december, three years ago
new york city

After a tensely silent subway ride, Avery fumbled with the keys to her apartment, so distraught that she missed the keyhole twice before inserting them correctly.

Finding out about her sister's relationship with her ex-boyfriend (and the only other boy she had ever loved) only a mere hour before caused an ambush of anxiety, and she needed comfort from one person. But something was wrong, and Avery could tell before she even opened the door, standing silently with her hand on the knob.

Deep down, she knew.

"Does...does the energy feel off?" She asks uncertainly, glancing back at Mason, swaddled in a puffer coat zipped to his chin. He doesn't miss a beat.

"Yes, bitch, it's fucking cold, next question."

She pushed the door open, ready to call out for the boy she had rushed home for. Inside the small apartment, everything was perfectly intact; art magazines and poetry books no one read were stacked on the coffee table, next to discarded mail and a box of leftover lo-mein. The TV was off and the air rested idly at 73 degrees.

Her bedroom was, as always, wreckage from a hurricane with piles of dirty laundry and enough candles to warrant a fire hazard, but the mess was cleaner than usual. Avery threw open the closet doors; on the left were her clothes, hung haphazardly but organized by color, and on the right side, there was nothing. A handful of bare hangers pushed against the wall.

The nightstand and vanity were the same, with stray jewelry and sticky note reminders to do the laundry, but devoid of any trace of the boy who once took up space in her home, and more importantly, her heart.

Avery called out his name. Once, in confusion. Twice, with gut-wrenching fear. She neglected intuition most days, not too keen on jumping to conclusions, but for once, she had never been so certain of something.

He had left.

And he was never coming back.

june 16th, present day
9:13 am

"What in the hell is going on?"

Ashton stormed across the lawn in nothing but a silk robe stretched across his broad chest, hitching further up his thighs with every step forward. When he finally reaches Avery, she doesn't even do a double take.

"Oh, didn't E tell you? We've become a damn halfway house," Raspy and thick with sleep, her voice was pitched was tension as her life unfolded in front of her. Well, not really, but it might as well have.

At the end of the driveway, Olivia doesn't give her sister's remark the time of day, working hard to unload beaten-up cardboard boxes out of her car. The trusty, albeit old, Subaru has been the only actual constant in her life since high school, unlike a certain someone.

In other news, today was moving day and no one was looking forward to it.

Ash adjusts his robe. "Are they moving in?"

"Yup."

"But there's no room!"

Eric sneaks up behind his fiancee just in time to contribute to the conversation, Avery jolting when he touches her back without warning. "They're staying in the guest bedroom,"

Ashton's jaw drops. "We have a guest bedroom? Why the hell have me and Mason been sharing bunk beds for the past six months?"

"He wanted a bunkmate," Avery eases into Eric but doesn't let up on her pissed-off attitude, which he had unfortunately fallen victim to. "And the guest bedroom wasn't supposed to be used,"

"Babe-"

"Don't."

She hardly, if ever, snapped at Eric. Cut down on cursing and faked happiness even when she was full of pure, unadulterated rage, but today was different. At 8 am on the dot, Avery was rudely awoken by the doorbell, to which she trudged downstairs in a pair of inside-out boxer shorts and a cut-off Madonna tee that came very close to exposing her underboob to the whole neighborhood.

Outside the door stood Olivia and Luke, move-in ready. Avery grunted and dragged herself back upstairs, collapsing into a mess of sheets and regret, falling in and out of sleep for the next hour.

"Honey," Eric tries again with a soft caress of Avery's cheek, her eyes fluttering shut at the touch. "Let's go out tonight, yeah? Just me and you?"

And if it wasn't for Avery's knack for getting what she wanted on just me and you nights, she might've said no.

"Sounds perfect."

1:02 pm

"Since we sold all our furniture to pay last month's rent, that should be the last box."

Olivia nodded gratefully, plopping down on the bare mattress, skin slick with sweat. Their new room was filled with stacked boxes, clothes spilling out of the closet, and an Oprah shrine they had no idea what to do with.

And although tired from carrying an unholy amount of boxes up a flight of stairs, Luke was insatiable, crawling on top of his girlfriend, gently kissing her jaw, but slowly trailing down. "Want me to help you relax, sweetheart?"

Honestly, it was more for him than it would be for Liv.

