“lay here and
lose time with me,
let me tell you
of all the things
I adore about you.”

When I made my way back to the apartment, there were still people there. Luce's college friends.

I decided to spare a few minutes when she dragged me over from the front door to the kitchen counter, introducing me to some very new faces. Everyone was extremely nice. I, on the other hand, felt a bit too exhausted.

That's why I excused myself early and headed over to my room.

"You're not gonna have dinner?" Luce followed me inside, opening the door just a little to fix her gaze on me.

I shook my head and took off my shoes before sprawling down on my bed, face-first. I felt too lethargic to even take off the dress I was wearing.

"I ate stuff at the party." I lied.

She didn't seem to believe me so easily. "Are you sure? I made some--"

"I'm fine, Luce." I mumbled, trying to keep my eyes open. "I'm just gonna sleep. Really. Have fun with your friends."

She smiled and closed the door just as my eyelids closed shut.

I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke up, it was still dark outside. The moon was still up in the sky with almost half of my room basking in its glow. However, there were no noises and chatters outside and I figured the guests must've left.

When I sat up on my bed, trying to rub off the sleep from my heavy eyelids, I noticed the door was left open ajar and the lounge outside was dark too. Luce must've closed the lights.

I groggily took off my coat, noticing the slight heaviness in it. I was still in the short green dress, still in my leggings, which surprisingly felt comfortable enough for me to still not want to change into my pajamas. Or maybe it was just the laziness.

So I ended up crawling near the window beside my bed after taking out the brown leather journal from my coat, and sitting there with the duvet tucked under my chin. Then I slowly opened the journal, randomly going through the pages.

Nothing seemed to make sense at first, but then I came across a few lines.

Murder at the Hawthorne mansion. Two victims. A homicide? No one was found guilty. No evidence. No traces of blood. Just two dead bodies at the crime scene.

I closed it shut just as quickly.

"What the fuck." I whispered to myself. It was way too early for me to be reading stuff like that. Maybe I'd just ask Alastair what this all was about. Tomorrow.

I stared down at the journal in my hands, at the leather cover, tracing my fingers over the small circle engraved at one corner. Police property.

How did Alastair get his hands on this journal?

It was only when my eyes trailed out of the window, that I noticed a strangely dark silhouette of a person standing by the back of the apartment building, near the empty street. I tried to squint, blinking back the grogginess, but it seemed to vanish just as quickly.

I blinked in surprise.

Perhaps this was really not the time to be awake right now, I thought.

Pushing the journal under my pillow, I stood up from the bed, trying not to stumble over the duvet wrapped all around me, and picked up my coat. Then I took out the familiar small box with the five blades which I had stuffed inside my coat and opened my closet, placing it deep within my stack of clothes.

I hid it away. That way I could pretend it wasn't there and that those blades didn't exist.

And then I crawled back on my bed, under the duvet, pushing those overwhelming thoughts far far away. At least for now.

°°°°°

"Wait, what?"

Luce looked up at me and took her time to register the surprise on my face.

"It's not really in our hands, Lia. Like I told you, if the family wants the patient out of the hospital, we can't really stop it. Especially if it's the Hawthornes." She told me, still busy with the pancakes.

I didn't offer any help. I was busy sitting on the kitchen stool with my jaw hung open. Not like I helped much in the mornings.

"We are allowed to keep the patient in for three weeks max, if they are in or might cause any danger. The Hawthornes are getting lawyers into this. I don't really get a say." She passed me a sad smile from over her shoulder. "Besides, he's been making a...few improvements."

She was talking about the fact that Alastair was being let out from the hospital. Tomorrow.

I picked up my jaw from the floor and briefly closed my eyes shut. "But...how do they know that he won't do any such thing again?" I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice, especially since I had seen those blades in his room. I had seen them, right there, in that cabinet. "He still needs help, Luce."

She turned towards me this time, seeming a little helpless. "You sound so sure of that."

"Don't you think he needs help?"

Her bright green eyes were still fixated on my face. "We gave him all the help we think he needed."

Why was she saying that?

"Look, I know you care about him." She raised her hands in a placating gesture as if trying to calm me down. "I do too. I care about all of my patients. But you need to know that this isn't entirely in my hands, Lia. Alastair doesn't want to be in that hospital either. He hasn't been having any of those episodes lately and it's the most...progress we've got from him."

