I never minded our life.

Our apartment, though small, was filled with memories that kept me going when my mental fuel tank felt like it was on 'E'.

Both college students at NYU (me for Social Work and him for...well, he was undecided), the only money we had went to rent, utilities, and rice and beans from the bodega we lived on top of. It was a chance of fate we even lived together; I was a poor girl from New Jersey who had only gotten a chance at this apartment via emails of me begging. He came from money and this apartment was somehow, simply, in his family.

Rent was cheap. The commute was easy - our relationship was easier.

At first I couldn't be around him. Tall and masculine, his well defined cheekbones towered over my 5'5 frame by a good ten inches. I always settled short, and told myself I was into dad bods. He changed my mind on everything.

He was my best friend. We became attached at the hip quickly. Family dinners, study sessions, Christmas outings - it was always us. There was never any significant others to distract us from each other. One nights stands were simply that - one night. We blamed school for us being too busy to date anybody, but I had secretly hoped it was because we both just wanted to be together.

We never talked about it. We never talked about the night on the bathroom counter, the early morning in the hallway under the stairs - we never talked about the nights we shared the same room.

Drunk. We blamed it on being drunk.

Graduation came after four years of living with each other - except he didn't graduate. Said he had some 'soul searching' to do before he graduated. I didn't mind, although I wanted the best for him. He came to my graduation, and that was enough.

He began to change. Things didn't add up.

He was no longer friendly. He was cold, secretive. We didn't laugh together anymore.

And then one day I woke up to find the apartment empty. His things were gone - no note was left. His family stopped replying to me. Our friendship group knew nothing about the disappearance of Luca Blackburn.

It was as if he had died. In fact, I tried telling myself that. It was easier to believe he had fucking died and was buried six feet under than face the fucking reality that he left me behind.

I was supposed to be his best friend - and he left me behind.

I never thought I would see Luca Blackburn again.

And then,

my fucking world changed.