| 27 |

❝ God, I want to tell you so bad. ❞

WHERE TO BEGIN with Spencer Lawrence.

Spencer and Skylar went way back. Basically, he was so in love with her that he sort of stalked her, entering the bookstore every day and watching her do nothing, for the most part. Then one summer he gathers the courage (if you could even say that) to talk to her. He knocks over a bookcase, kisses her, and they just get closer and closer. He became a brotherly figure to Charlie; she was always able to go to him for anything, from advice to math homework. And things with Skylar and him just went up from there.

Until he enrolled into the army.

When Spencer announced he was leaving soon, Charlotte could still remember the stunned silence. The screech of the chair, Skylar's footsteps running, running. Tears from around the table. Everyone looked to Skylar, knowing she was crushed. No one asked how Charlotte felt, however.

She could remember her salty tears crawling over her pale, cracked lips, tears, tracing her skin like a pencil on paper.

"I'll be back," he promised with a whisper. "I promise."

"Stay in touch," she'd whispered back.

The nightmares, the horrible nightmares, guns, gunshots, bombs, to the head, to the heart, always. BAM! Slicing through skin. Falling, falling, BANG! Blood, blood, seeping, so real, so real, drowning, suffocating, every night, choking, crying-

Every night.

Soon the nightmares turned into much more than that, car crashes, other family members under the bullet, plane malfunctions, drowning, dead, dying, dead.

Soon, she veered away from the phone and ignored the mail, camping in her room and writing letters she would never send.

His name became a swear word, almost, avoiding it at all costs.

Things fell apart.

Skylar, putting on a brave, red-lipped, tear-stained smile, even in the pain. Hazel running away. Charlotte having nightmares. Skylar's sobs and cries. Her letters. Charlie's letters. Hazel's letters. Hands cramped from writing so often, so much, so long.

They had been better.

He was here. Home.

Skylar heard them, waltzing in, giving Charlie a surprised look, blinking at the new-and-improved glasses perched on Charlotte's nose. Skylar them walked towards Spencer, before staggering, as if she hit an invisible forcefield, her smile dropping. Her face transformed into one of a stolid robot's.

"Uh, Char, could I..." she began, her eyes unblinking and looking at the ground. "Could I talk to you in the hall for a sec?"

"Yeah, 'course," she replied, shooting a look to Spencer saying she'd be right back.

"Hey, what's up?" Charlotte whispered, closing her bedroom door behind them.

"I- he's back, we're engaged, we kissed, I cried," she mumbled, all too fast. "Back. He's back. Engaged, yet I have no idea how to act around him. Also, I'm really glad the glasses are back."

Skylar's fingers were frantically combing through her chin-length, blonde curls, her breathing hectic, violent, crumbling, her lips quivering, wavering, body trembling.

"Whoa, whoa," Charlotte repeated. "Whoa. Take a deep breath. He loves you, has always loved you, and will always love you, just look at the right on your finger for proof.  He's the same dork we all know and love, trust me."

Skylar was nodding ever so slightly with Charlie's every word.

"I bet if you went in there and sat next to him, he'd be happier than a kid on Christmas."

Inhale, eyes closed, exhale, open. The pair marched back into Charlotte's bedroom, the various posters of The Flash and Harry Potter and Sam Claflin amongst other subjects greeted them.  Spencer was slouching in front of Charlotte's desk, ruffling through a wad of ripped and torn papers. He froze when they re-entered the room, his eyes trained on Skylar.

"Who are these notes from?" Spencer asked Charlie, rummaging through the scraps and bits and odds and ends.

"O-oh, the notes?" She stuttered, the words clumsily tripping over her lips. She raced over to the box of notes and began to tidy the area, safely putting the notes in the small black box. "I, uh, no clue. No idea who writes them."

Charlotte thought back to Malcolm. Shane. Teddy. Maybe Sadie. Maybe Scott from her English class or Brianna from her Health class or Sofia from her History class or Dylan from her Spanish class or Megan from Gym. It could be Jason or Belle or Chris or James or Paige or Robbie or Sarah or Sam or Sandra or Maura or Abby or Tyler or Josh or Izzy or Calvin and she just didn't know.

She didn't know, which was the thing bothering her the most in life at this point. Who, who, who, the question hissing at her, burning, ringing, ringing in her ears. Her mind buzzed and rattled.

She knew nothing about her note writer.

She was wrong about everyone so far, so that meant it could be anyone. Anyone, in the whole school, in the whole town, in the whole state. 

No name, no face, no age. All she had was handwriting, and even that was ever so slightly changed each time, unable to really pinpoint the exact match. Impossible.

She knew nothing.

If there was one reasonable thing she could wish for (besides meeting Sam Claflin), she would wish to know who wrote her the notes.  She wanted to know who decided to jot down a sentence a day to make her smile. Who was this person, this stealthy, traceless person, who wrote the cute notes?

Instead, what she knew was nothing. Nothing was frustrating.

It could very well be anyone. There was no telling whose handwriting that was, she could have easily been wrong. Her detective skills weren't exactly up to par. Handwriting varies.  Anyone. It could be anyone. All of her theories wrong, her experiments inconclusive, her hypothesis useless.