I couldn't stop frowning, even though I knew she was right. Luce knew better. She knew what was best for him. She was used to this stuff.

I cared about him, yes, but I didn't have to. He could take care of himself. It shouldn't really bother me this much.

But it did. It bothered me. I exhaled heavily and looked down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater. "Okay."

"Okay?" She was back to making pancakes. 

"You're right," I murmured, though I was still frowning. "Maybe it is best for him that way."

I didn't get to see Alastair that day. All kinds of staff were being directed in his room. Tests and checkups and what not. I wanted to see him, I really did, but it wasn't my shift yet. I hardly think Wren would even want any help when she already had everything under control.

So I spent the majority of my time in Mrs. Murphy's room. It was empty, of course, but it still reminded me of her. Even though they had moved the flowers from the windowsill, the room still smelled like flowers and plants and soil. I wished she was here.

I was roaming across the room, near the windows, when my eyes spotted Alastair outside in the yard. I recognised one of the staff near him, but not really near him. And then I discreetly stared down the tired look on Alastair's face. He looked like he desperately needed some time alone.

I would have helped if I could.

I saw him looking around before his eyes spotted me near the glass windows. I froze for a moment, thinking he couldn't really see me. Weren't the windows blacked out from the outside? But then he started heading in my direction and I realized that no, they weren't blacked out from outside.

I smiled at him when all he did was frown, all until he was standing right on the other side of the window.

"Hey," I spoke up, raising my brows just a little. "What's up?" 

I noticed the staff guy eyeing me from behind Alastair. He seemed confused, but then must've realised that I was a temporary staff too. He was quick to leave after that, which in my opinion was a shitty thing to do.

"Why didn't you come by?" Alastair was still frowning by the time I looked back at him.

"Oh," I replied. "I was busy. You've been busy too, haven't you?"

He muttered something under his breath but I didn't quite catch it.

"Did you get the journal?" He asked me. I saw his eyes, which looked paler under the sun, trailing behind me and examining Mrs Murphy's room.

I nodded and straightened up from my leaning position. "A very difficult task actually," I told him. "Maria was horrifying with all that party crap."

"What party?" He was staring at me now.

I just waved it off. "So, I heard about tomorrow."

Since I was staring back at him, I noticed him tensing up a little, but I didn't point it out.

"Yeah." Was all he said. I expected him to be happy about it, or maybe even relieved, but he didn't seem like any of that. I tried stifling the urge to ask him about it.

My phone buzzed right then, filling the silence. I stuffed my hand in my back pocket and took it out. It was an unknown caller ID.

I looked up at Alastair and saw his frown directed at my phone this time.

"I'll come by your room around nine, okay?" I told him and his gaze flew back to me. He seemed to have that blank expression all over again. "And I'll bring the journal. Promise."

I didn't wait around before answering the call, glancing up in time to see him walking away.

"Hello?" I answered, walking over towards the empty bed.

"Is this Lia?" Someone asked on the other end. The voice was a bit familiar, yet I couldn't really pin a name to it.

"Yeah, that's me. Who is this?"

"Oh." There was a little pause. "It's Nora."

I froze. Don't know how long, but I just froze. 

Why in the fucking hell did I have to answer this one call?

"Uh...hey." I tried to be polite.

"I've been trying to contact you for some time now." She sounded strange. But the more I heard her talk, the more I realized that it was the same Nora I had spent most of my childhood with. "You changed your number."

I sat down on the bed, gripping my phone a little tighter. I wasn't really sure what to say. What was I supposed to say anyway? What was she expecting me to say?

"I did." I really wished I hadn't answered the call. I wished Alastair was still here. At least that way I'd have a reason to get out of this. A reason not to talk to Nora.

She went silent for a while and I started fidgeting with the hem of my red sweater.

"England, huh?" The amusement in her voice surprised me. Was she really expecting me to go along with this pathetic attempt at a conversation between us?

"Why did you call?" I asked and felt my throat tighten at the same question. I didn't want to keep on pretending that I wasn't nervous about this. What was the point anyway?

There was a slight shuffle on her end and it tensed me even further. 

"I wanted to talk about Noah," she said.

I could've sworn I felt something constricting in my chest when I heard her say that name. But I ignored. Just like every other time, I told myself to ignore it. I had moved on, hadn't I? Then why was she still talking about him? Why was I still talking to her?

