At the top of the hill, the sky greets me in hues of pink and orange.

I watch the sun slowly rise on the horizon, close my eyes, and, Deep breaths, I remind myself, brushing off the tremor in my first exhale and letting the scent of dew-covered grass and flowers slowly filter the gloom out of my lungs.

The playful gusts of air make the trees dance and sway, and caress their way through my heart to urge the tiny little thing to find its rhythm again.

I can feel the puffiness under my eyes when I open them, and suddenly, the thirty minutes I spent with a cold compress pressed to my face when I finally managed to get out of bed this morning seem redundant.

The sight of the world coming back to life leaves my eyes burning with tears all over again.

It's so easy to feel small and insignificant under these towering clouds; so easy to think beyond myself and remember my place in the grand scheme of things — how come I always forget how tiny I am in comparison as soon as I put a roof above my head?

The world has always been so much bigger than the knots in my chest, then how come I'm always left feeling like I'm taking up space that could be better used by someone else?

I may have asked whoever was listening for happiness, but never a grandiose amount — only enough to be content. Then how come the responsibility of living and navigating the world feels so daunting still?

A couple years ago, after I had finally come to terms with the fact that I was safe, I promised myself some sort of transformation. A metamorphosis of some kind, perhaps. Growing into the person that I needed.

The growing part didn't feel so glamorous. But I was hoping that being grown up would be.

It wasn't. Isn't. And it makes me wonder if I even know what growing old means.

I ask myself: Have I grown, or have I just passed through all these years? I spent years with the belief that growing older would be a bit liberating even if it was a bit difficult, but staring at the ceiling last night long after the world had fallen asleep, I had touched my face, rubbed a line along my arm, pinched my hip, and asked no one: Am I really even here? because today, I'm confronted with the fact that the space I have created for myself is not invincible.

Perhaps I was foolish; thought of myself as under the radar even as I spent a decade pushing this door open after other people in my life bolted it shut. I left myself unprotected amid the trial of how to differentiate memory from history.

And now that the bite of hurt is beginning to pass — from knowing that my parents and the Lawsons got to keep their lives after tearing mine apart — all I can feel is the fear boring a hole through my chest.

I'm left aimless and afraid all over again, because I am here.

I am here and Finch is somewhere closer than I thought, and that simple fact brings back the thousand mundane moments where I thought about him back to life, where I felt like someone had cruelly punched my ribs into concavity because I could no longer tell him the things I was thinking about.

Not when I was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in my hand and staring at nothing as the music I first listened to with him echoed in the empty house.

Not when I was yearning for the comfort of his number in my phone after it was gone.

Not when I realized that even nostalgia was too much for me when it started to make me feel trapped within the empty spaces between all the seconds that I spent without him.

I am here and so is the part of my subconscious that is hellbent on protecting the little child in me that still lives in my aunt's bleak, dimly lit house.

Out of the hundred emotions churning in my stomach, it's the panic that rises its way up my throat the fastest because if I'm here and so is Finch, then his parents are, too.

A couple weeks ago, it had been ten years since I last ran my fingers through his hair, and now suddenly, I'm in the middle of all of this — watching the sun cast its warm light across the landscape and internally debating how to separate the fragile threads of then from now.

I've lost a lot to time. I've lost myself to time. I've spent years learning and unlearning, doing and undoing and redoing the most insignificant things just to get by, and the mere thought of seeing Finch Lawson again in person feels like I'm being threatened to start over from scratch.

Throwing away everything that has been after him, to make room for what will be. With reminders of everything that I had to leave behind, with force or by choice.

I've already rebuilt my life once, have I not?

Then why does it feel like I'm being denied the healing I deserve after living through my autumn star days?

I'm not immature enough to not understand that the pace of the Universe isn't obligated to be in sync with mine, but how do I get my restless heart to ease up when the space around me that I spent years creating is rearranging itself without taking my vulnerability into consideration?

Or maybe while I was too busy looking for a colossal disaster somewhere else, this right here was the test.

And I'm failing it.

-

By the time I get back to the apartment building, exhaustion has taken over my body.

The heaviness in my eyes reminds me that sleep eluded me the entire night, and with the way my limbs feel like they're made of lead, I know I've pushed myself past any coherent thoughts for now.

I just have to shake off the drowsiness and push through the exhaustion long enough to get in the elevator and walk a few more steps before I can surrender to the fatigue.

Except when the elevator doors slide open, I'm greeted by the sight of the same guy I met last night — Noah, I remind myself. Today, his dark eyes look heavy behind a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, the curly rivulets of his hair sitting atop his head in such a mess that I wonder if he's had a worse night than I did.

"Oh." The word leaves me in a surprised whisper, eyebrows drawing together when I follow the line of his arm to see the same kid whose eyes twinkled so brightly in my direction last night, I lost track of all my misery for a couple minutes.

Because the said twinkle isn't present in Chloe's eyes today.

"Hey," I greet softly, but the word comes out more like a question amid the concern filling my chest. When Chloe lets out a little sniffle, Noah's returning greet almost goes unheard to my ears. "Is everything okay?"

She doesn't look up even when they make their way out and the doors close behind them.

"Chloe's cat got out in the middle of the night and hasn't come back since," Noah tells me, looking down at the top of Chloe's head for a split second before meeting my eyes again. "He wanders off all the time, but not for this long. So we're looking for him around the area."

