I hanged up the phone and looked at Al.

"Cassia got one," I muttered. "What the hell is going on?"

Al shook his head.

"Is Trump about to start a war or something?" he suggested.

 I shrugged, my brain starting to hurt from this shit and over exhaustion of the wedding.

 "Read me yours," I cried.

 He nodded and pulled out his piece of paper, again. He began to speak but his words were all jumbled. I gasped. He turned to me, scared.

"What?" 

 He then looked around the room for physcopath murderers (because that's so realistic).

 "You're words were jumbled," I replied. "When you read your letter."

 He raised an eyebrow then set the paper down. He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He turned his head towards me.

 "Fuck. I'm tired."

 I nodded in agreement. But Jesus Christ. He wasn't the one who spent their night at a freaking wedding.

 "C'mon. We'll talk about it tomorrow and maybe it'll all be a prank," I cried then let out a tired laugh.

 He smirked at me and we left the room behind. We trekked through our corridor and stopped at the two doors on the end. He had the left door, I had the right.

 "Night, Lulu," he cried, as he opened his door.

 "Good night, Al," I replied.

 We gave each other one last hopeful smile and entered our rooms.

 I passed out onto my comfortable bed for the very last time.

I had a weird dream the night before it all changed. For some reason, Max and I actually became a thing and made out in front of his parents. He got the money for his record deal but Trump came in with a full body leotard (I don't know how my brain could piece that shit together) and took away all Max's money. Then, I had a love affair with Trump... I don't know. It was a dream and my dreams are usually weird. I can't control them.

 Al and I discussed our usual topics over breakfast trying to ignore the mail thing.

 "Have you ever thought what it would be like if you made out with Beyonce?" Alistair asked.

 I snorted.

 "Of course. Except with my skills and awkwardness I'd probably screw up and she'd never talk to me again," I answered.

 He smirked.

 "You should write some of your fan fiction with you making out with Beyonce," he teased.

 I rolled my eyes. He liked to make fun of me about writing fan fiction. I'm sorry. I'm an author and a fangirl. What else was I going to do?

 "Shut up," I ordered.

 Al got up from the table and grabbed an apple from the fridge real quick. He gave me a wink and I burst out laughing. He took a bite out of it, which followed by more immature laughter.

 "Al. How ripe is that apple? Ripe enough to make you want to eat every inch of it?" I asked.

 He made a face of satan.

 "It's so ripe, Lulu, I could lick it and taste every last flavor in one lick," he cried.

 Okay. Long story short. Al, Max, Cassia and I are pretty talented at giving food their 'true meanings'. Basically, we have a long list of foods that represent dicks. Because we're truly just a bunch of immature eleven year old boys at heart. So apples made the cut for that list. In fact, it's  the main food on the list.

 Al then made sucking noises with the apple in his mouth and even though I was slightly disgusted I had to let out a laugh. I've read too much smutty fan fiction for it to not really phase me anymore. That's excruciatingly sad to be honest.

 "You can stop, Al," I giggled and slightly bumped into him.

 He smirked and took large bite of his apple *cringe* before he tossed it in the trash. I got up to clean my dishes and I felt a head rest on my shoulder. I leaned mines against his and he whispered something in my ear.

 "I hear something."

 I smiled as I awkwardly tried to clean my bowl.

 "What? The screaming fangirls who hardcore ship us?" I teased.

 He walked away from me, urgently.

 "No. Something's coming for us... someone. They're coming down the hall," he cried then turned to me. He grabbed my arm and the faucet was left running. He dragged me to his room and I felt myself start to pale.

 "Al, I'm not having sex with-"

 He looked terrified and put a finger on my lip.

 "Shut up," he whispered. "Get under my bed. Someone is trying to get us."

 I looked at him with confusion and shook my head.

 "I thought I was the insane one in this friendship," I said. "What's wrong with-"

 I heard loud banging noises at the front door and I turned to Al. We both were terrified.

 "Under. The. Bed," he muttered under his breath and I nodded.

