Awhile back, I started a little story called "Dear Love" in which Lucy had found a box of letters written to her from Ian. They met up again and blah, blah, blah. However, it wasn't some of my best writing and I've decided since I need an angsty outlet and what better than throwing in a little Lucia, I'm going to revamp it. This week's been hectic, but you can be sure that there'll be updates for Two AM and The Brownstone soon! I'm working on them both!

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way affiliated with either Lucy or Ian. This story is written purely for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. This is purely imaginative. If you dislike the pairing, then please don't read.

The crisp city air chilled Lucy to the bone as she exited the theatre for the night. The warm, skull printed scarf around her neck could barely suffice enough towards the New York winter weather, but it wasn't as if her Midtown townhouse was too far from where she was currently. Music had always been something she was extremely passionate about. To be performing eight times a week on Broadway was an absolute dream. She'd escaped the fans after twenty minutes of signing and taking photos, exhaustion encases her petite body while she barely managed to trudge through the snowy city streets.

Christmastime; Christmastime was supposed to be a joyous time with carols and singing and family members flanking you from left to right. Yet, here Lucy was, alone in New York after living in Los Angeles for years prior. After a year of unemployment when Pretty Little Liars had wrapped, the offer from her agent to star on Broadway as Katherine Plumber in "Newsies" was too mouth watering not to accept. She'd broken most ties in LA, with the exception of her costars and was fending for herself. The only people outside of the acting world that she texted on a continuous basis with either Kurt or Claire, both proving to be value friends when the others had failed her.

That wasn't to say she hadn't made new ones during her time in New York. It had only been a few months, but Lucy had made friends with several people that she met in stores or people in her cast. She even had her hazel eyes peeled out for guys, but none made her heart speed up or pound against her rib cage.

A gust of wind blew past Lucy, making her dark locks fan out around her face. It only made her gather her bag against her, hoping no content of it would blow out and the slight gesture added warmth. She was still in the process of buying clothes equipped for actually having four seasons, rather than the perpetually sunny climate of California. All she wanted right now was a warm cup of Starbucks despite the late hour, a blanket, and the company of her dog, Jack.

She'd been putting in practically a hundred and ten percent for the last couple of performances given that their Jack Kelly, Adam, would be leaving the show in the matter of a few days. His replacement hadn't been revealed yet, but the cast was told that it was somebody well known. Disney had always been one for surprises, even when it came to who Lucy would be playing opposite for a while. They started rehearsals for a week next Monday during the day whilst the understudy played the role until the following week when the new actor began.

Lucy's quick stop at Starbucks didn't last more than five minutes; the girl grateful that people opted not to go for a cup of coffee at midnight anymore. The warm cardboard cup filled with Chai tea latte kept her gloveless hands warm as she walked the small duration of steps back to her place. Immediate heat welcomed her home, as did the running paws of her dog skidding against the floor. Lucy gave a short chortle of laughter before bending down to pet the pup.

"Hey, Jacky," she cooed, pushing the door shut behind her and locking it as well as the deadbolt; the extra piece of safety installed at her mother's request to remain safe while she resided in the large city. "Are you going to come cuddle with Momma?" Lucy's slight twang sounded on the last word, making her smile; you could take a girl from the South, but not the South from said girl. She placed her keys down on the table in the main hallway and then motioned for Jack to follow her upstairs.

There weren't many lights on in her apartment except for the hallway and now, her bedroom light. It was furnished with a large bed, covered in fluffy white blankets that Lucy was ready to bury herself in within the matter of minutes. Her favorite painting, or more like collage, hung above her bed, inscribed with words written in script and dried flowers pressed against the canvas to give the artwork texture. The rest of the room was littered with pictures of her family and a selective few of friends and cast members. Her favorite though, involved a co-star that always seemed to be on her mind; Ian.

Ian Harding had been Lucy's constant until her doomed relationship with another actor took her away from her friend. He hadn't ever been just a friend though; the feelings that Lucy had for him were continuously present, even when she tried to shove them away for the better of the show. By the time Pretty Little Liars had wrapped, their relationship hadn't bettered itself and Lucy left the ending party with regret settled deep in her heart.

The photo was one from the earlier days of the teen television show during her twenty first birthday. He had been sitting next to her at the table, dark hair ruffled under his gray knit cap with his arm around Lucy's waist. She was leaning into Ian, hand on his chest and head on his shoulder. The photo was near and dear to her heart and it wasn't as if anyone would be going into her room to view it any time soon. The last Lucy heard of Ian was through their mutual friend Keegan; he and his long time girlfriend had broken up. At first, it made her consider the move to New York, but Lucy couldn't jeopardize everything for someone she wasn't sure even had feelings for her.

