Dedicated to Varsha for the fan art on the side.

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            I stumbled through the next few days in a state of insentient numbness.

            It was a peculiar feeling: not like anything I’d ever experienced before. Usually, in situations of such hopelessness, I bared the brunt of my emotions for days on end, the stinging plague of thoughts a mental torture. It had never happened quite like this before. I’d never been left in such a strange state of lethargy, finding it difficult to work up the energy to care about what was going on around me. Instead of sobbing until my eyes were raw, as I had done on the first evening, I found myself curled up in bed for hours and hours, my attention span too short to occupy myself for any length of time. The only trips I made out of my room were essential.

            Even Nora’s departure hadn’t affected me as badly as I thought it would. I’d been upset, of course, that my main source of comfort was relocating one hundred and fifty miles away yet again, but the event of her packing up her belongings and setting back off for London was much less distressing than I’d anticipated.

            “It’s going to be okay, Flo,” she’d said, as Lenny piled their suitcases into the boot of the waiting taxi. “This’ll all blow over, and everything will turn out fine.”

            The smile I managed as she pressed her lips to my forehead was weak; even her heavy perfume failed to evoke a significant emotion from the depths of my head.

            The thing was, it would’ve been nice to fool myself into believing my sister’s reassurances, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. What had gone down the night of Gram’s exhibition was not something that could just ‘blow over’, as much as I wanted to believe it. Daniel and I together, let alone as we had been, was now nothing more than a faraway memory, as well as an unattainable future.

            My relationship with Gram was only marginally better; while the words we exchanged were civil, they were undeniably limited – there had been no more pressing matters to discuss than “Dinner will be ready around six, is that okay?”, and my answers remained clipped. She was aware of what a tragic mistake she’d made, the glaze of guilt visible in her eyes every time she looked in my direction. Still, she seemed to sense that I was not in a place to accept apologies – and at least that way, it saved both of us from the awkwardness of trying to talk something out that ran much too deep.

            Here I was, suddenly closing in on the three day marker of mooching aimlessly around my room, trapped in my weary, unfeeling state of mind. It had been much too long since I’d endured actual social interaction – or, at least, social interaction that was more than stilted questions and pauses tinged with heartache, of which I could gain my fair share just by walking downstairs.

            But then again, no way of spending the past three days could’ve prepared me for the moment, several afternoons later, that the tornado otherwise known as Erin Bolton came barging into my room uninvited.

            When the door swung open with enough force to send it bouncing off the wall, I sat up in bed like a shot.

            “There you are!” she declared, her voice an echoing foghorn in the quiet room. “Jesus Christ, I was beginning to wonder if you’d packed your bags and fled the country.”

            “Erin,” I started, still in a daze, “how on earth did you get in here?”

            “Your gran let me in, stupid. And I don’t blame her! I imagine she’s worried about you holed up in your bedroom like this, refusing to speak to anybody. What’s the deal with that, anyway? Are you planning on becoming a hermit, or something?”

            I groaned, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “I don’t want to see anybody.”

            “Well, yeah, I gathered that one from the way you haven’t gotten out of bed for three days,” Erin stated. She approached the bed, staring disapprovingly down at my curled-up form. “This isn’t still about what happened at the gallery the other night, is it?”

            “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            “Okay, fine. I never said we had to.” She shrugged dismissively. “That’s not why I came here, anyway.”

            “It’s not?”

            “Nope. The real reason I came up here was to make sure you drag yourself out of bed for the bonfire party tonight.”

            The first few moments left me failing to grasp what she was talking about. A vague recollection had been triggered in my head, but it was only something that had been mentioned fleetingly somewhere over the course of the summer. Of course, at the time, I’d been much too caught up in the present to dwell on it, reassured by the notion that the rest of the summer seemed to stretch out forever in front of us.

            And yet somehow, it had caught up with us. Sneaking around behind our back until we were hit by the realisation that we had less than a week left. After that, it’d be over. Nothing but a memory.

            “The what?”

            “The bonfire party,” she repeated. “It’s a kind of tradition we have here – we have it every year, down on the beach. An end-of-summer, can’t-believe-it’s-almost-September type thing. You have to be there. It’s just a rule.”

            “Well, I won’t be.” I pulled the duvet closer towards my face, burying my nose in its thick fabric. The sensation offered more than just warmth; I felt infinitely less exposed, shielded from Erin’s disapproving expression. “Sorry. You guys will have fun without me.”

            “Oh, no. You don’t get out that easy.”