It had been nearly two weeks since Luke had been allowed to do anything more than a slightly handsy kiss, and homeboy was starved. He- stupidly- assumed that once they made up, the sex would go back to normal. Especially now that he was allowed to share the same bed.

Instead, Liv was as closed off as ever, calling it quits when things got PG-13.

His hands gripped her hips, hungry lips sucking and nipping at the tender flesh on her throat as Liv hummed in contentment. When he shifted to press himself against her, a curious hand gripping at her ass, Liv pushed him off. "Not right now,"

He flops back with a pout. "C'mon, Liv, are you still mad at me?"

"Still mad? For fucks sake, Luke, yeah, maybe I am?"

She wasn't sure where she stood at this point, no longer fuming with anger, but a little bit of hurt still lingered. Every time Luke got too close, her mind wandered, insecurity filling every inch of her body. Maybe it was silly, but it didn't feel right to be intimate with Luke anymore, not yet at least.

"Liv, baby," He reaches out to hold her hand. "It's been so long-"

"And what about it? If I don't fuck you soon you're just gonna run back to Avery?"

Stunned, Luke drops her hand, scoffing slightly to himself. "Why can't you ever just have a fucking conversation with me? Why do you always assume that I'm not over her?"

He tried to keep his voice down, hyperaware that two of the most nosy people he's ever met now lived in the same house as him (Mason thrived on gossip and Avery just loved the drama that wasn't hers) Not to mention the fact that he and Liv were fighting would totally boost Ashton's confidence through the roof.

"Because!" Liv shouts. "I don't know if you are, you're acting all buddy-buddy with her at lunch but telling me-"

"We're not doing this again, Olivia."

While it had completely slipped Luke's mind to be angry at Avery during their last lunch, he didn't think of it as a big deal. Sure, Avery almost totally completely imploded his relationship, but c'mon.

"I'm not doing this at all." She states, slipping out the door before Luke can comprehend why everything in his life was falling apart.

6:40 pm

"Hey, Avery?"

Since Luke had been left to his own devices all afternoon after Liv stormed out, he decided he might as well unpack more shit. Along the way, between moving the Oprah shrine again and organizing his sock drawer, he found a box he didn't remember packing.

It was so beaten up Luke might've mistaken it for a wall in his childhood bedroom, with faded sharpie reading 'Summer clothes' in his scribbly writing. Vaguely, he remembered it sitting at the bottom of his closet forever, making excuses about why he never had the energy to get rid of it.

No more excuses now.

Avery bounced into the room, strappy heels dangling over her arm and a long dress fluttering around her bare feet. Her makeup was halfway done, hair still tangled, and Luke knew immediately he interrupted her getting ready for a date. It did not occur to him until this moment, that Avery went on dates.

Sure, she was getting married, but to date? To go out to dinner and play footsies under the table? To dance and share inside jokes with someone else?

Luke shuddered at the thought.

Clueless, she tilts her head, pressing up against the doorframe like she was scared to come in, voice soft and timid. "Did you need me?"

"You know I do,"

"What?"

"W-what?"

"The hell did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything," Or did he? Was he horny out loud again? "You're probably just hearing stuff,"

"Don't say that, I'm like three symptoms away from a psychosis diagnosis," She whispers like it's gossip, a secret that has to be kept between the two of them. "But, seriously, what did you need?"

"Oh, this," He hands her the small box, sunbleached and fraying at the corners, and her delicate fingers brush his when she takes it. "And thank you, again, I know you don't want me here but-"

"S'all good," She cuts him off quickly with a tight-lipped smile, trying so hard to hide the fact it expended a tremendous amount of energy to be civil with him. To pretend that this was normal and Luke was a normal guy. Like she wouldn't throw herself into the ocean if he asked. "What, uh, what is this?"

"Just some stuff of yours," That he kept for five years.

Luke expected her to leave and do whatever it is Avery does alone, but instead, she crashes on the bed next to him, using her nail to rip open the tape on the box. She's so close he can smell her perfume, sweet and herbal, radiating off her skin.

As soon as the box flips open, the scent of dust takes over, like old books on the bottom shelf of a library, waiting to be read. Avery scrunched her nose but dug through the things anyway, tossing old t-shirts and bracelets onto the bed. She didn't remember half the stuff but it all smelt like the cologne Luke used to wear and sand was stuck in the crevices of everything, a reminder that the beach will follow her everywhere.

