“and then there is me
always waiting for
you.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

"I don't know what you want me to do about this." I deadpanned, looking down at my polaroid camera.

Nora rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, before rolling over my bed to face me. It was a bit odd, even after three whole months, to see her being so normal with me. Like the old Nora.

It was still a little hard to get used to this.

"We're gonna take out all your polaroids and spice up your room." She replied. "Was that so fucking hard to figure out?"

"Don't use that snarky tone on me when you're inside my own room," I told her before sitting down cross-legged on my yellow shag rug, holding onto my camera.

She ignored me just like old times and kept staring up at my ceiling. Back when we became friends, somewhere during our primary school, Nora had told me that she loved the glow-in-the-dark stars that I had made Helen put up in our room.

And when I got my own bedroom, I stuck numerous of those same stars all around my ceiling too. They glowed brightly, especially at night when the moon basked its glow all around my room through the skylight I had right above my desk--something Dad agreed on since my room was at the top of the house.

Nora and I did the same in Nora's bedroom too.

I hadn't thought she would've kept it, after so many years of us being apart, but she had. I found that out when she had pulled me to her house after one tiring college day, much to my own surprise.

"Since when did we start making rules?" She inquired.

"I'm not answering that question since this is my own fucking bedroom."

"So you can be snarky and I can't?" She was looking at me now, raising an arched brow.

I sometimes really wished I had her dark brown curls, which fell down way below her shoulders, unlike my own unruly dark hair that reached just past my shoulders.

But then again, curls looked stunning on her. Curls on me? Meh. There was absolutely a good reason why I was born with straight hair.

"That's the rule," I said.

"Wow, you make such shitty rules." She said, but nonetheless got up from my bed and sat down in front of me, her eyes fixed on my camera. "So. The pics."

"I think the pictures are in my suitcase." I shrugged before pushing the camera away. "And I still haven't unpacked it."

It was a lie, not the unpacking part.

"They are not." She gave me a bad look. "You've got to stop doing that."

I glanced at her as she picked up my camera, and leaned back against the foot of my desk behind me, my fingers softly grazing the yellow fuzz below me.

"Stop doing what?" I asked her.

"Trying to change the topic whenever we talk about your polaroids."

"Don't break my camera," I told her, proving her right on what she had just said, when I saw her trying to pull open the film compartment.

"I wasn't breaking your camera." She stretched out her words in a whine. I could see that she was seconds away from hitting me with the same camera in her hands. That was one thing that we did a lot these days. Annoy each other to the very last point.

"And see? That's what I'm talking about. You divert subjects as quickly as Mr. Patterson used to change his wives." She added.

"Who's Mr. Patterson?" I asked her quietly.

She passed me another sour look, especially since I just proved her right. Again.

"Our fifth-grade class teacher."

"Oh," I murmured before breaking into a small laugh. "Yeah, I remember him."

A small smile cracked on her lips too as she continued harassing my poor camera.

"I ordered some string lights for your wall mirror. And we'll hang your polaroids on them. That'll look dope."

"We're not hanging my polaroids, Nora," I emphasized each word, almost glaring at her.

"Why not?"

Why not? Because those pictures reminded me of too much.

"The film had expired by the time I took most of the pics. So they didn't come out good." The lie slipped straight through my teeth.

She eyed me from under her dark lashes, picking up my small camera bag where I had kept most of the polaroids.

"Yeah, right." She said sarcastically. "Lia, I'm your only best friend. You need to stop lying to me so much."

I hated that about her. I hated that she knew almost every time when I was lying.

"I've got Tara and Steph too," I told her.

"They're not your best friends."

I wished I could disagree. Sometimes I really wanted to wipe off that smug look from her face. As I said, she got really annoying at times.

"Whatever," I whispered, watching her take out one polaroid picture after another. I got a few glimpses too and something tugged inside my chest with each glance.

We both were silent for a little while, with Nora looking at the pictures and spreading them out in front of her, and me trying not to stare at them for more than a few seconds.

It hurt looking at them. It hurt every single time.

"You never talk about him." She spoke up after a while.

I raised my brows at her.

"I forgot his name." She didn't even have the decency to look sheepish. "The guy who told you that he loved you. And you had a panic attack. Is he this guy? Damn, he's hot. You seriously got this guy to fall in love with you? Wow, you lucky bitch."

