NEARLY SEVEN years. Seven years would not be considered a long while to people who had lived decades after decades in their busy lives. Yet to certain people who treasured time and made every second count, seven years would be a very long time ago.

And Liam Wyatt was one person such person to whom every second mattered and though he could not possibly remember every incident in his life, he remembered one incident that stood out in his mind.

It had been just another day, nearly seven years ago, that his life as he knew it would change. Because he would make a bond that would remain with him for the rest of his life, but clearly, he did not know that yet as he woke up cranky that clear bright sunny morn.

Liam groaned and rolled out of bed in one swift, annoyed motion. He thundered down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, not caring if he woke the entire house. In the kitchen, his green plastic cereal bowl and spoon awaited him on the table, as usual. He slumped into the chair and poured his cereal aggressively, watching it overflow and spill onto the table.

A low chuckle came from his right. He shot a glare at Chris, his older twin by a mere six minutes, who was sitting there smirking. Chris always seemed to know just how to get under his skin without even trying.

"What are you looking at?" Liam snapped, his voice sharp.

"You," Chris replied, still grinning, casually biting into his toast. "You're just... sad, man. Maybe you wouldn't be so angry all the time if you made a friend or two."

Liam rolled his eyes, his face twisting in irritation. "Oh, right, because you're just overflowing with friends. I forgot Mr. Popular over here," he shot back, dripping with sarcasm.

Chris's expression darkened. "Why do you have to be such a jerk about everything?"

Liam's temper flared. "Sorry, but maybe if I wasn't stuck with a twin who acts like he's got it all figured out—"

"Enough!" their mother's voice cut through the tension as she walked into the kitchen, rubbing her face. Her eyes were tired, but her gaze was stern. "I don't want any fighting this early in the morning."

"But Mum—" Chris started, frustration edging into his voice.

"I don't care who started it," she said, hands on her hips. "Just stop."

Chris clenched his jaw, pushing his half-eaten toast away. "Fine. I'm done anyway." He stood up, grabbing his schoolbag, and gave Liam one last glare before storming out. The door slammed behind him, rattling the frame, as if to punctuate his anger.

Liam sat there, staring at the spilt cereal, a quiet anger simmering in him. The morning light streamed through the window, but it did little to lift the weight in his chest. He knew they'd have to face each other again, but for now, at least, he had a moment of silence.

"'Morning, mum," Liam mumbled warily.

Matilda Wyatt was a petite woman in her mid-thirties. Her ever-lovely facial features that had captivated many hearts were beginning to fade, but she didn't mind. It was foolish, she knew, to have run off with her then-boyfriend—now-husband—before finishing school. But she was proud. She was damn proud to be the mother of her two twin boys. And even though they wreaked havoc and barely went a day without fighting, she wouldn't trade them for all the jewels in the world. They were her lifeline.

Her everything.

Her loose bun, tied the night before, was coming undone and rested at her nape, strands falling free as she leaned down to kiss her younger son on the forehead. "Morning, Liam."

Liam stirred his cereal with his spoon, his eyes fixed on the swirls, pretending not to hear her.

"You know, Liam," she began, reaching up into the cabinet, "I hate to agree with your brother, but he's right. You've gotta make a few friends. At least one!"

"Mum, not you too," he groaned, rolling his eyes. He muttered, "I don't need friends," complete with air quotes and an exaggerated sigh.

She gave him a patient smile, ignoring the eye roll. "Everybody needs friends, honey... Besides, who are you going to invite to your birthday party while Chris has half the class over?"

He scrunched up his nose, turning to look out the window. "It's still a week away," he muttered, clearly hoping she'd drop the subject.

"All the more reason to think about it!" she replied, her eyes bright. "A week goes by faster than you think."

Liam let out a dramatic groan and pushed himself away from the table, scraping his chair back with purpose. He placed his bowl in the sink and grabbed his bag from its usual resting spot by the door. "Well, I'll just see who shows up," he called over his shoulder, his tone light but clearly teasing. He flashed her a grin and started for the door. "Bye, Mum!"

"Hey—" she began, hands on her hips. "I'm not done discussing this with you!"

"Sorry, can't hear you!" he shouted, already outside and halfway to his bike. He climbed onto the dark blue frame, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he pedalled off.

A grin spread across his face as he sped down the street, enjoying the lightness that came with getting the last word. Little moments like these with his mum made his day. He'd always been closer to her, while Chris was definitely their dad's shadow.

