don't fall to the waves, love [lin]

[allison nicole moore]

a storm is brewing. you could see it in the skies. and it's that feeling where the thunder would rumble in your gut. i glance up just as lightning strikes the charcoal gray sky and clouds, and i ignore the rusty old sign that warns of coming here during a storm. well, yeah, that's exactly what i am doing.

i slide my hands into my khaki shorts and kick up the loose, still-warm sand with my black sandals. the air is warm, too, so i'm not cold. i think of what my mother would say, seeing clouds like these. wear a jacket! it's not even raining.

she's dead.

i step onto the threshold of the beach house, examining the heavily damaged floor. one step forward and you would fall through, im sure. i already have my own way of stepping across to the balcony, however. i shuffle along the left wall, then cautiously walk out to one of the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. of course, there isn't much left to support.

to the right of the wooden beam is a gaping hole, but i simply step over it, onto a sturdy space, then to the left again, and to the balcony. the balcony is in the back of the house, facing the turmoil of the raging sea. but the whole wall is taken out. it feels like i'm standing on air.

sliding my shaking hands into my shorts again, i just stare in the distance. far off, some more lightning makes a show. the thunder rumbles in my belly once more.

the funeral had been last night, and i had picked out the most beautiful coffin for my mother. my lip curls in disgust. i hate that coffin. then this morning, a got a call from a local office, asking to make an appointment to read my mother's will. my jaw clenches. give me a week, i had said. i'm still coping.

we understand, but we still need to review the will as soon as possible. i had hung up before i did something stupid. my mother would have never approved of that.

i sighed, low and deep, my heart weeping.

i miss you.

[Siren Lucas Torres]

I'm Mary Blake Everest. I go by Blake. My best friend is going to be married in a few days, and I honestly don't know what to do about it. I'm excited for her...but not excited for me. That will be the fourth wedding I have gone to this year. It will be the fourth goodbye I have said with someone else moving forward and leaving me behind. I feel great. Then I feel stuck. But at least I feel.

My bare feet squished comfortably in the warm beach sand, and I closed my eyes contently. I was walking along underneath the lightly rumbling sky, just taking in the silence and the tranquility of the atmosphere. I loved coming to the beach for a breather every now and then, and that's probably the main reason I moved to Daeland. Everything was going pretty smoothly for me and it was painfully dull most of the time, so I found myself drifting from town to town every year or so. it gave me a great new start and great new opportunities. It was a shame I always stuck with the safe ones, because if I had taken half the risks that had been offered up to me in each new place I went, I might have more fun.

Chuckling lightly under my breath at some of the memories, I let my eyes flutter open and take in the approaching storm. My arms swung in great sweeps like I was trying to take off and shoot right up into the sky to take my place next to the sun and the moon. The shopping bags containing the wedding gifts I had bought for Savannah were teetering on the tips of my fingertips as I spun in a lazy circle, feeling light and air-like.

The famous abandoned beach house was in my line of vision now, but I had never been there on my own before. Plus, it felt like I was breaking some unspoken code if I went inside without Savannah. I had heard stories of forbidden places that were shared by friends, and when one of them trespassed alone, they were lured into the greedy clutches of some rapist or something. My heart thudded louder in my chest at the thought. But still, I didn't turn around and frolick off the other way. Nor did I stop in my tracks and consider where else I could go. The house felt like a magnet that was pulling me in. Besides, it was exactly the sort of tool I was looking for to launch me into an exciting adventure.

My life had become such a boring joke, that maybe getting raped or kidnapped would put a little something to my name. I could picture the little movie reel in my mind of friends and family kneeling beside my hospital bed, weeping and screaming and begging me to stay with them. Or a group of police searching the area for a sign of the girl they had seen a picture of on the news. One big mystery revolving around me. With that thought, I shot off towards the rickety old structure with my bags flopping along on my wrists. This could be the climax I had been waiting for.

