Sincerely, Niall [z.h.] ✔

Friday April 12, 2013

Dear Zayn, 

     So here's to day two of writing you. I didn't do much today, I spent most of the day like I do every day, sitting on my living room couch-the one by the window-and watching for you. You haven't come yet-obviously-but I'm not giving up hope. I want to be there for when you do come home. I know you will, you promised you'd never leave me, and I'll hold you against that. 

     Louis came over today, he said he and Harry are concerned aout me. I didn't say anything to him because there's no real reason why they need to worry about me. I'm just fine. Or at least I will be when you get back. 

     Speaking of you coming back, the police never came and questioned me about you going missing. Greg talked to them, but not me. I wonder why. After all, you were my boyfriend. 

     What am I talking about? You still are my boyfriend. And I love you very much. 

     Right, back to Louis. He said that he and Harry have invited me over for dinner in two days. He practically begged me to come, but how can I when there's a possibility that you might come back while I'm gone? Louis got this really sad look when I said that, I don't think he likes that I wait for you. But why? Wouldn't he do the same thing if Harry went missing? I should ask him that next time. . .

     I haven't slept in two days. I can't sleep without nightmares anyway, so what's the point? I wish you were here, you protect me from the nightmares, make them stay away. I never appreciated that before you went missing, so I'm sorry. I promise I'll tell you every night if you come back. I mean, when you come back. 

     The reason I didn't just go back and fix that is because I'm writing with a pen. I didn't want to cross it out becuase remember the last time I did that? You told me that I ruined the whole paper, that it didn't look formal or neat. I'm trying to stick to that, but I've had the urge to do it several times before I corrected myself. Just for you. Aren't you proud? 

     Sometimes when I lay in our bed at night, I hear your voice. You tell me that you love me, and that you're so sorry. For what, though? I suppose for running away from me. If that's what happened. I've thought a lot about what happened to you. Did you run away? Were you kidnapped? Did you get lost? I don't think the last one is right, though, because you would not have gotten lost, you know this town like the back of your hand. Also, it wouldn't take you ten days to come back to me. You once told me you could hardly go a day without me there by your side, making you laugh and smile with all the silly things I do. Your words, not mine. 

     Speaking of silly things, yesterday I was making a cake and I accidentally spilled the flour all over the counter. I started to giggle, expecting you to turn around from where you would be measuring the sugar and start laughing at my clumsiness, too. I turned around when I didn't hear you, only to be met with the open sugar container, the meauring scoop next to it, but no you. 

     I'm ashamed to admit that I cried right then, so hard that I had to stop making my cake and go crawl in bed. The cake is still unfinished on the counter, the ingredients out. Ever since then I hadn't felt in the mood to make the cake. What's the point when we can't drop stuff and laugh at each other? What's the point if we can't have a flour fight until we are both covered head to toe in flour? What's the point if we can't kiss while the cake is baking and you set me on the hot stove until I cry out and you give me kisses as an appology? Exactly. 

     Sorry, I know how much you hate it when I'm depressed like this. I just. . .it's so hard to be happy when you promised you would never leave me, yet go ahead and do it anyway. I know it isn't your fault, and I'm really sorry if this sounds like I'm trying to pin all the blame on you. I probably did something-messed up somewhere-to deserve this. 

      Anyway, I called your sister today. She answered it, and I said hi. She hung up after that. I'll admit, that really hurt. What did I do to her? Does it hurt her to know that I was the one closest to yo and now you're gone? Does she hate me because she thinks I'm the reason you went missing? It's all so painful to know that she won't even talk to me. It's like she doesn't even care that I'm hurting. Does she really not care about me? 

I love you, Zayn. 

Sincerely, 

Niall