September, 2015.

"No. There must be something we can do." He stands up forcefully enough to make the chair scrape against the tile floor, and I get startled.

So far, the conversation has been tense but somewhat calm and collected. He had listened to every single word I had to say in contemplative silence, nodding along or adding a few words here and there.

I knew that wasn't going to last, though. So I guess I shouldn't be this surprised by his reaction.

"I don't think so, Jazz." I say softly, barely looking up at him whilst he begins to pace around the kitchen. "It's done. I'm done."

Maybe is the fact that I have been mulling over the subject for quite some time now and I've finally managed to make my peace with it, or maybe is because I am just too tired; but those words doesn't hurt me as much as I thought they would.

Yes, they sting. But they don't really hurt.

"I got it!" He shouts without even listening to me, coming to sit back down as abruptly as he got up. His eyes are dead serious but his lips twist into a weird, strained grin that makes him look almost deranged.

"Jazz..." I start to say, but his hands rush to trap mine, keeping them still. "You're not listening..." I trail off when his grip tightens.

"No, you listen." He says, and I just sigh in compliance knowing that he will talk regardless. "My parents could help. They know a lot of people. One of them is bound to be able to do something."

That I don't doubt. In fact, I have already been given enough proof to that statement earlier this year when his parents, for some reason I have yet to wrap my mind around, offered to make my hospital bills disappear.

And since I am still ashamed of that - there was no convincing them not to do it -, it is safe to say I won't let them take care of this.

"No way. They already did more than enough." I hurry to turn his offer down, this time pulling my hands away from his. "I won't let them do anything else for me."

"Great. Because they'd be doing it for them." He retorts, shrugging nonchalantly as his features relax into a less crazy expression. "God knows I would become a pain on their asses if you leave. I mean, they would have to feed me and keep me clean."

I chuckle at his joke, thankful for the fact that my friend has returned to his usual playful self, but I soon come back to my stern posture.

"I'm sorry." I tell him, reaching for his arm and squeezing it lovingly. "This is happening, Jazz. I'm going back home."

Saying it out loud for the first time unleashes something unexpected inside of me. A weird, overpowering mix of sadness and relief.

It's like I'm finally letting go, and as much as that pains me it also sets me free.

It has been a long seven months since I got hurt. A lot of pain and bitterness. A lot of energy spent in a recovery that never came. At least not fully. Not in the way I needed to keep doing what I came here to do.

That doesn't mean I will never get to dance again, it's just that it will take a little more time for me to get there. And unfortunately, time is exactly what they didn't give me.

Three months into my recovery, although everything seemed to be going right on schedule health wise, I got the news that in school things weren't going so well for me.

From that point on everything started to unfold like an unstoppable ripple effect that ended with me having to leave the country.

Long story short grades began to sink, scholarship got lost, student Visa no longer valid. And the rest, well, it's happening now.

"Damn it. This sucks, Lea." Jasper says like he's telling me something I don't already know. "When do you..."

"Two days." I say bluntly without even letting him finish his question. "I've already got the plane ticket."

I don't wait for his reaction and I just stand up and leave the kitchen.

Five minutes later he is bursting into my room, probably ready to try to convince me stay one more time. But whatever he's about to say gets caught up in his throat when he sees me.

"Oh, Le..." He breathes out walking over to the edge of my bed and taking a seat next to me.

My hands are covering my face and they are soaking with my tears, so I must look like a monster when he pulls them away to look at me.

"I'm going to miss you so much!" I sob like a child and he pulls me into a hug.

His hands rub my back slowly and soothingly, making me think how much I'm going to miss him even more, so they cause the opposite of what they were trying to accomplish.

"It's okay. We'll figure something out. Is not like you don't have any experience in long distance relationships."

Yeah, right.

~~~~~

A/N:

They are back. And things are about to get bumpy. But I know that is just the way you like it ;)

New chapter every Monday!

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Love, Lucy.

Song: Runaway by Ed Sheeran.