| 30 |
❝ I don't need my glasses to see how beautiful you are. ❞
THE CAR RIDE home was silent.
Charlotte found her head in the Lost Boy's lap, his fingers combing through her tangled hair. She got her well-deserved sleep, not once caring that this act was public to both Malcolm (who claimed he moved on) and Shane (who shipped it immensely).
Charlotte had slept more in the past week than she had in the last year; in due time, as her senses had finally cleared a little and her mind was no longer buzzing with every nagging thought she could possibly have. She didn't know what she had been thinking last night. Of course she wanted Teddy as more than a friend. The repercussions were what scared her.
Charlotte floated between subconscious and sleep, her brain getting small inklings of what the conversation was.
"-ve her." The fingers paused.
"-makes you say that-"
She struggled to open her eyes, as if her eyelashes weighed as much as boulders.
"-never done that for a g-"
"-and it's totally obv-"
Charlie was on the verge, only hearing snippets. The car rumbled to a stop, her heart thumping. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I'll carry her," the Lost Boy whispered, a breeze on Charlotte as a car door was opened.
"You sure?" another said. The Broken Boy. His voice was just as soft.
"Positive," the other replied as she lay limp in the car.
A warm hand felt around, making her body shiver. The arm wrapped around her legs and the other around her waist. Charlotte sleepily snaked her arms around his neck, her glasses crooked against the nice man's chest.
"Can you get the doors, Malc?" It was the same voice, Charlotte struggling between dreams and reality.
"Yeah, Shane's got the luggage," the Broken Boy softly responded.
Charlotte felt her head bobble as they walked up steps, her brown hair tickling her face. The creak of a door. Hushed voices. More steps, head bouncing, glasses slipping, hands weak, body limp.
The Lost Boy laid her on the bed, sliding the bed covers on top of her. Her fingers curled around the end.
She felt her glasses being removed from her face and felt her sandals falling off of her feet.
Heavy footsteps, the scratch of a pencil. Ticklish breath on forehead. Warm lips.
She felt something being placed in the palm of her hand, and she subconsciously held tight.
"Sweet dreams, Charlie," the Lost Boy whispered.
Like a flash of lightning, he was gone as quick as he came.
•|•|•
Rolling around, Charlotte felt her eyes peel open and the bright sun blind her. It began to come back to her. They had spent two nights at the hotel, and then at the end of the next day they began to drive home, Malcolm taking the wheel, Shane in the passenger seat. Teddy tucked her in, and then placed . . .
She was wide awake now. Her eyes grew and she suddenly dug around her covers for the small note Theodore Orion Higgins had placed in her hand before she fell asleep. He should have just put it next to her glasses, damnit. She could never hold items in her sleep.
She looked under her sheets and came up empty. She glanced around for her phone and found it on her bedside table. It took her a few minutes to structure the right words.
Charlotte Jackson: hey, i can't find that note you gave me last night when i was sleeping...?
Ding.
Teddy Orion: it wasn't that big of a deal, don't worry about it
Don't worry about it? What did he say? It could have been anything!
Ding.
Teddy Orion: do you want to come over for our friday night sleepover @ my house
Her fingers flew on her screen as she shoved her glasses on her nose.
Charlotte Jackson: sign me up :-)
Charlotte pulled up jean shorts and slipped into a cat t-shirt and made her way downstairs to her daily bowl of cereal. When she sat down at the dining room table, her parents were there as well, her father with a newspaper covering his face. Skylar and Spencer were whispering at the end of the table, and Lucas was making poptarts in the kitchen.
"So, Charlotte," her mother began, stopping Charlie just short of putting the cereal in her mouth. "How was Comic Con with your little friends?"
"Good," she replied, finally taking a bite.
"Make any summer plans? How was the pool? Was there a breakfast bar?"
"Mhm," she responded, shrugging.
Skylar was glancing at Charlotte strangely, in almost a pained way. The silence was strained.
Her father suddenly put down the newspaper, his thin-framed reading glasses still on his face. "Charlotte . . . "
"Yeah, what's up?" she asked, gulping down another bite.
Her parents exchanged worried glances, and Skylar excused herself (Spencer following).
"Well . . . " he stated, folding up his reading glasses. "It's Hazel."
