The sunlight is blinding as I lay on my back in the field, grass and the odd daisy swaying gently around me in the slight breeze. I look over at Bailey, smiling at the sight of her closed eyes, the wind messing with her sandy hair so that it half-covers her face. A faint smile sits on her lips, and I reach a hand over to gently cup her cheek. Her skin is smooth against my hand, and seems so delicate against the coarse skin of my hand.

Her eyes open, blinking against the bright sun, and her smile broadens when she sees me. I brighten at the sight of her, perking up like a flower when it's watered. I can feel my heart somersaulting against my ribcage. I let my hand drop back to the grass beside me.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Hello." She turns to the side to face me, ocean eyes wide.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

She nods slowly, and I push a stray curl of blonde hair behind her ear, admiring her beauty. Looking down at her where she lays, her small form is almost silhouetted against the grass, most of her head just a slight shadow with hair wrapped around her shoulders and neck like a protective blanket. Some pieces have escaped to stretch across the grass behind her, as though eager to explore. One arm rests on her stomach, the other bent above her head, fingers absent-mindedly fiddling with a few stems of grass. Her skin is sun-touched and crinkled smile lines crease around her mouth and eyes despite how young she is. That's my girl.

"What are you thinking about, Alex? You've gone all quiet on me."

"I am thinking..." I let my voice trail off, trying hard to lessen the blush creeping up my cheeks.

She raises an eyebrow, stifling a smile, and looks so funny doing it that if I wasn't caught up with embarrassment I'd laugh. Despite her poor attempts at being serious, I can see she's not going to let this go.

"I was just thinking about how much I love you," I say, then a slow whistling breath leaves my lips.

Did I actually just say that out loud? Suddenly the traffic doesn't sound so far away; the sounds of distant cars rush back up to meet my ears, mingling with birdsong, the soft brush of the wind in the hedges, and our breathing. I press pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, inhaling the scent of grass and disturbed soil from them.

I sit up straighter, avoiding her eyes. We've never said it before. It's the truth, certainly. But I don't want to scare her off; not when she's such a little thing. Not when I love her as much as I do.

Worry laces itself through my skin, needle edges pricking. She's not going to reply. She's going to reject it. Reject me. I've messed it all up. My hand cramps from being in the air too long, and I let it drop back to my lap, heart plummeting with it.

"Alex," she says. Does her voice sound almost... regretful?

I turn my head sideways and stare straight into the sin. I don't care how much it hurts. My eyes were already watering so what does it matter? A small hand presses itself against my palm, fingers curling around mine. A small sliver of hope slices through my worry.

"Alex." Firmer this time. I hear her sit up straighter and turn back towards her a little. "Is that really how you feel?"

I nod, eyes traversing the surface of her beautiful face. So delicate; petite. Tiny features on a tiny face on a tiny body. And all of her wonderful. A button nose littered with pale golden freckles that just begs to be kissed, and soft edges, like a filter is permanently placed on her. Maybe there is; my affections.

"So much more than you could ever know, Bailey. You're my light. What would I do without the su—"

I am cut off abruptly as she springs forward to sit in my lap, surprising me. She settles a leg on either side of mine, her lips so close to my face that if I moved forward just a little bit...

"And I love you, Alex."

She leans in to press a short and soft kiss on my cheek, rubbing her own against the stubble at my jawline before moving to rest her chin on my shoulder, arms wrapping around me to rest her hands between my shoulder blades. Her fingertips tickle even through my t-shirt. Her arms barely reach round me; she's so small, especially compared to me. At only 4'11", she doesn't even reach my shoulder. My mother always said she didn't understand how we worked.

But I do.

We balanced each other out, kept each other happy and in-check. My spontaneity against her planning; my unkemptness against her tidy ways. Dark and light, light and dark. You can guess who was who.

Our days were endless, especially in that summer. Hazy, long days full of heat. We spent most of them outside, or driving with the windows down, singing along to our favourite songs. Partying wasn't on our radar; it wasn't a thing we ever did together. I used to be quite the partier, but I haven't felt the need to go since I met Bailey. Most people go to parties to find themselves a girl. If I have a perfect girlfriend who I love, what would I need to go to a party for? If I'm going to drink, I'll do it at home with her and my closest friends.

I fall back with my hands under her legs, taking her down with me. Both of us laugh as my head hits the soft grass below like a pillow, the earthy scent rushing up to affect my nostrils. We don't stop laughing as I roll over, making sure to take most of my weight onto my legs so I don't crush her. It leaves me on top with my arms on either side of her. Her arms wrap around my neck, fingers tangling in the curls of hair at its nape. She winds them round and round her fingers, sending me into joyous overdrive at the touch. Every sense is hyper-aware, I am a live wire when she's near.

"You knew I knew, right?"

"Knew what?" I ask, grinning stupidly like a little boy . I didn't realise she was still thinking about our conversation. All I can focus on is her fingers, fiddling, fiddling, please don't stop.

"That you loved me, obviously!"

