My broken hair flies into my eyes, covering my vision momentarily as I wipe my face lightly. I try to conceal the need to cry about the images that replay in my mind. I was going to kiss him, I actually wanted to kiss him. We held hands. We laughed together. I didn't want to be alone. He knew. He always knew. I was just too slow.

Everyone else knew. They saw the signs and told me to my face, but I ignored it as I was too afraid to understand what this was, what I really wanted. Now that I remember and the veil has been lifted each moment of that night is restored to my mind. All I want to do is see him, hope he'll let me explain and maybe, just maybe I'll tell him.

Perhaps he'll hold me in his arms, laugh at how long it's been for the both of us to have a moment where we both knew it was more than it seemed. It would mean no more hiding, no more excuses or thinking he is just my friend. He's my brother's flatmate. But he isn't just that anymore. Instead, there is so much to him than just that and I've been an idiot to not see it.

Panting lightly I walk through Carnaby street, unsure where I am heading since I got off at the wrong stop. I brush my fingertips across my locket, wondering if they'd be proud of me. Would they be proud of the daughter they barely got to know, that she conquered her mental illness, that the voices diminished beside my own? How I have found something that I don't want to let go of or risk losing again?

Mentally I read through the words my Mother wrote for me, the stories she told me when I was too young to understand what she was even saying to me or that they had any form of significance. I see their loving glances to me, moments before they were killed in that accident whilst I sat, screaming and crying. All too naive to understand the significance of that moment.

I glance by those who walk past without a care for anyone else. Most are plugged into their phones, eyes locked on their screens and are most likely unaware of the white clouds that line the blue above us. All of them are so unaware of everything. I can see each of their faces, the man in the suit keeping his eyes focused on his smart shoes, not wanting to scuff them. A woman who keeps glancing behind her at the gentleman who wears a smirk on his face. I pick up the pace, my heart beating too quickly.

My hands continue to shake violently in my pockets as I try to think of what I could say. The revelation that this still shocks me, and partly I want to laugh out loud at how ridiculous this all is. I want to go dancing with him again, this time without any consequences and just have fun, the two of us. Part of me wants to tell each and every one of them, to scream it, shout to the world about this discovery. It's all too real, it's all too raw to feel true, but it is.

Reaching into my pocket I fumble with my phone, I dial the one person who'll know what to do, what I should say, how to compose myself as I stand by a stereotypical red phone box. Deeply breathing I can see my chest rising and falling rapidly, my giddy heart refusing to fashion itself like my mind is attempting to. My fingertips hover over the keys, unsure what to type. I glance up to be greeted by my reflection, one that seems too dissimilar to be my own.

Before me is someone happy, a smile crosses her face as her ivy eyes remain glossy. She moves the outgrown fringe from her eyes, her newly cut hair still taking time to adjust to. Yet she shows her scars, the damages that were caused to her too visibly. Her arm remains bandaged, but her leg is hidden behind the black denim.

She crosses her leg over the other and leans against the telephone box, raising an eyebrow to herself. All I do is smile, and she copies. I look down, and I see I've already typed what is necessary. All I have to do is press send, but why is it so difficult to tap an arrow? My thumb quivers as my heart speeds up as if it were on a treadmill having lost control. I glance back to my reflection, the easiness has been removed from her face.

Looking down my thumb jumps, it's gone.

*

Lying on my back I feel it tense under the bitty carpet. It only felt like yesterday I was in here, the day when everything began to descend into this situation I am only just resurfacing from. Closing my eyes I see the beach, the shopping centre followed by the theme park. I wish I knew then, all of this or at least the majority could've been avoided. But no, instead I remained naive to what was happening as I was with him for the most part. Completely unaware of his foul play.

My phone burns in my pocket, screaming for me to check if he's answered. All I can contemplate is the series of what ifs, the same things I've dwelled on for far too long. I was given six months as I asked for to get my life back on track, I thought I managed perfectly fine, but I neglected some aspects above overs. Half a year was focused on my mental wellbeing, not addressing things that could've been triggering such as him.

When I finally left and drove for myself I went to Dan, I didn't rush to find Caspar. I sought comfort in the warmth of his brown eyes, not the sweetness of the earthy green. Sitting upright I try to remind myself, give subtle nudges about the forgotten night. How I told him I didn't want to be alone and we almost had a moment, but then again it was seven months ago. A lot can change in seven months. Maybe his feelings have changed since too. Maybe.