That was all her ranting to her own self as she grinned down at my pictures.

I straightened up and pulled one of the pictures towards me. Then I smiled. I remembered that picture from when Alastair had taken me to the wolf shelter. He was smiling in that picture.

My heart didn't race when I stared at him, not like it used to three months ago. I had stared at these pictures long enough to realize that these were just that. Small polaroids. They were a tiny little piece of my memories, memories that I could never go back to.

He wasn't here anymore.

And every day after I'd left that place, each second of my life, I was trying my best not to lose myself over it. Because if I let that happen, if I drown myself in that excruciating pain of losing him, I might never be fine again. I might never be myself again.

And he told me not to do that. He had asked me to promise him not to do that one thing.

"He's in most of these pictures." Nora pointed out, almost in awe. Then she looked up at me, her eyes brightening up. "You were in love with him, weren't you?"

I didn't say anything in response and she continued her gushing over the pictures.

Don't ever destroy yourself over someone again, he had said. Not even me.

"He committed suicide."

I saw Nora freezing in response, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"What?" She asked.

I just shrugged, which I seem to be doing a lot today, and passed her back the picture that I had been holding.

"That's actually how I met him. In the hospital I volunteered in. He was there because he tried drowning himself."

"Oh," She whispered, frowning just a little.

She didn't frown as much as I did. And that's why you'll have wrinkles early, Nora had once told me. She didn't, on the other hand. Her warm brown skin was just as flawless as it had been when she was a baby.

"They found him before he could've died. But then..." I trailed off, frowning as well. I didn't even know why I was telling her this when I hadn't told this to anyone since I came back from there. From Oak Valley. From the lake.

"...I lost him. Because he did it again. Drowned himself." My voice fell down to a whisper as I stared at the polaroids between us.

Nora kept on staring at me with wide eyes, in shock.

"That's...actually why I missed my flight." I laughed, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere and failing miserably at it.

I shouldn't have started this topic, I told myself. Now I'll keep on thinking about it the whole day. Now it'll be harder to not think about it.

"What?" Nora whispered.

I leaned back against my desk, not really meeting her gaze.

"I...found out about it when I was at the airport. Took me a while to get back in the head, to think about home again." I murmured.

Because he was my everything. And when he left me, I just didn't know what home was anymore.

"Wait...you..." She trailed off, still looking pretty surprised. I guess this was a thing to be shocked about.

"You...didn't tell me any of that!" Now she sounded a little angry on top of the surprise. "Why didn't you?"

"You never asked," I said.

"What? That's not--Why?" She was full-on frowning now, the pictures in front of her long forgotten. "You had to see all that? That's fucked up, Lia. Do your parents know? Did you tell anyone about it?"

I gave her a funny look. "Nobody asked."

She opened her mouth, then closed it shut in disbelief.

"Besides, I think Mum knows. A little bit. Luce told her a few bits. Mum...doesn't talk to me about it because I think she's trying to give me space. Or maybe she's just hoping for me to move on."

A pretty stupid thing it was, to move on. How did one move on when there was nothing left to move on for?

"That's fucked up." She repeated, then gave me a genuinely betrayed look. "Why didn't you tell me in those three months that passed after you came back here?"

I exhaled heavily, feeling a little too tired to argue with her right now.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about my dead boyfriend, Nora." Then I winced because I wasn't expecting to ever say it like that.

"Don't say that." She gave me a look, a mix in between both worry and disgust. Both towards me obviously. It made me want to laugh.

"What is..." She trailed off as if just realizing something. "Is that why you've been acting so differently since you came back?"

"I don't know."

"I thought it was because I haven't been near you for so long." She whispered in surprise, shaking her head. "You can't do that to yourself."

"I'm actually doing nothing to myself." I deadpanned. Because honestly, I was doing nothing. I wasn't breaking down. I wasn't having panic attacks. I wasn't cutting myself. I wasn't going into that deep dark hole of depression. Wasn't that progress?

"You are." She stated, looking me in the eye. "You are acting like it doesn't matter."

"It does," I told her, before leaning a little towards her. "It matters a bit too much to me, Nora. But if I let it get to my head, I don't think I'll ever be able to be like...this again."

