8 June 2014
Dearest Zaynie,
I am sad to report that today is my last day in this beautiful state of yours. My heart is heavy. But enough of all this depressing talk.
I have to keep this short because Liam thinks I’m packing (we were supposed to leave two hours ago already, but my alarm clock mysteriously didn’t go off this morning. Huh. Wonder how that could’ve happened?).
California has been absolutely lovely. The weather is so much better than Chicago’s, in my opinion. I love the warmth and the round the clock sunshine. I could definitely see myself living here. And before you write some freaked-out reply about how it’s a dangerous place, relax please. I’m a big boy, you know. I’m legal to drink, I’ve been a legal adult for three years already, and I can take care of myself. Your concern for me is adorable and much appreciated of course, but this is a topic that’s non-negotiable. Besides, I’d stay away from all the scariest places for sure. To be honest, it’s always been my dream to live in a small little town where everyone knows each other. Nothing much ever happens in those kinds of places and that’s just how I’d like things to be, I think. That kind of life just seems so serene. I can picture it now: me (all tanned to perfection, my hair naturally bleached light and skin salty from the ocean spray, clearly) sitting on a colourful towel on my private stretch of beach with a nice fruity drink (don’t judge, I sense that smirk on your face) in my hand. Maybe I’d have my own butler and everything. And of course, in a perfect world I’d have a handsome dark-haired, hazel-eyed man lounging beside me, but you know. You’ve probably guessed by now that I’m gay, but if not, I guess I’ve just outed myself. Hopefully you’re not too disgusted by me. I’m sorry I guess.
Wow, look at me being all negative Nelly today.
Sorry for this awful letter, I’m positive it was absolutely atrocious to read, but I haven’t the energy to try and write anything more. I attribute my horrible mood to post-vacation depression. I know, I know, I’m like a fangirl with “post-concert depression” (don’t ask me how I’ve heard of that. Just don’t, okay? It’s not like I’m addicted to Tumblr or something, jeez).
Can’t wait to read your letters, Zayn. If anything can lift my mood it’s those beautifully composed works of art you always seem to come up with. That and McDonald’s, but mostly your letters. Liam says McDonald’s makes you fat, so he won’t bring me anyway. I think it’s because he’s scared of that creepy ass clown, but he’d never admit it. Look at me rambling once again. Alright, well I’ll stop wasting your time. Have a good day, Zaynie. You mean a lot to me, okay?
Your pouty-faced blondie x
P.S. You look even more gorgeous in person than in pictures, as if that’s even humanly possible.
WUT
VOTE<FAN<COMMENT<Love you<3
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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...
