daisy ☹ niall horan [au]

fifteen - a very very long letter [p. three]

      Do you remember the first time I saw your room?

      It was a couple of weeks after we were given our photography assignment. After dodging me in the hall, I finally was able to catch you at your locker and ask you about when we were going to get started on the project.

      I remember the awkwardness of the atmosphere as you stared at your feet, shifting your weight before you finally answered.

      “Come to my house after school.”

      And that was that.

      You never gave me your address so I had to ask around for it and it was at five in the afternoon that I was finally able to make it to your house.

      I remember the nerves settling in once again as I worked up the courage to knock on your front door, drying my sweaty palms on my jeans once again. And you opened the door, and invited me inside with tired eyes, not even bothering to hide how you were feeling anymore.

      I followed you inside to your bedroom and I tried not to look at anything too long, letting my eyes take everything in.

      And it was then that I discovered your love of poetry.

      Because, sitting in your room, was the painting you did in our freshman year art class, along with many others, just like that one.