Ross Lynch Imagines

City of Lights II

Dear Y/N,

Hi beautiful. I imagine you're quite upset with me from how you stormed out of my apartment a week ago and haven't contacted me since. As you may have noticed, I never contacted you either as you told me not to. If you received this letter like how I requested, you are reading this now on your wedding day. I know you're furious with me, and you don't want to see me, hear from me, or even read anything I wrote but please don't tear apart this letter quite yet.

   When you left, you can imagine how I felt. And even though you won't ever admit it like anything else, you probably feel the same. I was utterly devastated and at a loss. I didn't know what to do, but I knew chasing after you would only make you angrier. There is so many more things I wanted to tell you before you left, and now is my chance to tell you them before you marry Alex.

   First off, let's start with the day I met you. Ever since I saw you at that art gallery staring at that magnificent abstract painting I knew I wanted to get to know you. But I was too afraid to talk to you, so I turned away. And all night I kept searching through the crowd for you until I heard your laugh. It was the most beautiful sound ever, even though I know you hate it. But I love it, Y/N. And then I saw your smile, brightly shining through the grey setting outside. And your eyes...they were just so breathtaking. It wasn't love at first sight, but something drew me to you. So I talked to you and we became close friends.

   For months after meeting you and getting to know you well, I had been trying to get the courage to express my feelings for you—but then you met Alex. You wouldn't shut up about him and how handsome he was, successful, intelligent, and way better than me. You wanted me to meet him, so I agreed to meet this new amazing boyfriend of yours. And let me tell you, he was an asshole. You didn't see it because you were so wrapped up in whatever he was to you at that point, but I could see it right past his fake smile, designer clothing, and monotone demeanor. Sure, he's a doctor, he's polite, and perhaps has a cool car but he's trash. He has an ego bigger than the next guy, he's opinionated, sleazy, a bigot, and your future and present asshole. I hated him, but I didn't tell you that because I knew you'd only see what you wanted to see. But then you got engaged.

   After your engagement, I realized these feelings I developed for you grew into something more powerful although I couldn't quite pinpoint it out. And that one day when you came to my apartment to give me back all the sweatshirts, T-shirts, and CDs you had borrowed from me in the past and forgot to return (which I didn't mind) because you were moving in with him, I lost control. I kissed you with all the emotions I had been bottling up for so long. I expected you to pull away, punch me, kick me, hit me, and yell all the curse words in the alphabet—but you didn't. You kissed me back with the same amount of passion, and I was in shock. My skin was numb from not only that you were kissing me back, but that you had been hiding these emotions to.

Had you truly felt the same about me for so long? Or me kissing you made you realize how you truly felt? Or perhaps it was the heat of the moment?

It was a little bit of everything, I guess. But then we had sex. Y/N, I promise you I didn't plan it this way. Hell, I didn't even plan to kiss you! It all just happened too fast, but I did because you were okay with it and I really wanted to be with you. I knew you and Alex never had sex before, but we've both already lost our virginity when we were teenagers. But this wasn't sex—this was more. Something I never did before with anyone where I devoted all my heart, soul, mind, and conscience into somebody I cared about. We made love and I don't regret any moment of it. Truth be told, you didn't either. But you did freak out a few hours later when reality struck and we were just laying naked in my bed together. Holy shit, did you freak out. It was kind of funny, but I was glad we did it. Not only because I really liked you, but because that douchebag doesn't deserve somebody as strong, independent, amazing, beautiful, mindful, and caring as you.

   After that, I went back to you and we began our affair. I hate to look at it that way, but that is what it was. We'd see each other every chance we got, and it became our story. The fact that we had to keep it a secret made it even more exhilarating and I felt like we were teenagers again. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. I could feel myself falling more and more for you, and it felt so right. I knew realistically and logically Alex was the better guy for you, but I was so deeply falling for you. And I noticed how Alex was so more invested in his work than you. He doesn't love you the way I do. He cares, but not enough for you to be (or anyone) to be satisfied.

   I'm in love with you, Y/N. So much. I know things Alex doesn't know, and maybe you too. I know the little things about you, that Alex could never pick up on. Of course you tell him the big stuff, but you always told me it first more in depth, even when we were only friends and not secretly having an affair. I know how you hate how some TV shows have an invisible laughing audience, how whenever you are deeply concentrated you always knit your eyebrows together, or that you hate spiders, centipedes, or any other hairy, mili-legged creature, and your favorite flower is dandelions, even if they are truly weeds. You love how the stars sparkling in the sky at night reminds you of people, each one unique and exquisite in their own way and the stars that are duller than the rest are the people who lost their way in life. You love to watch romance movies, but not chick-flicks like me and you love reading way more than watching television. Just like me, you prefer vintage, retro, and old fashioned things (maybe you picked that up from me). You wish it was the 70's or 80's, so you could become a hippy or a wallflower girl. You love old, staticky records, Guess jeans, and one time you told me you wish you could have a 1950's kind of love. You know the one where they take rides in their old convertible with the top down, cherry flavored kisses from their ice cream sundaes, dates at the carnival, and dancing in the street underneath the stoplight. Sound familiar? It's from our favorite movie, The Notebook. Also, you always adored Paris and wanted to go visit there and get married there (as you are), but I know you would rather travel the world than to get married at 22. You always dreamed of traveling the world with no worry at all. Just pack up your suitcase, passport, and hop on a plane to someplace exotic. You love adventure. You're my kind of girl. Anyways, I know I'm the only person you told about it.