Useless.

"You know about love," she stated abruptly, looking down at her interlocked fingers, thumbs twiddling.

Charlotte felt Skylar's bemused stare, but ignored it, focusing on an answer from Spencer.

"I guess you could say that," he murmured, glancing at Skylar. "Wh-"

"I've been best friends with this kid named Teddy since February, I think. I don't know, I don't know anything right now, but I know that I really..." she began, her voice trailing off into nothingness, ending up alongside her knowledge on the note writer. "Really like him. I don't want to make things awkward. I mean, we've kissed here and there, but..."

All of the nostalgia and memories and emotions had been bottled up, her cursory explanation barely covering the story.

Skylar and Spencer were sitting on Charlotte's freshly-made bed, Charlie taking the time to register the fact that their fingertips were barely touching, ever so slightly creeping closer to each other. Soon, the space between them was getting thinner and thinner, their pinky fingers looping together, almost like a promise. A pinky promise.

Skylar smiled, closing her eyes, her mouth moving in what looked like a dream-like state.  "And?"

"He's just done so much for me, and a friend, and I don't want to lose that. He's told me before that he liked me, but I'm just so tepid about the whole situation. How do I approach this? Does he actually like me? I mean, as more than friends? Would it ruin our friendship? Would it destroy my friendship with Malcolm and Shane? Where does the note writer stand? Do they actually like me? Is it a girl or a guy? Would they stop writing me notes if I actually did date Teddy? God, useless," she cried out, her words petering out at the end of it all.

The palms of her hands were rubbing at her tired, red eyes.  When she opened her eyes once more, she was looking directly at the drawing he had made of her. Useless. Imperfect. Flaw-packed.

The notes were probably just some dumb joke. Stupid, stupid joke, overthinking them just like she did with everything else. Thinking about dating Teddy? Moronic. What a laugh. So aggravated. Just some random kid she'd never met.

"Hey, look, kid," Spencer sighed, standing up and waltzing towards Charlie. He crouched so his eyes were level with hers, balancing in his feet in a squat position.  "Sometimes you need to take risks in life, or something amazing could slip right through your fingers.  Everything has a way of working out in the long run. You'll be fine, whatever path you choose."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes wide and lip quivering.  "It doesn't feel like it. I'm nearly failing my classes, a girl I never knew, who was close to all of my friends, died, it's almost the end of the school year and I still don't know who writes the notes, I might be in love with my best friend, and-and-"

That was when she broke down crying.

•|•|•

The only change in their position were the cartons of ice cream resting in there hands (Spencer made an emergency trip to Shaw's).

Her few remaining tears accidentally dripped onto her bed before she could mop them up with her sleeve.

"What should I do?" Charlotte questioned between bites.

Skylar fell against the headboard on Charlie's bed and Spencer tapped his spoon against the ice cream carton.

"I would..." he began. "How about you invite him over? Tell him exactly what you just told us. Everything." He glanced sideways at Skylar.

"I..."

"Trust me," he whispered, making her eyes glaze over and her heart thump.

Her fingers reluctantly, shakily pressed the contact.

•|•|•

In came the rolling waves, glimmering in the sun. In came the twinkling stars, sloppily painted over the colorless night sky with clear, crisp brush strokes.  In came the drawing himself, perfectly imperfect.

Strolling in like a ball of anxiety, all of her concerns and questions and fears and insecurities and flaws and problems, a hoard of these little, pesky bugs, buzzing in her ears and crawling across her skin. She slapped and smacked and crushed all of the degrading and pointless whispers, standing tall. He was just a boy. A harmless boy, at that, who happened to share his name with a stuffed bear.

"Hi," she squeaked out, trying not to think about her abnormal heartbeat racing faster than a sports car and her risk of a heart attack.

They were in her room. Others gone.

Alone.

Her posters were all blurry and her walls were slowly creeping closer and the ceilings were closing in on her.

Charlotte's bed was too small. Their knees almost pressed against each other, although she wasn't against it.  They were facing each other.

He stuck out his hand, and, in a subconscious, dreamlike way, she copied, her surroundings swirling, churning, dizzying. 

Somewhere, somehow, she heard herself whisper, "Obliviate." Her finger was twitching and her smile clenched and hurting. "Accio!" he shouted.  Beatles shirt. Ruffled hair.

"Wow," he blinked for a second, adorably cocking his head as he gaped at her face. "I love them."

"R-really?" she stuttered, her index finger darting to the bridge of her nose. My mom and I renewed the prescription, and I th-thought I'd give them another t-try."

"Really," he responded, and she was so done with herself, so many questions and insecurities and fears she didn't sign up for. She swatted at the mosquitoes and bugs that wouldn't leave, proceeding with the annoying ringing in her ears.

Charlotte cleared her throat, recognizing herself veering off topic.

"Ah... Anyways," she continued, the blush steadily getting redder on her face. "I kind of h-had something I wanted to tell you."

"So that's why you called me. You sounded scared on the phone, I was worried." Inch, closer, inch by inch, closer, closer.

"Y-y-yeah, kind of," Charlie gulped out. Her breathing was hard to conntrol, chest thumping, nerves aching. Teddy was staring at something besides Charlotte. He stood up.