Her dark brown eyes widened again.

"Oh, Lia." And then she was throwing her arms around me, pulling me in a tight hug.

I stiffened a little in response, because surprisingly when Nora and I used to be best friends before, she hated affection as much as I did. But apparently, things have changed now. She liked hugs. How strange.

"Lia," She whispered. "Talk to me about it. Talk to me about him."

I almost pulled away, nearly shaking my head. I didn't want to think about him. God, if I started thinking about him, I might really lose it this time. I knew I would.

Still, I found myself leaning my head against her shoulder and closing my eyes shut, remembering Alastair's beautiful grey eyes. His beautiful smile. The raw emotion, the honesty I used to see in his eyes whenever he smiled at me. Everything used to be so terribly real about him. Every single thing.

"He was amazing." I merely whispered, feeling the lump in my throat. "He loved me. The first person to tell me that I mattered."

A small tired laugh escaped my lips then, muffling into her shoulder.

"He made me feel so happy, Nora," I told her. "The happiest I've ever been. He was amazing, and a little broken, and I failed to help him."

"You didn't." She told me. She sounded sad too. But the sadness wasn't as much as it was inside me. Hidden, concealed. It pained me to keep it away, to hide it away from myself and everyone else. "I don't think you failed, Lia."

Why did he leave me then?

"Some people come in our lives to change it. For good." She added softly. "And they do that so perfectly, but they don't stay for long. Not everyone stays for long."

I know. God, I was so painfully aware of that. Every day. Every night.

"That doesn't mean they're not here. They're always here. No matter what."

I felt wetness drifting down my cheeks and my nose and my chin, and I sniffled.

"I believe you," I mumbled with a small laugh, scrunching my eyes shut.

"You damn well should." She pulled away before squeezing my shoulders, her eyes softening when she noticed my tear-stained face. And then she was being the old Nora, the one that helped me forget reality, even if it was just for a little moment.

"Should we do a Winx Club marathon tonight?" She asked.

"We're too old for that." I wiped my eyes with a strained, wobbly smile.

"Don't use my age against my choice of interests." She passed me a half-hearted glare before gathering up my photos.

There was a knock at my room's door by the time she had placed them all on my dresser, and the both of us froze until Mum opened the door after a few seconds.

"Why do you both look like I caught you red-handed in between something?" Mum asked, frowning just a little as she stood there.

"I thought you were at the shop," I said, trying to discreetly wipe off my tears without her noticing. Because if Mum noticed, she would ask then, and I was trying to have a normal life here.

"Oh, I just came back." She said, then glanced over at Nora and me. "Did you order something?"

I squinted my eyes at the small package in my mother's hands.

"I didn't," I said, then nudged my head at Nora. "This shit might've."

Nora looked at me from over the dresser, still too busy spreading out my polaroids on it.

"Sweet, aren't you?" She mumbled before going over towards my mum and taking the package. "Thanks, Mrs. H."

Mrs. H. Why did she like to call my mum Mrs. H?

"Nora, sweetheart," Mum said, "You know you can just call me Carol, right?"

"Yes, I know." She gave her a brilliant smile which I knew Mum loved. I sometimes had these little moments of realization on how much I actually missed having her before--Nora--even though I never really said it. It felt like old times, the times when life was a little easier. It made me breathe a little easily.

I saw Mum rolling her eyes half-heartedly, leaning a little against the doorframe. She was still in her work clothes; a mint green top and some jeans, which meant that she'd be going back to the shop.

"What is it?" Mum asked, referring to the package in Nora's hands.

"String of lights," Nora told her before tearing it open. "We're hanging Lia's polaroids on them."

"Oh." Mum smiled at me. A smile that seemed to say a lot. I wondered how much Luce actually told her about Alastair. "Do you girls want some snacks?"

I stood up and plopped down on my bed, pulling my laptop towards myself.

"No, Mum," I said. "We're good."

Nora had other plans.

"Speak for yourself." She told me, pulling out the string lights from the package. "I'd love some snacks, Mrs. H." Again with Mrs. H.

I passed Mum an annoyed look, which I would've directed at Nora if she didn't have her back towards me, and Mum responded with a grin. Giving me a thumbs up, she retreated, and I went back to my laptop, opening up Netflix.