[allison nicole moore]

movement. not the rolling waves, tumbling clouds, and flashes of light. my eyes dart down to the beach below, seeing the tides rise higher and higher. there it was again, the flitting, graceful distraction. then i saw her.

to say in the least, the first thing i think is she is beautiful. she's this beautiful creature and i'm a shame to be looking at her and all her innocence, dancing without a care. shopping bags and plastic sacks hang from her arms. several, in fact, that i'm surprised her imaginary wings aren't weighing down.

mentally, i take a step back and look at the bigger picture. a huge storm is moments from all out raging. the storm looks so dangerous that i'm afraid it might be a hurricane. and she's down there, alone, and coming towards the beach house, teetering on the craggy cliffs.

my fists clench, and suddenly i'm angry. her stupidity, my mother's death, my broken peace. my eyes close, i try to calm myself. relax. my chest heaves one more time before i turn on my heel and start skipping down the stairs, avoiding the weak steps.

i reach the back door, glass crunching under my feet. she's closer now, brown hair whipping in the wind. i jog towards her, my eyebrows pushed deeply down into my blue eyes. i can feel the veins in my neck twitching.

"what the hell do you think you're doing out here?!" i scream at her. a twinge of guilt pricks at my heart, but i push it aside and continue. i reach her and grab her by the shoulders. "are you too damn stupid to realize there is a hurricane brewing out there?"

i stare wildly into her eyes for a moment before wrapping my hand around her upper arm and start pulling her towards the abandoned house again. my car is around front, and from there i could just drive her to her own car, and she could be on her way.

grimacing, i think of how big and scary i must look. i hadn't slept for at least twenty-four hours and i seem insane, deep circles under my eyes. and then shrieking at her like that. i feel that guilt again, but i don't stop.

then the clouds burst, and the downpour begins.

[Siren Lucas Torres]

We are the lucky ones who shine like a thousand suns.

At first, I really do think I am being kidnapped. I feel adrenaline prickle under my skin, but whether it is from fear or thrill, I have no idea. Those helpful little counterparts inside my head speak up as my upper arm is grabbed tightly, and I am forced to listen to them because I can't hear the stranger over the storm. My imaginary mental angel is the first to say something about how I should run or fight back.

It tells me I was incredibly stupid to think that a dangerous soul-destroying situation could get me the attention and action I wanted in my life. But then the other side of my brain pipes up and argues that I'm just being a chicken and all of this will result in a great story to tell in the future. I'm too overwhelmed to listen to either of them.

Then there's a new place in my mind that beckons me into realization. It's a familiar voice that's telling me I know this person. That I should respond in some way. It doesn't make any sense. Then the skies open. Rain. Thunder. Wind. I'm assaulted by noises all around me, and I jolt both physically and mentally as I recognize where I am and the situation I am in. We would probably be just as safe out in the violent torrent of sea and sky then we are in this house. We.

Alarmed, I look up to face whoever had dragged me through the door and prepare myself for the worst. I knew it was a man because the hands had been calloused and large and much too sturdy for a female. I didn't, however, expect it to be a certain recognizable man with a certain recognizable face that was matured and worn with time. My "kidnapper" was handsome, had dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and was suddenly extremely familiar. My jaw dropped like it was made of lead.

"Ian?" My legs were instantly thrown into a fit of spasms and I fell backwards and clattered to the floor by the entrance of the beach house. The pain in my tailbone was overthrown with gratefulness. I had landed on one of the only strong spots remaining in all the framework. I counted my blessings not for the first time that week. This had all quickly become a big pot of luck. It was all luck. Luck that the stranger was Ian. Luck that the wood held my weight. Luck that I was alive. My lips curled up into a small smile, and I rubbed my sore butt as I lifted myself onto my knees, awaiting a response from the man above me.

[allison nicole moore]

we have just crossed the threshold of the beach house when she decides to dump her butt on the floor. panic grips me, my eyes widen. i'm not sure if the floor would hold. i instinctively reach forward as she thumps onto the ground. just a small, little thump is all. i can't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

and then i'm angry again. since she didn't seem to respond at all on the way here, and she doesn't look scared, i assume she didn't hear what i said out there. the wind had been shrieking and whipping around us, so i repeat my question.