But that was okay. Liam knew he had his own way of getting by—friends or not.

Still smiling from his escape at home, Liam's face fell as he slowed his bike, realizing he'd arrived at school. He stared up at the huge blue letters on the grey cement building: Westwoods High School. His scowl returned. Below the bold title, almost as an afterthought, was a tiny sign: + Elementary. In his opinion, those words deserved to be way bigger. At eleven, he felt like a speck in a place dominated by high schoolers. He wasn't even close to fitting in.

Liam hopped off his bike and pulled his backpack tighter to his shoulders. He trudged toward the entrance, dodging older kids who towered over him, and quickly shuffled into the building. Inside, the halls were chaos. Voices echoed off the walls, kids shoved past each other, and everywhere he looked, people seemed completely absorbed in their own worlds. Girls clustered in groups, chatting excitedly, while boys were either trying to get attention or roughhousing by the lockers. A few unlucky ones were getting nudged around in the crowd, struggling to stay on their feet.

It was almost like no one noticed Liam was even there. Most of the time, he preferred it that way. But sometimes, the feeling of being invisible got to him. And whenever he wasn't invisible, it wasn't in a good way. Whenever anyone approached him, it was the same conversation on repeat: Chris.

"Hey, aren't you the new kid's twin?"
"Your brother's hilarious! Is he like that all the time?"
"Chris is totally going to be varsity captain one day. He's awesome!"

Liam had heard it all, and he was sick of it. He wanted to tell them he wasn't Chris, and that he didn't want to be. But he kept his head down and ignored them. He didn't want any more attention than he already got.

The shrill ring of the bell snapped him out of his thoughts, and he sighed, heading to class. He wove through the crowded hallway, dodging people as best he could. His morning classes were the usual grind: English, Math, Social Studies, Science. He went through the motions, his mind wandering, wishing he was anywhere but here.

Finally, at 1:10 sharp, the lunch bell blared. Liam stuffed his books into his bag and let out a relieved breath. Lunch was his one chance to breathe in the chaos of the day.

Liam pulled two green apples out of his backpack—his lunch. He made sure to zip his bag tight before he slipped out of his Science class—or was it Social Studies? He couldn't remember, and it didn't really matter. He had purposely waited almost ten minutes after the lunch bell had rung, letting the initial crowds flood the halls before venturing out. As predicted, the corridors were mostly empty now, with just a few kids lingering around.

On his way out, he glanced into the cafeteria. There was his twin brother, Chris, perched on one of the red plastic chairs, talking animatedly with a group of kids their age. A few older students hung around too, looking amused as they watched the younger kids flock to the "new kid." Typical Chris, holding court. Liam rolled his eyes and kept walking. Showoff.

Westwoods High didn't allow students to leave the school grounds during lunch, but Liam had no intention of sticking around. He knew if he kept his head down, stayed under the radar, and timed it right, he'd be back before anyone noticed he was gone. Even though he'd only been at this school for two months, he'd already figured out the system. He had a knack for observing things without being seen. He noticed the little details, like how the smartest girl in his class had a stutter, or how his history teacher tripped over the same spot by the door at least twice a week.

As he reached the old, ivy-covered wooden fence at the edge of the school grounds, he glanced around quickly. The wood was dark and slightly rotted in places, and he could feel the chill of the October wind sneaking through the gaps. He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around one last time to make sure no one was watching. Satisfied, he slipped his fingers into the loose plank, giving it a gentle push, and ducked through to the other side.

A cold gust of wind hit him as soon as he stepped out, making him grin. He tossed one of the apples into the air, catching it as it fell back into his hand. He was free. Free from crowded hallways, curious stares, and his brother's larger-than-life presence—for at least an hour.

With a deep breath, he took in the open space around him. For once, he didn't have to worry about teachers, seniors, or anyone else. Today, he'd take some time to explore, just him and the world beyond the fence.

To say he got a bit carried away would be an understatement. Following a black Jack Russell had seemed like a fun idea at first, but he was jolted into a cold reality when the dog darted away, leaving him stranded and confused, with no clue how to get back to school.

Somehow, he managed it. He navigated through a tunnel, rounded a corner, and finally slipped back through the wooden plank. He thanked his lucky stars for making it back before lunch ended, but his relief was short-lived. Just as he stepped into the building, the bell rang.

