eccedentesiast // c.h

sixteen

i had received these letters – or poems, earlier this afternoon. we had just arrived at los angeles, and a lot of fans have greeted us in the airport. just as i was able to swim through the crowd and into the safety of the car that would take the lads and i back home, a girl in a hooded jacket came up to me and gave me a small blue box. i had met her eyes for a second, they were the bluest i have ever seen, even more vibrant than luke's. then she ran off. she didn't even ask for a photo which i could have happily gave.

the car took us to the place where we were staying at. the atmosphere in the car was filled with mindless chatter, in which i took part in. but once in a while the girl in the hooded jacket makes her way into my mind and i'm left confused and speechless.

we arrived at our flat which was kind of a little too huge for four messy boys. the fourteen-hour flight had left us all tired and jetlagged, and the minute we stepped foot on the wood-plated floor, our legs immediately took us to our respective rooms.

"any of you boys disturb my sleep and i'll rip your heads off." michael grumbled sleepily.

we replied in a series of mumbles, we all know a sleepy michael is a cranky michael.

i trudged to my own room, and took in its surroundings. it's been a while since i've been here – eight months, to be exact. eight months of traveling around the world and performing in front of thousands of people. the light blue walls are the same, if not a bit dustier. a simple white king-sized bed sits in the center of the room, and a desk not too far away from it. a small walk-in closet is in the far left of the bed, and i walk there to transfer my clothes from my luggage. i lazily opened the huge bag, accidentally flipping the cover too strong, causing it to topple a small table and making it fall to the ground. good thing there wasn’t anything in it. there used to be a fish bowl – with an actual living fish inside, but it died some time ago. sighing, i placed the table back into its original place and began unpacking.

after about twenty minutes, i was finally done. i plopped myself into my bed, and just covered my face in between the pillows. god i missed australia. we had to stay here in los angeles for about a month before we could go back home.

home.

something stirs inside me when i think of home. and for some reason, i am reminded of that blue box. i stood up to take the object from my backpack and almost instantly, images of the hooded girl comes rushing back into my mind so fast that a pang of pain hit me and i stumbled back momentarily.

i feel nervous.

my hands are shaking and my heart is beating so fast – too fast and beads of sweat have begun to pool on my forehead. i nimbly open the box, and inside, i found pieces of papers. the words were written in a neat cursive.

forgetting about my jetlag, i began to read.

-

“mate you look like a zombie.” ashton laughed at my face as he took a seat across me. “have you even slept?” he asked, spreading vegemite on his toast.

truth is, i haven’t even slept a wink. the letters – poems, kept me up all night. i have received other letters before from fans, confessing their undying love for me, and although these were the same, why does it bother me so much?

maybe it’s just the way she wrote it – so full of emotion and so raw.

“hey cal, you okay?” luke entered the kitchen and patted my head, which caused it to hurt more. i groaned, leaning my elbows on the counter and rubbing my face with my hands.

“do i look fucking okay, luke?” i said through my hands.

the two boys laughed at me. and for a moment, i am pissed. they have no right to laugh at me, they don’t know what i’m going through.

do i know what i’m going through?

“what’s got your knickers in a twist?” luke asked, occupying the seat beside me. we only needed michael, and it would be a complete breakfast. but of course, he’s still asleep. he tends to hibernate a lot.

should i tell them? should i tell them about the poems?

what if they’ll just laugh at me again, like what they did just two minutes ago?

but before i could think, the words stumble out. “i received letters.”

they looked at me weirdly.

i knew this would fucking happen.

“not to sound narcissistic, but we do receive letters all the time, calum.” ashton said, taking a bite of his toast.

“no, you don’t understand. these are different. they’re poems…and they make me feel…” i trailed off, struggling to find the correct word. “… something like, familiarity? i don’t know, mate. it’s creepy – fuck, it’s scary.” i frowned.

“can we read them?” luke asked.

i instantly stiffened, feeling a bit overprotective of the letters – my letters.  i felt like they were only reserved for my eyes, only for me to ponder upon.

they must have seen the hesitation in my eyes, for they raised their hands in mock surrender.

“okay, never mind, forget i said that.” luke mumbled.

i sighed.

this is not good.

this is driving me crazy.

my breaths were coming ragged and heavy, what is wrong with me? calm the fuck down!

i swiftly took a toast out of ashton’s plate and stormed out of the kitchen and into my room, eating on my way there. i took out the box from my closet, where i hid it under a couple of sweaters.

i opened the lid and took all the letters out and started feeling the papers for any oddities.

i don’t even know why i’m doing this,  i just am.

i feel nothing. nothing out of the ordinary. i stand up and pace around the room, running a hand through my hair in frustration, keeping them in tight fists.

what’s wrong with me?!

i spot the blue box on the floor, and i walked the short distance to get it. i tossed and turned the box in between my hands, and that’s when i heard a soft thud, thud, thud from inside. confused, i opened the box, but there was nothing there but the word fifteen in thick handwriting scrawled on the bottom. i turned the box upside down, and a tiny flashlight fell. there was a secret compartment. i picked up the flashlight and turned it on, flicking it around the room. the violet light bounced off my walls but i don’t get the connection.

then suddenly, it hit me.

i grabbed the first poem and flashed it through the paper.

this is violet light – you know, the one used for invisible ink.

my heart beat fast with anticipation, as i flash the light through every piece of paper, but nothing comes out.

but on the last poem, just beside the last line, three words show:

 “come find me.” 

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[tyler oakley voice] why hello there :D

lol i know i said my next update will be my last but then i thought, nah. hahahha

omg this was super duper late but i did warn ya, my updates are sporadic, so for that i am very very sorry :(

aaaand yeah, what do you think?

oH WAIT GUYS IM SO HAPPY THIS STORY GOT RANKED LAST WEEK IN POETRY AND FANFICTION IDK IF UNTIL NOW BUT STILL I AM SO THANKFUL FOR ALL OF YOU GUYS WHO CONTINUE TO READ MY WORKS I LOVE YOU ALL OMG 

lotsa love xx