Blinking, Charlotte gave herself a mental smack, shaking her head vigorously. What had she been thinking?

She couldn't do this.

A familiar rustling sound made the minuscule hairs on the back of Charlie's neck stand up, her head sharply turning towards the source of the sound.  Teddy, holding an off-white, crumpled, beat up, ripped note between his index and middle fingers, his face blank and lips parallel to one another. Unrelieved of emotion. Monotonous.

He opened the small, black box next, notes overflowing, some on post-it, others on white lined, the rest on plain computer paper.  Overflowig, falling, crumbling, crumbling, crumbling. His eyes were calm, like the rustles of whispering october winds through the auburn-colored trees. Like the soothing purr, hum, rumble of a cat. Soft, soft. Calm.

Calm at sea.

His voice was gruff, like he always had a cold.  Nasally, but a cute nasally, not overly strangled. Gravelly. Calm. But how come her body was ticking like a time bomb?

"You've kept them."

Hell broke loose.

Earthquakes erupting, shattering the ground. Splitting, cracking the Earth, trembling, trembling.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Voice wobbling. Blur.

"The notes," he replied, as if it were the least shocking statement of the century. "You've kept them?"

"O-o-of course I k-kept them, but how do yo-you know about the notes?" she asked, barely audible. Her voice a tremblig, quivering whisper. The chilly June night's summer breeze in Massachusetts.

His reply, expressionless, emotionless, a smile eventually forming ever so slightly on his rosy lips.

"Well," he started, his throaty voice drilling itself into her ears, the sound resonating. The following words repeating, repeating, repeating, until they no longer sounded like words.

Words becoming meaningless, as meaningless as life and as meaningless as her life in particular. The meaning simply fading because of repetition, the sentences losing their strings and eventually just becoming useless puppets. Robotically mumbling the sentence under her breath, not even quite sure of what she was saying anymore. No longer sounding like words. Silence.

She would remember the next sentence for days and months and years, she knew that much. Knowing exactly how he said it, in the enticing, word-clinging volume, the gritty sound in his throat, the twinkle in his eyes, the roaring ocean.

He said, and she quoted;
"Because I write them."

a/n

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH cliffhanger :-)

HOW WAS THIS CHAPTER????? i'm actually fairly proud of it. eh? eh??

tell me thoughts one spencer, description (kinda proud of description tbh), skylar, charlie wore her GLASSES! yas you go girl, metaphors and things, hmm, what am i forgetting......................................................................................Teddy writes the notes??!?!!??!??!?!!?!!??! hm, thoughts on that?

QUESTION FOR ALL OF YOU: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE FOR HALLOWEEN???

I AM GOING AS JANET SNAKEHOLE, A SIDE CHARACTER IN PARKS AND RECREATION THAT IS ONE OF APRIL LUD. ATE'S MANY ALTERNATE IDENTITIES. MY FRIEND IS GOING AS BERT MACKLIN, ANOTHER CHARACTER FROM THE SHOW, AKA ANDY DWYER. if you have mo idea what i'm saying wATCH THE SHOW. it's life changing.

dedicated to @frobbymilk for the absolutely freaking amazing banners and covers and fanart and i hyperventilated each time i saw something new. honest to god i nearly cried when i saw them. i screamed a lot.

turn in your fanart ASAP! some of you haw said you were making some, and i don't want it to go to waste! i want to feature it!! go pm me about deets!

because there are only......... tHREE chapters left. GASPS.

but i'm hyped. sequel possibility is climbing higher and higher and i'm nearly one hundred percent sure i will be doing a oneshot contest and maybe i'll have other contests i've been thinking about and publishing maybe theres a high possibility of trying that and i'm just sO PSYCHED

S P E A K I N G OF PSYCHED SEASON TWO OF THE FLASH I'M ABOUT TO THROW UP AL OVER THE FLOOR OH MY GOD  TONIGHT IT'S TONIGHT I CNAT BRETAHE

MAJOR PS.
also, if you haven't checked it out already, i have some stores on things. if you buy something pm me on wattpad or any other way to contact me and i would LOVE feature you in this book!  it's some merch i've made (to the best of my ability) on photoshop for my books and other things i love, and i will be planning to buy some of it lmao. am i lame or what. (we could twin?????)

just search redbubble or zazzle,

• for redbubble i am sophieclaflin
[ http://www.redbubble.com/people/sophieclaflin ]
• zazzle i am siriusly_fandoms
[ http://www.zazzle.com/siriusly_fandoms/products ]

i recommend coupons

if you buy something i really want to work out some way i could maybe sign it??? idk.  again, if you buy something, do tell!! that would literally kill me. + i wanna see how they look. that would be the best thing that's ever happened to me. besides getting sam claflin's autograph. aND THE FLASH SEASON TWO TOMORROW. ok. i'll go now

thanks for reading, and sorry for the slow, procrastinated update :-)

GOALS:

140k reads in total (who knows when i'm gonna update honestly i take so long. #procrastinationstation)
400 votes
450 comments

aiming high bc i'm fairly proud of this chapter :-)