Liam was forced to push his way through the throngs of students. For the first time, he was grateful for his small stature. But just as he reached for his books in his locker, someone jostled him hard enough that he stumbled. His books and papers flew from his hands, scattering like leaves in the wind.

His eyes pricked with tears, but he swallowed hard, refusing to let any emotion show. As students rushed past him, he crouched down, scrambling to retrieve his papers while dodging feet. Some of his sheets were trampled under the mass of bodies.

In an instant, the bustling crowd dissipated, and he realized he was left alone, surrounded by scattered papers and the echoes of laughter that seemed to mock his plight.

He was already nearly five minutes late for class. The idea of calling in sick or even ditching class flitted through his mind, but it was gone before he could fully grasp it. Ditching class just wasn't Liam. He could be adventurous, do stupid things, and even flirt with danger, but skipping class? That was unthinkable. He scrunched his nose at the thought of what Chris would say: "Typical goody-two-shoes, our Liam."

His concentration broke when he heard quiet footsteps. He knew it wasn't a teacher—too soft for heels and too casual for the formal shoes male teachers wore. He turned just in time to see a girl he recognized from class. She wore a blue cap, was chewing pink bubblegum, and sported a short-sleeved white Levi's t-shirt tucked into her denim shorts. Her beat-up Vans made a rhythmic tap against the dark laminated floor.

She carried herself with a carefree confidence and didn't even glance at him as she sauntered past, completely oblivious to Liam's struggle to collect his scattered papers.

"Hey, you dropped these!" she called out, bending down to pick up a few of his crumpled sheets with a cheeky grin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Liam stood up, snatching the papers from her hand, mumbling a barely coherent, "Thanks."

"Anytime," she replied cheerfully, waving her hand as her shoulder-length blonde hair swished around.

He fumbled, trying to balance his three textbooks while stacking the papers. "Uh, could you hold these?" he asked, surprised at his own willingness.

"Sure," she said, accepting two of his textbooks with an easy smile. "I'm Emily, by the way."

"Liam Wyatt," he said, feeling a little dizzy. "Sorry, I was a bit caught up in my head."

"No worries," she drawled, still chewing her gum as if used to being ignored, "You heading to class?"

"Yeah," he replied, "You're not coming?"

"Surprised you noticed," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you the observant type?"

"More like a detective," he shrugged, fighting to keep his internal freakout under control.

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to break the silence. Emily finally broke it with a grin. "So, I'm not going to class. Wanna join?"

Liam raised an eyebrow, processing her suggestion. "You actually think I'm going to skip class? What are you, some kind of rebel?"

"Something like that," she said with a smirk. "But I see you're not quite ready for that adventure."

"Yeah, I better get to class," he replied, a little too eager to flee from the idea of skipping.

"I suspected," she nodded, turning to leave. "Catch you later, Li."

Just then, the heavy footsteps of the janitor echoed behind him. Liam glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the grumpy figure with a bushy moustache glaring his way.

"Hey, you!" the janitor bellowed. "What are you doing out of class? You want a one-way ticket to the office?"

Panic surged through Liam. The thought of being dragged to the office made his stomach drop. He looked back at Emily, who was leaning against her locker, that playful smile still on her face. He hesitated, caught between the fear of authority and the thrill of rebellion. "On second thought, bunking class sounds amazing!"

Her smile widened, lighting up her face. "Well then, here's your stop!"

She yanked her locker open and gestured grandly. "Throw your books in and let's go!"

"But this is—"

"This is my locker," she interrupted, grinning at his bewildered expression. "And don't worry about your backpack; we'll get it after school."

Feeling a rush of gratitude for her understanding, he shoved his books into her already overstuffed locker.

"Let's go!" she said, her energy infectious. She expertly manoeuvred them through the hall, evading the watchful eyes of teachers and students alike. She led him to the loose plank, his usual escape route. He raised an eyebrow. "You know this way out?"

"I can be observant too, you know," she shot back with a shrug.

Grinning, he waited for her to re-emerge from the other side of the plank. "First time skipping?"

"Yeah," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Aw, poor baby," she cooed mockingly.

"I have a feeling we're going to be great friends," he said, and her grin grew wider.

And true to his words, that day marked the beginning of something new—something rare and raw and true. From then on, they were inseparable, known as 'Emily and Liam' or 'Liam and Emily'—just like they were meant to be.