"There we go!" Nora cheered after a while, turning towards me with a wide grin.

I looked up to see small lights hung over my wall mirror, almost shining like tiny balls of sunshine--thanks to the sun shining through the skylight in my room. I couldn't help but smile.

"And there goes the first polaroid." She announced. Once she had moved away to give me a view of her hard work, I noticed the picture she had hung on one of the small clips. It was a picture of Alastair and me. A time when it seemed like I had everything.

Nora was right.

He'd always be here. No matter what.

And maybe that's what scared me the most.

******

Nora and I went out for some ice cream when we were done binge-watching the first two seasons on Netflix. It was a bright, sunny day in our little town, so obviously ice cream made sense.

By the time we were done eating, walking alongside the downtown shops, it was almost evening. Nora had to leave then because apparently her bratty cousin (as she put it) was coming over for a sleepover at her house and her parents needed her to be there.

I didn't conceal my amusement, because obviously, I knew how awful it was to babysit twelve-year-olds. Nora responded with some really beautiful string of curses when I started laughing at her misery.

We both parted ways then and separately went to our homes.

I had barely managed to close the front door behind me when someone came barreling towards me.

"Lia! Lia!" It was Mason running towards me until his tiny body slammed into me, and I slammed back against the front door.

"Ow, Mason, hey!" I laughed, gripping him by his shoulders. "What's up?"

He looked up at me with his big brown eyes, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

"I found this in your room!" He whispered a little too loudly, showing me the thing he had been clutching in his hands. "What is this? Is this a game? Did you buy it when you went to see Luce?"

My eyes widened just a little when I realized it was my Walkman, and I snatched it from him.

"Hey! Why were you sneaking in my room?" I frowned at him before gently shoving him towards the lounge. I needed to get some air, all because I was nearly sweating in the hoodie I was wearing.

"I wasn't sneaking." He mumbled sadly, almost as if he thought I was mad at him. He knew I could hardly stay mad at him, not when I knew why he must've sneaked into my room without my permission.

He loved the skylight in my room, for some very unknown reason. I mean, I get it that it was beautiful, especially since I got a full view of the sky every day and night. But it also pissed me off when the sun directly shone on my face right when I woke up. So not cool.

But Mason thought otherwise. To him, my room was a safe place. For many more reasons that he didn't like to admit. Like when Mum and Dad fought, that's when he came into my room too.

I rolled my eyes and tousled his dark, floppy hair. "Sure you weren't."

Mum was in the kitchen, out of her work clothes, when I entered the lounge. Dad was still at work, I realized. And Helen, well, no one mostly knew where Helen was these days. Sometimes in her room. Sometimes at a party. Sometimes at a friend's house.

A few more months and then she'd be off to university, Mum says. She would have to learn what responsibility is like.

"I wasn't!" Mason said defensively, tugging onto my hand. He was nearly nine by now yet he still had that baby face. How were you supposed to be mad at that baby face?

"Mase, don't shout." Mum's voice came from the kitchen.

"I wasn't shouting!" He shouted, frowning now.

Mum popped her head from behind the kitchen wall and passed him a glare.

"Does that not sound like shouting to you, young man?"

He jutted out his lip and I had a tiny feeling that he might start crying. My little brother was sensitive that way, even more so than me and my mood swings when I was on my period.

"Mase," I nudged him. He looked up at me and I saw the tears pooling in his eyes. Like I said, he was such a crybaby. I gave him a fond smile. "I'll show you what this is. Let's go up to my room first. I gotta change out of this hoodie."

Safe to say, I stopped the nine-year-old tantrum from happening.

When we went up to my room, I quickly changed out of my hoodie and into a thin beige top. And by the time I got out of the bathroom, Mason was still sprawled on my bed, waiting for me.

"It's a Walkman," I told him once I was sitting down in front of him, on my bed.

"What's a walk...man?" He asked curiously, grabbing the Walkman from my hands and looking down at it like it was some kind of a precious jewel or something. To me it was. Precious, I mean. To him, it was something he hadn't seen before, something that really piqued his interest.

"It's like a music player," I told him, gently prying his fingers away when he tried pressing every button on it. He sure as heck was a curious little guy. "It plays music when you place the cassettes in them."

His eyes widened when he looked up at me.

"Like the ones Dad have down in the basement?" He asked.

