Im not shooting a stupid text or sendind you a weird ass meme.
But what intrigued me about simply writing a letter and slipping it into a mailbox, was that I could always keep these and just give them to you one-by-one.
That would be idiotic so here it is.
I hope you don't mind me reminiscing about the first time we met but I'm doing it anyway.
We met at a record shop, I was excitedly getting a new Twin Peaks album while you browsed the rock section near by.
I don't know how but you thought I was an employee and asked, "Do you know where I can find a Calpurnia album? My sister recommended them and I prefer to hear it on vinyl." You smiled and shrugged. I could tell you normally dragged on conversations if you're interested in conversing with just by those words, because I am the same way.
Your accent was what dragged me in, it was crisp yet slightly fading Australian accent. It sounded just as artistic as you were, designed just for you.
I nodded, trying to contain my smile as I led you to where Calpurnia's albums usually were, except they weren't.
"Probably sold out, sorry." I said, trying to sound employee-ish, ypu frowned slightly and rubbed your neck, "Sorry for making you go on a mission, mister...?" You trailed oof, trying to look for a name tag but didn't find one.
"Mister music man?" You questioned your own given name for me.
I laughed, "Call me Finn." I fucked up, though. I probably shouldn't have told you my name, we wouldn't be wrapped up in the bullshit we are right now.
"Well Finn, I'm Phoebe." You greeted cheerily.
"Uh– I can give you a copy of one of m– their albums." I offered, "You just have a copy of an album lying around?" You said, stifling your laughter.
"Psshhh, yeah. A lot of my friends enjoy music so i just keep em' if they wanna to borrow them." I shrugged.
"Hm, is that why you're working at Rough Trade?" You asked.
I froze.
I didn't mean to.
What would it even be like if I worked here? It'd probably top being chased from fans, definitely better. But it couln't beat making my own music.
I blinked a few times, "Yeah, and I'm in a band as well." I suddenly said.
God, I was an idiot.
You looked surprised, "Really? What's the name?"
"Uh– you probably wouldn't find us, we don't have a record deal, yet." I hissed out the last word, it made me feel weird.
Reminding me of being fourteen with such a carefree life, now I had tp carry the world and then some on my shoulders.
Of course it wasn't all bad, but I felt trapped in my career, forced to do sucky ass prewritten songs.
"Hm, at least give me a name, Finn. Or genre, so I can know what to expect, y'know?"
I nodded, "Alright, alright. We're Av Clubs, pretty stupid."
Truth is, that's shat Calpurnia was supposed to be named that.
"Hm." You hummed, holding back a grin, "I don't think it's stupid."
You gave me your number and bid me goodbye.
I didn't know it was the start of a horrible beginning.
I'm sorry by the way.
Sorry about Lucas's friends, and I know this is pretty awkward seeing as it's already been a year.
A year of me realizing how much I loved you.
I was so stupid.
I'm sorry again.
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