"what the hell were you doing out there? don't you know better than to walk out into a storm?!" i can't help but think the reason i am so angry is because it is out of concern. i don't even know her.

well, any person would have done the same. knowing her doesn't have anything to do with it.

i glance at her, more or less perplexed. she is smiling up at me, a small, shy smile. an almost familiar smile. pursing my lips instead of smiling back -- as i wanted to -- i bend down and take her hand, pulling her back to her feet. the unasked question hangs heavily in the air. do i know you? i say nothing.

sighing, letting go of my frustration, i ask, "are you okay?"

[Siren Lucas Torres]

I'm Mary Blake Everest. I go by Blake. I just got done shopping for my best's friends wedding which was the mark of another empty future in my wake. Or at least, so I thought. I was just pulled from a threatening storm into a lonely little beach house by a childhood friend. His name is Ian. My future may not be so empty so soon.

Ian's voice was deeper of course, and the tone was harsher, but I knew the voice so well now that I could actually hear it. I could connect it with plastic dinosaurs, rootbeer floats, and squeaky swingsets. So, with the flashbacks fresh in my mind, I responded like I naturally would have years ago. "Yeah Ian, whatever. I'm totally fine."

I brushed myself off like those girls in the movies did when they fell. I don't know why. I wasn't dirty. I guess my hands just needed to move. After all, Ian didn't seem to recognize me at all, and I must have thrown him for a loop with my relaxed attitude.

It didn't seem like the little boy that I had once knew to treat a lady, even one that he didn't know, with cold contempt. He could have been worried about me. Maybe he did remember me. But I felt like there was something underneath the surface that was lashing out, and that there was a method to the madness so to speak. Something grave would have to have put him in a bad mood if he was lecturing me on being out in a storm that he was sitting in himself. On private property.

Then it all hit me at once. It had been twelve years since I had seen this guy! For all I knew he really could have been trying to kidnap me. He could have developed some sort of kidnapping fetish or a disorder of some kind. It wasn't very reasonable. But none of my thoughts were very reasonable until they had been filtered through the obstacle course of a system in my head.

Either way, it didn't matter what was making Ian so grumpy. He was grumpy now, and I had just interrupted alone time in Grumpy Land. Personal experience told me that it was a bad thing to interrupt.

"I...I mean...yes! I know not to walk in storms!"

My voice was high-pitched and kind of pitiful now. I wasn't speaking like I would speak to Ian. I was speaking like I would speak to a stranger who had just yelled at me for being in a storm. Like I should have spoken in the first place. "I was just on my way home and I decided I wanted a bit of peace, so I came to the beach. Then I decided I wanted a bit of adventure, so I came to this house..." And now I was speaking like it was Ian again. After all, I wouldn't tell a complete stranger what I was doing before he caught me. Right? The normally powerful confidence I had in myself was slowly seeping from my pores into a little invisible puddle on the ground. Crap...

[allison nicole moore]

she knows my name…

i flinch when she says it, falling so casually from her lips. like its been practiced and said many times. the tone of her voice seems right, too, and a cold itch lingers at the back of my mind. i reach for it, struggling to remember, but the wisp of the memory escapes. frustrated, i search for a name, any name. nothing comes, although the taunting familiarity is still there.

then everything changes. suddenly, she’s scared. she’s uncertain and shrinking away from me. it’s painful watching, even if i don’t know her. now there’s nothing familiar. i don’t know this girl. or at least this side of her. guilt crushes me. i realize i let my anger get out of control. i could’ve hurt her, and i already seem like a kidnapper. but as i watch, she seems to forget about how she got here, and she is telling me about her day, like to a friend.

i shake my head. no matter what questions were burning in my throat, i had to get us out of here. the storms’ winds were building, literally ripping planks off the outside walls of the house. i grab her by her waist and swing her up into my arms, tucking her safely against my chest. i’m heading for the stairs when suddenly, the air explodes, and i stare in shock as a bolt of heat and light strikes the sand down on the beach.

for a moment, i’m blinded, black spots forming in my vision. i don’t wait. instead, i stumble for the stairs, feeling along the walls with my shoulders. fear is welling in my mind, forcing out the memory of the weak stairs. in a hurry, i pound up each step, and when i reach the fifth, i'm falling.

the wood tears at the skin as my leg collapses through the step and in a desperate panic, i push the girl away from me onto the remaining wood, the safe steps, and then cling onto what ever purchase i can find. under the stairs should be a closet, just like any other house, but instead it's all fallen out. a direct drop to the pointed rocks below.

