This one-shot is dedicated to a special girl: WICKED Is bad. Go check her out
Jackson Whittemore hated everyone sometimes. He hated class and he hated the team sometimes. But one thing always seemed to lift his spirits.
He wasn't sure what it was, maybe the bouncy red curls, or the way she swayed her hips or maybe her beautiful green eyes. He wasn't sure what Lydia Martin did to him, but it was a good feeling. A feeling he craved and needed.
So when he wrote this letter he meant every word he wrote to her;
Dear Lyds Lydia,
Today I thought about you, the way you made me smile. The way you carried yourself. I know I'm the last person you want to here from but I need you to read and know this.
That night when I died, I guess you said you still loved me. I guess I just wanted to know if you meant it?
You said you hated me, but I could never believe it. You're my world Lydia. My moon and sun. My everything.
You're the key to my heart Lydia Martin, even if you don't think so.
I'm so sorry for everything I ever did to you. When I made you cry and hurt, I didn't mean it. I was stupid, I missed what I had. I took you for granted. I didn't see how good I had it until I lost it.
I know it was ten years ago, but I needed to get this off my conscious. You probably moved on and have a family and are being smart somewhere, but I want you to know this Lydia.
If you ever want to talk, so I can apologize in person just send a response letter back.
I love you.
Yours truly,
Jackson Whittemore
Jackson looked at the letter. He sighed. To release himself from all the guilt he felt about this.
He closed the letter, and walked to the mailbox. He stood in front of it and opened it slowly, dropping the letter in it.
He took a breath.
It was the right thing to do.