Charlotte's heart stopped. The looks on her parent's faces did not comfort her at all. She was being drowned, run over, crushed like a crunchy leaf in autumn. She had heard nothing from or about Hazel for days, weeks. "What? Wh-what do you mean? Did you find her? Is she alive? Is she okay? I-I don't understand—"
Her father pushed a crumpled, folded up letter towards Charlotte, and her mother's lips were pressed into a thin line.
"This is for you."
•|•|•
Theodore's house felt as if it were an old teacher she had loved, one she visited so rarely but knew so well. She knew all of the rooms and twists and turns and every cabinet and drawer.
But she'd never been to a sleepover where they slept outdoors.
Malcolm and Teddy were already there. Teddy was reading the tent's instructions and ordering around Malcolm on what he needed to do.
"No, you connect that pole with the one we started with," Teddy argued, shaking the instructions in his hand. "Don't you pay attention?"
"It's not easy putting this thing up with only your verbal instructions. Let's see you do it, huh?" Malcolm chimed in, resting on his knees with parts and pieces surrounding him.
"Chill," Charlotte said. They both turned to her.
"Y-you're here!" Teddy stuttered while he stood up, causing him to drop all of the tent pieces that had been resting on his lap.
"I wasn't going to blow you off, even with everything that's happened this week," Charlotte responded, holding out her hand to him.
"Alohomora!" he exclaimed, jabbing his finger towards her.
"Crucio!" she cried out.
Malcolm snorted in the background, trying to shove two poles together.
"Watch it, Dawes," she warned, laying down her sleeping bag and backpack. "Do you guys need any help?"
"Yes."
"No, I think we've got it."
Charlotte sighed, sitting on top of her sleeping bag. "C'mon, give me the directions," she said to Teddy (who was accidentally twinning with Charlotte, both of them wearing navy blue shirts, Charlotte's having little white polka dots on the collar).
"No, we've got it, just give us a couple of minutes," he stubbornly requested.
•|•|•
"Damn, what happened here?" Shane asked, entering the backyard with a look of confusion on his face.
"They're trying to build the stupid tent," Charlotte complained. She had been sitting cross-legged on the grass as they tried to put up the godforsaken tent. "They still won't let me help."
"How long have you been sitting there?" Shane whispered to Charlie, joining her on the sleeping bag.
"At least ten minutes," she groaned. "My family goes camping every year! I could pitch this tent in five minutes! Hazel would always—"
"We can let them finish that," Shane interrupted, glancing nervously at her. "Last time it took two hours. We can go inside and order a pizza while they do that."
•|•|•
They were all huddled inside the cozy tent (that was only finished with coaxing from Charlotte and Shane to help), four empty Dominoes pizza boxes laying beside them. The tent was pretty big, fitting all of them even when they sat up straight or laid down flat.
The four of them dug through the woods beside Teddy's house and found good logs for a campfire. Teddy had a huge stone pit in his backyard, where Shane said they tried to summon Satan in it once. They all laid out their sleeping bags on the grass, everyone sitting on their sleeping bag. Charlie was between Teddy and Malcolm, and Shane across from her.
"I'll get the lighter," Shane exclaimed, running into the house.
"Jesus, uh, Theodore, go with him. He might try for arsenal," Malcolm stated. "Or worse, set himself on fire again." Teddy reluctantly got up with a sigh.
"Again?" Charlotte asked. "Again?"
"It's a long story," Malcolm mumbled, bringing his knees to his chest.
Charlie sucked in a deep breath, feeling the awkwardness in the conversation. The sky was covered in a coat of pale blue, streaks of clouds like pulled cotton balls amongst the sky and the few stars starting to come out. The large maple trees in the woods and the one in his backyard slightly swayed, as if they were at a middle school dance.
"I—I can't tell if you're okay or not, Malcolm," she finally whispered, wincing. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He lost his sister, of course he's not okay. "Damnit. Damnit, I'm sorry, I meant—"
"I understand, it's fine Charlotte," he said, his brown hair brushed frantically, a few pieces of his brown hair sticking up, face pale and eyes so bloodshot and shadowed she could nearly call them gaunt. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not, and I'm sorry," she uttered. "I've always admired you from afar but I can truly say I love you know. You're one of the best friends I have, and that will never change. You've got to be the most inspiring actor I've met, and Violet would be proud to have a brother like you." She mentioned the V name. The V name. Abort. Abort. This is why she didn't try to make things better, she always seemed to screw it up.