            I should’ve known she wouldn’t let me off that easily. This time, she went much further, taking hold of the edges of the cover and tugging it right off the bed. It landed in a crumpled heap at her feet, her towering form standing triumphantly before it.

            “Erin.”

            “Flo.”

            “Erin.”

            “Flo.”

            “Seriously,” I said, pulling my knees up to my chest on the now bare mattress. “I’m not going. Just go to the party and enjoy yourself. You’re wasting your time here.”

            But I hadn’t even got halfway through my sentence before she started shaking her head. “Uh uh. You’re going, Flo, even if I have to dress you myself and drag you kicking and screaming down to the beach.”

            It was intended to be a figure of speech, but this was Erin, and I had a feeling I should’ve been taking her threat a lot more literally.

            She stepped even closer, sinking down onto the mattress beside me, the old springs creaking slightly under the weight of both of us. “Listen. I don’t know exactly what went down between you and Daniel. That’s your business. But this bonfire’s a big deal to us. We do it every year, and everyone has to be there. It just wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t.”

            “I don’t want to.”

            “No, you don’t want to see Daniel,” she corrected me. “And trust me on this one, Flo: you don’t need to be worried about that. He’s been moping around the house just as much as you – except he’s probably even worse. You should’ve seen him down at the shop. He could barely scoop ice cream. I’d say it was pathetic, but… well, it obviously hit you two pretty hard. I can’t really judge.”

            “I just…” I could feel myself struggling to find the right words. “I just couldn’t believe he’d do something like that.”

            “Well, yeah. In hindsight, it was a pretty dick-ish move on his part. At least, it was to go ahead and do that without even talking to you about it first. But the thing is, Flo… he knows how badly he’s screwed up. Trust me on that one. He can’t stop beating himself up about it.”

            I didn’t really know what to make of it. While the knowledge seemed to have struck a chord of sympathy in a small portion of my heart, the other refused to release its tight hold on the anger and betrayal that coursed through me with every beat. It wouldn’t let me forget the moment of horror when that sheet was pulled back: the feeling of ensuing terror once I realised everything had gone so terribly wrong.

            What was I doing, anyway? Why was I even allowing myself to feel the tiniest slither of compassion towards the guy that had caused all this in the first place? Without the decisions that Daniel had made, the situation would be entirely different; we’d still be together, I wouldn’t be here right now, having this argument with Erin, and the groundbreaking earthquake that had shattered our very foundations would never have occurred.

            It was because of him. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

            “I know you’re upset,” Erin continued, “but this party is exactly what you need. Staying cooped up in your bedroom until school starts isn’t going to solve anything; it’ll just make everything worse.”

            She was talking sense. I knew that much, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought of attending a beach party with Daniel himself.

            She was right, though.

            “Okay,” I said eventually. “Okay, okay.”

            The smile that lit up her features was luminously genuine; I could almost feel her happiness seeping in, ebbing away at my aura of hopelessness. It was strange, but suddenly I found myself struck by the impossible urge to reach out and snatch back what had been shifted. An almost attachment seemed to have formed between myself and that familiar way of thinking; in the past few days, the lines that marked the end of me and the start of my wallowing air of self-pity had become increasingly difficult to distinguish.

            I couldn’t determine whether it was a relief or a discomfort to have it slowly dissipating before my eyes.

            “See, I knew I could make you see sense,” she told me, grinning. Then, it began to fade, her expression falling into one more serious. “Look, don’t worry about my brother, okay? He’s just as hung up as you on this whole mess, but you two will work something out eventually. I know you will,” she added, when I went to interject. “But it won’t just be the two of you there. We’re all going. And you’ll have fun, I promise.”

            It was only a pause later, a sudden afterthought, that she added, “Hey, I know it’s no consolation, but, well… I feel like I should tell you. Honestly, that painting was the best thing I’d ever seen in that gallery.”

             “No, it isn’t any consolation,” I told her. “But thank you.”

***

            Erin and I were about halfway between the Walden seafront and the towering cliff at the cove’s entrance when the inevitable wave of nauseating nervousness hit.

            It was only then that the realisation properly hit home – the realisation that I was making a huge mistake. What was I thinking, getting myself into a situation like this? Launching myself right into the firing line of an awkward face-off with Daniel, which was the one thing I’d spent the past few days trying desperately to avoid?

            And yet I found myself almost there, minutes away from edging past the cliff outcrop and into the cove where it had all started.

            “What am I doing?” I asked aloud, stopping in my tracks.

