Yet another slightly angsty fic... that's all I seem to be able to write. Hope ya likes!

By the by... don't own it.

You're off in college, Sammy, and you think I never write you. You think I never call, never drive by to check on you. Never send any emails. Nothing. No communication.

You're wrong, you know. I write you every day. I drive by almost weekly, hoping to get a glimpse of you, to make sure you're okay…

To make sure you're happy. I hope that you're happy.

In a way, I was glad you left. You shouldn't have had to live the life you have. I tried to shield you from it. I tried to save you.

I guess I didn't do so well.

You're right about one thing, though.

I never sent any of them to you. Not one letter. I write them every day, trying to tell you what I feel, what I think, what's happenening around your old home. I try.

Not one letter's made it to your mailbox, though. Most of them, I never even finish writing. Countless emails, deleted right after they're finished, some right after they're started. I drive by quietly, windows up, hiding in the shadows. How many times have you picked up the phone, only to hear the other person hang up on you?

I just need to hear your voice, to watch over you. You didn't have to know I was there. The best eyes are left unseen, after all.

This letter will probably never reach you either.

I guess that's alright, though. I know that I'm here, you don't have to.

You don't have to know everything I've done to protect you. Everything I've had to do to keep you safe.

You're better off not knowing.

The road goes both ways, it's true, but my way seems to dead-end.

Stay safe, Sammy. I'm right here.

The piece of folded paper went into an envelope. An address went on it, followed by a stamp. The man holding the envelope stared at it a long while, his unblinking gaze never moving from the piece of mail.

Finally, he shook his head in disgust, at himself, at the letter, at the situation he was in…

And he dropped it, watching it flutter to the ground before the mailbox.

"He doesn't need to know…"

A single phrase left his lips, silent as the slight breeze that blew his chocolate/caramel hair about.

Soft footsteps faded into the distance, the paper left lying on the ground, half-forgotten.

He never saw the person walk by, pick up the paper, and slide it into the mailbox with a sigh.