IT WAS HALF-PAST SEVEN WHEN I AWOKE, HEAD ON MY MOTHER'S LAP. I had no recollection of falling asleep, head buzzing, eyes swollen, and cheeks stained.

"Awake?" My mother's voice sounded to me. "You slept for two hours."

The best two hours of sleep I'd gotten all week. Sitting up, I craned my neck. "Your legs must be numb now."

She laughed. "That's the least of my concerns." She stood up, stretching. "Anyways, come downstairs. I'll make you dinner."

Something about that almost made me tear up again, because how long had it been since I'd had a meal prepared by her?

I pulled myself together, washed my half-asleep face, and went downstairs.

The smell of freshly made Shepherd's pie was drugging. I didn't even realize how quickly I'd attempted to eat until I burned the roof of my mouth, shrieking in horror.

"Oh, geez," my mother rolled her eyes. "Have you considered being more ladylike?"

"If waiting for food to cool a little so I can prevent my mouth from burning is considered ladylike, I'd like to very much replicate a caveman," I grinned with my face stuffed, but the smile died quick.

She crinkled her nose. "That's just gross."

I motioned to her, pointing at the chair beside mine. Instead, she stood, patting my head. "Laura."

My hands froze, fear setting in when I looked at her face. "What?"

Her eyes swelled. "What's wrong, baby?"

My throat closed. How was that the easiest and the hardest question in the whole world? How were things totally okay and yet, nothing okay at all? How was one very well above the surface, feet steady on the ground, and yet—screaming, drowning underwater?

How was one supposed to deal with the uneasiness that rooted to the very core, associated with a heart that was no longer quite theirs?

"I..." The spoon dropped, hand clashing with the table, and the words I uttered shocked even myself. "I'm selfish, mom. I'm so selfish and I hate myself so much. And I drag people into my messes when that's the last thing I should be doing, and I. . .always end up ruining the good things. Things you'd want for me to have. It's like a physical force is holding me back. And I—"

I did not realize I was crying until I got wrapped up in a hug. Mom didn't say a word, however. And I didn't need one to keep me going.

"I've lost a friend and then I've made so many more and somehow the day I lost him outdoes all the memories I now create. The loss of him feels greater, vaster than the sky now than it did back then, and I—I still. . .there's still not one day I wonder what it would be like if he was here, with us. If only we—if only I were smart enough to know or quick enough to have considered that something could've happened to him. . .if only I'd known. I should've, right? Wasn't I supposed to know? How—"

My voice broke, then. And something in my chest shattered completely, too. And I knew that Mom knew, because her grip on me tightened. As if she could physically feel me wither away. Dissipate.

"I'm so sorry I've not been able to sense your pain," her voice was so quiet. "I'm so sorry."

"I miss him so much, mom," I choked on my words, "that sometimes I wonder why I wasn't the one in the car that day."

"Don't you ever say that, Laura." I could tell from her voice that she had begun crying long ago. I was feeling too much to be aware of what I was putting her through, and in this moment—this instant that felt like it was spanning over lifetimes, I chose myself by reveling in the relief of repentance.

"It was never your fault. How'd you have known?"

Silence. And then, "I'm sorry, bella."

What for?

I shook my head, but she whispered to me, "Let it all out. All that you've been feeling alone. I'm with you now, baby. There's no need for you to be going through all this grief alone when you can have someone by your side, okay?"

"You can lean onto me. There's no point of battling in wars by yourself if there's someone willing to be by your side, right?"

Something ruptured deep in my heart, chest hollowing. It made sense, then. Why people chose to forgive and forget and love and regret to the very same expanse. That grief was nothing but love, warped—and without one, another would cease to exist. That losing and loving were the greatest honors of the living. That without imminent loss, perhaps we wouldn't plunge ourselves to love so deeply, as though the oceans were at a strife with us.

My mother stood there, arms loosely hung around me, and her eyes searched for meaning on my face. "What's wrong?"

My heart stammered.

"There's a person I've been hurting because I cannot clean my own messes. Someone who doesn't deserve to be treated like that. Someone that means a lot to me," my eyes fell to the floor. "But I feel unworthy. Of everything I've gotten, but especially him."

She titled my face to meet her gaze. "It's a boy?"

As I nodded, pink dusted my cheeks. "But—it's not. . . it's—"

Her hand flew to my head, fingers knocking on my skull. "I'm not dense, you know. And I know very well who this might be. Evan, I think his name was? Liam told me about him. Bring him over sometime when I'm home, will you? You speak highly of him."

"Mom," I whined. Embarrassment crawled over my chest. "You're missing the point."

