I stared at Nik mutely, the shock of his sudden appearance not quite wearing off yet. He was the last person I had expected to see on my doorstep. Besides, after the day I'd just had, I had almost been sure I had conjured him up from my own imagination until he had spoken. "What... What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," he said.

Liar, I thought. There was nothing here that the city centre didn't already offer. The sheer convenience of the location of Ansel's apartment was one of the reasons he paid two thousand euros for rent every month.

"How did you find out where I live?"

There was no way Ansel would've told him, and the only other person who had come by recently was Wolf – and he had made his disapproval of any interaction between Nik and me perfectly clear.

Nik shrugged. "Nadi told me."

I blinked in surprise. "Nadine?"

What was she up to now? I hadn't even known she would remember where my dorms were located. Then again, she had kept my phone numbers for three years, long after I had deleted hers. That had been how she'd gotten a hold of me – and Ansel – to stage that reunion for Nik's first night back.

"Why would Nadine have my address?"

Nik looked at me, a knowing glint coming into his eyes. "Why wouldn't she?"

I sucked in my cheeks, unamused. Then I changed the subject, because there was no way I could get to the bottom of this mystery without letting the proverbial cat out of the bag. "You know this is a bit stalkerish, don't you?"

He shrugged again, unapologetically. "I'd never see you again otherwise. You had this 'final goodbye' look at the station yesterday."

I opened my mouth to refute his statement, then figured there was no point in lying. He knew me that well.

When I remained silent, Nik spoke again. "Invite me in?" he asked. His voice was soft now; his lips curved in what looked like a hopeful smile. His eyes stood out brightly against the rest of his face as he stared at me.

"I..." I tried to untangle my tongue enough to issue a sharp rejection, but found myself saying, "I suppose I owe you a cup of coffee..."

His smile, a full one this time, fairly lit up the whole corridor. I moved past him to get to the door, if only so that I wouldn't have to be blinded by it.

Once I had closed the door behind us, I stood with my hand still on the door knob for a long moment, gripping so tightly I was practically strangling it. I could feel Nik's gaze warming my back. I would've thought he'd say something, but he only stood silently behind me, waiting. Finally, I took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

I almost regretted it when I found those intense blue eyes trained unerringly on me. Why had I let him in? It was just starting to hit me that I was stuck, all alone, with him now. This was worse than that time at Ansel's apartment. Then, at least, I had been able to leave.

"So," I chirped, grimacing when my voice came out too high-pitched, "coffee, huh?"

"Please," he replied, standing back when I bustled past him around the room. I had gotten my own kettle, and that, coupled with the sink in one corner of my room, had ensured that I wouldn't need to head out to the shared pantry whenever I wanted a hot drink. I didn't have a coffee maker, though – why bother when I was over at Ansel's so much? – so he was going to have to make do with the instant stuff.

I spent a long time filling up the kettle at the sink, setting out the two cups – one was for Ansel when he visited – I had stashed away on my bookshelf, rearranging the wires... Finally, I flipped the switch on top of the kettle and stood staring at it, as if my desperate gaze would be enough to hasten the boiling process. Behind me, I heard Nik clear his throat. He had been standing by my desk in silence for almost ten minutes now, watching as I went through the motions of dragging out the moment before I had to face him again. Drawing in a long breath, I slowly pivoted to look at him.

Time for the awkward small talk, then.

"So," I dragged out the word, rummaging around in my mind for something to fill the smouldering silence. "How have you been?" And then almost immediately realised how inane this question was – hadn't I just seen him a day ago?

If Nik thought the same, he didn't show it. "I got the job," he said. He was fiddling with the edge of his shirt until he saw me looking, upon which he shoved his hand into the pocket of his trousers. He cleared his throat, clarifying even when he didn't need to, "at Commerzbank."

