested in, the words seem to flow so seamlessly from my brain and onto the page. Essays don’t really get my creative juices flowing, if that makes any sense.
Fuck! Rereading that, I sound like a dick yet again. I’m sincerely sorry, I’m still getting used to this whole letter-writing thing. It’s not everyday I have to actually write with a pen instead of sending off a quick email or something. But I definitely didn’t mean for it to sound as if you’re not interesting to me. Like I’ve said before, your life intrigues me and I’d like to know as much about you as I possibly can. If you’ll let me, that is.
Oh my god, I’ve fucked this letter up horribly, haven’t I? I’m off to the post the very second I drop this pen. If I don’t send this abomination off to you immediately, I know I’ll rip it to shreds. Serves it right for how horrid it sounds. I want you to read it though, even if I do sound like a babbling six year old. Just knowing you know I exist would allow me to die a happy man. Will you allow me to die happy, Mr. Malik? Let me know.
Write back and I promise to leave you alone, if you so please. (Trying a bit of a new tactic. Fingers crossed it works!)
Niall.
YOU ARE READING
Alcatraz
FanfictionZayn Malik. One of the most notorious gangsters of the twenty-first century. Niall Horan. Just your average University journalism student. The two were so different from each other. They were never supposed to come in contact at all. They were neve...
