Hopelessly Devoted - Bradley Will Simpson.

Letter Six.

Bradley;

Another day in this unescapable hellhole. Life. Another day where I miss you in inexplicable ways.

It was today the authorities decided to tell us they’d made a solid choice on how to tackle your case reopening. The boys and I, we were shaking the whole time, depending on each other as sole sources of balance.

As soon as the words ‘we’re not sure’ erupted from the officer’s lips… I flipped. Went insane. Things were thrown and words were screamed. It took all of the boys’ efforts to restrain me, as the officer began to slightly cower in the corner of the room.

You always used to chuckle at my somewhat feisty side, and said you loved being the one to maintain me. You used to kiss my nose and I used to giggle, and you said you loved me. I knew you meant it, as did I in my reply.

The boys were taken to you, whilst I was held in a cell. I sat shaking, rage seething through every pore. They said they would look after you in my absence, and that’s the most they could do, my love. I sat on the cold stone, only the memory of you keeping me warm.

You used to tell me about our future, didn’t you? The big house, big garden, expensive gadgets. You used to say anything I wanted, you’d make it your goal to get it. But all I wanted was you. Only you. You used to say you had the perfect way to propose memorised since the day we declared to be each other’s.

In our interlocked fingers you’d stare, as you said you were envisioning the matching gold bands that only furthered the fact we were meant to be, forever. You used to say that in our big house there would be countless bedrooms, one for each little pitter patter of footsteps and the bundles of joy that created them.

You used to say that the idea of looking down on something we created together in our love filled states would only emulate and personify our love which was strong enough to stand on its own, that’s what you used to say. You used to joke that the boys would each have their uncle roles to fill with all of our children.

You used to say that Tristan would teach them their first jokes and that if they picked up on his constant humour they would be future comedians.

You used to say that Connor would develop their appetites by constantly feeding them his favourite delicacies, and they would cost us a fortune to keep up with.

You used to say that James would teach them how to keep in tip top shape, and how the boys get his to-die-for abs, and how the girls get the toned, flat stomach that the others can only dream of.

Forever the optimist, weren’t you Bradley? It’s funny, the other day the boys and I discussed the future again and children cropped up. In a sad attempt to divert attention from the case, as a therapist James stupidly hired advised us to.

I shared our old future plans, and upon hearing their names I saw a faint smile appear on each of their mouths. You caused that, my love. You still bring us all happiness, your memory is still so, so strong.

The therapist said it was best to try and not live in the past. She thought I was insane. I could see it in her eyes. But, I’d rather be in the past, with you. Reminisce on the times you used to grin oh so widely when I walked around in your shirt, the smile that was irreplaceable, and I was so proud I was the one to cause it.

How did it end up like this, my love? From sharing a single blanket with you, cuddled into your chest and your arm wrapped protectively around me, to this? Sitting, shivering, in a cold, stone police cell, after just losing it all?

I couldn’t help it, my love. I was lucky they didn’t take one of the few physical memories of you away from me. This notebook, the one you doodled all over, and used to write our future matching surnames all over the front page.

Sometimes I find myself tracing my fingers over your handwriting, just to have a remaining memory. Feeling connected to you, it’s indescribable. Not even the boys can comprehend this emotion, although I’d bet they’ve tried.

Despite what people think, from the odd times the fans have spotted the boys around somewhere other than gigs, they’re coping. They’re slowly coming to terms with things. But the minute the door closes and they’re back inside the house, they break down. Completely.

You always used to say look to the future, didn’t you love? That things would always get better. But, can that be said now? The boys will be looking down on your body right about now, taking the best care of you they can, and I’m sitting alone, isolated. Locked away.

Much like I feel normally.

But, my darling Bradley, there’s something I need to say. To the person or people that ripped our future apart at the seams, and tore you away from me.

Where can you run, when there’s nowhere to hide?

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Twitter - (@)parodyvamps

Ps; I'm not sure how many of you read my other story Every Day, but i'm doing something similar here. Since i've had multiple people asking if I listen to music whilst writing - which I do, a lot - and what I listen to, i'm going to start linking a song in the sidebar that I listened to whilst writing each chapter, so you can listen to it and get into the authoring frame of mind when writing your own fab stories (this is by request)

This chapter's song is 'Don't Let Go' by Davedays.

I love you all, thankyou for all the support!

xox