 We fell to the ground and crawled under his bed. My heart was racing. Holy shit. Holy shit. What was happening? The banging kept happening until I heard something collapse. The front door. I felt myself start to shake and I buried my head in Alistair's chest. He hugged me hard and it felt safe and comforting although he was petrified as heck. I didn't make a noise as we heard footsteps creak about the apartment. 

 How did Alistair know someone was coming? There was no way he left our apartment. He was literally sucking an apple one moment and the next he was aware that someone was coming to freaking kidnap us.

 "Lucy Moore... Alistair Benson... you can't hide forever," a voice boomed and Alistair began to shake. I hugged him harder, hoping it would calm him down.

 The man began to make noise as he looked for us. I rubbed Al's back softly as this person wrecks our apartment. I was praying that we had insurance. Then I thought... the cops... I let go go Al for a second and searched my pockets. Shit. No phone. Crap. Oh crap. We were doomed. Quietly and awkwardly I searched through Al's pockets for his phone since he was still shaking. Nothing from him either. Crap.

I went back to holding him tight and he seemed to stop shaking. Even though the noises only seemed to get closer and closer. Al seemed more comfortable the harder I embraced him. I heard him start mumbling, so I tilted my ear to his mouth.

 "I love you, Lulu," he kept mumbling like a curse.

 I blushed but I've never seen Al in this state before. He was usually the brave one who'd protect me. The older brother who stood up from me and kept me unharmed. I was so scared in that moment but I hated to see Al like this. My body was slammed so close to him, I don't think we've ever gotten this close in the eight years of our friendship. But we were scared and we desperately needed each other.

 "I love you too, Al," I whispered back.

 The sound of the man began to stomp down the hallway and he entered my room. I heard him wreck everything in there and tried not to flinch.

 Suddenly, there was a sudden strength in the arms around my waist. He pressed his lips to my forehead and barely made a sound with his lips.

 "Don't you dare ever leave me, Lulu- I need you more than you could ever need me."

 I would've responded but he entered our room and I heard things turn over. Dressers collapsing. Every sign that the world was ending. At least for us. Then he lifted the sheets and revealed who was hiding under the bed.

 "Aha!" he yelled.

 He grabbed me first since I was the closest and I screamed.

 "Lucy! Get your fucking ugly ass hands off her," Al demanded as I struggled to grab ahold of his hand for support.

 I was helpless. I couldn't fight back because I had no fight in me. The only use I ever had was being a stupid yandere. 

 "Alistair!" I yelled. "I'll never leave you. I promise on my life!"

 The man looked at us two. He was a big, muscular. About fifty. Bald. Typical body guard looking dude. But his facial expression as I made my cheesy oath to Al was disgusting. He looked disturbed and annoyed. He pulled out a gag and I screamed (bad idea) until he shoved it down my mouth.

 "Lulu!" Al yelled as the man reached for him.

 He fought back at the man trying to get himself back to me but the man was too strong. Before I could see anything, my vision blurred and the room disappeared.

 There was a series of memories that flashed before my eyes.

 The first one was when I was 13, the day after I had my first real panic attack. The whole school day, I was still nervous about what happened the night before and every smile was forced and uncomfortable. It was a nightmare and I was scared by it so much it had to be kept to myself. I couldn't even tell my closest friend, Cassia.

 Then to make things even more hell for me that day, my parents were supposed to pick me up and drive me home but of course, they forgot. I also had no way of contacting them since they wouldn't let me have a goddamned phone because according to them, '13 is too young.' None of the school office people were there and I had absolutely no clue how to get home. I let my anxiety take over and I collapsed on a bench and cried. I hated crying in public and pleaded myself to stop. I told myself that I could cry all I wanted to in the night... just not then. My pleading only made me feel worse. I cried for a solid forty five minutes before I heard a harsh honking noise. I jumped and looked up to see a pretty convertible with a pretty boy on the inside. Uh oh. I immediately thought my life was about to turn into a John Green romantic blockbuster worthy novel.

 Anyways, he looked at me and I felt very uncomfortable. I was having a moment... and I'd rather not have someone observe it. I made a point of looking down at my boots. Which were untied again.

