Status: Finished, check the sequel in that top right corner :)
Letters Spell Me And You
It all started with a chair.
Oliver Sykes and Isadora Winter Stevens.
November Twentieth, nineteen eighty.
Isadora Winter
That's us.
Three hours and eighteen minutes apart,
best friends forever.
All because of one amazing doctor who noticed the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck.
Since I was two months premature, I have always had a weak immune system, and because of that I have only gone on tour with Oli twice, for a month at a time.
He's an amazing boy.
When I’m sick enough to have to be admitted to the hospital, he's been known to leave tour for a week to come home to Sheffield, even in the middle of a show.
It's nice to have someone that cares about you.
Especially when you have an addiction to Cocaine and Heroine.
I think that could be why my immune system sucks SO bad.
Anyways, I don't know if I want to describe myself.
I despise my image.
Oliver doesn't, which is why he's here to tell you himself.
Oliver
I am death.
NOT!
Right so, Isadora Winter the super fragile rock star.
My personal best friend.
My anti-drug.
I only wish I could be hers, but I just don't get through to her.
Anyway, she's G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S.
Natural brown hair, imperfect teeth, and eyes made of ocean.
9.5 stone of pure amazing.
I can't talk about myself; it seems she's done enough talking about me already.
Peace Out
November Twentieth, nineteen eighty.
Isadora Winter
That's us.
Three hours and eighteen minutes apart,
best friends forever.
All because of one amazing doctor who noticed the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck.
Since I was two months premature, I have always had a weak immune system, and because of that I have only gone on tour with Oli twice, for a month at a time.
He's an amazing boy.
When I’m sick enough to have to be admitted to the hospital, he's been known to leave tour for a week to come home to Sheffield, even in the middle of a show.
It's nice to have someone that cares about you.
Especially when you have an addiction to Cocaine and Heroine.
I think that could be why my immune system sucks SO bad.
Anyways, I don't know if I want to describe myself.
I despise my image.
Oliver doesn't, which is why he's here to tell you himself.
Oliver
I am death.
NOT!
Right so, Isadora Winter the super fragile rock star.
My personal best friend.
My anti-drug.
I only wish I could be hers, but I just don't get through to her.
Anyway, she's G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S.
Natural brown hair, imperfect teeth, and eyes made of ocean.
9.5 stone of pure amazing.
I can't talk about myself; it seems she's done enough talking about me already.
Peace Out
♠ ♠ ♠
There it is.xoxo
Oli