"We broke up, you know," She murmured. 

I didn't think it was possible for me to form any words right then.

"Lia?"

"Why do you feel the need to tell me about this?" I snapped, feeling a little relieved when I heard the anger in my voice. I wanted her to know that I didn't care, even if I did.

A long beat of silence passed by.

"I...I thought I should tell you."

"I don't care, Nora." I gave out a short laugh of disbelief, looking up at the ceiling and ignoring the stinging sensation building up at the corner of my eyes. "Go and cry over him and tell this...tell this to someone else who actually cares."

I would've ended the call right then, probably even blocked her number as well, but she spoke up first before I could've done any of that.

"Do you hate me that much?"

I laughed. Again. 

"Yes, I do." I felt furious now, sad too. "Not everything fucking revolves around you, okay? I used to and I was pathetic. I still am, but not so much to still care about the shit that you call your life."

I shouldn't just say that.

But why not? Why was I the only one who thought twice before really saying what I wanted to say? Why was I the only one who gave a shit about every single thing?

It shouldn't be that way.

Another shuffling noise came from her end. "I really hope you don't mean that." It was a small whisper. I hated the sadness in her voice. God, I wanted to hate her so much.

"I do actually."

She sighed. "Okay. I can't blame you."

"I don't care, Nora."

"All right," She whispered. "But before you impulsively end the call and block my number, just know that I didn't know about...whatever you had to go through. Including Noah. I never knew. I was the worst friend, best friend, you could've ever asked for and all of this had been eating me up from the inside. I'm...sorry. You don't have to forgive me but I am still sorry."

It was me who went silent this time. I felt a single, hot tear slowly rolling down my cheek. I closed my eyes shut, breathing in, trying not to make any noise.

"Fuck you." Was all I whispered before ending the call. I blocked her number too. Then unblocked it. It didn't make me feel better, though. Nothing about this made me feel better.

I stayed in Mrs. Murphy's room after that with my face buried in my hands, my eyes closed shut as I tried leveling my heart rate. It wasn't easy to not think about it, about Nora and Noah and all those hurtful memories that I always tried to bury further back in my head. Every time I got past controlling the overwhelming emotions brimming in my chest, I wouldn't be able to help myself. I'd think about those harsh words and those times that I wished I could escape.

But I couldn't escape them. Not even here. Nora was always there to pull me back into that dark, scary pit whenever I started moving on with my life.

Inhaling shakily, I tried swallowing past the heavy lump in my throat.

I wouldn't cry. Not here.

Even before I could have tried to compose myself just a bit, the door opened. I snatched my hands away from my face and looked up at Luce, startled.

"Lia?" Of course, it had to be her.

"I'm...I'm fine." I stumbled over my words, almost cringing at the way my voice cracked. I think Luce heard it too, or maybe she saw the scared look on my face.

"Are you crying?" She was moving towards me too fast for me to come up with anything to say.

"No. No. Of course not." I shook my head. Then shook it again.

"Lia--"

"It's fine. Really." I forced it out as she stopped right in front of me, her face scrunched up with worry. "I just...I was just..."

My throat squeezed itself in a pathetic attempt to stop me from bawling my eyes out. Luce thankfully pulled me into a hug right on time before a small sob escaped my lips.

"Oh Lia," She whispered. I pressed my face into her shoulder, closing my eyes shut once again. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want her to think that something was wrong. "Hey, it's all right, Lia. Everything's fine."

No, it wasn't. Nothing was ever fine with me.

A nagging voice at the very back of my head told me to shut up and stop crying. This would get worse if I kept on crying. Luce would get worried. She would ask me why I was crying. And then I won't be able to tell her, and...things would go downhill.

I pressed my fingers over my eyes, wiping off the tears. Then I pulled away from Luce.

She reluctantly let go, but refused to remove her hands from my shoulders. I sniffled but didn't look up at her.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Her voice came out soft and gentle, almost reassuring. She probably used that tone in her therapy sessions. It worked somewhat and I did want to tell her about everything that was bothering me right now. But I didn't. I didn't because it disgusted me a little. I was disgusted at how unimportant it all was if I really thought about it.

"I just felt a little homesick." I lied, glancing up at her. My voice came out a little hoarse and my eyelids felt heavy. I felt heavy.