            Erin came to an abrupt halt a few steps in front of me, pivoting to shoot me a look. “You’re coming with me to the bonfire party. Have you been unconscious for the past few hours or something?”

            “I can’t do this,” I told her, shaking my head fervently. “I can’t. Do you realise how awkward this is going to be? I don’t know why I thought it could ever be a good idea.”

            Suddenly, she’d taken two steps towards me, her hands clamping down on my shoulders. I wobbled on the spot, my balance mysteriously faltering, before realising she was physically shaking me. “Listen to me,” she commanded, her voice strong and calm: exactly what I needed. “You’re coming with me to this party, you’re going to enjoy yourself, and above all, you’re going to stop giving a shit about what my brother will be doing. Understand me?”

            The words seemed impossible, yet in Erin’s confident tone, not so much.

            “Okay,” I breathed eventually. “Okay, okay, okay.”

            It would have to be done sooner or later, I knew. The act of avoiding Daniel completely couldn’t be kept up forever, especially in a town as miniscule as Walden. Eventually, I’d have to swallow my reservations and face him for the first time since the argument. It just so happened that, thanks to Erin, that eventually had come a lot sooner than I’d anticipated.

            I forced my feet to move, each step a rigorous and exhausting motion commanded individually by my conscious mind. We trekked slowly over the rounded pebbles of Walden beach, towards the chalky cliff that, to any other person, looked like it marked the end of the territory. But, of course, we were more clued up on the geography of the place, familiar enough to know that Walden concealed its own secrets. As we ducked past the jagged edge, emerging a few seconds later on the other side, I realised there was no going back.

            The cove was unchanged from the night of our previous visit; the memory was so vivid I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was engraved on the inside of my skull. Coarse sandy grains curved with the shape of the cliff, eventually giving way to the frothy waves that crept up the irregularities of the shingle. But this time it was bathed in the last rays of sunshine, illuminated by a lazy orange glow instead of silver-edged moonlight.

            Another difference was that the place harboured considerably less peace than it had done before. Several metres up from the tide mark sat a huge bonfire, blazing healthily, its flames seeming eerily close to singeing the sky itself. Positioned in a semi-circle around it were several large logs, serving as seats for the figures milling around in the area. As we approached, the steady, thumping bass of a dance tune originating from a portable sound system set down on the sand increased in volume.

            My legs were becoming exponentially more jelly-like with every step, but I pushed myself to continue onward, somewhat reassured by the bubble of Erin’s usual confidence at my side. Moments later, we were noticed by one of the tallest of the figures, which later turned out to be Jay. He came bounding towards us, enthusiasm radiating his mere presence.

            “Hi!” he greeted us. His hair was as spiky as ever, raked through with what had to be an extra dollop of gel. I wondered momentarily if I was the only one who experienced the urge to physically rinse out his hair myself whilst I was around him, before my attention refocused on the primary matter. Which was, of course, my crippling anxiety about the prospect of the evening ahead. “You made it!”

            “Told you I’d get her here, didn’t I?” Erin said, smirking triumphantly. “You know I always deliver.”

            “Should’ve believed you on that one,” Jay said. He paused, his eyes dropping for the shortest of moments to Erin’s overall appearance. “Hey, you look great.”

            In the periphery of my vision, I could’ve sworn I noticed a slight pink tinge forming on Erin’s cheeks: a stark contrast against the vibrance of her hair. “Thanks,” she replied, her tone remarkably level, considering. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Although jeez, have you broken out an extra bucket of gel for that hairstyle tonight?”

            “Hey! You don’t insult my hair, and I don’t insult yours. I thought we had a deal.”

            “Fat chance. Life wouldn’t be worth living if I didn’t get to make a comment about it every time I saw you.”

            “Alright, alright,” he said, but he was grinning. It took a great deal of self-restraint to hold back from yelling “Get it over with and snog already!”, forcing the both of their heads together until my demand was met. However, I was soon distracted once more by the uncomfortable lurch of my heart once Jay hooked his thumb behind him, gesturing to the rest of the party. “Anyway, come on. We’re just getting started here.”

            As we drew closer to the bonfire, more of the group came into view; Collette was perched on one of the logs, Scott beside her. I could tell he was trying hard to play it cool, but his attempt was rather unsuccessful; every time there was a break in the conversation, giving him opportunity to respond, he was reduced to a flustered mess. Even from here I could see the red flush across his face.

