The Old Oak- Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

My phone buzzes softly against my ear, realizing my sleeping position against Ed's chest. I push against it tiredly, stretching out with a yawn. Ugh, why I made the commitment to run every morning at 5:00 is beyond me. Ed knows that I've been doing this for the past week so I just lean down and peck his sleeping lips. But today I think I'll not run, maybe visit Mom and Dad's to pick up the eggs they promised.

"Be back soon." I whisper as if he can hear me. He'll be waking up to go to own apartment to change before work soon. With that I take a quick shower and pick out a floral skirt with a white collar shirt that's tied in the front that I've had since highschool, one that brings back a lot of memories. Ed is still sleeping when I get out so I quietly stalk past him and out the door.

The outside air is cold, especially here in the rural area of Cheshire, the urban region is mostly heated consistently by the exhaust of cars. I like it better down here, the hospital just a few miles away from my apartment and my apartment just a few miles away from my favorite place. I glance to the side before pushing the small white picket open to the field pathway. It's not really a path, Harry and I made it because we passed through so much going to the Oak tree. I swallow my suddenly dry throat at the memory of Harry still lingering 5 years later around this place.

My legs haul me up the tree up the jolts in the tree until I reach the branch we always sat. Its been awhile since I was last here, the last time I was here was around two years ago when I still came here every single day. That visiting halted when I finally convinced myself to accept Eds' insistent invitation for a date. I had to move on from Harry and Ed was a person that I could easily get along with though there is no spark when we kiss nor intimacy when we talk. He's more of a best friend that's allowed to kiss me rather than a boyfriend.

My eyes find the abandoned squirrel hole where I stored the tiny treasure box of letters that's never meant to reach Harry. They're basically a diary except they're all addressed to Harry, the last one I left off with was the one saying that I needed to move on because he's never coming back. I'd write the note then tie in up with a shard of rope to never to read again. It's also an affective venting on how I feel. I had a small candle clamped to the side of the hole in case I forgot which one. The notebook and old pen sits next to the box, chilled by the January air. I take all of it out and begin to write:

Dearest Harry,

It's been awhile, hasn't it? It's been over 3 years since I stopped writing and I'm sorry about that. I guess I just wanted to say that I miss you even though my hatred for you is so strong, and even though I can say that, I can never stop loving you whether I want to or not. I want to hate you for leaving, I want to hate you with all my heart and on the outside I'd say I hate you but on the inside there's still the undying love that hasn't fazed whatsoever. I'm scared to but I'm dating again, Harry. Three years ago, I started going out with Ed Sheeran, you remember him don't you? He's a great guy but he could never come close to what I felt with you. I didn't even feel a spark when I kiss Ed, but he's the one I'm left with so I guess i'll make a life with him. Though I wish you had stayed, I wish I had you to be with me. But that dream was discontinued when you left for your dreams.

Speaking of your dreams, you and your band are doing well, topping charts, being rated the sexiest men alive. You really reached beyond your dreams and I'm so proud of you. I see your face a lot, billboards, magazine covers, cereal boxes even, and the most frequent is every place I look. Every time I kiss Ed, all I see is your face, not the one of the covers though, the one that I knew. The one that hasn't changed one bit due to fame or the one that kissed me once and that I still recreate in my dreams.

I miss you, Harry, I'm still your Taylor no matter how much I would deny it.

Love you,

Taylor

I sign an excessive amount of hearts and fold the paper into fours, tying it gently with rope from the swing. My head dips down as I bring the letter up to imprint a red lip outline on it.

"I love you, Harry." I whisper quietly against the paper. There's nothing more that I want than to be with him, I don't want any boy but him. It sucks so much when you love somebody so much when that person must not love you half as much judging by the fact he left without me. Without a grain of goodbye except a short letter saying he's sorry but he has to follow his dreams and that he's grateful to the years I've stuck by him. But I've stuck by him as more than a friend, more than a best friend, I stuck by him because of love. How he could not see that proves he's oblivious, and the fact he couldn't see that proves that he broke my heart.

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