 "Hey... um... Do you need a ride?" the boy asked.

 I looked up and was ready to rudely tell him to leave so nobody could see me crying but then I stopped. I needed to get home... I hesitated then nodded. I made brief, awkward eye contact with him as I got off the bench and opened his car door. I sat down and sniffed back tears.

 "Hey," this random boy whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder.

 I didn't look and tried to get rid of my tears. It was so humiliating and I hated myself more than ever for getting into things like this.

 "Hey, look at me," he whispered.

 I was too tired to fight, so unfortunately I did. I hesitantly looked at his stupid piercing blue eyes and his stupid beautiful hair.

 "You're going to be okay Just breathe... I'll take you home," he soothed.

 His voice was comforting. I hated it. I glared up at him.

 "You're probably the jackass that's going to kidnap and murder me," I snapped at him.

 He smirked, probably at my cute thirteen year old stupidity.

 "Thought you could never guess," he laughed. "I'm Alistair Benson. I'm your murderer. I'll be taking you to be slaughtered with all the other thirteen year old girls."

 I frowned, disgustedly.

"How'd you know I was thirteen?" I snapped.

 He held back his head, arrogantly.

 "They call me Sherlock Holmes of Chicago," he answered, teasingly. "Now, who are you? I like to pen down all the names of people that I kill."

 I rolled my eyes. Why the hell was this boy trying to make me happy? I was a sulky, depressed girl.

 "Lucy," I whispered.

 He smiled, appreciantingly.

 "That's really pretty," he complimented. "But I guess that makes sense."

 I didn't get what he was doing until he started up the engine of his car. I whipped my head towards him but he stopped me.

 "Where do you live?" he asked. "You know, so I can drive you home and murder you."

 I raised an eyebrow.

 "How old are you?" I asked, eye balling him myself trying to guess his age.

 He smirked, playfully.

 "Sixteen," he answered. "Why? Do I look younger or older? I've always thought my face accurately fit my age."

 "No, I just think it's strange you're hitting on a 13 year old," I answered, quickly.

 He laughed again and his bright blue eyes twinkled like melting ice caps.

 "Just trying to cheer up a sad girl," he defended himself. "So, where is it that you live?"

 I fought back a smile and told him my address. He asked what music I liked and I replied with Panic! At the Disco, Twenty One pilots and Halsey. He frowned as he turned away from the school and onto the main road.

 "Lucy, I'm afraid I don't have any of them on my playlist," he answered. "Do you?"

 Oh. My. God. My IPod was full of that trash. So I nodded and he let me hook up my IPod to his stereo. I didn't know how he'd react to my silly emo music but then, I only needed heavydirtysoul. My automatic go to song if I ever truly feel like trash. I mumbled the first verse and he looked at me.

 "You can sing louder than that," he cried. "Or do you not know the lyrics?"

 I rolled my eyes and pretended I was by myself then I was shouting them. I shouted the rap in the second verse, memorized too, memorized by heart. Then there was the drum solo. I pretended to play the drums by slamming my fist on the dashboard and rocked my head back and forth like I was Josh Dun. I actually got a headache from doing that. Everyone thought I was crazy when I told them.

 Alistair joined in at the last chorus because it was easily learned. I did my best to tune him out so, I could cling onto the last seconds of the song. When it was over, we were nearly at my house so I unhooked my IPod and humiliatingly, I looked out the window. He laughed.

 "You're so cute, Lucy," he cried.

 I made a face.

 "Hit on girls your own age."

 The memory shifted and blurred away like chalk melting off the sidewalk when it rains. Then a new one formed and it immediately clicked.

 It was two years later and the two of us were in the basement ironically playing 'Just Dance' when my lazy butt got too tired. I sat down and Alistair sat by my side. He knew everything about me and I had no clue how he managed to get easy access to my precious secrets. He looked at me then pushed my hair off my shoulder. I felt my heart rate go up and certainly not because of the Just Dance game.

 "Lulu, do you ever wonder if there's a spark between us?" he asked.

