BABY PINK| h.s. d a d d y

29

Some of y'all were wondering what James looked like so that's what I imagine him as ^^

Feel free to listen while you read and replay until ur done^

Missed Call -Rendezvous at Two

Rain.

Foreign taps of water upon the roof, some harder than others. I lay in silence, though. Being in luxury of the simmering rolls of thunder. A detestable idea to some, however brung joy to me.

9 days in absence of him.

No communication upon either front of the two of us. Tolerance break would be too simple to pin, no, this was separation.

It wasn't an effortless task to decipher my feelings towards Harry. I was so intrigued with the mystery of a man I had left behind societal morals. May as well stomped on them.

Harry, a creature so affectionate yet so reserved. So doting, yet so harsh on that of beside his preferences. Mannerisms only he can possess that evoke curiosity rather than danger.

Here I stayed with the book of petals in my arms, scanning over the rose petals, the letters etched in black ink. Untraceable as they may seem, leading onward in the investigation. I laughed. As if I'm a detective.

"Adeline!" My mother called from below.

"Yes, mother?" I faced the doorway to my bedroom.

"You've got a letter!"

A letter? The thought of someone putting a pencil to paper for me met my interest. The digital world of animated noises and imitated effort was pase compared to a physical being. I tossed the ragged blanket aside and hid the treasures, scurrying to where my mother stood in the kitchen.

"Hello, lovie." She caught me in a quick hug. I grasped the moment in my memories, feeling her heated touch spread familiarity across me. Asylum.

"Who's the letter from?"

"No return address. Must be someone nearby." She shrugged, handing me the envelope.

James sat in the living room sofa, waiting for my mother to return with their wine. He shot me a warm smile.

A seemingly dingy shade of white adorned with oiled fingerprints. Not a soul crossed my mind as I delicately tore the paper, shaking it. A disheveled piece of folded notebook paper fell on the countertop.

However, rustling occurred still in the thought-to-be empty envelope. I poured the contents on the counter as well, paralyzed at the sight. Pink rose petals scattered themselves in my home. My being shuddered, trying to reclaim the dripping sanity threatening to spill. Stomach pulsating in fear, my trembling hand reached for the letter. Meticulously avoiding the petals spewed about as if they'd reach and grab me.

I couldn't seem to get my bearings, struggling to swallow the air that clogged my throat. Scribbled blue pen struck the page all over, marked out words littered the blue lines, sentences exceeded the red marker located an inch from the edge. Protruding angles of letters sat awkwardly half on the printed lines while the pen skipped, in need of a new replacement.

Dear Adeline,
I have wondered countless ways to start this message. Writing in a medium apart from crayon is new again. Pencils were too sharp. I apologize for the mess.

You don't know me. But I must do this quickly. I've been away a while, long enough to miss an eternity but returning not too late. I know your relations with Harry Styles.