He had to have been really impressive at that interview. In this economy, when companies were being a lot pickier about hiring fresh graduates, I had rarely heard of anyone being offered the job on the spot. "That's great," I said, trying to stretch my lips into some semblance of a smile. "I guess that means you'll be getting your own place soon?"

Nik looked like he was endeavouring to decipher something from my expression. "Maybe."

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, glancing over my shoulder even though I knew the water wasn't yet ready.

"Would you visit me if I did?" he asked suddenly.

I turned back so quickly, I strained the muscles in my neck. I lifted a hand to rub at the ache at the back of my neck, taking this chance to appear preoccupied.

"Are you all right?" His lips twitched, like he was trying to hold back a smile.

I cleared my throat. "I'm fine." Hoping I had successfully evaded his question, I turned to the table and drummed my fingers against the cool surface. Maybe if I focused hard enough on the movement of my fingers, he would think I was really engrossed in the act and drop the subject.

I should have known he wouldn't let me get away with it. "So, would you?" he repeated.

It would be rude to tell him I never wanted to see him again... wouldn't it? "I guess... if there's reason to," I mumbled.

"Friends can't visit each other without a reason?" I could feel his gaze on me.

I kept my gaze trained on the table top. "Are we friends?"

"Aren't we?"

The click of the switch popping up announced that the water was done boiling. I busied myself with pouring the water into the cups I had laid out on the table, unreasonably grateful to the inanimate object for its perfect timing.

Nik stood slightly to the side, watching as I poured with a trembling hand. A little of the water sloshed over the rim. I grabbed a few tissues to mop up the mess, and, to divert his attention from my apparent nervousness, asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

There was a pause, before he said, "Black, thanks."

In the process of reaching for the coffee creamer, my hand stilled. "Oh." There was a note of surprise in my voice that I couldn't quite hide. Now he would know I'd remembered.

"Some things change," he said quietly, his words filled with a wealth of meaning.

Meaning I didn't want to examine.

I laughed, even though it sounded forced to my own ears. "You know what they say – change is the only constant in life." I slid his cup over along the side of the table, not wanting to chance another scene like the one back at Ansel's apartment. Had that really been just two days ago?

He came over to stand beside me, his arm brushing mine as he reached for the cup. I forced myself to pick up my own and pretended to take a casual sip. That action backfired when the hot liquid scalded my upper lip and it was all I could do not to flinch.

"It's hot," Nik said, watching me as he briefly felt the sides of his cup before letting his fingers fall away.

"Yeah," I muttered. It was the best I could do at this point. My throat had closed up as a memory had assailed me – the memory of how, once, when I had scalded my tongue, Nik had laughed and leaned in, whispering that he would make it better with a kiss...

I took an involuntary step sideways, away from him, then bumped against the plug and almost tipped the kettle right over.

Nik lunged forward and stabilised the kettle before it could fall off the table and drench my feet in boiling water. Unfortunately, any gratitude I had for his quick save was drowned out by the overwhelming panic that had seized me upon his invasion of my personal space. Since the kettle was on my left and he had reached behind me to grab at the handle, I was effectively boxed in between his arm and the table.

"Still so clumsy," he murmured, looking down at me, making no move to step away. "That hasn't changed, at least."

"I've changed plenty," I croaked, fisting my hands by my sides. My heartbeat had ricocheted; my skin felt flushed. He was so close. Too close.

"Have you?" he asked, a little rhetorically, it seemed. The slight compress of his lips told me he was annoyed by something. But at least he retracted his hand and moved several paces away. He picked up his coffee cup, bringing the rim to his lips at a tilt, all the while still fixing a level gaze on me.

I lowered my head to my own cup, taking a cautious sip to offset the sudden chill that had crept over my skin.

We stood silently for a while, each absorbed in our coffee, taking too long blowing at liquid that had since cooled. I was thinking, again, about his vibrant Facebook profile, stamped with experienced he'd amassed over the past few years. Experiences that outshone my routine, drab life.