Jack leaped up onto her bed whilst Lucy went towards her closet in search of warm clothing, preferably a sweater to wrap herself up in and leggings. Unfortunately, her extremely warm clothing was on the top shelf of her closet. Upon climbing several drawers and such, Lucy managed to retrieve both items, but a box came tumbling down along with the clothing. The small girl jumped back, not wanting to be hit by the cardboard box and it landed on her carpeted floor with a loud thud.

She didn't remember even not unpacking the box, but from the looks of it, it had been mailed to her old place in California. There wasn't a return address, but it must have been something that her old roommate, Annie, had neglected to give to her. Lucy's mind protested, saying to leave the package until morning, but sheer curiosity on what could be inside pushed her to put sleep off for a few more minutes and tear through the heavy cardboard to reveal its contents.

What she seemed to find took her almost made her gasp. Inside were envelopes upon envelopes that had her name written on the back in a familiar scrawl that was jagged and clearly manly. Lucy's muddled mind told her that now that she saw what was inside, she could delve into the letters in the morning. That didn't stop her nimble fingers from reaching inside the box for a random envelope. The amount of them was astounding, each having the same scrawl on the front. Ripping out a letter, the telltale handwriting could only pronounce itself to be someone specific's; Ian's. In response, Lucy's heart beat faster than it on her opening night months ago.

Lucy,

I'm not sure why I'm writing these, to be honest. It's not as if I'll ever send them, mainly because I don't have the guts to do so, nor the rights. We're both supposed to be happy. But there's something that keeps me up at night and makes me restless. I couldn't pin point it until about an hour ago and shot up out of my bed to write this. I was just about to apologize for the college ruled paper, but then I remembered you wouldn't ever be reading this, at least, I don't think you ever will.

Well, what was keeping me up was the fact that I hadn't been able to face my feelings. I've tried too hard to push them down and smother them like a fireproof blanket would with flames, but it's becoming way too hard. This is going to be the most un-eloquent way to put it, but, I think I love you and it scares me. I never expected to feel the way I do and I didn't want to feel it because of the complications that could arise if things turned sour.

But don't you see that there are already complications? We barely speak anymore. You never come over at all to hang out. There's barely communication between us both and we aren't even in a relationship. The last thing I want to do is lay the blame on you, but you've pushed me away for whatever motive, but for some reason, I still love you. Each and every day I do and I don't understand where it came from. Actually, I do. It's from the times where we Ustreamed or would joke around on set or just plainly spent time together, even if it was singing Taylor Swift in my dressing room when we had downtime.

I…should be asleep. I shouldn't be thinking about all of this and letting realization after realization hit me at such a late hour. Knowing me, I'll mull over it and barely get a wink of sleep before it's time to head out in the morning for work. No amounts of coffee will be able to keep me from falling asleep on a set of director's chairs. Unless it's spiked with something and I'm sure production would much rather have a sober Ezra Fitz than an entirely loopy one who can't remember his lines.

This letter is incredibly choppy, but what can you expect from a guy who just realized he's been in love with someone who isn't his girlfriend who the longest time? Perhaps if I ever write another, it'll be one worthy of being published in one of those collections of famous love letters.

This isn't much of a love letter as it is a realization of myself. I'll actually work up the chops for a mushy one.

Love (and I mean it in the literal sense),

Ian

Her eyes scanned over the page of paper, tears welling and making her usually hazel colored eyes turn a stark green. He had loved her too. Much time had passed, and perhaps he had moved on now, but Ian had loved her too. The thing paper shook on her hands, ultimately making Lucy drop it on the floor. Jack had already curled up on her pillow and had fallen asleep, unable to comfort his owner as tears began to stream down her cheeks, making her leftover stage makeup runny. Tear tracks cut through the oily matte foundation that she was required to wear and make black streaks run down her cheeks from the mascara she had neglected to take off at the theatre. Overwhelmed couldn't even begin to describe Lucy's feelings as of present.

After finding enough strength to gather herself up off the floor, Lucy debated on reading the rest of the letters. Would they make her act the way she just did? Would the regret that settled in her chest make grow even bigger? She'd figure this all out in the morning once she had a night's sleep under her belt. Lucy changed her clothing quickly, cuddling into the warm sweater against her prickly cold skin and slid into bed.

She didn't expect the sleepless night that presumed.