[Siren Lucas Torres]

I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.

Ian. He still hadn't figured out who I was. It was starting to annoy me, but I didn't bother explaining myself. The storm was getting hideously frightening and I just wanted to go home before it got worse. I considered asking him to carry a bag for me, but when I opened my mouth, the sound of my voice was met with a loud tearing sound. Then everything began to tremble.

It felt like the walls of the beach house were caving in on me and the sky was breaking apart. This wasn't just another storm; this was like an apocolypse that was being unleashed on just the two of us. I registered a scream-probably mine-and folded into Ian's arms like a puzzle piece. The realization didn't me feel safe like the princesses wrapped up in their prince charming's arms from Disney movies though. The feeling that washed over me instead was a sort of raw desperation. This man that I never thought I'd see again could be the very last human I would ever touch.

The cogs in my brain short-circuited momentarily, and I felt myself being dragged alone through the dangerous obstacle course of rotting word. I was like a rag doll. Utterly useless in Ian's straining arms. Gravity was beginning to have its fatal effect on both of us. All in a flash of a second, a stair gaveway inevitabely to our weight, and I heard another high pitched scream in the back of my mind as Ian fell away and I was propelled forward. This was the action I had wanted when I had come to the beach house in the first place, except it should have been me fighting gravity on a broken staircase to preserve my life. Not my childhood friend. Another scream-definately mine. A grunt. Ian's.

"Don't move! Oh my God, we need help! Don't you dare move!"

There were more comforting and sane things that could have been said. Of course he wasn't going to willingly give up and fall to his death! Still, I fought for time and seemed to console myself by reminding him to hold on. With all the plans I had made over the years in the dark of my room, knowing I wouldn't amount to anything, I had plenty of movie moments stored up for use. Normally, it was me being rescued, but I could take the hero's place in this scenario. I flipped through thoughts like they were television channels and ran back and forth to recreate each desperate rescue attempt as I watched Ian slip away from me. The weather-worn structure creaked with effort. Then I remembered.

"Ian! I have to use the wall next to you so I don't fall through the staircase! This can work, I know it can. This will work. I just need to know the safe path down!" His knowledge of the shortcut through the failing framework was all I needed to make this work. We just needed to work fast. I, Blake Everest, was about to defy gravity.

ooc;; sorry I am TERRIBLE at action roleplaying :/ Bear with me!

[allison nicole moore]

gasping, my legs swing wildly through the air, meeting nothing. there's nothing to hold me except my arms, and the hope that the framework of the remaining stairs would hold. i feel splinters dig into the skin on my fingertips and i wince, but i don't dare give in.

the air coming in to my lungs is suppressed, my chest pressed against the wood. i feel like the oxygen is coming in less and less. i can't breathe. vaguely, i see the girl standing above me, screaming. don't move! if my life hadn't been depended on, i would have rolled my eyes.

i grit my teeth and try to heave myself up. the muscles and tendons in my stomach strain, scraping against the framework. i groan, my body screaming for rest. no use. i glance frustratingly up at the girl.

i just need to know the safe path down!

safe path down? safe path down where? the stairs? i don't really know what she's talking about, or maybe it's just the panic seizing up my mind. i can't think, i can't think, i can't think. the terror of death is everywhere. in my lungs, in my muscles. mother, i might be joining you soon.

"i..." my tongue feels dry and plastered to the roof of my mouth. i feel like screaming. what if i tell her the wrong answer? strangely, her death scares me more than my own. "just follow the walls and pillars! the framework is more structured around there."

[Siren Lucas Torres]

I'm Mary Blake Everest. I go by Blake. And...I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I had come to the abandoned beach house to put myself in danger. And now, I had put someone else in danger. It was an ironic sort of torture that begins in the brain and slowly paralyzes every other part of your body. It numbs everything. I don't think I'll ever figure out what I'm doing.