"I've changed," I whispered at length, almost to convince myself. "People change... move on with their lives. I'm no different."

He was quiet for a beat before he spoke again. "Have you? Moved on?"

The sudden direct question had caught me off guard. I laughed shrilly, my grip on my mug tightening like on a lifeline. "I like to think I've gotten older and wiser, just like everyone else."

He put his cup down with a dull clunk, cutting over my flimsy evasion. His voice was soft but determined as he said, "You know what I'm asking."

I pressed my lips together. "Maybe you should go. It's been a long day, and..." I was staring, hard, into my coffee now. My hand – the hand that was holding up the mug – had started shaking again.

Instead of responding to my almost-plea, he cleared his throat and said, rather hoarsely, "Tell me you're not with Ansel."

I blinked. I hadn't been expecting such a question – not like this. The old Nik never would have asked outright, especially not after I'd asked him to leave. The old Nik wouldn't have pushed. The old Nik would have left. I looked into this new Nik's determined blue eyes and acknowledged that there were now sides to him that I didn't know anymore.

"It's none of your business," I said finally, turning away to lay my cup gently on the desk. At this point, my hands were shaking so much it was either put the cup down or drop it.

"Are you?" he pressed.

His persistence, even in the face of my reticence, inflamed me. "What does it matter?" I bit out, whirling around to fully face him. "We broke up a long time ago. It's none of your business who I'm with now."

"Maybe I want it to be my business," he said, eyes narrowed, lips set into a mutinous line.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have left." But even as I said the words, I knew it wouldn't have made any difference had he stayed. We had been much too young to get in so much over our heads at that time. It had been one of those relationships destined to fall apart.

The anger drained out of his expression. Now his brow was creased. "I came back," his voice was low, strained. His eyes searched mine, such emotion shining from them that it almost hurt to look at him. "Doesn't that count for something?"

I lowered my eyes to escape his probing gaze. When I didn't reply, he went on, "I worked my ass off every day so that I could graduate early and come back as soon as possible."

Still looking at the floor, I stayed stubbornly mute. Nothing could have pried my jaws apart to ask the question I knew he wanted to answer right then.

I heard him take a deep breath – maybe in preparation for what he was about to say next; maybe out of frustration at my lack of cooperation. "Tamy–"

I chose that moment to speak up. "Why did you really leave, Nik?" I paused, looking up to gauge his expression. His face was drawn; his eyes downcast. "You were eighteen. You didn't have to go."

He didn't reply, but I saw a muscle flex in his jaw.

Did you leave because you wanted to get away from me? I couldn't ask the question I really wanted to. Besides, I wasn't sure he would answer.

And even if he was willing to answer, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Never mind," I said, trying to keep my tone mild. "That happened so long ago... It doesn't matter. It's all ancient history."

His head snapped up. "How can you say that when there's still a giant elephant in the room every time we see each other?"

I opened my mouth to deny it, then snapped it shut with a click of my teeth. Why waste my breath denying something we both knew was true?

"This, between us," he gestured, as if doing so would help me better understand what he was saying. The problem was, I knew exactly what he was talking about. "It's still here."

"Well, we've managed to carry on with our lives for three whole years," I said drily. "I'm sure whatever this is, it won't be a problem."

He sighed. "Be serious, Tamy."

"I am," I said, tongue firmly in cheek, but then I sighed too. From the moment he'd gotten off that train and our eyes had met with the same burning intensity of four years past, I'd known this thing between us was far from over. I walked over to my bed and sank down onto it, picking at my bedspread.

Nik didn't come to sit beside me, a fact I was grateful for. I didn't think I could handle being close to him right now. He remained standing next to my desk, but his eyes never left mine.

"I don't know what you want," I murmured, giving up on pulling the loose thread free and twisting my fingers together now. "What's the point of talking about it now, after so long?"

