First day back home - 3 years ago:

Waking up in a sweltering pile of pillows and comforters, you flung your torso up from your slumber, belting out your lungs. Reassuring arms wrapped around your sweating form, hushing you as your heart leaped from your chest, pounding deeply as if it was frozen from the last moment of conciousness and thawed out in this moment.

Reece: stroking your hair
Shhh! It's gonna be okay. It was only a bad dream.

Your breathing hitched for a second, until the sudden awareness of your surroundings soaked it. You were safe. Safe at home, in your bedroom, being held by your brother in bed.

Reece: rubbing your back
You had accident.

Confused knitted brows questioned Reece.

Reece: looking you dead in the eye
You tried surfing again, (nickname).
Lachlan had to pull your lifeless body from the surf.

He pointed to your left shoulder, which was tightly bandaged.

Reece: his lip quivering
I... I thought I'd never get my baby sister back.
The board shot out from underneath you. Slamming into your shoulder and dislocating it.
Lockie said he then saw you wipe out and we all assume that a piece of the board smacked against your rips, causing the bruising there. Also smacking you in the forehead, causing a minor head wound, but according to the doctors, recent memory loss... You don't remember any of it, do you?

You squinted your eyes for a second, something about his story didn't seem right. Slowly scanning the room, everything seemed normal, just like how you last saw it, then a major detail jumped out at you.

You: frowning at a calendar
What's the date?

Reece: nervously clearing his throat
You've been in a coma.

An eyebrow cocked on your face.

Reece: trying to compose himself
For months. 2 days ago, the doctors said you are due to wake up soon, so we all thought it would be best if you woke up in your own bed.

Something about his claim wasn't sitting correctly, but a shrug was all you gave him. You attempted to get out of the bed, only to hear Reece protest and tell you not to.

You: sternly looking at him
If you hear me fall over or ask for help, then come and save me.
Reece please, just leave me alone for a little while.

He reluctantly pulled himself out of the bed, sour faced about getting orders from his little sister. He was still feeling regretful about everything he said to you when you both last saw each other. He secretly hoped that his baby sister would return back to him, innocent and wanting him around her all the time just like the old days; he was the only one happy about your loss of memory and vowed to never leave your side again.

After he left, slowly the covers were pried off, one by one, feeling lighter and more refreshed. Your feet soon touched the ground, soaking up the cold touch through the soles of your feet. The walls began to spin, before even being able to stabilise yourself firmly on your feet. Catching yourself on the bed frame, you made it a habit to lean on sturdy furniture in the room, making your way towards a desk, hastily sitting down on the computer chair. It took you a minute to compose yourself, but it shocked you when you noticed the date on your laptop. An even larger and ruder shock of finding an email explaining that the government has terminated the LMC Blog for breeching random violations, immediately made you wonder if they knew you have been hacking into private sources to get content.

An annoyed moan slipped its way through your lips, feeling like it deflated your energy. Slowly you lowered your head, careful to not make a thudding noise, alerting Reece, who most likely is standing outside the door, with his ear glued against it.

An old crinkled piece of paper, neatly folded, grew your curiosity, maybe it was something you made before loosing some of your memory. Gingerly you unfolded the mysterious paper, studying it's old warn creases.

Laid out in from of you, was a sketch of a side profile of a boy, probably very close to your age. Lost in thought as he rests his chin under his hand, intensely staring with a very intense facial expression. Narrowed authoritative gaze, framed by glasses.

Your finger traced his outline, something seemed to be nagging at you, he seemed, just too eerily familiar, like he was special to you.

For the next three years, you became obsessed with drawing this boy. He was all you wanted and could draw, like you were trying to figure out a mystery of exactly who he was. Drawing him in different positions, expressions and clothing. Lovingly, you called the mysterious boy, your hopeless muse, but deep down, it felt like he was your guardian angel.

Present day:

Golden rays of sunlight, poured through the car window, kissing your bare shoulder; lulling the scene into a picturesque cinematic moment. The soft humming of a nursery rhyme filled the vehicle with a gentle security, one of which guards a infant's cradle, warning off any harm that may threaten the precious gift of life.

However, instead of a story of doe eyed innocence, this car ride marks a 'coming of age' story. A story of which, a big brother drives his little sister to her first day of university, while in the charming company of his charismatic 6 year old daughter and gorgeous pregnant wife.

The glint from Savannah's wedding ring as she fidgeted with it around her slender fragile fingers, made you smile. It was a miracle that one day she showed up at the house with the enigmatic toddler known as Oceana. Though, deep down somewhere, you had the strangest nagging feeling that you knew about the pair long before everyone else. Now knowing that she's 7 months pregnant with Lockie and her's second child, but both married adults now, everyone was far more excited over this pregnancy, than when she was having Oceana. The baby's gender is almost always the centre of every conversation, with Oceana strongly demanded that she NEEDS a baby sister, 'cause and I quote, "I don't want a baby brother, cause it will be confusing like uncle Adrian and messy like uncle Reece."