At the bottom of the box was a pile of polaroids, lying face down. When she flips over the first one, their 17-year-old selves stare back at them. Avery was smiling like an idiot, squinting at the light as Luke pretended to take a bite out of her cheek, lip ring catching the camera flash.

"We were pretty hot back then," Luke laughs, nudging her shoulder tenderly. "I mean, you're still fucking beautiful, that's not what I meant-"

Ignoring him, Avery rubs over the film, staring down like she couldn't figure out if that girl in the picture was really her; long, bleached hair framing her face and enough eyeliner to sell out a Hot Topic, all while she was 100 pounds soaking wet.

Not to mention Luke, who looked like a whole ass baby compared to now.

A punk rock baby.

"Ave?" Luke says softly, noticing she had remained quiet through his messy ramble, so drawn into her head that nothing in the outside world even mattered. "Averymay?"

"Hm?" This, she lifts her head at, wide eyes gazing up at him, so dark and soft he wanted to drown in them. "Sorry,"

"S'okay," He whispers, watching her shakily pack the box back up, the polaroid still trapped between her fingers. If he had known that photo was in there, he would've kept it for himself, a nice little reminder of the good old days.

He'd give anything to go back.

11:02 pm

Sex, to some capacity, had always been like a mission to Avery.

Typically it helped her forget her own insecurities and issues; to mount a random boy in a drabby motel room was her own form of therapy. But now, in a committed relationship, it became about so much more.

Love, passion, the future.

Tonight's mission was about the latter. Avery knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

Eric's hips rolled lazily against hers, helpless on their king-sized mattress and glistening with sweat while Avery did all the work on top. It was the way she preferred it, not being trapped underneath the weight of a body she couldn't hold, unable to get out if she needed to. Not that she worried about that with Eric, but men always did surprise her.

"Oh, honey," Voice thick with lust, he reached out for her hand, intertwining their fingers. That little move, that small piece of intimacy, was what made Avery come undone. Not because she was extremely turned on- again, this was a mission, folks- but because of some warped sense of nostalgia.

Nostalgic for a different time in her life, 19 years young with hope in her eyes; homesick for a person and not a place. She had never been sentimental like this, with such intensity it winded her, but reminders lay everywhere. Overcast skies the same gray as his eyes and flickering streetlights on late-night drives she could imagine him standing under, smoking a cigarette he swore would be his last.

There had been many men before him and there were a few after, but somehow this one boy, with teeth cut like a wolf and dynamite asleep inside him, was different than anyone else.

And when he left, it carved out a hole in her soul, a place where nothing else could grow.

Avery forgets the reasons, but she loved him. Loves him still, in the same way, you remember a childhood friend's birthday, through the summer drunk haze and sentimental off nothing but vague memories. And deep in her soul, she's still waiting for him to come back.

She'll always wait for him.

"C'mon, baby," She coaxes, gripping tighter onto Eric's hand as she speeds up her movements. "Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

"Ave, you gotta- oh- I don't have a-"

Condom, obviously, she had gathered that information the moment she hopped on his dick. Tipsy off a little bit of champagne at dinner, he got quite forgetful as the couple all but ran up to their bedroom. Avery didn't mind, it made everything easier. "It's okay, c'mon,"

And again, Avery always got what she wanted.

About 20 minutes later, after laying as still as she possibly could in bed, Avery carefully slumped out of bed and slipped on Eric's dress shirt (he was deep in REM by this point, as the great poet Nicki Minaj once said "pussy put his ass to sleep, now he callin' me Nyquil") then made her nightly venture into the kitchen.

This was the flip side, the just-as-ugly twin, to her insatiable urges, her unkickable habit.

Tonight, maybe she could keep it under control, perhaps she wouldn't tear through an entire package of cream cheese like she did last night—nothing with it, just straight cream cheese, followed by a jar of olives, which she doesn't even really like.

Tonight, she'd have self-control.

Avery grabbed a bottle of Ensure out of the fridge and laughed at the fact she willingly bought them now. Years ago, when her mom became deeply concerned with the rapid weight loss, she bought a value pack and made Avery drink one every morning before anything else. It was a wholehearted, albeit lazy, attempt to put some meat on her daughter's bones and Avery hated every second of it.

Oh, how the turn tables...

When the bottle is mostly empty and there's still a painful sensation for more, more, more, Avery has to fist-fight her demons one by one.

But it was baby steps for now; portioned size meals and protein shakes that taste like ass, but eventually, a lifetime of happiness.