I could almost hear the question in his voice. Well, if I could detect anything but fear in it, then I was positive I had heard a question. What was I doing, and how was I going to do it? That was a very valid question indeed. But Ian had told me what I thought I needed to know, so I began to shuffle towards the edge of the stairs and cling to the railing. I was only about five steps above him, but it felt like I was a whole world away. Little pieces of splintered wood were falling like raindrops through the gaping whole that was swallowing him up. It was like I was being taunted.

My sweaty hands clutched the banister with purchase as I tried to lean down and figure out the best way to pull Ian up. I wasn't strong enough to do anything without some kind of leverage, so I looked around me for some form of tool to use in my rescue. For all the good that my frantic head swiveling was doing, I might as well have been blind. Then I noticed the solemn curtains that were being beaten by the wind coming from an upstairs window. They looked moth-eaten, but were still intact and seemed to be made of a thick fabric. They looked intimidating. They looked like a way out.

I knew immediately that I could use them to tie myself to the railing, which Ian had just assured me was one of the stronger fixures, and secure myself so I could pull him from his dangling position. But I didn't know how stable the room was or if the tattered navy blue draped would hold me. It was a shot in the dark for sure, but I might just be able to pull it off if things worked in my favor. Making up my mind, I turned to crawl back up the stairs to retrieve my lifeline. Then I remembered that Ian would have no clue what I was doing.

There wasn't enough time to explain myself, so I swallowed the absolutely wild fear that was threatening to consume me and inched back towards my old friend to shout at him. "I'm going to create a sort of harness so I don't fall down there with you! But I'm going to pull you back up in just a second, so don't give up on me, ok?" I wanted to wait and make sure that he would agree to my request, but the clock was ticking, and it wasn't on our side.

My hands shook as I practically wrapped my whole body around the railing and the wall it was attached to and I was sure that I would make it out of this with plenty of splinters as proof. My dark brown eyes dilated in terror and detirmination at the thought of getting out alive to show the evidence of my endeavors to my friends. Bit by bit, I pushed myself up the length of the stairwell and closer to the curtains. The wind was howling like a siren against my eardrums. The rain was pelting the side of the house so hard that I could feel it underneath my skin. Nothing could possibly have made my journey to the ghostly room anymore horrifying.

Except for another flash of lightning and accompaning roll of thunder of course. This lightning bolt nearly burned my eyelids right off as I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed purposefully for once. I needed someway to release my pent up fear, and screaming kind of reminded me that I was alive. Without a care in the world of falling the floor, I scrambled as fast as I could to the open window and ripped the curtains from their rings like some sort of derranged superhuman. The thunder was practically urging me on with every deafening clap.

Then I was running like the energizer bunny down the stairs, close to the firm foundation of the wall and pillars, calling Ian's name and tying the disgusting curtains around my waist. I was beginning to doubt that they would hold, but I had gone to all the trouble so damn whatever got in my way now!

"Can you hold on with one hand?" I encouraged Ian as I stretched myself out as far as I could go, kind of secured to the railing by the knot I had tied, and kind of flapping freely two stairs above him. My pale, shaking hand was suddenly still and inspiring as I reached for one of his.

[allison nicole moore]

i don't hear her, not that it matters anyway. i watch silently as she, at first, cautiously makes her way to the curtains. it clicks what she's going to do, and i shake my head at her stupidity. i said the wall would hold, but i'm not so sure the railing would hold. but while my life is on the line, i don't dare criticize her further.

then lightning flashes and the thunder rumbles its haunting, sad keening. i see the girl flinch and sprint the rest of the way to the curtains. i notice a floorboard creaks under her weight, but i'm not worried about it.

my whole body aches impatiently as she ties the moth-bitten curtains around her waist and to the railing. finally, she leans down, a single, smooth hand extended. can you hold on with one hand? i can't help but give her one withering look before reaching up. as i grasp unto her, i feel my other hand slip, and i swing myself back onto the stairs. my heart thumps as the railing gives way to a sharp crack.

she falls only briefly before i catch her and quickly untie the hideous curtains. i sigh, relieved, watching the railing disappear into the ocean spray. she's back in my arms, small and warm and safe. i stand, not letting go, and follow the walls back out to the front of the house.

it's still raining. it slaps the ground angrily and stings my skin without mercy. i run to my car and slide into the driver's seat, the girl still cradled in my arms. for a moment, i stare out the window, the only sound is the pair of us breathing hot puffs of air. the temperature must of dropped.

finally, after a long heart-throbbing silence, "you have some explaining to do,"

[Siren Lucas Torres]

In my good times there were always golden rocks to throw.

