06
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I feel my blood, thrumming, like a river almost spilling over its banks. My brain quickly processes what just happened, because—what exactly just happened?

"Ethan." I feel like I have a lot to tell him, but I just stare at his pair of glinting eyes in the dark. He reaches out and touches my left elbow, I fall silent. His touch is calming and electrifying at the same time. But then he removes his hand and shows me his fingers, they're lingered with a liquid that looks black in the dim light. My blood.

"They threw a freaking broken bottle at you," Ethan mutters. I reach out my right hand and touch my elbow as well, it doesn't hurt that much actually. I didn't even feel the pain before he touched the wound.

"It's okay," I begin. "I'm okay."

"I'm sorry," he interrupts.

I shake my head. He attempts to touch my elbow again, but I grab his wrist midway with my other hand. "This is your third time apologizing to me since I've met you again."

"I don't know what else I could say." Ethan's sharp breath slices through the silence between us. "Fuck. I'm such a mess."

My heart aches so bad that I feel a lump rising in my throat. I stare at his face."What are you saying?" My voice soft and trembling, I let go of his wrist and cup his face. "Of course you're not."

"No, Aly," Ethan says, brushing my hand that's on his face with his finger. "I am, really."

I don't answer. He continues, "I don't know what I'm doing now, Alyson. I really don't know, and—" Ethan starts to choke because he is, literally, crying.

My jaw slackens. I've never seen him cry, never. He doesn't like expressing his feelings to others, and I know this, so seeing Ethan cry startles me.

He just looks at me. There are tears in his eyes, but his eyes still shimmer as if they are stars that sing. And I remembered what Ethan told me two years ago: "Sometimes eyes need music too."

"Ethan." I brush away his tears with my thumb. I feel the warm tears slowly forming in my eyes as well. "Ethan. Please, just talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Ethan still doesn't speak. And I know that I'm not the person who can let him open himself up. I couldn't even be that person back then. But he is still staring at me. His warm breath fans over my face. There is a weird line of electricity surging between us, and I realize what I want.

I want him, all of him. I want to taste his mouth again. I want to be the girl whom he can really trust.

Two years is a long time to wait.

And so I lean in, my lips touch his. But the kiss feels odd like there is something missing between us, and all of a sudden, everything around me seems to dwindle.

My feeling is right, because Ethan pushes me away. He pulls himself back and I look up into his eyes again. All the color has drained out of them, so they just seem black. There is no singing anymore. And I see something in his eyes now, something instantly recognizable: fear.

I want to do anything to take that away.

"I—" I start. "I don't know, shit, it just happened."

"Alyson." His voice sounds like a stranger's to me. Maybe it's that or maybe because I just kissed him, I feel like crying again.

We don't speak. And I realize that the silence between us has become the best way we can communicate.

"Alyson," Ethan says again moments later. "Why?"

I start blinking, because the tears are at the edge of my eyes. "I want you," I say, my voice oddly calm.

I listen to Ethan's breath. They are deafening. "Shit." His voice sounds like a fury, and it startles me.

"What did you expect then?" I ask, my tears flowing out.

I think of how he just pushed me away. It was too dark to see a hint of apology in his eyes, and I sure hoped that there was. But all I saw was really just fear.

"Let's just— go to the drug store first," Ethan's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"What— what?" My voice goes quiet.

Ethan takes my hands. "Your elbow is still bleeding."

I don't know what time it is now, it's probably really late in the morning, and my head feels heavy. In fact, everything feels heavy.

༺═──────────────═༻

The parking lot is empty, I watch Ethan coming out of the drug store. I sit on one of the many parking blocks. The yellow lights inside the drugstore shine through its glass windows, and if they're off, this place would be pitch dark.

Ethan walks toward me with a pack of bandages and other first aid stuff in his hand. He slowly lowers his body and sits on the floor next to me, crossing his legs.

He takes my right arm, inspecting. I watch his face. It is emotionless, but as he touches my wound, his eyebrows knit together slightly. He takes out a bottle of sanitizer and screws open the cap. "This will hurt," he simply says.

I nod. I watch him pour the liquid onto a piece of cotton pad. He starts dabbing my cut on my elbow with it. A sense of pain and itch stagger me as I tense my jaw and let out a tiny squeal, my shoulders rising as well.

Ethan stops. He looks up at me with his pair of warm eyes, and I see sympathy. "You okay?" he whispers.

I purse my lips and nod. He takes my arm with his other hand as he starts dabbing again, this time more slowly and softly. How can he not be attractive at this moment? He concentrates on his work, and his brown hair is messy after the chase, but they just look a million times better at night.

I bite my lips. For fuck's sake, Alyson, stop thinking. He pushed me away just now. He didn't want me.

"I don't understand," I say, tears forming in my eyes again.

"Don't understand what?" He is peeling off a piece of bandage now.

Don't understand what? Why is he asking me this? He knows damn well what I was asking. "Why did you push me away?"

Ethan's hands freeze in the air. He stares at me again, this time his eyes pitch dark without emotions. He lets out a heavy breath. "I was not ready."

I feel a ball of frustration welling up in me. I stand up abruptly. "Not ready? Then what are these? What are all of these?" I gesture with my arm.

Ethan pulls me down and sticks a piece of bandage on my skin. "I'm a dick, okay?"

I yank away my arm angrily. "This is not what I meant, my God. I'm saying all of these," I say as I rub my face, "why are you spending your time with me when you don't love me anymore? Why did you come to the diner every day and call me to the park and walk me home and help me clean my cut?"

My outburst is jarring and loud in the silence surrounding us. It's just that I have been suppressing these emotions for too long—anger, bitterness, confusion—and they finally erupt.

Ethan stares at me, his eyes widen in surprise. He starts getting up from the floor slowly and towers over me. "You don't know me anymore."

"Well yes I don't fucking know you anymore! Of course I don't! But you acted like you wanted me to know you again!" I bristle with rage.

Ethan's eyes darken. "Well fuck me then, I messed up."

"You did," I say, in my calmest voice. "You do."

He lets out a shaky breath and doesn't speak anything.

"I'm leaving, Ethan. I'm leaving next week." My voice comes out as a trembling one. And yes, I am leaving next week, how can time fly like that? So cruelly fast. Time never gives us second chances.

Ethan stares into my eyes again, unconcealed dismay flashes through his eyes. "What?" he says.

"Yes, I'm leaving next week, Ethan. I'm going back to London and— and we probably won't meet each other again! And you're here giving me all the mixed signals that I don't fucking know what you really think of me, of us." I raise my voice again as I slowly back away from him.

"I don't have time anymore, Ethan, I need to know what's up between—" my tears finally flood out, again "—between us," I choke.

"Look, Aly, I don't know how to start—"

"How is that hard to start? Just tell me if you still love me or not!" I wipe away my tears and sob. Ethan looks more and more distant as I step backwards, somehow representing how we are supposed to be—we're supposed to be distant.

Twilight is blinking between us now, and I notice how utterly stupid I am. I should've just let go, I should've just forgotten about him and not come back to Redwood.

I turn around and start running. I have to run away from him.