She didn't say anything for a while and I realized that she must've caught the lie somewhere between it. "Was it something at the party you went to last night? Did any of the staff say anything to you? Or...is this about Alastair?"

Why would it be about him, I wondered.

I managed to purse my lips and shook my head. 

"No. I just...miss old times." It wasn't really a lie this time. I did miss the old times. When I was a child. When Luce used to live with us back in New York. When things were easy. When I had Nora. When there were no complications.

She smiled back at me, yet it didn't really reach her eyes. Her eyes held a questioning look, almost as if she was silently hoping that I'd tell her more. I didn't.

She gently ran a hand through my hair and I felt myself relaxing a little. 

"Okay," she said. "How about we do a movie night tonight? Just the two of us. I keep forgetting you won't be staying here forever, but just a few months. And we still haven't spent some real time together."

"Yeah. Sure." I nodded. I'd like that.

"I've just got a few more patients to check up on and then we can go back home, okay?" She asked, her gaze still fixated on me. I nodded once again and she released a sigh. "Don't work yourself too much over...whatever's bothering you. Please."

"I won't," I told her, hoping that it came out much more reassuring than I felt at that moment.

With one last squeeze of my shoulder, she pulled away. "All right then. Keep your phone with you. I'll call you when I'm done with this stuff."

I nodded and watched her leave.

For a moment, I yearned to go up at the rooftop, remembering how quiet and peaceful it had been up there. Rooftops always helped, didn't they? They were silent. They made my head fall silent. Quiet and peaceful.

But I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts right now, not even for a little while. I wanted to forget about my shit for a while. And as long as I could keep it away and ignore it, I was fine. I wanted to be fine.

I looked up at the wall clock and realized it was way past nine by now. I had promised Alastair that I'd meet him around nine and amidst all this, I'd completely forgotten about that.

Glad to have my mind drawn away from my miserable thoughts, I stood up from the bed and headed towards the office area. No staff was in there, which was good. I merely aimed for my bag and took out the familiar leather journal from inside. I was about to head out, back towards the elevator, when I pulled out the Walkman at the very last second.

Then I left the office.

The hospital hallways were starting to clear out by now. I entered the familiar psych unit and slowly walked towards Alastair's room. The door was open by the time I got there and Wren met me halfway.

"Hey." I managed a smile at her.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked, which was baffling to say the least, especially when I was pretty sure that I looked far from the previous crying mess.

"Yeah. Of course. Um...are the checkups done? I need to see him for a while."

She looked back inside the room and I took a peek too. Alastair was in there. The permanent scowl on his face made me smile a little more. He seemed pissed off at the few staff who were still inside.

"Yeah. Done for the night. Are you sure you wanna stay here? I thought you were supposed to leave early?" Wren asked me.

I merely shrugged.

"Okay then. Come in after a few minutes and we'll be done by then."

I waited outside on one of the waiting benches, fidgeting with my sleeves and cautiously pulling them over my fists. The Walkman was safely stuffed inside my pocket, the journal too. The few staff that were there, left. Wren came out too, jerking her head towards the door and letting me know that I was free to go as she juggled her coat and an incoming phone call over her ear.

I entered the room and softly closed the door behind me.

"Hey," I spoke up and walked towards the familiar armchair beside Alastair's bed with the journal in my hand. By the time I had slumped down on the chair, Alastair was already staring at me.

"It's past nine right now," he said. My eyes trailed over to his hair, sticking up in almost every direction as if he'd been running his fingers through it all day. He did seem frustrated.

"I got caught up with stuff." I shrugged and looked away, before pushing the leather journal towards him. "Here you go." I placed it on the bed, right beside him, before shrinking back in the chair and pulling up my knees.

I think I should've taken off my shoes, except that I didn't really want to. What I wanted was sleep. Maybe I won't even stay awake throughout the movie marathon with Luce. I'll let her down. I let a lot of people down.

"Did you read it?" He asked in a low voice, his gaze stuck at the leather journal beside him. Still, he made no move to pick it up.

I shook my head and his eyes darted to my face.

"Why?"

I shrugged again. Then I pulled out the Walkman and slid that towards him too. 

"Here's this too. Since it's your last night here." I leaned back into the armchair and gave him a small smile. "You can keep it actually. I don't even think Rowan would take it back." And what would I do with it? I thought.

Alastair was still staring at me oddly. "Where were you?"

