My mouth felt dry and my stomach concaved upon itself. I needed to hurl. He stepped forward further into the light, like an ethereal projection, a crown of sunlight shards adorning his head; but he wasn't as innocent or kind as the sunlight – no. I was not going to feel anything for him.

"Ap," he repeated again softly.

I remained silent, still staring at him. I wasn't sure if the lack of sugar for the past few days had made me delirious, or if he was really standing there, saying my name. My eyes swiftly moved over him to check if he was okay. He was.

Then, his eyes moved to the man standing a few feet from me.

"Hello." Slap greeted awkwardly, attempting his charming you-can-talk-to-me smile.

Aiden's lips parted, exhaling, and he nodded once carefully. His eyes swept to me again but I stood still, unmoving, wanting desperately to tear my eyes away from him.

"Do you two know each other?" Slap asked sharply, glancing at both of us. "April?" I nodded at no-one in particular. "Did you need some time to talk?"

I don't know. Did I?

Aiden stepped forward and I made my decision and turning to Slap quickly. "No. I don't want to talk to him."

"April, please –"

I turned away, my eyes burning with anger and indigence. "Go away." I said coldly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Slap, are you shutting up the room now?"

Slap gave me a questioning look, his eyes saying is-this-the-boy? I gave him a small nod and sniffed, dropping my eyes. He understood and straightened up. "I think it is time to close up. Did you want a ride, April?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Ap-"

"Shut up."

"Can you please let me speak-"

"No."

I made it out to the car, following Slap, hot on his heels, turning away from the one thing I loved and couldn't bring myself to hate. He didn't make a noise of protest, but I knew that he hadn't disappeared and that he was waiting. When I reached Slap's car, my chest heaving with heavy breaths, I leaned against it, suddenly weary.

He looked at me in concern. "Is your chest okay? Do you need me to call your mom?"

I shook my head.

"Who is that boy? Is he 'the boy?' The breakup one?"

I nodded uncertainly, daring myself to look back at him. Aiden hadn't left. He was standing in the shadows, eyes shut, head leaning back against the wall. Shadows concealed one half of his face and the other was glowing dimly in the sunlight. His eyelashes cast thick shadows onto his upper cheekbones. He'd mostly definitely lost weight, I worried. I bit my lip – I was relieved to see him back – alive. But I couldn't succumb and run into his arms straight away. It had to be enough to see him healthy and here in the flesh, right?

I wrenched my eyes away. "What's mystery boy's name then?"

"Aiden."

He made a noise of approval, "pretty name, pretty boy."

I shot him a dirty look as though daring him to compliment him once again - he didn't deserve to be complimented. I was too angry for that. But I can't say I didn't agree with him. "He's a jerk."

Slap waved his hand at me and leaned his shoulder against the car, raising an eyebrow at the figure in the distance, looking utterly forlorn. "I think you should go back. Talk to him."

"Why do I always have to go back? He's the one who left!"

"At least he came back. You're not." I felt my stomach drop at this dig.

Slap wasn't wrong – I had nothing to say in response and would lose the argument anyway. So I said: "Fine." Then, I began my much awaited journey back to the shadow, keeping my eyes trained on the tarmac as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

I reached him sulkily, and waited for him to speak. Everything I'd wanted to say had died with my courage as I walked here. I heard him exhale and he pushed himself off the wall so he was no longer slouched but standing upright. Even slouched, he still towered over me but I felt even smaller in his presence now that he had straightened up.

"Thanks for giving me a chance."

"I didn't." I said bluntly. "I'm just... standing." I rocked back and forth on my heels; geez, I hated being mean. "I don't know what to say to you." I admitted instead.

"Well, nor do I."

Silence.

"I never thought we'd be like this."

I could almost see the adorable crinkle that formed between his eyebrows when he frowned without looking at him. "What do you mean?"

"The: I love you, I hate you. I want you, just leave. I'm sorry, we can make this work, no, we're toxic. Blah blah blah. All the unnecessary bullshit that only seems to happen in Jersey Shore. We're not Jersey Shore," I finally said pointedly. "I mean there are some poor souls out there who can't even find a friend, let alone a mate. And people who do supposedly 'have' someone can't get enough of leaving and coming, leaving and coming. Like, geez, stay or go, right?"

"I agree."

"I give a speech that long and that's the response you give?"

He laughed nervously. "Well, this isn't what I expected. I mean, it's understandable if you punched me or hugged me or stormed away from me. But if this is your way of showing your anger then fair enough."

I paused. May as well dive straight into the issue right? "You came back – you're... okay? You're not hurt? You've... kicked it?"

He nodded uncertainly. "I hope so. I'd gotten over the worst of the symptoms for the past month. I guess now it's just a temptation game – I shouldn't be as bad as I was now, I hope." I sighed – hope. The prospect that keeps us moving in this wretched life.

I took a deep breath, frowning.

"Why is it we always do things in months? Normal people don't speak for maybe hours or days. Even a week at worst. But us – we do everything in months. You were gone for a month. I was gone for 6. Half a freaking year."

"That wasn't your fault; you didn't choose that option, April. I chose mine." He said determinedly, stepping closer to me. I noted his hurt expression when I stepped away from the boy who'd broken my heart into a million pieces.

"Why did you choose that? You broke up with me in a letter." The words were hard to form in my mouth and it took me time to form my syllables so there was a strained pause after each word. "This," I pointed to us. "Doesn't exist anymore." He flinched.