The explanation only makes the little girl's lower lip wobble, so I crouch in front of her without thinking, ducking my head to meet her eyes. "Chloe, hey... hey, don't cry." Her nose scrunches up adorably seconds before her face crumples further with the tears. "Can you look at me, please?" When she does with teary eyes, I muster up the gentlest smile I can manage, the ache in my limbs forgotten. "Do you remember me?"

"M-Miss Sky?"

The warmth that unfurls in my chest doesn't startle me the way it did last night. Perhaps I'm far more fond of kids than I ever took into consideration. "Just Sky is fine, sweetheart. You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Cheese..." she starts, voice trailing off into a whimper before she wipes her eyes with her sleeve, only for more persistent tears to trail down the corners of her eyes and cling to her chin. "Can't find him."

"Is that your cat's name?"

She nods, wiping the tears off her chin this time with the back of her hand. I pat my pockets for a handkerchief, and just pull my sweater sleeves forward when I can't find one to pat her cheeks with them instead.

I can feel Noah's eyes on me, so I tilt my head back to flash him a quick smile before bringing my attention back to the gloomy child in front of me.

Folding my arms atop my thighs, I ask, "You've already asked the neighbors?"

She nods twice, sniffling.

I hum and look up again to address her uncle, only to find him now frowning down at his phone with his lips pressed together in a thin line. "You guys check the roof yet?"

Noah blinks and looks away from the device. "We have access to the roof?"

"Staircase on the thirteenth floor," I tell him and give Chloe another smile before straightening back up to my full height. The stitches in my stomach become apparent then, and I'm pretty sure the wince shows on my face before I can school my expression into a bright one. "How long has it been since you moved here?"

"A week," he responds, pocketing his phone, and the weariness in his tone tells me that it might as well have been years. The mere idea of moving houses makes all of my joints go stiff, so I don't blame him in the slightest.

"I've been living here for a while now, so I could..." I gesture in the general direction of the apartment with both my hands, clueless about why I feel so awkward about offering help. I suppose my people skills have become rustier than I expected them to be. "I know the area pretty well. If you wanted help, I mean."

My hands have settled on my waist because I don't know what else to do with them.

"Oh, we couldn't... you probably have your own things to get to." Noah rubs the back of his neck, and the action makes him look younger somehow. "And I'm sure he'll come back sooner or later, the little sh —" he falters mid-speech, raising his eyebrows and forcing a smile down at his niece who looks up at him with her wide blue eyes. "—shiny cat," he finishes in a strained voice. "Isn't Cheese shiny, Clo?"

Chloe, bless her, nods with all the seriousness in the world.

I turn my head to hide the very obvious upward quirk to the corners of my mouth. "I'm sure he is," I mutter.

When I look back at him, his lips are quivering with the effort to hold in his own laughter. "Yeah, uh. So. We're gonna check the roof." He clears his throat and pats the top of Chloe's head before looking at me again. "The area is still new to us, so he's probably just exploring."

I wonder if he's just saying it to appease Chloe, so I don't ask in case she starts crying again from worry. "I'll keep an eye out," I suggest, and he directs a grateful smile at me.

"Yes, please." He places his palm on top of his niece's head. "What do we say when people help us, Clo?"

The little girl sniffles softly again and tightens her hold on Noah's sleeve. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I respond softly, impossibly endeared. "You should also talk to Frank, if you haven't," I tell Noah, gesturing to the guard by the gates who has worked here for as long as I can remember. "He'll get the other residents to keep a lookout as well."

"That's a really good idea," he says, looking visibly relieved. "I'll do that and then we can go check the roof, yeah?" he directs the second part of his sentence at his niece, who nods a bit more enthusiastically now.

"I'm sure you'll find him soon," I add, the smile on my face almost instinctive when her eyes meet mine. "Cheer up, okay?"

"Okay," she murmurs shyly, bunching up the hem of her shirt in her tiny fist.

I wave it off with an easy smile when Noah thanks me again, wiggling my fingers in the air in goodbye at Chloe when I make my way to the elevator.

There's something about this kid, I think, the blur that had fallen upon the world around me slowly letting things come back into focus. It's the second time in less than twenty-four hours that this little child has managed to make me forget my worries for a bit by just... being.

It's not all that different from how I feel teaching teenagers about space and its wonders.

The sweat on my skin from the run this morning had already dried on my way back, but it doesn't make me feel repulsed enough to fasten my steps for once. Instead, my footsteps sound soothing in the empty hallway, and the dread that I expect to be hit with every time I open the door to an empty apartment doesn't come.

Because the apartment, it turns out, isn't actually empty.

My hand pauses mid-way in the process of closing the door, wide eyes meeting a pair of round, unblinking, amber ones.

"Well, hello there, pretty," I say gingerly to the pristine white cat — that most definitely does not belong to me — calmly sitting on the threshold with its long tail swishing back and forth. 

He continues staring up at me unflinchingly.

I carefully get on my haunches in front of him so I wouldn't startle him. "Is your name Cheese, by any chance?"

a/n

on friday, this book was added to the 'all kind of love is love' list by the official wattpad NA profile! i'm telling y'all bec i thought it was super cool of them to do that and it made me really happy :D

thank you for reading <3