"I'm over you, Charlotte. Really, I am. I just needed to realize that some things in life happen for a reason," he answered, looking into the fire-less fire pit. "And why. I'm still confused about some things, but I know why you and I didn't work out, and I'm okay with that. Really. I actually find it kind of funny now. You and Teddy need each other. You understand each other. I can wait a couple more years. I still need to figure things out. But you make him happy, and I'm okay with that now."
She blinked. "You're—you're serious?" She cautiously squinting her eyes, not entirely believing him. Maybe he was over her, but not over his sister's death?
"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine," he grinned. "Seriously. I just need you as a friend, that's all."
The back door creaked open and Teddy and Shane clambered out, a bag of marshmallows and a lighter in Shane's hand. Teddy was holding sticks, chocolate, and graham crackers.
"He joked about setting me on fire," Teddy said in disbelief.
"Yeah, I joked about doing it," he replied with a scoff. "I'm not that insane."
Teddy was sporting his grey hoodie, both of his hands in his long pocket. He adjusted his black glasses on his face, walking closer to them.
He was an amalgamation of sorts, the night sky but also a summer's breeze. Sometimes a foggy day, whereas others he was the sunset and the sunrise.
He was the sky, the stars, and the clouds, all rolled into one.
As he sat beside Charlie, she couldn't help but picture his black hair whisking away into the night sky, his freckles becoming stars and his lips becoming either the sunrise, or the sunset. A grin or a frown. His eyelashes became the shooting stars, curling into orbit. And his glasses sat there, perched on his nose, square-framed and bulky. His ocean eyes rushed into view like rushing water itself, attacking, receeding, slowly dragging with it what it had caught (in this case, Charlotte).
The sky darkened.
The fire flickered and roared, Shane's face streaked with hints of red from the fire's warm tint. Their sleepwear consisted of sweatpants and oversized t-shirts (Teddy making the subtle gesture of giving the grey hoodie he had been wearing to Charlie to help with her shivering).
And she was happy.
Sixth months since they all met, sixth months since she questioned the notes, sixth months ago. Six months ago she was a lonely girl that was only motivated for school because of the inspiring notes she got. Towards the end of the school year, she actually kind of liked it.
Sure, she despised homework with all of her heart, and answering questions in class gave her enough anxiety to one day nearly pass out, but she was improving. Not exactly the rough draft, but not the final copy either.
They had migrated into the tent. The tent was enormous and had a see-through roof, black flaps that draped over the see-through sides, and a zippered section was the only way in and out of the dome.
The sleeping bags were all lined up in one row, side by side. Teddy had a camping lantern and placed it in between Malcolm and Teddy, who were the two in the middle, the lightly barely aglow. All Charlie could see were silhouettes now.
Shane fell asleep first, out like a light. Malcolm struggled to stay awake, but eventually he, too, closed his eyes.
Charlie lay quietly in her scratchy sleeping bag, her eyes focused on the see-through roof of the tent, stars dimly twinkling, the dark night engulfing the trees and swallowing the fluffy clouds.
She felt an elbow to her ribs.
"You still awake?" she heard a whisper.
"Yeah," she replied softly. "Either way, you elbowing me would get me awake."
"Sorry," he said in a hushed voice. "I—I didn't know how to check if you were awake."
"That's alright," she responded, a small yawn escaping her mouth. She stuffed her hands in the soft pocket of his hoodie she was wearing, a shiver creeping down her spine.
Her eyebrows crinkled together as she pulled a crumpled, ripped piece of notebook paper out from the pocket. Charlotte looked at him sideways to see him staring at the stars, his arms by his sides.
As she smoothed out the note as quiet as she could, Teddy grabbed the flickering camping lantern from in between him and Malcolm and set it above him and Charlie's head so she could read the note, and so they could actually see each other. She narrowed her eyes trying to read the squiggly, narrow print.
I don't need my glasses to see how beautiful you are.