"I wanted to protect you. I didn't want to keep dragging you into my problems. You didn't deserve any of this – I did. I made the decisions I did for you – and myself. I wasn't myself then – this was the me I was dealing with before I met you – I.... felt differently when I was with you. Thing suddenly seemed clearer without a drink. I didn't want to call whilst I couldn't tell what was real or not, whilst I couldn't get up or hold a pen without my fingers shaking to the point I would just throw it away. So I tried to deal with the consequences before I reached a stage that bad – a stage where it would be impossible to make things right. I did what I did because I had to and because it was right. Not because I wanted to."

He took a deep breath. His justification was viable and one I couldn't find fault in apart from the fact that I'd been hurt by his decision. But that was selfish of me. He was an alcohol abuser before he was the love of my life. If I had to be hurt, I'd rather it be by someone I loved. Hell, at least I was fortunate enough to have someone hurt me and come back to apologise.

I recovered from my shock and scrambled to piece together a reply that made me feel less ungrateful than I really was. "I understand that – a stupid decision, but one that I would have made myself had I been in your position, Aiden. I get that this was hard for you, that you didn't want me to suffer with you, but that wasn't a fair call to make. I mean, I had no choice in the matter of you sitting with me for 6 months – you chose that. I didn't get to chose this. And a letter? You chose a goddamn letter? Out of all the damn things available in this world?"

He looked away half guiltily-half sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I figured it was better than a text and talking to you would make me collapse completely and want to come back without sorting myself out first. Then we'd be back to square one."

I looked away shyly. "You can't seriously expect me to collapse into your arms the moment you decide to show your face again."

"I didn't expect that." He replied quietly. I fell silent.

I crossed my arms over my chest and felt my throat tighten with frustration. "Then why did you come back Aiden? You've-" my hand rose to brush across the side of his face softly. His eyes shut at the sensation. I withdrew. "You've changed a lot in the past month. It's not just physically," I noted upon seeing his sallow expression and hollows underneath his eyes, "but it's in your voice too." I smiled sadly at him. "I'm not going to pretend to hate you – I'm angry. But more relieved that you're safe and... On your way to good health."

"So I still have a chance?" He asked hopefully. I felt my heart crumble at the optimism colouring his voice.

I closed my eyes, blowing out air from my nose. "I don't know. I'm leaving, Aiden." I don't know what reply I expected, but it wasn't what he said next.

"I know." My eyes flew open in disbelief and my jaw slackened at his detached expression.

"Y-you knew? How?"

"Your mom told me when I was trying to look for you. She also told me not to persuade you to stay. I'll respect your wishes." I was flabbergasted by the monotony of his reply. He paused, biting his lip, a small crease forming on his forehead. "When are you going to leave?" I could barely look him in the eye, still recovering from the bombshell.

"A few weeks to a month. My mum is making me pack early though – you know, from the apartment and all. She wants to be ready to up and leave whenever. I'm just waiting to fill in my visa forms."

He nodded mutely.

"Aiden?" I stepped forward. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make me feel guilty about leaving. Not before I can slap you for being such a jerk for doing what you did. Not before you turn the attention on me."

He smiled, a ghostly smile, like one a boy I once knew did. His eyes crinkled and he laughed gruffly, as though his vocal chords had been strained. "Go on, Ap."

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, directing all of my anger onto my palm. Every single thing I'd felt, he'd wrote – everything - into that one slap. Then I hit him – hard. He recoiled slightly, but I think it was because he'd become so weak and I so angry.

I instantly felt relief and then, a steady stream of guilt bleed into my veins. I stepped forward, reaching out to hold him, but stopped myself when he raised his head, smiling. "I was waiting for that the moment you saw me."

"I still don't feel better."

He shrugged. "That's a shame. That actually hurt a bit." I began laughing, as though he'd never left, and then trailed off into silence when I realized he did leave. And so was I.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second and then leaned up and hugged him tightly; burying my head between the sharp hilt of his shoulder blade and feeling his hair that had grown too long now tickle the side of my face felt achingly familiar. I inhaled and held on as though he would disappear. After a mere moment, he ran his hand over my hair soothingly, reminding me he was there and brushing a soft of half-there half-not kiss over my hair. I felt my eyes prick at the corners at how sombre this all felt and clutched him even closely, tilting my head so I was facing into his shoulder.

His mouth opened, and he shut his eyes, a stormy battle raging beyond those closed lids. "Can we go to the clearing*? Evening's approaching so we can talk there – or you can hit me again."

I was stunned. Usually, I was the one who suggested visiting the clearing – the one who conjured up memories of his mother again. I nodded uncertainly, trapped in a state of dreaminess. Before he turned to leave, I stopped him, reaching out to brush my hand along his collar bone, wincing at how sharp it was, like glass – so delicate, so easily shattered. I looked up, my eyes speaking to him. He placed his hand over mine and removed it quietly, shaking his head, his eyes saying all the words he would never say. I withdrew.

He would tell me later, I decided.

He would explain it all and I would be angry and not give in so easily after he left me and treated me like a fool. I wouldn't run into his arms so easily and detest him and call myself a pushover for doing this. I was strong and I would put up a fight – but why? That's what everyone is expecting me to do, right? They're expecting me to give him a hard time and make him work for me back. But I would've done the same if I was in his position. But you can't help it; curiosity is a desire far greater than lust. It draws you in, ensnares you and then turns your life upside down. Lust is temporary – it has the ability to attract and repel. Curiosity takes you into the unknown, it has no end.

I wasn't going with him because I was running back into his arms. No – I was going because I was curious. I was going because he was my best friend. I was going because I wanted to make things right on my end before I left, just as he was making things right on his right now.

He would tell me later.

Yes, he would.