My phone begins to ring in my pocket and I pull it out. Well, maybe not. Taking a deep breath I place my phone against my ear, lying back down so I remain out of sight. "Hello?" Last time I accepted a phone call like this it was a warning from a stranger, an unknown filtered voice which turned out to be Caspar. But this time no one speaks up immediately, I listen to a small sigh on the other end along with my own infrequent breathing in the microphone.

"Ali," He barely whispers, my name lightly spoken as if it might shatter at the slightest change in pitch. "I, I, I don't really have many words." Closing my eyes I try to comprehend how rough he sounds, I can easily visualise it since I've been there. "Since your accident, things" He sighs louder this time, out of frustration. "got low, really low and I didn't say anything. I didn't want to ruin your recovery."

Opening my eyes I feel the gentle tears running down towards my ears rather than my jawline. I rub my lips together as I try to piece it together. "I'm alright Caspar, you don't have to hide." Speaking softly to him I want to comfort him, I always found it intrusive or overwhelming if people spoke louder or at a normal tone, it made their voices louder to overpower everything else. "I just wanted to see you," Hesistant to ask I remain silent, as does he. "can, can I?"

The prolonged silence keeps my heart hanging by a mere few strings, "Are you around?" I silently sigh, a hint of a smile creeps onto my face as I nod to myself.

"Yea, yeah. I'll send you the address." Wiping my face I slowly sit upright, bringing my legs close to my chest and rest my head. "Does that mean," My mind starts racing, trying to piece the words together as he remains quiet on the other end. "nevermind." Shutting myself down I glance over to the window, the curtains shut blocking out any light that mumbles to enter.

"I'll be there in an hour? If that's okay." His tone is too soft. My heart begins to tear from the remaining strings that it hangs from half-heartedly. He hangs up. Not another word said.

Slowly I stand up and walk towards the mirror hoping my reflection is kind to me. "Well." I let out a hesitant laugh after seeing myself. Before me is a tired version, black clinging to my eyes as it sprinkles across my cheeks bringing the bright green out in my eyes displaying how tired they truly are. My hair clings to one side of my head, and I try pushing it back. It flops backwards, and I just laugh. "Too attractive." Nodding I walk to the windows, opening the curtains allowing the brightness outside to burn my retinas. "Now or never, Ali."

*

Sitting on the edge of my bed my legs tremble as I watch my phone out of the corner of my eye. He'll be here any minute. Any minute. Maybe he's changed? Wonder if he's gotten a haircut? I always liked his hair slightly longer, the way he used to run his fingers through it as he tried to hide the blush that would rise in his cheeks. I hope he's alright.

My phone lights up and I take a deep breath before picking it up. 'I'm downstairs.'

I take one last look at my reflection, the more presentable side of me that he'll vaguely remember. As opposed to the broken version that he saw more prominently. I just hope he can remember me before, the girl who was in a dressing gown with wet hair, the one who danced with him and drank too many cocktails. Who invited him to her home and got honest with. I want him to see her, not this.

Watching the lift doors open before me I keep my eyes locked on my scuffed boots shuffling along the marble floor. "Ali?" I stop. My feet begin to melt into the marble as his voice enters my ears. Another pair of shoes touch mine, his of a higher quality without the grass stains, scuff marks and dirt embedded into the heels. Gently a hand touches my shoulder, resting lightly on top of it. "Hey." He whispers as all the noise continues around us, the buzzing of those eager to see the sights that London has to offer.

Slowly lifting my head I look at his hand on my shoulder, my eyes follow his arm to his shoulder. From his shoulder to his neck I feel my breath getting hitched, his jawline still vacant of any stubble. I continue upwards, a half smile lining his rosy lips. And then I lock with his green eyes, always differing from my own. His were always brighter, full of love and care.

"Hi." I mumble, his hand slowly moving from my shoulder down my arm as goosebumps spark where his fingers touch. Looking down his hand in mine and I glance back up at his slightly bigger smile. "Long time, eh?" Half joking I squeeze his hand, feeling at ease as he squeezes back. "There's so much I want to say."

"You have no idea how much has happened. How much I've missed you." He pulls me closer to him, hesitantly into a tight hug.

My arms connect around his back as opposed to around his neck. My feet remain firmly planted on the ground, but his arms tightly, supportively hold me. Closing my eyes I sigh in relief at the familiar smell of him, the comfort of Caspar.