I barely had the chance to savour my victory before I was being yanked from my safehold by the vicious storm. So the prince and princess thing wasn't exactly realistic, but when people's lives flashed in front of their eyes in movies, that was all too possible. My mental angel said its prayers and my mental demon practically tore its hair out in fright. I could literally feel the pull of death as I was summoned to the rollercoaster of waves below me.

But Ian, returning the favor, caught me in my fall and stripped me from the confining curtains, making a break for the front of the house. I couldn't have imagined a dumber escape route considering that it had been the zone we were escaping from in the first place, but I wasn't about to bring myself to say anything in protest. My shopping bags were left dejectedly in the front entrance, but I barely noticed as we rocketed for the man's car in the onslaught of sea spray and rain. We clung to each other so tightly that I was beginning to feel sympathetic towards my aching ribs. I never planned on letting go.

Ian's car was unsuprisingly rocking back and forth, battling mother nature, but it was warm inside and it smelled safetly of leather and something minty. My head was so swamped with the stench of fish and salt that I wanted to suffocate myself in the scent of Ian's carseat. As I went to bury myself alive in the welcoming cushions however, I realized that I was being spoken to.

My eyes bleary, watery eyes blinked rapidly in response as I looked up into Ian's face. I hadn't heard what he said, but I didn't really need to ask. By this time, I had already called him by name in several situations. And it wasn't everyday a complete stranger knew you by name, rescued you from certain peril, and then cuddled into your arms without comment. All within the same hour.

My smile didn't quite reach my eyes, but I was aware that I was smiling softly at the absurdity of it all. This was even better than what I had been searching for in the abandoned house originally. I couldn't really help but be amused. Thunder still rang in my ears, so I was sure I was speaking a bit too loudly, but I curled my legs under me and sat up on my knees in the driver's seat, prepared to reintroduce myself at last.

"Why Ian, I thought that you would have been able to match everything up by now!" I smiled a little bigger and didn't give him my name; instead I recited something I used to say to him as a little girl. I knew it would have more of an impact. "I don't know why I'm friends with you Ian. All you ever do is treat me like a little girl. Well someday, I'm going to be a lady! And then you'll be sorry you ever told me fairies weren't real!"

[allison nicole moore]

Her warm breath left perspiration on my cold skin. She looked up at me, her brown doe-eyes all wide and innocent. I felt the urge to tease her and say she wasn't so innocent. She left me in a heap of trouble. Of course, I didn't say that. To me, we were still strangers. But there it was again. Her name was on the tip of my tongue. No matter how far I reached, though, the memory was just out of my reach. She smiled, and I realized how much I love her smile. How much I'd miss it if I didn't see it everyday.

Now that's a crazy thought.

Why Ian, I thought that you would have been able to match everything up by now! Warmth spreads to my toes and sore fingertips at the sound of her voice, the fall of my name. My name on her lips was like a drug. My stomach tumbled in unease. Where did these feelings come from?

Our bodies were so close. Being wet, and coming in from the cold, a fuzzy feeling settled over me. I wanted to hold her to me again, and rest my cheek against her damp red hair. I wanted to run my hands over her delicate, fair skin. She smelled intoxicating.

I was puzzled. I've tried to guess, but I just can't. Just give me a clue, I plead silently. She looks expectant and she opens her full, pink lips, I don't know why I'm friends with you, Ian. All you ever do is treat me like a little girl. Well, someday, I'm going to be a lady! And then you'll be sorry you ever told me fairies weren't real!

I think my heart stops.

