used to be | corbyn besson

f i v e

two years before ;

I woke up to the sound of rocks clashing against my windows.

I already knew it was Corbyn.

A classic thing he'd always do whenever he snuck over.

Groggily I walked over to the tiny balcony that accompanied my room. I opened the door and walked out.

"Can I come in?" He said, a little too loud to be a whisper.

I nodded.

I watch as he climbed up the tree and crawled over the branch into my room.

I rubbed my eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see you,"

"You couldn't have waited until the morning?" I crawled back into bed, scooting to a side so there would be some room for him to join.

"I thought sneaking over would still keep the romance alive," He pouted before laying beside me.

I cuddled closer to him. I laid on his arm, snuggled close to his neck.

"How is that band thing going?"

A while ago Corbyn got an offer to be in a band with four other guys. He has talked about it a couple times but it never seemed like he was really interested.

"O-oh, I think it might get somewhere."

I could hear hesitation in his voice but I was too tired to think anything more of it.

"That's good. Is staying solo still what you want?"

"Uh, yup."

I nodded.

My eyes were shut but I wasn't asleep, "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

He lightly chuckled, "Only if I don't doze off myself."

Smiling, I slowly drifted off.

-

Waking up the next morning I smiled to myself.

Corbyn was already gone.

I rotated to my side to grab my phone and text Corbyn,
-
O - let's hang out?

We're sorry. You have reached a number that is disconnected or no longer in service.
-

I furrowed my brows.

What the fuck?

I knew this was Corbyn's number. However, what I did not know was why my texts weren't  going through.

I got up from my bed and something caught my eye across the room on my desk. Walking over to it, I realized that it was a letter.

I opened it up and recognized the handwriting that belongs to Corbyn's.

Dear Olivia,

I really don't know what else to say besides the fact that I am an asshole.

I haven't been completely honest with you and so not only am I an asshole, but I'm also a pussy.

A pussy for not being able to tell you this in person. A pussy for not being able to be honest with you from the very start.

When I got that offer to be apart of the boy band, I had also received a list of qualifications. One of them being a move from Northern Virginia to Los Angeles, California.

I didn't tell you because I didn't think I could do it. Leaving you and my hometown all seemed like too much.

So I turned it down.

But there was this meeting where I could meet all the guys and get a more information on what it was all about.

I didn't even consider going, not until my mom pushed me to at least know what I would be giving up.

So I went, and I loved it.

The guys were all so cool and fun to be around. Forming the band seemed like a great idea. I knew it could be a start of something big.

I was thinking of all the opportunities that would be in L.A. and then you crossed my mind.

I thought of every little thing you do, every feeling you've ever made me felt.

You are extraordinary, stunning, and perhaps the most bewildering person I have ever met.

And I don't deserve you.

I've come to the realization that you are worth the world and I cannot give that to you. At least not before I figure out my own world.

I am taking the band offer. I think it's a good step for me to really pursue my dream.

I changed my number for the sake of moving forward. I knew I would probably regret my decision if we kept contact.

I understand if you hate me. And I know there's a chance you may never forgive me.

So I am sorry.

I'm sorry for leaving you.

I'm sorry for hurting you.

I'm sorry for not being man enough.

But I am also thankful.

Thank you for teaching me how to love.

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for not only being my girlfriend but my best friend.

I know we will one day meet again. Perhaps a time where we have both moved on and forgotten about our past.

Until then, I'll say it one last time,

I love you.

Always,

Corbyn.

I hadn't realized how badly I was crying until I looked down to see some of his writing smudge with tears.

I understand now that last night he really came over to say goodbye, only I didn't know it at the time.