            And then, of course, he was there. In an ideal world, I would have spared barely a fraction of my attention on the guy sat several spaces away from the others, staring emptily into the fire. But this was situation was far from ideal, and I found it difficult to tear myself away. His hair was dishevelled, the waves even more unruly than usual, his overall air tired and weary. There was a can in his hand, and every so often he’d take a sip, but even from my position I could tell he was hardly present.

            That was, of course, until he looked up.

            Our eyes met from numerous paces away, locking onto each other’s with startling abruptness. It seemed sickeningly cliché, but in that moment I was struck by the sensation that our entire surroundings had ceased to exist, leaving just the both of us staring at each other in the middle of a painfully empty space. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, its beats erratically frantic, my head reeling in a state of equal frenzy.

            And then, suddenly, everybody else was back. They were there again, along with the cove, the hazy orange sky, the wisps of smoke from the bonfire forcing their way down my throat.

            In that moment, the awkwardness hit like a slap in the face.

            I could feel it, and so could everyone else.

            After what felt like several years, an acceptable level of self-control was attained to allow myself to pull my eyes away, forcing my rigid legs to let me take a seat on the furthest log. My movement seemed to alleviate a significant chunk of the tension, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief as Erin plonked herself down beside me.

            Daniel was still upset; anybody with eyes could see that well enough. Though his desperation for forgiveness seemed to be much less severe, I could tell the longer term feelings had buried themselves somewhere in the subsurface. His eyes, speckled with uneven colour and unidentifiable emotion, gave too much away.

            I expected that, of course. Erin had warned me that Daniel had spent much of the last few days in the same way that I had done. But his wallowing in regret didn’t justify his actions, nor did it erase them by any means. The damage was done, and this unspoken truth was known amongst all of us.

            “Jesus, I can’t believe we’re here already,” Collette said, her level tone shattering the silence that had descended. “The end of summer party. Has it really been all that time?”

            “Tell me about it,” Erin chipped in. “I don’t even want to think about the fact that we’ll be back at school next week.”

            Her statement predictably sent multiple resounding groans through the rest of the group; the mention of school was obviously a sore subject. Perhaps it was only Daniel and I that remained quiet, our thoughts too complicated to be included with the mass reaction of the group.

            “Hey, that’s not the attitude for the annual bonfire party, and you know it,” Jay scolded. “This is a tribute to the summer gone. It’s not quite over yet.”

            “A pretty good one, you know.”

            “One of the best.”

            “And Flo’s first summer here.”

            The voice came as such a shock that all our heads seemed to whip round at the exact same moment. Milliseconds later, Daniel found himself under the scrutiny of six pairs of eyes, and I watched him shrink under their intensity. It was difficult to tell whether he regretted speaking up.

            “Yeah,” Jay agreed, more quietly. “It’s been one hell of a ride. But you know, Flo, I think we can officially call you one of us now.”

            Despite myself, the declaration, and its subsequent agreement, ignited a momentary spark of joy somewhere inside me. It didn’t matter that it was extinguished moments later by the suffocating tension; it was the fact it had been there in the first place that counted.

            “Amen to that,” Erin agreed. Then, she glanced over at Jay, her head ducking towards the cooler set down on the rocks nearby. “Now, enough with the serious stuff. I think we’ve had enough of that for a while. Pass me a drink, please, will you?”

            A can of beer was passed in her direction before Jay took a look at me. “You want one, too, Flo?”

            A beat’s pause left me considering. The automatic declination was already on the tip of my tongue: a habit I’d perfected in an attempt to remain sensible. But then I noticed something: at the very corner of my vision, I could see Daniel eyeing me, almost as if he was convinced he knew what my response would be. As if I was that predictable.

            As if someone who really knew me would make a mistake such as his.

            It was that look in his eyes, the one that seemed to silently boast about how well he could work me out, that changed my mind.

            “Yeah, okay,” I told Jay eventually, swallowing over my previous response. “I will have one.”

            Little did I know, that decision was the first of the mistakes I’d make that night.

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It's half past one in the morning and I am so freaking tired. Like, I don't even know why I stayed up so late to edit this, but I did. And now I'm about to go to bed because I've spent an entire day scanning toys and putting on a smile for little kids in the shop and I am exhausted. 

I'm sorry if this chapter isn't so great in places. I'm just pushing so hard to get this story finished, this version is becoming like a first draft. I can't wait to start editing (which is where I will cut Freya out completely lol because she's such an awkward character). Anyway, if you're reading this, drop me a nice comment for me to read in the morning :) Love you guys.