Park
Given up on everything, he was empty, done and finished. Like a balloon with every last drop of helium sucked out, left punctured and deflated. Park had to stop thinking about her, he didn't want to, but he was going to end up in a mental asylum otherwise. Or hospital, with an exploded brain and shattered heart, with broken shards stuck in his surrounding organs. With the focus of an ADHA Cocker Spaniel puppy, Park's grades were a car crash, not one subject surviving… History was the worse, torturous in fact. The empty and hollow seat that Eleanor had once graced, somehow felt cold and chilling. Her absence haunted him, which is why Park had to stop. Stop sending all those hopeless letters, and then eventually he had to stop writing them. Not that Park didn't still write them in his head, late at night when it's all he could do to soothe himself to sleep, locking them away in a special spot in his brain. Park finally had to shut down that part of this brain, like Santa's grotto miserably closing on January 1st. It was like he was admitting defeat, he'd lost Eleanor and no feeling in the whole universe could compare to the all consuming black hole, that Park's life had become. But he still checked the letter box every single morning, pleading with all the God's that he no longer believed in. When he realised the grim reality day after day, he felt the fist shoot out of the mailbox and whack him in the gut. Maybe it would hurt less, every time he done it, but the cold snap of rejection was relentless. This girl was going to be the end of him…
Eleanor
Every letter she attempted to write, it started and ended with 'Park', just that one beautiful word. Anything Eleanor wanted to say couldn't possibly be morphed into the humble English language. It was as if; no word was worthy, powerful or magnificent enough to deserve to follow his name. It was impossible. Park must have moved on from her by now anyway. She screwed up on an industrial scale, and the hangover of regret lingered like puke threatening to spew. Because it is him that holds her to this Earth; gravity has no affect on her like Park does. She never told him though… He will never know that it is him she thinks about as soon as she wakes; it is his face imprinted on her eyelids when she falls asleep and he is in her brain all of the time in-between. Park needs to know. She rips a page out of the closest source of paper (her English exercise book, Miss Bissett will just have to deal with it) and scribbles three words, careful to avoid the plug word 'Park'.
Park
He was not going to do it. After a whole year of checking that demonic mailbox of abuse, he refused to submit to its evil powers once more. Striding past it, gave him a sense of control and dominance, but it soon turned sour in his mouth. Park saw the bus stop and died a little inside…
Eleanor
What an idiot! She had played invisible for so long, then when she finally speaks up she says THREE pitiful words! 'Eleanor, Eleanor who?' will be his three words in response...
Park
When he dragged himself through the door, his mum was resting on the kitchen counter, waiting for him. A smile was slapped on her face like she had just won the lottery or something. We don't play the lottery. Park looked down at her tiny hands, where an equally as tiny postcard was being tightly clutched, like she was scared that a bird was going to swoop down and steal it. But then Park saw it, her handwriting, and chocked on his saliva. 'Your E-lee-nor' she spoke and no words have ever sounded so, so satisfying. Park had to stop himself from being that bird and snatching it out of her clutch. She passed it to Park, and he just stared at her messy but beautiful handwriting. Only three words. But there were no better three words then the ones she had chosen to write. He flew out of the door and plunged into the Impala, shooting off into the distance at speed far exceeding any legal restrictions.
Eleanor
The door bell rang. It was 10:52pm. No, not him, he couldn't have physically gotten here so quick. But when she saw his tall shadow and the porch light hit his dark hair, she knew it couldn't be real. These dreams were the worse because she longed and pinned hard for so long after it was over. It was just about the worth the pain she would be forced to endure when she woke up, for the short time she got to spend with her imaginative Park. Who was she kidding? She would do or give anything to be with him. Eleanor would drag this one out... She was majority deprived of some Park.
Park
Eleanor looked weird. Like dazed and drugged. What kind of people had he left her with? Panic rising in his chest. But park couldn't concentrate on just one thing, he hadn't seen Eleanor in so long he had to just drink in the sight of her and burn it into his skull, so that he would never forget. But this was looking stalker-ish and creepy so instead he pulled her into his body and hugged her tight, so tight that he had to remind himself that she could break. But he needn't worry because Eleanor hugged him back twice as hard. Park couldn't breathe, but then he had felt like that for so long, he just let it go and buried his head in her hair.
Eleanor pulled back from him, with a confused expression troubling her. Eleanor bizarrely pinched both of Park's cheeks; as if to check that he was real. 'Park!' she screamed, like she had just woken up from a trance. 'Heey-whoa' Park started before Eleanor flung herself with full force at him, they ended up in a tangled mess on the snow covered grass.
Eleanor
Graceful Eleanor, real smooth… Throw yourself at him, literally! Not that he cared, but this was Park. Somehow he had gotten even hotter and she really had no idea how she ever managed to say goodbye to the boy. And she never would, ever, ever, again.
