The first thing I notice when I open my laptop is how slow the internet is. I check my connection. It's fine. I only have two tabs open -- my email and Annabelle's blog.

It's all explained when I look at the blog, though. The page is blowing up with comments. I guess that picture did merit some curiosity -- Annabelle's never posted anything with her face. And even though they don't know which one in the picture is her, the readers are freaking out.

Some of them think I'm Annabelle Lee-Davis. As soon as that thought occurs, I start laughing. It's so strange to think of it like that.

Annabelle hasn't posted anything yet in regard to the questions being asked.

I know she will, though. She's way too nice to leave her readers hanging on something they get this excited about.

I yawn and stretch my body out on top of my sheets. It's around nine in the morning, I think.

I have homework to do today. Annabelle and I have to finish our story and I have a test to study for in Psychology and I have other stuff for my other classes. I don't know what the assignments are, but I think I wrote them down somewhere.

I must have.

I slip out of my bed and put my The 1975 CD on and open the window, then get my bag, which had been thrown unceremoniously into the corner of our room.

It's a soft blue backpack, with a bunch of pins scattered across the front. It's extremely worn, because I got it at the beginning of freshman year and liked it too much to get another one.

I pull my textbooks from my desk and pull my notebooks out of my backpack, then get myself situated.

I poise my hand above the space in the notebook, ready to take some spectacular notes as I read through the textbook. It's a boring section -- usually the passages I read I find fascinating.

But I muddle through it somehow. In fact, I'm just about to cross it out of my agenda book and slam my textbook shut with satisfaction when there's a knock on the door.

"It's open," I call, a bit confused. I know it's not Jenna or Jacob, because they both have keys. I know it's not Annabelle, because she's out meeting someone. I don't have any other friends that I know of that would just come to my room.

And then the door swings open and it's Sybil. Sybil is the girl in the room next door. We're not best friends, but we talk pretty often.

She dyed her hair again. It's now a bright yellow (she dyes it to match Josh Dun), which doesn't suit a lot of people (except for her and Josh, of course). It's piled in a loose, messy bun on top of her hair. It looks good with her honey skin and whiskey eyes.

"Hey, Hazel," she says brightly. Sybil is just a very bright person in general. Good in small doses.

"Hey, Sybil," I reply. She comes over and flops on my bed. "I love your hair."

"Thank you!" she beams. "I love yours."

Oh yeah. I dyed my hair. I guess we haven't seen each other as much of late.

"Thanks," I smile back at her. Sybil is just a ball of sunshine and energy, and it's pretty infectious.

"I just wanted to see if I could, y'know, hang out here for a bit?" she asks hesitantly. I nod, a little bit confused.

"Yeah, sure. Um... any particular reason, or just because?"

"My roommate is in a really bad mood, and she's yelling at someone over the phone, and it just makes me a bit uncomfortable to be there." I've met Sybil's roommate, Charlie. They are polar opposites.

"My goodness Sybil, how long has it been going on?"

"A couple hours now," Sybil shrugs. I immediately pull her into a hug. When she pulls back, I hold her shoulders so she looks at me.

"You can come over anytime. Seriously. You're welcome here."

"Thank you," she says, and I can tell she means it.

"I'm still working on my homework, but you can use my laptop or put in any CD or read a book," I say, gesturing to the room and all that she's welcome to. I know how it feels to be in a room with people who are fighting. It's one of the worst feelings. To me, at least.

"Thanks, Hazel."

"No problem," I reply. I finally cross out the assignment I completed, then switch to my notebook and textbook for a different class. I don't like doing homework, per say, but it makes me feel productive.

The rhythmic scratching of my pen, Chocolate playing in the background, and the fresh air and Sybil's sunny presence are relaxing.

All of a sudden, my thoughts are interrupted by my phone rattling against the wood of my bookshelf. I usually keep it on vibrate, because I think text tones are annoying. I glance over apologetically at Sybil for ruining the peace. She didn't even bat an eye.

I push off the bed and check the message. It's from Annabelle.

is it ok for me to tell the readers abt u? either way is fine w/me so if ur not comfy w/it its fine

I put my phone down on my leg and think about it for a second. I'd actually really love for her to tell the readers about herself and me. It'd open up the door for No really, I'm okay to become a more personally involved blog.

Fine with me sweetheart

alrighty then thank u v much

No problem

can i come over?

Sure

I smile down at the message.

I feel eyes on me, and I crane my head up to find Sybil looking at me.

"I've never seen you smile like that," she remarks. "You really are in love, aren't you?" I blush a bit at the question.

"Is it that obvious?" I know I wear my heart on my sleeve, but it seems everyone can read me like an open book.

She nods, grinning at my frustration.

I just shake my head, pretending to be annoyed, and go back to my notebook. I feel Sybil's eyes on me for a little while longer, and then I think she goes back to the book she's reading.

There's a knock on the door for the second time in an hour, and I again call out that it's open.

Annabelle comes in, with her sweet little smile and her adorable curly ponytail and her pastel blue sweater with long yellow sleeves that goes down to the middles of her thighs. The rest of her legs are bare.

"Hey," she sings, kicking her beat-up white sneakers off next to the door. She's got her Polaroid in one hand and her bag on the other. I've always liked Annabelle's bag. It's a mini backpack with small cats all over it.

I smile fondly at her, and then somewhat abruptly realize that this must be awkward for Sybil, because they've never met.

