(Y/n) Pov)

I fell back and my backpack spilled all over the ground. "Ow," I mumbled. "Oh my gosh are you ok!?...Wait," said Phil. He stopped. I looked to where his eyes landed and I froze. "Is that me?" He asked slowly as he picked up the book before I could grab it. "Don't!" I yelled. He didn't listen and flipped it open. I saw him begin to panic more and more with every page that he turned. He dropped the book and backed away from me. "How long... how long have you been following me," Phil asked cautiously and a lil scared. He acted like I had a disease... I've never seen someone look so scared. I stood up and he flinched.  "How long," he asked. "Hu?" was all I could say. "How long have you been following me!" He yelled. I took a step back. I stayed quiet. "This picture has a shirt I had two years ago, this one is me going into my grandma's house, and this one is of me my first day going to university," Phil said quickly. "I just-," he interrupted me saying, "Just what! None of this is on the internet! How! Just tell me why!!!" He said clearly upset. "Because I love you," I said and he dropped my scrapbook. He looked like he broke out in a cold sweat. "This is because you...love...me," he said it slowly and uneasy. Before I could say anything more He turned and ran away. I stared at his fleeting figure like what just happened was a dream. An awful day dream. 

(Narrator's Pov)

For a moment everything became still. The thing we know as time became an illusion. She slowly fell to her knees and cried. For what seemed like minuets, took hours. It was about 11:30 when she decided to head for home. Eyes red and puffy. Throat dry and sore. "Could this be a punishment. A punishment for devotion," mumbled (Y/n). She made it back to her flat, and locked the door behind her. The place was quiet. Her (dog or cat) didn't even bother to come greet her. She stumbled into her room, locking the door, and fell into bed. She didn't even bother to change into her pjs.

She flipped over and stared at the ceiling. Her mind slowly began to wonder. "I wonder...If he didn't find my scrap book...would he....would he have liked me? Even if it was just a little bit," (Y/n)  rolled over to see her scissors (or wig). "Maybe if I get another chance," mumbled (Y/n)  as she got up. Through her bedroom door you could hear her shuffling, and slight noises. Noises that would make someone want to open the door. Yet knowing it's best to leave it shut.

"I just want a chance.... a chance to know that he could love me...."