 I started to get nervous. Did he have a crush on me?

 "I dunno," I muttered. "Why?"

 He looked down at his shoes, nervously. Oh crap. Was this actually happening?

 "I'm curious... Is it okay if I check?" he asked.

 I felt scared. For a second, I thought he was talking about having sex, to see if there were any sparks. I wanted to keep my virginity, a bit longer.

 "Uh.. what do you mean?" I asked.

 I was terrified, yet thrilled. This was my best friend alongside Cassia. Jesus...

 "Tell me when to stop," he whispered, slipping his fingers to outline my face and his lips touched mine.

 Oh crap. I started to panic. But like a chinese finger trap, instead of pulling away, I kissed harder. Al took that as a sign to keep going. His hands left the brim of my jaw to the nape of my neck. He shoved me to lay down on the couch and my fingers tangled in his wavy hair. I have to admit it. It was the best first kiss ever. His hands began to trail down my body, giving me shivers. Al was amazing. His kiss was everything.

 But then, I finally pulled away. He looked down at me with hopeful eyes as my breathing quickened. He had to be on drugs, even though I didn't taste it and Al was a general goody goody.

 "So?" he whispered.

 There was for sure a spark. In fact there was too much of a spark, it overwhelmed me. And I don't like overwhelming shit.

 "Not yet, I'm sorry," I whispered back, before giving him one last peck.

 That was the last time we properly kissed. And for some reason, I started to feel the regret of not telling him the truth, which I thought I moved on from long ago. The memory began to fade away and another one appeared. 

 And this one... This one was new. Newer than the rest.

 "How could you fucking do that?" Ella yelled as she pushed me against my own wall. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

 I just opened the door to Al's girlfriend and this was her greeting to me. I looked at her, completely confused. This couldn't be a joke. She never joked. She was always the outcasted not-really-in-the-friend-group-only-here-for-my-boyfriend friend. She was serious, fashionable, mature, sophisticated, charming and insanely sexy with her big brown eyes and long slightly wavy hair. I wasn't jealous of her because of Al I was jealous of her because she was perfect. I couldn't see Al, my brother figure, dating someone like her. They were polar opposites.

 But stupid me, I assumed this was just a playful opening for some friendly banter.

 "An emo dying because of the tragic end of MCR?" I guessed.

 Ella looked at me, both disgusted and confused. She was the type of girl who either didn't listen to music or it was shitty mainstream crap.

 "Stop talking," she snapped. "No. You're sending my Alistair god damn text messages during our dates... I know you guys have your special connection and straight phan vibes but he's my boyfriend, so if I were you, I would've fucked off."

 Everything suddenly clicked into place and her disgusted face only deepened when I was coming to a realization.

 "Ella I-"

 She rolled her eyes.

 "Shut up. I'm done with hearing people's excuses. It's a waste of time!" she squealed. "I just wanted you to know that, hon, you're the reason why Al and I are gonna be-"

 The door opened and I almost yelled for Al to turn around and leave for the sake of his safety. But I kept my mouth shut as he opened the door and right off the bat, Ella grabbed him and punched him in the face. I gasped but stayed in place.

 "Alistair Benson, I'm breaking up with you and it's all Lucy's fault!" she yelled, pointing at me.

 I felt I was in kindergarten again being blamed unfairly. Al looked confused at Ella who began to tear up then up at me. We used our friendship telepathy.

 "What the fuck is going on?"his eyes pleaded.

 I breathed out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know but I'm being blamed for something that's your fault."

 He raised an eyebrow and accidentally mouthed his next word.

 "What?"

 Ella slapped him hard. It echoed.

 "See, right there. It's proof you're more into her than me," she yelled and went straight to the door.

 Al ran to catch her before she left.

 "Wait, Ella, will you listen to me?" he asked.

 Her face was grim and evil as she looked up into his eyes one last time.

 "What more is left to say?" she whispered. "You'll never love me as much as you love Lucy."

 The way she said it, left both of us, Al and I, stunned as she ran out.

 Al and I made brief eye contact and we both knew. she was right.

 There was always something more between us.