A/N: I don't own Twilight or anything Stephenie Meyer has ever written... *sniff* :S ...but I do own my wonderfull imaginattion!!!1

19-1-09

Dear N:

I shouldn't de writing you. If I get caught, I'll de in serious trouble. But I don't care; I need to talk to you. This was the best summer of my whole life. I still can't believe what happened. Honestly, the first time I saw you, all those years ago; I would've never imagined we would be together someday. But I guess first impressions can be tricky, don't you?... I'm avoiding the main subject here: my father. I know he hurt you. I'm sorry about that. It's not in my power to control his actions, but what is done, is done. I can't take it back. Just imagine, if it hurt you, then you have no idea what it did to me. I can't look at him. I cannot bear to be in the same room as him, and the worst is that he knows that. It's driving me insane. My mother is destroyed, but I can't stand her either; She's on dad's side, of course, she always is. But enough of my hopeless parents. Let's talk about us. Are we "us" anymore? Please tell me we are. I'm being stupid, after the look in your face I can imagine what I am to you right now. You probably can't stand me. I don't believe anyone has ever caused you so much trouble as I have. I'm sorry. That word sounds stupid by now, but there it is: sorry.

I just realized I haven't asked: how are you? No, I know the answer to that. Did you miss Brazil? Are you even in Brazil right now? Did you even like it here in Alaska? Or did my presence distract you from actually getting to know the place? I'm babbling again... You're probably tired of reading this letter, it just scares me to end it, because I know that if I do, I'll leave too much unsaid.

I miss you, I miss you so bad. I don't forget you. I don't want to forget you, either. I didn't even get around to kiss you goodbye. I wish I could see you again, but I know I can't. And now you're gone and I'm still here, trapped in a nightmare I can't wake up from. I didn't even get the chance to tell you how much I love you. And now I'm saying it in a letter I'm not even sure you'll ever read. It's funny I guess. It's like we switched places: you're the silent and I'm the pleader. Not that you ever begged, but you did insist. You know what? Now I'm angry. You used to insist all the time in us sneaking out to go to your little spontaneous dates. It's true that my father was harsh, but that's enough to drive you away? After all that happened this summer? I can't believe you're doing this to me. I thought you cared about me. You said it over and over again. You were a dream come true, everything I had ever wished for. But you betrayed me.

I hate you for making me fall in love with you and leaving me afterwards. I've never been so broken in my whole life. I had never shed a tear for anyone in my whole life, and yet you made me cry like a baby for you. How did you do that anyway? Was it your plan all along? Saying a few nice and pretty words and bringing me blue roses? Did you actually want this to happen? Because if you did, congratulations, it worked.

T lied toy you before, I'm not mad. I love you too much to be mad at you. But I do hate the fact that you haven't tried to contact me ever since you left. Not even to explain why you left. Did it ever cross your mind that you would leave me with so many doubts in my head? Like, for example: Why did you leave me? Where are you? Why did you leave without saying goodbye? You're supposed to be my boyfriend. Or something like that. I know we never put a name to our relationship. But aside from that, you're supposed to be my friend too. These are only a few of the questions I want to ask you.

I'm not mad at you, I don't hate you, I just want you to give me a signal, let me know you're alive. Right now I don't know if you're safe. To be honest, I don't know where to address this letter. I guess I'll send it to your sister, Orion. She might give it to you if she sees you. I hope she sees you soon.

I miss my nickname: Beckham. Even though you think he's more of a model then a player, you know I loved him s you named me that way. It meant the world to me. No-one has ever nicknamed me, aside from you. So many things we shared. So many we have in common. Football, for example. I have never known anyone who shared my passion for that sport. It's amazing. Everything about you seems amazing.

You used to say I was wonderful, too. I remember you saying that my eyes could look straight into your soul, like a microscope. I also remember all those times when you would be talking to me and your hand would unconsciously grab one of my curls and start playing with it. I loved it when you did that. It made me feel like I fascinated you the same way you fascinate me. It made me happy.

I really don't understand what you wanted to achieve with leaving. Maybe you were scared, like I said before, I know I am. Maybe you left without saying goodbye because you didn't want it to mean an ending, but I don't know you, you're a stranger to me. And if we're getting started with the maybes then maybe my father was right all along: I don't know anything about you, and still I didn't care. I realize now I wasn't mature enough for the kind of relationship we were beginning to have. But I did it anyway because you were impossible to refuse. Someone too perfect for me, how could I decline something like that? I was completely convinced you were sent to me as an answer to my silent pleas, ones I would never say out loud. And if you've been wondering, yes, I remember every detail of our time together, even if it was short, I don't know you, but to me it felt like more than just a summer, it felt like a lifetime to me, like if we had been together for years and years.

The hardest thing for me right now in this very moment is not being able to see your eyes, those perfectly beautiful blue eyes that stood out from the contrast with your jet-black hair; I could know anything by just looking at them: if you were happy, sad, confused, surprised, or lost in thought. Right now I can't know these things because you're too far away from me.

I never thought I would be saying this, but distance has torn us apart. It has destroyed what we once were completely, and I don't want to admit it to myself, but I have learned life isn't always about what we want, no, life is not that fair and it never has been.

You know something else that has been killing me? I can't remember our last kiss. I guess I don't because I never thought it would be our last one. But it's true, I don't remember. The only thing I do remember is the last time you said you loved me, and I do because it was the day before my father had found out about us and waited for you in our park bench where he knew we would go. The things he said have been tormenting me and haunting me in my sleep everyday ever since. But I'm not ashamed or sorry of being with you, because I know it was real and I also know deep down in your heart it meant a lot to you too. I mean, if it hadn't then you wouldn't have been so hurt by his words as I'm sure you are now. That's why I have already forgiven you for not calling me or saying goodbye. If you really are the person I thought you were then hurting me was never you're intention, but of course, I'm just assuming this. I have been wrong about you before, so I could be wrong by thinking this way, but you've left me n other choice.

Your absence has depressed me like nothing else has. And your silence has taken me completely by surprise. I thought you would have said something by now. It has been over four months. I didn't understand at first that you ruled over me in so many ways, but I do now. And I don't and will never care. It's too late for me, I got in too deep. I am no longer the owner of my heart, it is not even here anymore, it's wherever you are. You stole it without me even noticing and left with it in your hand.

So now you see I can't live without you. I can't survive without something so vital, so important and only you have it. So I leave it in your hands to keep me alive or not. But don't go on thinking I left it in your consciousness, because I haven't.

I will wait for your answer until the end of my existence. You don't have to write back if you don't want to, it's you're choice. I miss you and I love you, but I don't think there is anything else I can say with words, so goodbye. And if I never hear from your or see you again, then I hope you find in someone else what I have found in you.

Yours truly,

Me/"alias" Beckham