"Geez," she slowly mumbled, feeling her cheeks grow hot, her eyesight blurring. "Th—that's really cheesy."
"Turn the note over," he softly replied, his eyes closed.
She did.
I love you, Charlie.
The writing was scribbled so messily and it looked like it had been erased a dozen time. Her heart was ready to burst. She needed her inhaler. Love. Love. Love.
"You— are you—" she croaked out, her eyes darting from the note to his eyes again and again.
"That's what I had put in your hand the other night," he responded. "I'm too much of a nerd to put my thoughts into words, so I wrote it down. But ye—yeah, since probably around the night you came around the coffee shop. Maybe even before that."
She felt faint.
She couldn't think, she couldn't speak, she couldn't hear, she couldn't see. Bells were ringing in her ears, her brain vibrating and her eyesight blank. Charlotte couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe. You are my sunshine you are my sunshine you are my sunshine my sunshine my sunshine my sunshine my sunshine my sunshine. The tent seemed too small, cramped, small, small, piercing, shouting, striking, thoughts, jabs, curling up, curling, curling, gone. Love. Love. Love.
"Charlotte," he frantically asked, his voice hushed. The others still stayed asleep. "Charlotte."
Love. Love. Love.
"Hey, hey, shh, look at me. Charlotte, it's okay, Charlie." His voice was an anxious whisper, his eyes darting here and there. "I—I don't—"
Her eyes were squeezed shut an she was taking in as much air as she could. In, out. In, out. Love. Love was big. They weren't even dating. First love. Only love.
"Uhh, my . . . my dad used to love stars," he began, looking at her with his big blue eyes, sitting in front of her sadly with his head cocked to one side. She could faintly hear rustling of trees from outside, and somehow she could still picture his azure eyes staring at her, even with her eyes closed. "He always had a weird obsession with them, always taking pictures, maybe looking up weird facts, sometimes even just looking at them from our backyard. That's where I get my middle name from."
Was he changing the subject for her?
Charlotte didn't know what to do with this information.
She had always had minuscule, nagging questions about Teddy's father in the back of her mind, those questions only growing when he had let it slip his dad died when he called her in a mess when Violet died. Charlotte wasn't one to pry. She wasn't going to ask him. If he wanted to share, he'd share.
"We'd always pitch the tent, him usually putting it together, and we'd look at the stars. He'd spout facts and point out constellations," he murmured, and he closed his eyes, the lantern's light highlighting a few of his features. Charlotte had slowly uncurled her legs from the cramped position she had been in, reverting back to her legs crossed. His freckles dotted his face like constellations yet to be connected.
The pair themselves were a constellation yet to be connected. They had their place in the universe. Both lost and alone, stragglers [in the night sky]. They were not officially labeled or finished with their connect-the-dots, but they were getting there. Stars are always attaching and becoming part of a bigger picture, transforming into a simple drawing in the midst of the universe. A doodle of connected stars that have found their path. They were a constellation yet to be connected (for now).
Teddy pointed at the sky, squinting as he pinpointed something. "If you look closely, that's Ursa Minor there, and if you look beside it, you can see Draco, the big hooked kind of constellation, with a little tale at the end. Next to that is Ursa Major, and then from that you can spot Polaris, the North Star."
Charlotte was squinting up at it, her breath steadying, the L Word just a dream. Putting her glasses back on, she looked for the North Star. "I . . . How can you see that? There's millions. Maybe I just need a new prescription in my glasses . . . "
"Maybe just tilt your head a little—" he mumbled, adjusting her head with his forefinger on her chin. "Is that better?"
Charlotte nodded. A shiver escaped her body.
"He loved the Beatles, too," Teddy continued, his eyes nearly looking glazed over as he glanced at the stars. "We have two big records stowed away in the basement, I'll have to put them on for you at some point. He used to call me Teddy sometimes, which is one of the reasons I was kind of surprised you called me that."
Teddy crawled next to her in the corner of the tent, bringing his knees to his chest. Two lost, lonely stars in a web — a maze — of constellations.