You held your breathe as the car parked on the curb outside the open gates to (university of your choice). Reluctantly, your finger tips dug into the car seat, tightening its grip, but your heart was pounding out of your chest. Like it was drawn to the campus, anxious to walk through the gate.

Savannah: careful turning around to look at you
Dumb question, but are you scared?

You: turning pale in the face
Metathesiophobia...

Your mouth quivered, stammering it shut and swallowing down a gulp of saliva.

You: stuttering
I-I think I'm having... I'm having a p-panic attack.

Lockie opened up his car door, unbuckled himself and got out. Stepping over to your door and opened it up. Wrapping his arms around you, as he awkwardly leaned into the car to hug you. Soon another pair of arms hugged you, as the darling night-haired girl tried to lean as close to you as possible against her seat belt.

Oceana: whispering into your ears
I won't let the panic attack you.

Gingerly, your fingers traced their way down to the buckle, jolting to soak up the final moments of warm embrace.

*CLICK*

Squeezing your eyes tight, you shimmied free from the embrace, pushed forward and silently made the first step on your own independent feet. Took your luggage and said your goodbyes, with just the look of your eyes... so many emotional smiles.

Now with your back turned to your family, more steps followed as you walked through the gate - strange. These sort of moments seem so triumphant in the movies, but in reality it just seems like you're walking into fate with fear bounding in your heart and the buzz of others around; where is the acknowledgement of this major feat?

Maybe if you just keep on looking around and walking aimlessly it might just hit you?

*BUMP*

Papers flew up in the air; a storm of white rained around you. Heistly you dropped to the floor collecting all the scattered paper, which appeared to have had sketches of girls. Upon closer notice you realised they were all of the same girl - you.

With an odd collection in your grip, your head cocked up at who you had bumped into. Your eyes practically bulging out of your head while watching the tall stranger adjusting their glass. He spoke in a deep and thick accent.

Berwald: focusing on his glasses
Sorry.

You: jitter
Meh. Umm. Bad... ME!

Automatically the annoyed look he had as he fidgeted with his glasses disappeared - shock struck him and tears threatening his isolated blue eyes.

His intense stare drilled a hole into you, making you feel uncomfortable.

You: getting up to your feet and giving him the sketches
... she... she's cute.

Straight away you turned on your heels and made a bee-line towards a building to escape the moment, until an unexpected reply caught you off guard.

Berwald: reaching his arm out towards you
Are you her?

*pause*

A curious expression on your face looked back at him.

Berwald: lifting up the sketches
... I saw her in a dream; you both look similar. You are her.

Normally a creepy moment like this would keep you running, but there was the undeniable fact you couldn't deny - he looks exactly like the boy you became obsessed with drawing.

Approaching him slowly, fishing a small sketch book from your jacket pocket, you opened it and held it in front of him.

You: frowning your eyebrows
Met before, have we?

Berwald: letting small tears role and a small smile peak
Only in our dreams...

You: randomly blurting out
You have a really sed---

EPP! NOPE FAIL!! DON'T SAY THAT!
QUICK THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE!!

Berwald: chiming in
I have a really s-interesting accent?

Ha? How did he know I was going to say that?

You sent him a quick nervous smile.

Berwald: bluntly demanding
Draw me?

What did he just say?

Berwald: pointing at your sketch book
Draw me and I'll draw you... let's find out if we are both the people we have drawn.

You: nervous
Oohhh, umm..

Berwald: gritting his teeth
Draw me like one of your French girls.

You: confused
Ahhh... wahhh—ttt?

Berwald: getting nervous
Sorry... that was something I should have told someone a long time ago... just had to get it off my chest. Should I show you to the library?

Despite his intimidation and weird moments, the Swedish accented man seems like he was an old friend. Someone who didn't want to lose you or see you hurt, though he's a stranger... people don't always stay a stranger for ever.

"I'm Berwald"
"____.... thank you for bumping into me."
"Thank you for not being scared by my face."
"Hard to, when it's my muse..."

==================================================================================

This is my final thank you for reading in this book... oh no, here comes the waterworks. It feels like this is the end of an era... an era that took too long to end, because of my lazy butt. If I was left in charge of ending events, the dinosaurs would still be walking around today with us, just waiting for the "extinction bus" to show up lol.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! You all have been fantastic readers and I've loved every comment people have left; always keeps me smiling and laughing.

~BlueTimeFly
(Over and out!)