"Yup." I nodded, before leaning towards my nightstand and pulling open the bottom drawer. Then I took out the only two cassettes that I had.

I didn't like taking them out in front of just anyone. Not even Nora. But I figured Mase would want me to play something on the Walkman, and these were the only cassettes that I had. Not like I didn't listen to them every night, the second one especially, the one he left me with.

They were the only things that helped me fall asleep. The only way I could escape those constant nightmares. At least for now.

"You have a cassette?" Mason asked in awe, lunging towards me before grabbing the second one from my hands. I sighed heavily when he looked down at it. "For when I miss...Ophelia." Except that he pronounced my name with far more Es than normal.

"Did someone give this to you?" He was now trying to pull open the Walkman and I had to grit my teeth, trying my best to have grip on what little self-control I had.

"Yes, Mase," I whispered.

"But you don't like when someone calls you Ophelia." He said it again with the triple Es.

I sighed and shook my head, despite the small smile on my face. Taking the Walkman from him, I carefully pulled open the compartment and let him slide in the other cassette. Then I closed it shut.

"I don't." I agreed. "But he was a good friend." He was more than just a good friend.

"He isn't your friend anymore?" Mason asked, putting on the headset when I gave it to him.

I just shook my head, not really wanting to say anything, and took one earbud from him, before pressing the start button.

Mason, for some reason, seemed a whole lot fascinated when the small, soft melody started playing through the earbuds. His lips formed into a small O as he stared at it.

"This is nice." He gave me an adorable smile. I smiled back at him, despite the heavy feeling that was slowly churning in my stomach, the one that I usually got whenever I listened to that cassette.

Once we were done listening, and once I was pretty sure I'd start crying if I didn't stop the music, I switched off the Walkman and sat there silently. Mason had other plans apparently.

"Who is your friend?" He asked, almost bouncing on my bed. "Can I meet him? Does he know how to play soccer?"

I rolled my eyes. "What is up with you and soccer? You don't even like playing soccer."

"I like playing soccer," Mason said, sprawling down beside me on the bed. "Does your friend know how to play soccer?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I really didn't. That's why I was relieved when Mum called his name, asking him to come downstairs and fix the mess that he had caused in the backyard. Knowing him, it probably must've been those nerf guns of his. He liked shooting them on Mum's plants. Crazy in the head, I'm telling you.

"Lia," He said, jumping down from my bed. "Dad said he'd help me build a treehouse in the evening when he's back from work. Will you help us?"

I shrugged. "Sure." What else would I be doing anyway?

That was enough to reassure him as he ran out of my room, going downstairs. And then I was alone.

My eyes drifted towards my wall mirror, towards the fairy lights that I had switched off earlier. But my polaroids were still there. Alastair was still there. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And it hurt.

Exhaling heavily, I laid down on my pillows and looked up at the ceiling.

Move on, I wanted to move on so badly. But how?

Time will heal. That's what Luce told me whenever she called. And she called once a week, which was surprising since she never really used to call much before. But perhaps she was still worried for me, even after three whole months. Maybe because she had been the one to tell me not to give up on him, on Alastair.

I picked up the other cassette from beside me, the one that wasn't inside the Walkman, and stared at it. It had a list of songs that Alastair put up. They all reminded me of him. This cassette reminded me of him a little too much.

I sat up and picked a discarded marker from the floor (I had most of my discarded stationery under my bed--crazy, I know) and pulled out the label from the cassette in my hands.

Then I scratched out the Ophelia from it and replaced it with Alas.

For when I miss Alas.

"I miss you," I whispered, staring down at it. "I miss you so much, Alas."

As I slowly slid in the label back inside the cassette, I noticed a small piece of paper wedged inside it, almost hidden. I hadn't noticed it before, I thought as I took it out. I hadn't, maybe because I had never taken out the label until now.

Unfolding the small paper, I noticed that it was a sticky note. Words were scribbled on it in a hasty, rushed handwriting.

And then I was reading it, those words. Why had I not noticed this before? Why had it taken me three whole months to notice this little note written by Alastair himself?

Maybe because this was it. The right time.

I can't promise you when.
I can't promise you any more than I have to.
But everything will make sense.
I will come back.
To you, I promise.
Don't give up on me.