I quickly introduce them. "Sybil, this is Annabelle, my datemate." I love saying datemate. It's such a cute word, and the mere fact that I get to call Annabelle mine is wonderful. "Annabelle, this is Sybil. She lives next door." I watch as they smile and utter greetings at each other. Annabelle then skips over to my bed, drops the belongings she brought onto the floor, and sits down next to me, crossing her legs under her. I can see her socks, which also have cats all over them.

She wriggles her way into my side, and sighing out a "You're so warm," into my shirt. 

We all kind of stay dormant for a while.

Then there's the loud sound of a door slamming echoing through the entire hallway. It comes from the room next door. We all collectively jump at it.

Five minutes after that, there's been no accompanying noises. Sybil clears her throat and stands up.

"I think that was Charlie. She's probably gone now."

"You think so?" I ask her.

"Yeah. Knowing her, she won't be back for a while, until after she's calmed down."

"M'kay," I respond. "But if she comes back and you feel uncomfortable, just come on back."

"I will," Sybil promises. She bounces her way out of the room, offering a quick 'goodbye' to us and a 'nice to meet you' to Annabelle. Annabelle doesn't respond. When I nudge her, I discover that she has in fact fallen asleep.

I nudge her again. She mumbles a sleepy groan, just cuddling farther into my side. I spend a good five minutes trying to get her to move.

"Come on, Annabelle," I whine. "I thought you wanted to post that thing?"

She opens her eyes, finally, and lets out a cute little yawn.

"Mmhmm, that's what I thought. Where's your computer?"

"Bag," she mutters softly.

I roll my eyes at her, my lazy lil Annabelle, then reach down and get her bag and camera. She grabs at the camera halfheartedly, and I hand it to her.

"Thanks," she murmurs into my collarbone. She then pushes herself upright and tucks her feet under my leg.

"They're cold!" she protests when I give her a 'really?' look.

I just grin and shake my head at her. I could never be annoyed with her, and we both know it.

Robbers starts playing, and another smile takes over. I'm just very smiley today, I guess. I look away from Annabelle for a second and at the tapestry that Jenna hung on her side of the room. It's of a fjord, with cerulean water and emerald greenery on either side.

I hear the click of a camera, and Annabelle beams triumphantly. "Beautiful!" she exclaims.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I'd love to see one in person some day."

"Oh yeah. The tapestry's pretty, too." I look over at Annabelle to see her laying a picture on the duvet to develop.

I grab the camera quickly and snort at her.

"Real smooth, sweetheart."

She looks over at me and starts laughing at the expression on my face. I press the button, and seconds later a picture slides out.

I'll give him one more time

We'll give you one more fight

Annabelle slides the tips of her sweater dress over her hands and picks up the first picture. She looks at it for a minute, then shows it to me.

"You have the most adorable smile I've ever seen, darling." I look at the photograph. It's a little bit overexposed, but I like it like that. The light pouring from the window is outlining my face as I look at the wall. My lips are quirked in a dreamy sort of smile, and my hazel eyes have golden swirls in them from the sunlight. I look pretty.

I pick up the one I took of Annabelle. Her nose is scrunched up and her freckles are adorable and her eyes are alight with laughter and her sweater is hanging so you can see her collarbones. One of her sweater paw limbs is covering her mouth as she laughs. She looks gorgeous.

I've asked why she covers her mouth when she laughs, and she says she just feels more comfortable like that. I let her be, because I do get to see her smile and that's enough.

"You should take up photography, love," Annabelle chimes, leaning over to see the photo. She rests her temple on mine, then reaches out and grabs her phone. She lays the photos side by side on the bedspread and takes a picture of them.

And there's another click and another piece of film being laid on the bed.

When it develops, I pick it up and look at it. It's us. Just me and Annabelle, sitting side by side. I'm resting my head on her comfy shoulder, and she's looking at me with the sweetest look on her face. If I had to put it into words, I would say it's a look that says "I love you so, so much and you are someone I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Which basically describes my mind whenever I'm around Annabelle.

Annabelle's arm around my waist fills my body with a warm and fuzzy feeling. I watch as she opens her laptop and types out a bunch of words.

"Read it?" she asks, looking down at me. I nod into her shoulder.

Hey everyone. I know y'all've had some questions after that last post. So here's a couple of pictures. The first one is of me. My name is Annabelle Lev-Damore. The second one is of my incredible girlfriend Hazel. She is the reason there's any color at all on this blog. The third is of us together, though you could probably piece that together.

I am truly, truly thankful for all the support you guys have given me and this blog over the years. I'm really happy that I could help at least one person through a bad experience. So I have an announcement. I'm going to change the name of this blog. Because I don't need to lie about being okay anymore. I hope that all of you either can or soon will be able to agree.

No really, I'm okay. is what I've decided to cut it to.

Remember how much I love you all. Remember that I would sing you to sleep every night if you needed it.

~Annabelle

As I finish reading, Annabelle pulls me back into her side. I snake my arms around her and she pulls me close. She presses Post, closes her computer, leans forward and places it on the floor, then flops back against my pillows, pulling me with her.

We fall asleep like that, legs tangling under scrutiny of the setting sun through the open window.

I wake up in the middle of the night. Jenna's passed out in her own bed, and there's something on the floor I don't remember seeing before.

I lean a little out of bed and scoop it up. It's another picture. Jenna must have taken it.

It's me and Annabelle, holding each other in our sleep. You can't see much of my face, due to it being buried in the crook of Annabelle's neck.

I feel content as I snuggle back down into her warm embrace and lose myself to her touch and scent.

a/n: this is 2400 words what the heck like wow me