"When . . . when did he die, again?" she asked with a muffled voice, snuggling closer into the grey hoodie of his she was wearing. She squeezed her eyes shut. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
"I was fourteen, so around three years ago. Cancer just kind of . . . " Teddy coughed lightly. "Mom began working double the hours as a waitress, barely scraping by for the two of us. It was like when dad died, she died along with him."
Charlie had almost forgotten about Malcolm and Shane, who were both sound asleep. Thank God it was a large tent; their whispers and subtle movements wouldn't wake them up.
Her voice was just another gust in the wind. "What was he like?"
A sigh escaped his lips, and he was once again the Lost Boy. Sad. Frustrated. Adjusting his glasses on his face, picking at his nails, biting his pink lips; he was lost. "Everything I strive to be, if I'm honest. He was smart, funny . . . my best friend."
Charlotte had finally made the decision and creeped out of the tent so she wouldn't wake up Malcolm or Shane. Teddy awkwardly followed in suit.
They were back to their original campout spots by the fire, Charlotte's eyes almost crossing while she tried subtly glancing at him from the side. "You're a lot like him, you know."
She could faintly see him blush in the moonlight's hue and the ghostly light radiating out from the camping lantern. "You think so?"
His eyes looked as if they were glowing, but maybe that was just from the lantern's light.
"Positive. You're the guy I can go to for daily space facts and cute pick-up lines, and you always have a funny remark on the tip of your tongue, which I always end up laughing at. You're the most awkward, discombobulated, charismatic person I know. I love being your best friend."
Teddy squeezed one eye shut, scrunching his eyebrows and shriveling his lips, looking frazzled. "Best friend?"
"Yeah, of course," Charlotte bumbled anxiously, agreeing with the redundant statement.
"Charlie," he stated, facing her in a sudden seriousness. "Charlie, what are we?"
The lantern was aglow, blazing, spitting, flickering. His eyes were soft, not glaring or piercing or demanding or melancholy. Understanding. Calm.
Charlotte's eyes fell to a gradual close. "What would your answer to that question be?"
He sat and thought, his legs at his chest, chin resting on his knees. A sudden idea seemed to possess him and he darted up, dashing away from their empty fire pit and trotting up the stairs, the door creaking open.
The Amalgamation was gone. The Lost Boy had disappeared.
Charlie sat quietly for a minute, her brain taking a moment to process what just happened, befuddled by his escape.
A yellow light suddenly glowed from the window of a room on the second floor of Teddy's house, and Charlotte could faintly make out a black shadow within it.
The hum of crickets chirping beyond the woods became a soothing nature sound in Charlie's ear, along with the echoing hoots of owls. The moon was as bright as ever, a full moon at the moment, a dazzling contrast with the ink-stained sky.
She held back a yawn, morning nearly approaching. How strange it was that she was actually tired. Sleeping. Dreaming.
The lonely light disappeared from the window, the night once again cold and everlasting. The old wooden door that led to the backyard once again opened, and Charlie smiled at the darkened silhouette of the boy she liked. Loved. She didn't know. If she was quite honest, she didn't. Charlotte didn't know what love was but she certainly knew she had never liked someone this much.
A mustard yellow pencil was rolling between his fingers, his other hand holding something small. He seemed a little out of breath, and she bit her lip at the amusing sight. He grabbed the lantern and plopped down on the fresh grass while she copied, crossing her legs as she sat before him.
"I . . . " he began, his chest slightly heaving. "I can't talk. I can't sing. You've heard my singing, it's nowhere near Brendon Urie worthy. The only way to express my words to you is through paper and pencil, and that's how it started, so I thought this would be appropriate."
With a gulp, he handed her the pencil and shakily opened his hand to reveal a white-lined, tediously folded piece of paper; a note. They quickly locked eyes and she hurriedly looked away, not wanting to get sucked in just yet.
With one eye closed, Charlie held out her trembling right hand. He placed the note in the palm of her hand and she almost flinched, thinking back to all of those times she had waited for this moment. A note directly from the note writer himself.
Dear Charlie, she silently read, her eyes clinging to every word.
