"I want to write you a song,
One that's beautiful as you are sweet.
With just a hint of pain,
For the feeling that I get when you are gone,
I want to write you a song."

Andrew's letter to Veronica on her birthday.

Veronica,

I know what you're thinking. Who got those string lights and who put them in your room? Well, it was obviously me. It's not like I'll allow a stranger to enter your room and put random things here and there.

Now you must be wondering, when did I put the lights? I think you took a while to wear your shoes downstairs and that gave me the chance to put those things in your room.

I hung the lights from the glass doors because I didn't know where else to put them. Every nook and corner of your room holds something special to your heart and it would've been selfish of me to remove your things and replace them with my gift.

Yes, you read that correctly. The set of  string lights is your birthday present. I know it's a very stupid excuse of a gift. Probably the worst gift to have existed in the history of gifts. I don't even know why I chose those lights in the first place. But the moment I saw them at the store, I knew I had to get them for you. Call it my sharp memory power or whatever, because I remember you gazing at the stars almost every night from the balcony in your room. How do I know that? Have you forgotten that my room is just beside yours and it too has a balcony?

Yeah, you're really dumb sometimes.

I bought your presents while you were getting dressed ( I thought you'd like to know).

And now comes the second part of my gift. That box with shiny wrapper. I wanted to get a more sober wrapper (because you're a writer, you must like sophisticated stuff) but the shopkeeper insisted I take that one. He said you'll like it. So, did you like it? If not, you can go and strangle the shopkeeper. Not me.

Moving on.

Did you open the box? Guess not. The curious cat that you are, you probably unfolded the letter the moment you saw it, totally ignoring my other gift.

Go ahead, open it.

This letter can wait.

Go.

(waits for five minutes) I just had to write this one.

So here's another shitty present from the extremely shitty me.

A mixtape.

I started making this mixtape last week and finished it just yesterday. While making it, I did not have any purpose in my mind. But when I heard it's your birthday today, I decided I'll give it to you.

You know how much I'm into music. And if there's anyone else who loves music as much as I do, I think it's you.

(Don't flatter yourself)

Please listen to the songs. I've handpicked the best. I think you'll enjoy listening to the mixtape. My voice sounds really bad in between the songs but you'll put up with it, right?

I'm writing this letter ahead of taking you out (while you were getting dressed, Jesus, how much time do you take to get ready?!) and I don't know if you'll like what I have planned for you. But I sincerely hope that you do.

Sorry for the bad choice of gifts, though a part of me hopes you'll love them.

Sorry for not knowing your birthday in the first place.

Sorry for not being able to arrange anything too fancy or memorable for you.

Sorry for that night, you know which one I'm talking about (for which you haven't forgiven me yet).

Sorry that my girlfriend was such a bitch to you because partly it's my fault also.

I never imagined I'd say (write) 'sorry' to someone so many times. But you always make an exception. I don't know why.

The things you make me do, geez woman. Damn you (not).

Andrew.

P.S: The single red rose was a last minute addition. Is it a bit too cliche for your liking? But, I know you love cliché.

-

Song: I Want To Write You A Song by One Direction.

Andrew's gifts for Veronica:

[please ignore the caption on the last picture]

some of you might like the gifts that Andrew gave Veronica but I didnt want them to be very cliche and sappy, you know. i didnt make Andrew give her any necklaces or bracelets or other such stuff like normal people do. Andrew and Veronica are not normal, in case you havent noticed it yet.

bye.