Adolescent Foolishness (A Fearless Vampire Killers Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty-Six

(Trigger warning: content concerning self-harm, depression, etc. Don't say I didn't warn ya)

[One Week Later]

[Shane's P.O.V.]

Dear Drew,

One week. It's been one whole week without so much as a word from you. Not a phone call, nor a text, nor even a message online. It's like I don't even exist, in your mind. I don't understand what's happening anymore, and I don't even know if I want to understand. I just know that I don't like how things have turned out.

In fact, I've been thinking recently. About how different things were before I told you how I feel about you. I'd like to think they were better. Much better. Sure, it hurt to see you with anyone else, every little flirt directed at someone that wasn't me pained me, and every time a fan wrote a silly fanfiction or made a suggestive comment about the pair of us, I would die a little inside. Because I wanted it all to be true. You know, a silly little thing: I used to read the fanfictions people would send us. Laurence read them out of sheer curiosity, and simply because he enjoys reading what other people take time to create for the band's enjoyment. We all know that, as do you. But I read them mostly because I wanted to believe what was in them. I wanted to think that someday those things would really happen, that maybe one day I would get to say you were mine. We would call each other stupid pet names, hold hands and know it meant more than just being close friends, we would kiss and cuddle and go on dates, and all that sentimental muck.

I say it's muck because, well, I guess I always knew deep down that things would never be quite so good as that. In fact, I thought that if I told you how I feel, you would run a mile. Well, you did at first. But that's beside the point.

I haven't actually told you how I feel, though. I'm scared to, which is why I'm writing it down. It feels as though, if I write it here, I'll have said my part. I won't have told you anything, because I know this is just a silly little letter that I'll fold up and put in an old shoebox with the rest...but, well, at least I'll know it's out of my mind, and on paper.

You know I have feelings for you. I told you as much, but I don't think you'll truly ever understand how much I feel for you. I don't even understand it, a lot of the time.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm in love with you. I've loved you since we were kids, just before we turned sixteen, just like I told you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to be able to say that I've spent the last nine years of my life pining after the right person, I want to say I didn't waste all those days just thinking about how to tell you what I feel, thinking of what might happen if I eventually manage to tell you I love you.

But even if I don't get to spend the rest of my life by your side as your partner, I know in my heart I'd be just as happy seeing you every day. Even if we just stay friends after all of this, even if we manage to sort all this out and you decide it's best if we stay friends, I'll be happy just seeing your smiling, happy face every single day, knowing deep down that what I feel for you is real, just knowing in my heart that that brilliant smile of yours makes my day, that when you get upset or angry I'll still be there to see you through. I could die happy just knowing you don't hate me after all.

Kier sometimes texts me. Once, maybe even twice a day, just telling me how things are going. If you're coming back. I just wish you would realise that I came back to London for a reason, because I want to see if you really will come find me. I don't want you to have any confused, false feelings for me. I don't want to think that I've confused you and made you think you feel something for me when you're actually not interested at all. I just want to know if I should spend anymore time just staring at the buzzer on the wall, waiting for it to sound out your return. I spend hours, sometimes, just staring out the window, waiting for the familiar red van to pull up and park at the pavement, or I stare at the phone, waiting for it to ring and for you to say you're coming home. It's so childish, I know, that I spend so much time thinking of you, wishing you would come home. It's only been a week since I last saw you, but it feels like an eternity; I guess I'm just so used to having you around, I just miss you so much. I wish you would come home, Timid.