She sat me down, poured me a glass of water, and then pulled a chair for herself. "Listen, bella. You aren't selfish because you wish to feel loved. You aren't selfish because you wish to be cared for. You aren't unworthy. You will never be unworthy of any good thing that happens to you. You deserve every ounce of love and happiness that comes your way. If your brain has tricked you into thinking otherwise, I'll remind you everyday how none of it is true. I love you, Laura. You've been a miracle in my life. Don't you ever think you're anything less than what I think of you."

I couldn't believe I still had tears left in my system when I'd been crying majority of the day. "I'm sorry." I wiped my face, but the waterworks knew no end. "I. . ."

No words came out. It was just a mother watching her daughter weep, silently, as she held her close, watching her pick pieces of herself and build her back from scratch.

And her daughter—she, all of a sudden, felt incredibly light. Boulders were off her chest and shoulders and her very being.

"You're not a burden to me, bella. You cannot ever be. I gave birth to you, for God's sake." She smiled at me once I looked up. "Don't underestimate me."

For the first time, my lips stretched. A miniscule amount, but I could see my mother's eyes sparkle. She continued, "If you're so considerate of this boy, thinking you don't deserve him, then treat him right." She clapped my arm. "Don't let go of a good one. There's not a lot of them in this age."

I laughed a garbled laugh. "You haven't even met him."

She rolled her eyes. "So what? I trust your choice."

I laughed again. Her eyes crinkled, lips tugging upwards, as she held my hand and traced her thumb over it. "Do you know what your dad said to me a couple months after we first met?"

I shook my head. They'd been a power couple in their college days, their stories never getting old, but I'd never had the privilege of hearing about this one.

"He told me, 'I don't feel it yet, but soon, I'm going to make myself worthy of you.'"

I gasped. "Did he?"

She stared at me. "Do you think you'd be here if he didn't?"

"Oh my God," I covered my face. "Mom."

She grinned. "All I'm saying is, you either give up or you fight for what you want. If it makes you selfish, so be it. If wanting love makes people selfish, there's not one selfless person in this whole world."

I groaned. "You're sounding too cool now. I need a break."

"Of course." She giggled. "So is he coming over for lunch tomorrow?"

I gave her a look. Then, I said, "I'm going to call Elizabeth."

"One thing at a time, bella." She smiled. "Don't overexert. I'm here if you need me."

Before I sprinted to my room, I hugged her for a long minute. When I was in my safe space, I sat on my bedroom floor, crisscrossed, and dropped my head to my knees. With one hand I pulled the box that was shut in the corner of my wardrobe, the chamber that carried all of my memories of Sebastian and Elizabeth. I let it sit beside me, closed.

I didn't plan to open it tonight. One thing at a time, I remembered. Only as much as my heart could take.

It was only then did I text Evan: can we meet?

▂

THE NIGHT WAS A STILL, STEADY LULLABY. Moon reflected on the puddle-riddled ground. It was quiet—far too quiet for someone else to be here. And that alone made my heart plummet. I checked my phone thrice before walking towards a bench. It had been two weeks since I'd seen him, talked to him like we did. He'd replied to me, though. I had faith in that.

Which was dwindling as minutes passed, since it was cold and my face felt numb. Still, it felt unreasonable to think I would get stood up by him.

I sat on one of the swings, gently perching my feet in the air. Streetlight shone right above, my shoes casting a shadow as I swung back and forth.

As I went in to check my phone again, a large shadow overlapped my feet, making me bounce out of the swing.

I spun around and lost my breath the moment I caught his glimpse.

He stood just as alarmed, if not more, eyes concerned and lips pulled into a frown. He was wearing an overcoat, one which made him look warm enough to want to embrace. And I'd missed him in more ways, more senses than one. I restrained all movements, but especially my hand—which so desperately wanted to reach out, feel, in some form, that he was here. That it wasn't a mere imagination of mine. That he was real.

Three feet of distance in-between—but he was here.

December cold was formidable, in a sense, yet I felt all sorts of warmth.

I had come rehearsed, yet all I could mutter was, "You scared me."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be sitting here."

Silence. Earsplitting kind. He was waiting for something, and I was saying nothing. What was I doing?

"I wanted to talk to you," I began. "Were you free?"

His face remained stoic. "Sure, yeah. What's up?"

Oh, God. He was making it harder. "I want to apologize," I fiddled with my thumb. "I'm extremely sorry for what happened that night—on your birthday. I feel horrible about it."

"It's okay, Laura." He sighed. "I told you not to worry about it."

"Sorry, that's my nature," I laughed, all awkward, and wanted to die when he didn't even crack a smile. "Thank you."

He leaned on the railings. "Are you okay? Your eyes are all red."

"Ye—yeah," I rubbed them unconsciously. "Allergies and stuff."