I've always loved reading. Everything from a magical, in depth wizardry novel to a terrifying horror book to an informational pamphlet on the mysteries of our strange universe. I've never been able to bring myself to read those romance novels however, the ones that always end up with the girl getting the guy and they live happily ever after, or the guy dies and the girl cries for her lost love, or something like that. I've never thought very hard about it; the novels are always predictable. So when I felt my heart beat in my chest, my palms growing sweaty whenever I saw you and my throat feeling dry, I thought that maybe I wanted predictable. Maybe I wanted to get the girl, for the first time in my life. Maybe I wanted a romance novel. If I'm honest Charlotte, you're anything but predictable. And like that.
(I could write an entire book about us.)
The edges of Charlotte's lips wavered into a small smile.
The universe is weird. There are billions of people in the world. Sometimes I need to take a moment to realize I'm just one small sliver in those multiple billion. I'll ask myself, "Why me? Why am I one of those billion, what am I supposed to do in such a big world with such little time? Why was I given such an insignificant lfe?" I would doodle and sketch, sometimes scratching down the back of your hair in the middle of History class, and I'd think, the universe tweaked my heartstrings and pushed a couple buttons and I end up having a crush. The universe then sits me down behind this specific girl I presume I like, and as it turns out, we're like the same person. We like to read, we enjoy the Beatles, superheroes, and we're nerdy, antisocial insomniacs, one a little more anxiety-ridden than the other. Is that fate? I think some people call it fate.
Charlie shakily turned the note over.
I loved giving you notes in classes like History, or during lunch, because then I could see your reaction. And I realized, that's why I was given this world, this place in time. Everyone has a part in this world, and maybe I haven't found mine just yet, but these notes are sure something. For both you and me. Just seeing you smile at the message, I'd crack a grin as well. I realized that we have this life, not because of one giant event we were sent to accomplish or something, but for the little things. You are one of these reasons, as well. We'd kiss and I wouldn't be able to hide my giddiness for a week (or two). We'd talk on the phone late at night and I'd find myself staring at the plain white ceiling with the dumbest smile on my face until I drifted asleep, thinking of you, Charlie. You are my sunshine.
So to sum up this whole jumble of incoherent early morning thoughts, I think the universe has a method to it's madness, and I think everything happens for a reason. If life ends up to be a cheesy romance novel, so be it. It'd be my pleasure to be the love interest to the shy, witty, geeky protagonist. In the end, it's the protagonist's choice. I think I've said (or written) my part. What about you?
At the bottom, there were three open boxes drawn, three options.
🔲 we can stay best friends, and nothing will change that
🔲 we could try dating, and perhaps see where the universe (or fate?) takes us
🔲 we do not date or stay best friends. we avoid each other. good riddance.
P.S that last one was a joke. I really hope you don't pick that box.
P.P.S you're really cute with glasses. you're cute all the time, but with glasses you're even cuter somehow.
Charlotte could feel time rush through her fingers and whisper across her hair, a chill snaking down her back, her toes tingling. She suppressed the urge to run, escape, hide, disappear from the answers, from the decisions, from the choices. The little voices were back, twitching and bubbling over in her racing mind. She ignored it. For the first time in forever, she let it go. With a deep breath, she relaxed. Slightly. (Okay, maybe she didn't relax, but at least she was still breathing).
The note was an essay's length and she didn't know how Teddy managed to write all of that down in six minutes. Or how he thought of all the deep quotes he used; maybe lack of sleep was finally getting to him.
Lack of sleep was definitely getting to her at the moment. Charlie had never slept better in her life than she had in the past couple weeks. To stay up until the AM for the first time in a while, she was a little weak and she wasn't exactly sure if this note was actually a dream of hers or not.
The note was written in Teddy's chicken scratch, the letters thin, a mix of cursive (or maybe just lazy print) and regular writing. She quickly scanned the letter again. And again, in case she missed anything. The pencil subconsciously twirled between her fingers.
"I don't know what I should call you anymore," Charlotte mumbled, scrunching up her face and tapping the eraser of the pencil to her cheek. "There's Note Writer, but I suppose that's too basic. Or maybe I could call you Ringo, like Ringo Starr from the Beatles, killing two birds with one stone. The Beatles, Stars, hm? I think that's alright, you look like you could be a Ringo."
Rambling. She was rambling. A distraction.
"You could call me your boyfriend," he replied calmly, before suddenly blinking quickly as if he couldn't believe he said that out loud. "O-or you could just stick to calling me Teddy."