I wrapped my arms around my knees and propped my chin up on them, blinking at him. "In Mrs. Murphy's room. Or...the room that used to be hers."

"What were you doing there?"

"Passing the time," I murmured before closing my eyes. It was something in his eyes that could get intense within seconds. I realized that sometimes I looked forward to it, the way his eyes could show so much and nothing at the same time. It made him seem real and it made him seem like a person who never took things for granted.

I used to do that all the time. Take things for granted.

"You got stuck with something."

It took me a few seconds before I opened my eyes, staring back into his silver ones. And then I realized that he was waiting for me to answer.

"Uh...yeah," I spoke before crossing my legs and picking up the journal. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to it. I thought I was here because we would be talking more about his family. Wasn't that why he had asked me to break into his dorm room in the first place?

I placed it on my lap and opened up the first page. 

"All right, I guess I was lying. I did go through few of the pages." I glanced up at him, noticing his narrowed gaze at me. Still at me. "How did you get your hands on this anyway?"

Alastair didn't reply.

"It's supposed to be confidential evidence." I flipped through some more pages. "How did you--"

"They gave it to me when they closed the case," he replied, this time looking down at the Walkman. I had made sure to take out that one piece of music that had caused that panic attack of his, with some help from Rowan of course. 

"What case?" I asked him, raising my brows just a little. I had my suspicions, obviously, but I wanted to hear it from him.

"The murder of my parents."

I must've paled a little.

"It was years ago." He seemed almost cautious as he looked at me. "You don't have to look so horrified."

I looked away because I didn't want him to think that I was judging him. I wasn't judging him. I would never do that. It just came as a surprise to me. 

His parents were dead. Murdered. Why?

"They had the case up for years but didn't find anything related to it," he added. "And then I got my hands on this journal. It has all the evidence and reports, I think."

"Why didn't you read it?" I asked, then realized that even asking that was stupid. Why in the world would he want to read something that might make him remember his dead parents? "Sorry, that came out wrong."

He looked at me. He looked at me for a very long time.

"So...is this why you tried to kill--" I stopped abruptly, almost biting my tongue in the process. God, what was wrong with me? Why had I, out of everyone, lost my sense of filter so goddamn suddenly?

"I'm sorry." I frowned. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. I think...I'm just a little tired." I swallowed uneasily and looked down at the journal.

"You've been crying," he said.

"What?"

His eyes slowly darted across my face and I felt too exhausted to get embarrassed over it. He just had that in his gaze, something quite intense. 

"You've been crying," he repeated.

"I haven't actually." I sighed and slumped back in the chair. "Why would you even say that?"

"Your eyes look sad."

I passed him an odd look. "I don't think you can actually see that in someone's eyes." And then I broke into a loud yawn. I think I needed to head back home. Home. It was strange how easily I had come off to calling Luce's apartment my home.

He placed his hands on either side of him and leaned back a little. "You can."

"Yeah?" I rubbed my eyes. "Well, I haven't ever seen any kind of sadness when I look in the mirror. Which...by the way, I'm not usually sad." Why would I even say that? "I mean, you know, when shit happens and..."

He was listening intently. I felt heat crawling up my neck and curling over my ears.

"...and you get sad. Well, I never really saw any of that. I guess." He raised a brow and I groaned, looking up at the ceiling. "God, can we just talk about this journal? I'm embarrassing myself. I don't need this on top of my already shitty day."

"Why did you have a shitty day?"

"I didn't. Let's just talk about this...journal."

Something softened in his gaze and I realized that yeah, he was right. Eyes did portray a lot. Especially his, they showed too much.

"I didn't try to kill myself because of my parents," he stated, breaking the silence.

I felt my eyes widening a little. This was the most open he had been to me. Well, except for that night he had a panic attack. That had been too much vulnerability and I hadn't liked that. 

"It was...something else." He clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Okay." I nodded before leaning a little towards him. "We'll get there and I'll help you."

"How?" He sounded a little frustrated now. "I can't even help myself."

"Maybe that's because you need help from someone else."

He looked a little unsettled at that, so I decided to change the topic. "So, what's up between Maria and that...Theodore guy?"

He looked at me as if I had said something foul. "Is féidir leis dul ag fuck é féin." It was just a murmur, but I caught it this time.