My breath halted in my lungs, and I felt like I was choking on air. Suddenly, it was clear. I blinked. Mary Blake Everest. As it all came rushing back, I realized the way I had thought of her earlier. At first, beautiful. Then stupid. And then my hormones were raging. Immediately, I felt weird and awkward. For all of it. But at the same time, I wanted to kiss her.

All these emotions were building up and I wasn't sure on which one to react. I thought of my mother, how happy she would be to see Mary. And I remembered how I always called her Mary, just to tease her. I needed to tell mom. She'd be so happy.

I stopped, and gazed at Mary with sad, sad blue eyes. "Oh, Mary..." I sigh.

[Siren Lucas Torres]

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

I felt this strange explosion of emotions burst at the seams in my chest when the first flicker of understand lit up Ian's eyes. This could all just be some screwed up dream that I was was teasing myself with as I yearned for excitement even in my sleep...but I was strangely content with that. If a figment of my imagination stared at me like Ian was staring at me now every night of my life, I would die as the most happy woman on earth.

His gaze reflected an almost unsettling passion and I was getting the vibe that he was going to try and devour me any second. It felt like I was on cloud nine being wanted like this. For all I knew, he could still not be able to remember me at all and was just grateful that I hadn't flown off into the sea a few minutes ago. But I was still basking in the glow for however long it would be there.

My fingers instinctively reached out to fix his shirt, which was slightly crooked thanks to all the running and wind, but they stopped in the air across from his chest, suspended in contemplation. I was so tempted to pull him into a hug and squeeze everything out of him until we were both little kids again, building castles out of blocks in our classroom. But I had to make sure he remembered me correctly first. It'd only make the moment weirder for both of us if I started flinging myself at someone who was probably still processing everything. I was seriously suprised I wasn't off my rocker after the traumatic near-death incident I had just experienced!

Then I heard what was almost too soft to be someone's voice. Too soft to be my name. But it was. Mary. Not Blake or Evie and certainly not the 'who?' I had been dreading in the back of my mind. There was only one person in the world who had ever dared to call me that without expected retaliation. This wasn't a dream.

Unfortunately, I couldn't dramatically throw my arms around his shoulders and ask him a thousand questions. I couldn't squeeze us back into the youthful versions of ourselves either. Because Ian's tone had been so melancholy and quiet that I almost expected a funeral dirge to appear in his place. It sounded extremely fragile for someone who was being reunited with an old friend.

I wrapped my arms around myself instead and tucked my chin into my neck. The car was still warm and slightly humid now because of our damp bodies, but I was getting chills. "What's wrong Ian?"

[allison nicole moore]

She almost reached for my shirt. For what? To pull me in and kiss me? I couldn't help but hope so. But then she wrapped her arms around herself instead, tucking herself into a safe cocoon. I realized what I'd done. My voice had been so soft and heartbroken, cracking with grief. The pain stung at my eyes and I thought I might cry.

I blinked and sighed again.

Before I could say anything, however, I had to touch her. I just had to. I reached up with a trembling hand and pressed my palm to her flushed cheek, and with my thumb, caressed her skin. It felt so intimate and gentle that it almost felt like two lovers reuniting, not best friends. It may have seemed like that for me, but I tried to convince myself that it was out of loneliness.

"Mary." I whispered again. I picked at a loose thread in my jeans. Should I tell her? I felt happy to see her, but I didn't want to ruin it by telling her about my horrible week. It didn't feel right after twelve years of no contact.

I needed someone to talk to, though. There was a barren desert expanding in my chest, drying up my lungs and crumbling them to dust. I was so alone.

"My mom..." Memories of hot chocolate chip cookies made me incoherent for a moment. Mary had dropped hers in the sandbox. "She died of leukemia just last week."

I watched her with bated breath. Mary had always been close to my mom, but it'd been awhile. My blue eyes searched her brown ones before I couldn't stand it anymore. I looked down at the thread between my sore fingers.

Mary's gaze always had an intensity to it. Like she could stare down into your soul, or read your mind. Maybe she could. She guessed my thoughts often enough.

Suddenly, I didn't feel like talking about my mom so much anymore.