Carey stepped into the room to find her husband leaning over the kitchen table. She curiously slipped being him and looked over his shoulder.
"Whatcha up to, baby?" She wrapped slender arms around his waist, hands flat on his belly. She felt him jump slightly before relaxing in her arms.
"Hey, bug. You scared me." He leaned back into her. "I was just reading over some of our letters."
A gentle smile graced Carey's lips. "Oh yeah?" She got a small nod in response. She kissed his shoulder, rubbing his belly. She heard his little hum and smiled.
"C'mon, baby." She grabbed the letters and his hand, bringing them to the couch. "Let's read them together."
Marcus grinned, rather loving the idea. "Okay, noodle." She grabbed his hips and pushed him down before quickly grabbing two glasses of wine from the kitchen. She returned to her husband with a large smile, dimples on her cheeks. Settling herself into his side, she grabbed the stack of letters.
"Awh, Mumford. You saved them all, didn't you?" She looked up at him, toes wriggling their way under his thigh as she pressed seamlessly against his side. He nodded in return, and she loved the way he could be so quiet and gentle. Murmuring something that could be taken as "You're adorable" Carey tilted her head up to give her husband a large kiss. The moment she felt him return it she could feel a thousand little tingles down her spine. He was so great that way, but she couldn't explain why. It was almost as if everything he did he'd thought out all the reactions that could occur and chose the right movement every time. Carey drew back from his lips, letting her hand fall to his chest. She played with the buttons on his waistcoat, snuggling into him.
"Read them, darling." She prompted, letting them fall into his lap. Unable to say no to her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and picked up the first letter, the first one he'd ever sent her. He cleared his throat and spoke softly, tracing the edge of the paper.
"Dear Carey,
I'm Marcus Mumford and I'm your pen pal. I don't know why my parents are making me do this, but they told me to keep an open mind and that you might just become my best friend. They're probably right, and that's annoying. I'm sure that your parents make you do stuff you don't want to. Anyways, I'm 12 and I love to play football. Do you play any sports? I think I can probably make it professional if I try hard, but my brother James likes to crush that idea. He's so annoying." Marcus read aloud, rolling his eyes. "Do you have brothers? It's the WORST.
Sincerely,
Marcus" He finished reading it and laughed a little, looking at Carey.
"Sorry I was such a dick right off the bat."
She looked up from his messy handwriting, a smirk plastered on her face. "I always knew you'd have a big dick."
"That is not at all what I said, but okay." Marcus rubbed her shoulder as she shrugged.
"Well it's not like it's not true, okay?" She nuzzled his neck, pressing a small kiss to the freckle on his chin. "Keep going."
He nodded and found her first letter to him, her handwriting visibly nicer and legible.
"Dear Marcus,
I can't say that I'm not excited to do this, I don't have a ton of friends at school, so I thought this was cool. My dad works in a hotel, so we're always moving. That's why I don't have a lot of friends, because I'm too shy to really talk to other people. I don't play sports, but I really love acting. My parents are like your brother, I guess, they don't think there's anything I can do with acting. They tell me that it's for my own good, but honestly I can't imagine anything besides acting. It was my brother, actually, who got me into it. I know it's a bit dorky and stupid. Oh well.
-Carey Mulligan." Marcus stared affectionately at that letter, leaning his head on hers. "You're so cute, Care." He received a little giggle and a soft slap to his chest.
"Shh, baby." She hid her face in his neck, urging him to read more.
The night passed on as the two read through years worth of letters, they'd sent them religiously, week after week. Marcus would read them aloud and Carey would stop him for commentary. She always had something nice to say about him, complimenting his handwriting or saying how she loves a trait he still has. One of her favourites being when Marcus talked about sports, he never tried to explain the game, just share some play or something he saw. It gave Carey less to try to follow but still made sense in her head. The letters talked about school, friends, family, and each other, both of them clearly comfortable writing to another.
Much later in the evening Marcus finished writing the last one Carey wrote, the end of their conversation for over ten years. It was rather bittersweet, reading it, because both of them knew it all worked out, but the sudden loss of contact was awful at the time. Carey spoke up first, having gotten the first three buttons undone on his white shirt as she rubbed his chest.
"Why'd you stop, lovely?" She looked up with curious eyes, head comfortably on his shoulder.
Marcus looked down at her, and then at the letters. "Because I thought I was in love with you." When he got an eyebrow furrow he continued. "Baby, I was so in love with you, and I'd never even seen you. I wrote you a last letter, laying everything on the line, but fear for the best of me. I was too afraid that I'd make some sort of fool out of myself, that you'd think it creepy if I was in love with you. So I never sent it. And I couldn't stand the idea of talking to you and telling you things that didn't really matter, since it wasn't on my mind as much as my feelings for you." Carey looked up at him, nodding.
"Really?"
"Really, baby. I still have the letter."
"Can I read it?" She asked softly, fingers running over his broad shoulders. He agreed, somewhat timidly, and found the long lost letter. He gave it to her shyly, letting her read it for herself. She took it, melting into his side as she read the words to herself.
Dear Carey,
I'm so glad to hear about your new school being so great. You deserve only the best. I think that you're too smart and pretty and nice to not have what you want. I wish that I saw you every day, because then I could be your friend at school. Maybe then I could see that really cute face of yours and actually get to hug you. I know it sounds weird, bold even, but it's something I've wanted to do for a long time. It seems like we know everything about each other, and I can't help but think that we're perfect for each other. I know that sounds strange, but I can't think of someone I would rather spend time with. You're always on my train of thought. Every time I'm angry I think 'What would Carey do?' and then I usually calm down. You calm me down, and I only know you through paper and that one picture you sent me. I think that I love you, Carey.
Love,
Marcus.
Carey looked at Marcus, a gentle smile on her face, as she held the letter.
"That's everything that was left unsaid." She traced the paper fondly. "I'd always though it was because you were annoyed with me. I complained to you a lot."
"Oh no, God, noodle. I was so admiring of you. I thought everything you said or did was perfect." Marcus set all the letters back down on the coffee table.
"I loved you too, Marcus." She slid her fingers up his chest to the nape of his neck, lips drawing to his. He leant forward all the way to kiss her longingly, like he was solidifying everything in the letter. Carey kissed him back eagerly, fingers running through and knotting in his dark hair. He lifted her up suddenly, eyes staring in hers possessively. With a kiss to her lips, he murmured against them, "Let's go make up for the lost time."
A/N: Well that was cliche. Sorry. *sighs* has anyone ever taken AP bio and is willing to help my sorry ass?