I grinned tiredly. "You know, I can hardly speak English. What language is that even? French? I never took you as a french guy." It was the exhaustion talking at this point.

Alastair avoided my question, just narrowed his eyes at me. "Did Maria drag you to a college party?"

"Yeah."

I wondered if the tattoo above his wrist was in the same language that he had spoken just a few seconds ago. 

"Was he there?" I felt the sudden tension in the air around him. He looked furious, to say the least.

I blinked in surprise. "I didn't see him. I mean, I did. He was roaming around the hallway, I guess. Maria had to...distract him so that I could get into your room."

He frowned and the anger didn't seem to leave.

"You seem like you hate him." And judging from what I had heard Theodore saying back there, I think the hate was mutual.

"Why would anyone not hate him?" 

I shrugged because I didn't know. And since I didn't think he'd like talking about this any more, I decided to ask something more approachable,

"You've got a tattoo."

He blinked in surprise, the frown gradually softening across his features. I didn't like when he looked at me like that--when his eyes just went soft. It made me feel...different. I didn't like different.

"What does it say?" I asked him, my gaze trailing down to his hand, his left hand. And then a small involuntary smile formed on my lips, tugging at my heart, when I saw him extending his hand towards me, the sleeve riding up enough for me to see it.

"That is not English." I frowned when I couldn't recognize it. It was a phrase, like I had noticed earlier, cursively inked right above his wrist.

"It isn't." He replied. "It's from a book that I...I used to have when I was a child."

I blinked up at him, noticing the way his voice lowered to a whisper. "Really? What book was it?"

His eyes found mine. "I don't remember." And before I could've responded to that, he added, "Chomh hálainn agus chomh brónach, cosúil le ceol. It's Irish."

"What does it mean?" I asked him curiously, my fingers itching to take a hold of his hand, to look at it more closely.

"So beautiful and sad, like music," he murmured.

I smiled in awe. "That sounds beautiful."

His eyes held that look when he looked at me, like he was smiling, but he wasn't really smiling.

So beautiful and sad, like music, I repeated it in my head as I leaned back in my chair. 

He had pulled his hand away by then, but I realized that he was still staring at me, looking rather curious now. As if he wanted to ask me something.

"So," I said after a few seconds of silence. "You won't be staying here from tomorrow. How will I...how will you--" How will I see you again, I wanted to ask, but I left it at that. 

I'd miss him, I realized so suddenly that it left me feeling a little baffled and a little hollow. I'd miss these little moments.

"You can give me your number."

It took me a while to reply. "Yeah. Sure I can give you my number." I looked around for a pen or anything to write with and found one sitting right there along with the file Wren had probably forgotten to collect on her way out. I picked up the pen and turned back towards Alastair. "I don't have a paper."

He responded by extending his hand towards me. The same one with the tattoo on it. I tried not to smile this time.

"Oh. Okay." I murmured before gently gripping his hand and writing down the string of numbers on his palm. Once I was done, I slowly let go, letting the warmth of his hand be replaced by the cold around us. "That's my number."

"Whose call was it?"

I eyed him, confused. "What?"

"When I was in the yard and I saw you in that room," he spoke out slowly. "Your phone rang and you answered a call."

I didn't understand how or why this conversation kept coming back to me.

"It was someone from...home." I eyed him a little cautiously this time. "Why?"

"It made you upset." And then he was leaning closer and all I could really focus on were his eyes. His beautiful grey eyes. Just so honest and open, and so goddamn beautiful.

"It...didn't really." I lied, my eyes widening a little. "It was just a call. I mean, why would I get upset over a call?"

I had to shut my mouth when he narrowed his gaze. I could only see his eyes at that moment; the silver and grey mixing together. It was starting to feel like a trance, the way I couldn't pull my gaze away from his. My entire being seemed to tense up when I realized that there were just a few inches of space left between our faces.

"Who was it?" He asked.

How was I supposed to lie when he didn't seem to give a shit about my personal fucking space?

"A friend." And then I realized that I had just called Nora my friend. "Not a friend, but...an ex-friend. Ex-best friend."

He tilted his head ever so slightly and my gaze dropped down to his lips. I looked up just as quickly when my breath hitched. Something was definitely wrong with me.

No. No. No. Don't you dare think about it, Lia.

One corner of his lips tugged upwards and it felt like I couldn't breathe. The small--barely there--smile seemed to take my breath away.

God, he was so beautiful.

