VENOM

Nineteen. 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓

Your back beneath the sun
wishing I could write my name on it.
Will you call when you're
back at school?

Taylor Swift
august

My darling Viv,

Forgive me if you can't read my writing - I've rewritten this letter so many times that I've run out of ink and I'm too afraid to ask Mother for more considering she just bought me some at the beginning of the summer. I can't even use my poetry writing as an excuse because she'd most likely blast me off the tapestry same as Sirius if she found out her precious son was writing love poems.

Grimmauld Place is duller than ever without you here. I'd gotten so used to having you around that I forgot what it was like back when my only friend was Kreacher and you only put up with me because you had to. Would you like me to be cheesy and tell you that I miss you so much it makes my heart hurt? Or if I told you that I'm terribly lonely without you (Kreacher can't hold a conversation as you can ... he's not a very good kisser either. Just joking) and don't know what to do with myself?

I think you should cut your visit to Cuba short so you can back and see me. Cuba can't possibly be as interesting as I am. I know you're probably rolling your eyes and calling me dramatic (even though I'm not) but I truly think I'm going to die (of boredom and lack of kissing) if I don't get to see you soon.

On a more somber note, Mother and Father are keeping something from me. They keep whispering our names and mentioning the end of the summer - but whenever they notice I'm in the room, they stop talking. It's too bad they actually pay attention to me now. If your father wasn't there with you, I'd tell you to stay in Cuba so you could be safe from whatever my parents/our parents have planned for us. Truthfully, I hope it's just wedding stuff.

I've spent the whole month writing poems, by the way. Merlin, I can't believe I'm telling you this. Most of them are about you, just so you know, as pathetic as it sounds. I've decided that I'll let you read a few of them because I am so considerate and kind (and also have nice hair but that's beside the point). You can't say anything about my poems though because it's embarrassing enough that you know I write poetry so you can just admire them silently.

I miss you, Genevieve, and I can't wait to see you in August. Try not to forget about me.

Yours forever,

Reggie.

Mon amour,

You're too funny. As if I could ever forget about you my darling, poetry-writing, boyfriend. I don't know how people think you're so brooding and mean because (don't be angry at me for this, Reggie) you're just a softie. I like it when you're soft with me. Cuba is boring, in case you were wondering, and be prepared for an entire month of me complaining about how boring Cuba was.

Why was Cuba boring? I'll tell you - one, I've already gotten sunburnt a million times and I think I'm going to run out of skin. Does that make sense in English? I can't tell. I also keep messing up my Spanish, which is ironic, but also embarrassing. I think messing up your first language is much more embarrassing than writing poetry. If I could Apparate, I would've come home to you weeks ago.

It's weird not spending the summer together. I miss Grimmauld Place and its library and I miss Kreacher but most of all I miss you. I hope you know that I do like it when you say cheesy things, but if you keep it up, I'll have an ego bigger than yours (not to fuel the flame, however, but I do agree that you have nice hair). I can't believe the one summer we're finally together we're not actually together.