"Teddy it is," she agreed faintly, feeling lightheaded. She couldn't put this off any more. "In response to the P.P.S, you're pretty cute too."
Even with the lantern's light on it's last breath, Charlie could still faintly find his embarrassed smile and the reddish tint creeping.
The sirens were there again, drawing her in like a magnet. Luring her.
What to do.
Their eyes had locked. Waves crashed with a calculated, driven speed, the foamy buildup crashing against the rocky land. Storms, uproars, chaos ensued. The Earth mesmerized by azure chill. Drowned. Over and over and over. Crashing, rolling, roaring, foaming. The Earth gasped for air, being submerged. The pencil creeping closer and closer to the paper.
The ink spilled across the sky, the Lost Boy the abyss, murmuring, sucking her in. Mesmerizing. Always mesmerizing. Twinkling, the glimpse of something. Stars. Wishing upon them. Constellations. Orion. Teddy. Theodore. Note Writer. Teddy. The Lost Boy. Teddy. Teddy. Teddy.
Best friends, crushes, cousin, deaths, dating. What to do. Was the boy of disappearing stars and colliding waves worth it?
Charlotte gulped, the hand holding the pencil shaking. What to do. What to do. It reached the paper, and a trembling checkmark graced the paper. Swish.
The paper was returned to it's rightful owner and Charlie sucked in a breath. No. No. No. No. She had folded it into small squares until it was pocket-sized and fit in his palm once more.
One side lifted.
What to do.
The next opened.
The Lost Boy. Perfectly imperfect.
Another row unfolded.
The sky, the stars, and the clouds.
Nearly there.
Constellations and waves.
One unfold left.
Forgive me.
He unfolded the final part of the paper delicately, shaking, his mesmerizing, always mesmerizing, blue eyes raking the crumpled, white-lined paper. He ran his thumb lightly over the check. In the dead of the darkened night, the lantern's light looming over the two, his eyes lifted to meet hers.
One final note from the boy of the sea and the stars.
The Ocean met the Earth once more.
THE END
a/n
thank you to all who've been with me throughout this book's expirience, whether from the beginning or just picking up a day ago.
vote if you liked it, comment if you want to make my day, all that jazz. my full rant will be unleashed on the next little chapter (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), along with one shot competition rules and things.
before I leave for now, what were your thoughts on the chapter. did it wrap up the book well? was it a good balance of detail, sad, and amusing? was it cute? did it end well? was the last sentence okay? i was extremely wary of posting this chapter, and although i feel fairly confident, I'm worried this isn't good enough to be the last chapter for this book. your thoughts?
short and sweet. goodbye for now, i love you all and thank you. (i've been preparing for the comments for days, and i'm ready to hear your thoughts. i'll try and reply to all, as per usual)
this chapter is dedicated to everyone who read this book. everyone who took the time to type a comment, pressed vote, or even followed. this chapter is dedicated to everyone who has made fanart and, it took me forever, but i believe that i included every piece of artwork i've received for a note a day in the picture on the side.
so thank you, to:
NegativeWriter26
Aoioa527
BubbleCloudUniverse
trixehstories
frobbymilk
daydreamz618
sharonsalad
yourealroses
ohyeahitsamanda
singers103
thediffident
chelseablake
if i am missing anyone, pleeease do tell me. also, if i am missing any fanart in the collage, please tell me! really; do tell!
i am always going to be accepting fanart, and might eventually have a full book for it, but in the meantime, i will be trying to make a fanart wall in my bedroom (it's going to look so cool. i'll post pictures!!!)
and remember the raffle going on, 30ish days left to do that. remember, winner gets an autograph and a character named by/after them!
so thank you, all, again for everything. i could not be happier and this book will always be in my heart. stay tuned for the longer, more emotional rant, one shot contests, raffle things, epilogues, sequels, one shots, COOL NEW TRAILER, who knows.
love you all
GOALS:
200,000 reads in total
500 votes?
1,000 comments (why not. let's try it out. i typed over 5,500 words, can we aim for 1,000? end on a bang?)
thank you all, leave your thoughts, and i hope this satisfied you all. more to come soon!
thank you all and i love you. siriusly.