And I needed to pull away. I knew I needed to before this, all of this, got out of my control. And that was scary because I felt it slowly ebbing away--my self-control. My mind seemed to spin until Alastair's gaze dropped down to my lips and stayed there. I swallowed and gripped the sides of my chair, trying to push myself away but staying frozen at the same time.

"Alas--" The rest of my words were cut off with a small hmph when he kissed me.

My eyes widened, almost popping out of my sockets, when he leaned even closer, pressing his lips oh so softly and gently against my own.

I was frozen, but I couldn't help and notice how warm and how soft his lips were. And then another sort of warmth cupping the side of my face and I melted. I fucking melted against him. Because I've never kissed anyone before. And I've never felt like this...this warm and this wanted.

His fingers slid into my hair, thumb softly caressing my cheek and he licked my bottom lip. I made a tiny noise at that and I felt my eyelids closing shut when he pressed a little further, pulling my chair closer. I unconsciously let my lips part a little and then it wasn't just a peck. He tasted like mint and god, I never fucking knew it would feel so good to actually kiss someone.

Kiss him.

He pulled away, just a tiny bit, but I finished the very little distance just as quickly, fingers fisting into his shirt and tugging him closer. I wanted to kiss him a little bit longer. I let him kiss me a little bit longer. Mostly because I was as clueless as a kindergartener when it came to kissing. 

But he kissed me so perfectly, so softly. I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. I could feel him.

Alastair was kissing me.

Perhaps it was the sudden realization of giving in to someone so quick that made me pull away a bit too harshly, enough to make the armchair skid backwards, and enough for him to pull away in surprise too.

"What's wrong?" Was all he asked, looking so confused and just so fucking beautiful.

I gripped the chair and stared at him wide-eyed before blinking and looking down at my lap.

Why did he kiss me? How could he kiss me? 

He didn't like me, I told myself. Then why was he kissing me just seconds ago? And I liked it. God, I liked it so much. I wasn't supposed to like it.

Alastair was still waiting for me to answer, to say something, and his eyes were a little wide too.

"I...I don't know." My voice fell to a whisper and I gulped uneasily. "Why...did you kiss me?"

"Why not?" He still sounded confused.

I blinked in surprise. "Do you go around kissing everyone you've just met?"

"We've known each other for weeks." He stared at me in surprise, in confusion. I didn't like that, not one bit.

"You don't understand," I whispered, feeling the sad, overwhelming tug in my throat. What could I even say? How could I even make him understand when I didn't know it myself?

He was silent for a while. "I don't."

Even if he thinks he can do love, he can't.

I looked away, hearing my heart racing in my ears. I knew how bad I'd feel if I just stood up and walked away. I didn't want to walk away. I didn't want to end things between us on such a bad note. I didn't know what to do.

"I won't really understand unless you tell me," he added.

I can't. How can I?

I was still clutching onto the sides of my chair and my knuckles had gone white by then. "I...I'm not used to this." I whispered and I was still not looking at him.

"So?"

"So I don't know how to react." I almost cringed when those words left my lips. I didn't want to look up at him and see the judgment in his eyes, or the regret or remorse. I wanted to disappear.

"You think I shouldn't have kissed you," he stated. I grimaced.

"Yes."

"But you kissed me back."

I opened my mouth but closed it shut just as quickly. I couldn't really say that he was wrong. He wasn't. I had kissed him. I had liked kissing him.

"Fine," he spoke up suddenly. I looked up at him then, trying to mask the confusion on my face. "I'll pretend that I didn't kiss you. And you didn't kiss me back. We can pretend this never happened."

My throat went dry at that. 

"I didn't..." But I stopped. Wasn't this what I wanted, though? "Okay. Y-Yeah, okay." 

I was embarrassed to feel a bit relieved at that thought. I was good at pretending. I could live with that.

Alastair looked down at his hand and I couldn't really pinpoint the look on his face. It was just blank. Or maybe he was good at pretending too.

"I'll contact you." He didn't say when or why. He just left it at that. He'd contact me.

I nodded and felt my own phone buzzing in my pocket. It was probably Luce.

"You can keep that." I glanced over at the Walkman. "I'll...wait for your call." 

He didn't really say anything in response, or even look up at me. I took out my phone and excused myself, walking out of the room with an aching heart and a ghost of a kiss on my lips.