Dear Friend,

This morning, I realized that I'm forgetting. Whether it was good, bad, and undecided, I was losing the moment's significance and spark. And it saddens every piece of me. I figured that the salt I tasted upon my tongue was not an aftertaste of the food I just ate. I was instructed by everyone around me not to cry so much, but I couldn't help it. I just couldn't. The thought of losing grip of my history with the people that gave me so much remember scared me, and I'm not sure if you understand what that really means to me. I hope you do, though.

I read Peter Pan again because I thought that it was necessary and in hopes that J.M. Barrie's words would rekindle the pavements I've walked on in the past.

Somehow, it did.

You see, Wendy sort of reminds me of a girl I know - a girl you know as Sam in these letters I can't help but send more to you. She's beautiful in a way that would make you forget that it was a Monday morning and she was lost in what most parents forbid their children to experiment with. Sam is undoubtedly fascinating to me, like how Wendy is to Peter. She's my own, personal version of the only daughter of the Darling's and I want to keep her in my Neverland forever.

I sent her a letter that morning, pouring my heart out shamelessly about how I longed for her and Patrick to be here with me so badly. I sounded quite selfish, yes, although I couldn't care less. It was nothing but the truth. I wanted to be able to hear their diverse voices dance against my ears - I wanted them with me more than anything.

And as a few days passed, and I worried that the letter never got to where they stayed, and if they were forgot me, like how I was beginning to with them.

I read at some magazine many months ago about a deceased kid receiving a chance to have any of his desires to come true. A wish, in short. The girl wished to be able to walk again, and with many donations, she was able to use her legs once again. The title of the article was 'The Happiest Girl on Earth.'

I can honestly say that I was the happiest boy on Earth when I swung my empty house's door open and saw the brightest jade eyes I've ever had the pleasure of seeing that afternoon. Last time I ever remember being that blessed was when I first saw them.

Sam was here.

And I stood there, frozen, while she was waited for me to say something.

I remember feeling my eyelashes kiss the skin above my cheekbones, testing if this was reality, not just a dream, or one of those nightmares that reminded me she's no longer here, in this stupid little town that was too stupid to keep a gem like her.

I think I spent five minutes allowing her presence to sink inside me. It sounds like eternity, but it was as quick as gulping down a swallow of water for me.

I was still speechless, to make it short. No matter how much I tried, words would not pour out of my lips.

I guess she decided to make it easier for me when she moved in for a hug.

We began talking about what life had set upon our plates these past few months and I can tell that she was happy in college, though it seems hard over there. She let me say what I needed to say, and then we decided to watch movies.

The both of us let the dark hands of the clock fly as we watched films born way before we were. The sky, which was not aluminous at all, was our only source of light, beside the television. I laid on one of the couches and Sam sat on the floor.

"I miss you." She murmured at a point. And she repeated it, over and over again, in different tones and volumes - huskily, softly, loudly…until I finally started believing that she did.

"I missed you, too." I replied soon after. "A lot. More than you could imagine."

I often snuck glances at her, and often, she would catch me looking. My courage didn't let the eye contacts last more than I wanted it to.

With the darkness and muffled sounds, I began to enter the stage of tiredness when you stretch constantly, just to keep yourself from falling asleep. Of course, I exited right after I heard: 'move over, Charl'.' And I did what she asked for, slowly, but progressively, until I felt the backboard of the couch touch the abaft of my head. Easily, she filled the space next to me, her back facing my chest.

The position led me to wonder if she heard the my heart beating. I felt that it was impossible for her to miss the hammering of my muscle that had been broken for so many times, but one could be wrong.

I also started to think of the possibilities of a human feeling another's emotions, and if it was possible for someone to feel what the other was feeling if they were as physically as close to each other like how I was with Sam that afternoon. By some means, I started imagining my heart's beating's breaths penetrate Sam's flesh and how she could feel the absolute nervousness and curiousness I was going through as the carvings of my body pieced together with hers.

That's when I found out that everything about her had not met any change except a few little things, thankfully. The lack of cigarette stench in her hair didn't bother me, though. I prefer to identify her as the girl who smelled of vanilla, instead of smoke that could end someone's life anyway.

Though I knew I shouldn't have, I placed the tips of my fingers on the skin of her thigh, mindlessly drawing circles and ovals. Apart from my heart, we were silent. I've always thought that silence was a scary sound, and then I came to realization that when it was shared with a person that reminded you of the lyrics and gentle tune of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, quiet sounded like a lullaby that could sing me to sleep as well as The Smiths.

I murmured something that really wasn't for her, but for me. "I find myself feeling lonely and tired every day ever since you guys left."

"Don't worry, love. I'm here now, aren't I?" But I didn't mind her replying.

'"Thank you…a lot."

She laughed a pretty laugh.

"For what, Charlie?"

"For choosing to spend this day with me rather than with someone else."

"I don't know why you even think I would give up the chance of us meeting for another. You're crazy, Charlie." Sam placed her hand on top of mine, and they were warm and comforting - much like her personality.

Maybe I was crazy, maybe I wasn't. But, then, all I knew was that I was at peace.

Sam grabbed one of my hands and intertwined it with hers and it surprised me how my fingers naturally curled upon my best friend's.

For a second, I no longer felt lost. Actually…I never felt so found.

My mother told me many times that everyone has two memorable moments in their life. The moment when they were born and the moment they find out why. And I thought that night with Sam is that moment.

Love Always,

Charlie

Fin

A/N: Don't you just love charming Charl' over here? Haha.

Finally! I've finally found the time to share a story based on Stephen Chbosky's work. I love Perks of Being a Wallflower so much and I hope this story did justice to it. This was so fun for me to write. I adore Charlie's character and I hope my letter sounded like something he would write.

Reviews would be lovely. After all, this is my first one-shot.