What allergies? Why was I lying?

"Anyway," I kicked my foot in the air. "How have you been? We've not talked in a bit, you know, in—"

He did not mince his words, and they cut straight through mine. "What did you want to talk about, Laura?"

His eyes were sharp, unflinching, while my legs almost gave up on holding the weight of my body. My eyes stung all over again.

Not like this, I reminded myself. I wasn't supposed to be like this.

When I looked back at him, he spoke again. "Because I'm sure you didn't ask me to meet you to simply ask how I've been."

You're right. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry all over again.

My gaze shot to his. His face held so much turmoil, eyes electrified. He walked just a millimeter closer, but I felt his presence as though he were wrapped all around me.

A million little pin-pricks felt to my chest, like needles protruding out of my ribcage.

Breathe, I reminded myself.

Eyes teary, I whispered, "I'm just. . .terrified."

Of admitting, but even more of what it could lead to. Of what it couldn't reach. Of how the morsel of happiness I'd collected in my palm could wither away. Of how I could lose the very person I'd started to trust more than life.

"Laura." For the first time that night, Evan's voice reached me how I had gotten used to it: soft, caressing—mirroring mine. "Do you realize that I could be, too?"

Oh, I thought, the realization gentler than the air around. Oh, of course. It's him we're talking about—the boy whose eyes replicated the stars.

As my mind ran laps, my eyes focused on his face and caught the faintest of smiles.

It all seemed to fall into place.

Words and feelings and everything I'd kept to myself broke out of the dam I'd built.

"Evan," I breathed. "I've been horrible to you, and despite all, you've shown me nothing but kindness. I don't know how you do it, I don't know how you deal with me, and I surely don't know how to repay you, because I'm not as good of a person as you."

His jaw twitched as he watched me.

"I'm learning, though. I don't think I've ever told you this, but there's so much to learn from someone like you. You're kind of amazing." I laughed. The air around us dropped several degrees lower, ice settling beneath my heart. "There's so much I admire about you. Your strength. Your drive. Your gentleness. How you make people feel at ease with your mere presence. Your humor. Your courage. And above all. . .your heart."

I paused. On his face was a kind of stupor hard to read.

"But there are things that I've kept unresolved for a while, and I've wrapped you up in them unnecessarily." I looked away, fingers curling into fists. "I'm sorry. I plan to resolve them soon, though. But I feel wholly unworthy of a person like you. I'm crass and abrasive and don't know what I want but too proud to admit it, and I mess up more times than I can count, and I want so much better for you, and yet. . ."

Wind stole the rest of my words. Strands of hair swept over my eyes, stealing my vision.

His arm moved, fingers flexing. All involuntary, natural. He had to force the movement down.

I understood not wanting to cross boundaries before things were clear for the both of us.

I still wanted him to run his fingers through my hair and to bury my head in his chest and to kiss him senseless.

When I met his gaze, he probed, "And yet?"

"And yet I can't help want you." I looked at the muddy ground, heart obnoxious and loud and tumultuous. Head dizzy from adrenaline. "I know there's no us right now," I paused. "But I want it in the near future. When I've figured out my messes and left the past in the past. That's what I want. You."

I said it. All of it.

I had said it.

I could no longer meet his gaze.

"Laura." Evan spoke. "Can you please look at me?"

That's the one thing I cannot do. I bit the inside of my cheek, and looked up begrudgingly. "Yes. Sorry."

I focused on his collar as I felt him shift.

"Stop saying sorry and look me in the eyes."

I blinked. Busted. I settled my eyes on his, and then: "Sorry."

God's sake. He covered a good part of his face with his hands, and then muttered, "Honestly, you're such a handful."

But—he was smiling. He was smiling for the first time tonight, and I was so shaken, I muttered, "You're smiling."

He crossed his arms. "Sure am."

"You've been acting like a grump since you got here. Why're you smiling now?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, pardon me for being immensely bummed about the possibilities of you dumping me in the middle of the night at my childhood park."

My mouth hung open. That's what he was thinking? "Firstly, you cannot be dumped if we never dated. Secondly, why on earth would I do that?"

"Who knows? You are, at your core, evil." He sighed. "I need to cover all bases."

"Shut up," I muttered, but I was grinning, and so was he. He took a step forward, and then asked me, "Can I hug you?"

I couldn't ever deny myself a hug from him.

"Are you willing to wait?" I asked again, words small. "Not long, don't worry. I just want to get things right first, but I want you by my side as I do that."

"I told you I would." He messed with my hair. "For you, I'd wait a lifetime."

a/n: idc if it's cheesy, but i'm so incredibly proud of my own character :)

you're golden,

abrial