COMPLETED // i don't want to hurt anymore - enoch o'connor x reader

Chapter 15 - Letter

(Y/N)'s P.O.V

I left Horace's and Enoch's room with an idea of what to do, but no idea of how to go about doing it. I got that I have to make him know that I like him​, and that I would never voluntarily hurt him, but for someone like Enoch, this was going to be hard to get across. For some reason, I felt like going to him straight away and telling him how I feel would be a bad idea, as he would probably just shut me out again, but I didn't know what else to do. Should I get him a gift? Make him a cake? Unleash my inner emo and write him a depressing poem? Funnily enough, none of those ideas seemed to appeal to me. So I walked slowly out of the house and into the garden to think things through.

I chose my favourite space underneath the willow tree, where I'd usually settle down with a book. Today, however, I had no book, only a notebook with the words 'Make Enoch normal again' written on the top of the first page in my messy handwriting. I'm kind of OCD like that. I have to make a list for absolutely everything.
So, (Y/N). What does Enoch like? I racked my brain, trying to think of anything that he might have taken any interest in, but I found nothing. All I really needed was a good gift to give him so I could make an excuse to go down to his basement. With that swaying his judgement, I could then try and talk about myself and we could open up to each other.
He likes hearts and organs, I thought. I could get him some of those, I suppose. But that just didn't feel very personal, seeing as anybody could buy him those. To be honest, bringing dolls to life was his only hobbie.
Dolls!
And idea struck my mind. It was a small idea, and a not very good one at that, but, with the right amount of time and effort inputted, it might just work.
Enoch kept his dolls with him at almost all times, which wasn't really saying much seeing as he spent most of his time with them in the basement anyway. But if I were to find a way to slip a note, a small piece of paper perhaps, into one of the dolls hand, or even better, it's chest, where Enoch would cut open to put in the heart, I could arrange a meeting between us. I would have to make sure he would work on that doll on the right day, however. That was definitely something to think about. But the main thing was that I had an idea, and with that in my mind, I hopped up from under the tree, the notebook list-less, and ran back inside the house.

I made my way to the library, a place that, despite it's initial messiness and outdatedness, was something of a safe haven for me. Ever since I can remember, being surrounded by books was the one thing that could calm me and make me focus. And focus was exactly what I needed for the task.
I ripped out a page of my notebook and set about writing a note to Enoch to tell him to meet me. There were so many ways I could do it. Should I make it poetic and beautifully scripted, or blunt and straight to the point? Should I attempt to apologize quickly for what happened that night, or leave that for when we met face-to-face? I decided upon taking the blunt and short option, and after 10 minutes, I had come up with this:

Enoch,
Please meet me underneath the willow tree in the garden tonight, at 1am. [I may as well get it over and done with]. I just want to talk.

I decided against signing it, seeing as if he knew who it was from, he might not turn up, and then I suppose I would've been 'stood up'. However, Enoch was a smart guy. It wouldn't take him much to work out that it was from me.
I packed up my notebook and pen and stood up from the corner in which I was sitting, before heading out of the worn library. I suppose then all I had to do was find a way to get the note into Enoch's doll. Phaha. 'All I had to do'. It's not like that was the hardest part or anything.

I decided to make my move during dinner. I excused myself from the quiet dinner table, pretending to need the toilet as I had done so before on that night when we all went wild. I diverted to the basement and walked in, enveloped by the darkness. I fumbled around for the old light switch, and heard a click as a warm orange light filled the room, illuminating the one thing on the workbench that I wanted to see. A doll, left with it's chest cut open, obviously a work in progress. I folded the note in half and placed it inside the bloodstained cavity, careful not to get any of the ominous red substance on my fingers. Ugh. That would be gross.
I left the basement, pleased with my work. Everything was going well.
For now.