I grin wider, leaning down to peck her little nose, which makes her giggle

"Am I that obvious?"

"Oh, yeah, but that's why we work. I can read you like a picture book. All of your emotions are so raw and visible. It's what makes me love you so much, that you're not afraid to show how you're feeling," she says, eyes wide. "Or maybe you are afraid, but you do it anyway. Which by the way would just make me love you even more."

I blush as her words wash over me in rosen waves, taking a moment to collect my scattered emotions. What would I ever do without this girl? I flip us back over so that she's on top again, arms still behind my head but now wrapped deeper in golden curls. Her laughter rings out like a sweet melody, a soundtrack I want on repeat for my whole life.

Those were our golden days, tinted pink at the edges like the setting sun. And the sun was setting.

I stare at the coffee in my hands, now gone cold, a skin formed over the top and a hair sitting in it, taunting me. It's the same colour as hers. I feel closed in, like the walls are pressing in around me. My breaths shorten and speed up. I feel smothered in this place. In any place, without her. I miss her laugh, her smile. The way she used to sing as she cooked. Suddenly, I just need to get out.

I stand abruptly, shoving back my chair so that it scrapes loudly. The sound offends my ears, and I wince. People look over from other tables in shock, annoyance on their faces, but I don't care what they think. All I can feel is the racing of my heart and the pounding of my head. Leaving the cup on the table to be cleared, I rush outside. I relish the cold air hitting my skin and don't bother to put my jacket back on. It's all too much.

I just walk.

By the time I manage to find my way home it's getting dark, and I have to turn on the lights to see. Her mug is still on the kitchen table. Memories flash through my mind and I back out of the room, flicking the light off and closing the door to shut it out. I rush across the hallway, not slowing down until I've shut the living room door behind me. Then I allow myself to dump my jacket and kick off my boots, resting nervously on the edge of the sofa while I breathe and readjust to the light levels in here.

My eyes trail to the coffee table, and the single rose sitting in a glass filled with water, wilting a little at the edges but still alive. And that's how I'm going to keep it. I cup it with my hand, staring into its red head and wishing for just one more afternoon like that one in the field. I never want to let it go, but thinking about it is so painful. If only... no. I drop my hand down, a dead weight.

I feel so overwhelmingly tired, just like I have all of the time lately. I let myself sink onto my back on the sofa cushions, my fingers— still numb from outside— fumbling to unbutton my shirt. Once I've removed my arms from the sleeves I drag it out from underneath me and let it drop over the edge, head pressing into the fold of the sofa where the cushion, armrest and backrest meet. My eyes are already closing. I don't want to use the pillow yet; if I can help it, I won't use it at all tonight.

I should be used to the exhaustion by now.

I've been home three days now, and each one has been more draining than the last. It's like the longer I spend back in the space I used to share with Bailey, the more difficult I find things. But it was time to move back in. I can't live with Addie for the rest of my life. I'm a grown man; I should be able to live in my own apartment without being scared of monsters under the bed. Or the angels that aren't. We both need our space, and I need to feel like I can live independently. Even if I can't.

I pull half-heartedly at the zip of my trousers, knowing I should take them off as they're too tight to sleep in, but not sure if I have the energy to wrestle with them. Eventually I manage to tug them down, and I kick them over the edge of the cushions to lay on the floor with my shirt. I'll sort it tomorrow.

And then I lay, eyes closed and thoughts racing, even as I try to block them out.

Bailey laughing.
Bailey singing.
Bailey chatting.
Bailey sleeping.

It's all there. I never asked for it to be there. I flip onto my front and cover my ears with my hands, as though that could block it all out. It's oh-so painful.

"And I love you, Alex."

Her voice, so small, so sweet. And yet it burns. Every fibre of my body feels like it's on fire as her voice rings through my head again, and again, and again. I want to sleep, but that always brings so many more nightmares. I just want it to stop, but I know that isn't going to happen any time soon. I'd be kidding myself if I believed it would.

Soon I am dreaming, and it's the same dream I always have. Every night since... I wake in a cold sweat, hair streaked back with it and plastered to my forehead. I turn onto my side, breathing heavily, and instinctively check the rose. It's there, smiling back at me. Sighing with relief, I reach a hand to grab the pillow from the floor by the sofa. I turn my back to the rest of the room and focus only on the patterning of the sofa-back, the pillow clutched to my chest. I press my head into it, inhaling her sweet scent still held on the fabric. I don't think I'll ever wash it again.

It brings me comfort, like a dummy to a little child. She was so little.

I fall asleep clutching it in my arms, head buried in its soft material, and that's how I wake too. The light streams through the curtains that I forgot to pull across last night. In it I can see floating dust particles, dancing around one another in their pale spotlight.

I blink my eyes open slowly, pushing my grogginess off as best as I can. The first thing I do is check the rose again.

It's still there. Still alive. Still beautiful. It watches over me, like a guardian angel. I know she's there as long as it stays blooming. If it ever dies, then I'll be truly lost. But I won't let it. I'm not going to let go. Not this time.