Dear Niall,
July 24
I think I'm really confused.
You came over today, spitting out all kinds of shit about love and kissing and I don't think I understand.
You tried to kiss me. You tried, but I don't know what happened. Your lips brushed mine, only for a second, but I jerked my head back. I still haven't told anyone about that afternoon in my bedroom with Louis, when he was touching me. I don't feel the same, not after that. I feel like I can hardly be touched (even in the most innocent sense) without shuddering or jerking back.
"I missed you," You spit out the second I answered the door. You tackled me in a hug and I nearly screamed, your bear hugs always take me by surprise (and then, of course, this thing about touching).
"Hello," I said, opening the door to let you in. I know I didn't tell you, but I've missed you a whole damn lot since you left at the beginning of the summer.
"Can I kiss you?" You asked quickly. "I really, really want to kiss you." I was confused, you were talking like a crazy person. You're, like, perfect, and you're gorgeous, and you're just you, so why did you want to kiss me, of all people? Don't you know how much better you could do? You've got this blond hair and these flawless blue eyes and this great smile and you're so radiant. I have blonde hair and blue eyes, too, but my features are dull, boring. Your hair is dyed, and although you'd think natural hair would be prettier, your shade of blond is a lot better than mine.
You leaned across the small distance between us and closed your eyes before your lips brushed mine, all in one swift motion. I pulled back quickly, though. You looked really disappointed, and I felt awful. Niall, it isn't like I don't want to kiss you. Believe me, I'd love to. I just panicked.
You left after that. I've spent all day wondering what even happened there, with us.
Dear Elle,
July 24
You didn't want to kiss me.
I'm sorry. For kissing you, I mean. I don't know what I was thinking. God, I'm insane for thinking you'd want to kiss me.
I mean, you're like, a symphony of ideas and a galaxy of thoughts, and you're an ocean of words and a whole damn universe, really. Not to mention you're staggeringly beautiful. You have this long blonde hair and pale blue eyes and you're just, like, perfect. And then your freckles are perfectly scattered across your nose and cheeks, you're flawless, and I love you. I know love is kind of a strong word, but it's the right one. I love you, Elle.
I love you a lot, a lot, a lot. I want to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. I want to fall asleep next to you, I want to wake up next to you. I want to play with your hair and kiss you (Boy, do I want to kiss you, I don't think you understand.) and I want to spend every waking moment with you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love everything about you. I love your stomach and your collarbones, and I love when you sing even though you're an awful singer. I love the way you eat, how you break everything in half. I love your weird obsession with drinking through straws. I love you. I love you.
I'll apologize tomorrow. I'll come over again and talk to you. I just need to talk to you.
Love,
Niall
i haven't updated in forever im so sorry
i won't be able to update again until saturday afternoon but i promise to get my shit together after that