"It matters to me," he said tightly. "It matters a lot."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, my renewed anger making me run off at the mouth again, even though I ought to have shut up and let the conversation die a natural death. "As if our break up ever hurt you as much as it hurt me." Then I bit my lip, because I hadn't meant to reveal my weakness. But it was the truth. He had hurt me. He had hurt me so badly that I'd even wondered, at one point, if life was even worth it anymore. And that had been the sobering moment in which I'd realised that I'd needed to change. It was my life, and I needed to live it for me. My voice lowered as I let the one question I'd long wanted to ask creep past my lips. "The whole time we were together... Did you even feel anything?"

His eyes flashed. "Trust me," he bit out, "I definitely felt something."

I was shaking my head even before the words had fully rolled off his tongue. "At that time... It felt like I was the only one who cared."

"Well," he moved away from the desk and started pacing, "maybe you were so busy dreaming about the perfect fairytale that you forgot I had – I have – feelings too." He turned on me now, eyes chilled to an icy blue. "But that was the problem, wasn't it? I wasn't real, not to you. I was just the means to fulfilling the fantasy you had in your head."

"That's not fair." His words hit so close to home that I automatically stiffened in rejection. "I really did love you, as much as I could've loved anyone at that point in my life."

"But that love came with so many conditions." His jaw was now clenched; his shoulders set in rigid tension. Despite his obvious agitation, though, his voice was level. This was Nik as I remembered him, but not. Up until three years ago, when Nik got angry, he had always gotten more distant, more silent. And back then, the more he had withdrawn into himself, the more it had made me want to throw furniture at him – anything, to make him react. He had always been so closed off when it came to dealing with our relationship – so unwilling to reveal his feelings, even to me. In all the time we had dated, I had never known much of what had been going on in his head. Towards the end, especially, he had become so aloof towards me that it had, inevitably, made me cling harder. And the harder I had clung, the more I had demanded from him – the more he had withdrawn. I had never once heard him express his feelings so directly as he was doing now. It hit me, not for the first time, that he'd changed. We both had.

"You put me up on a pedestal," he continued. "Or who you thought I should be, anyway. I couldn't live up to your expectations of Prince Charming, all right? No guy can. What you wanted just doesn't exist."

I was silent. As much as it pained me to admit it, what he was saying was true. I had been horrifyingly naïve back then. Disney with all its idealistic romance stories had dictated what I had thought love was and Nik's every action had been held up against an impossible standard. There had been no way for him to live up to the perfection I'd created in my mind.

For the first – and only – Valentine's we had spent together, he had brought me to as high-end a restaurant as a seventeen-year-old student could have afford, and then taken me up to the hilltop at the other side of the city so we could sit together and watch the flicker of the city lights down below. It should have been utterly romantic. But I had sulked all night, because he hadn't gotten me flowers. Roses, I had been certain, were the symbol of a guy's undying love.

"Lux got roses," I'd said, turning away when he'd tried to put his arm around me. It had been a repetition along the same vein of what I had been saying all throughout dinner.

"Roses are crazy expensive on Valentine's Day," he had tried to explain, when I'd first brought it up. The second time I'd done so, he had stopped replying altogether.

Faced with the same recurring topic, he'd let his arm fall limply away, but he hadn't responded to my leading statement. Even as self-absorbed as I had been then, I had felt him mentally withdraw.

"Ansel gave Natalie roses, too," I'd sighed wistfully.

Silence. I'd glanced over and seen Nik with his eyes fixed on the scenery down below, his eyes reflecting the lights flickering in the distance.

"Valentine's not Valentine's without roses," I'd tacked on, just wanting a reaction – any reaction – now.

He hadn't reacted at all, at least not outwardly. After another long stretch of silence, he had pushed himself off the ground, dusting his pants off. "I guess we should go, then," he'd said, turning to leave without even offering me a hand up.

Now, I recalled the distant way in which he had offered me a bouquet the next day, and cringed. Back then, I'd had a fixed idea of what constituted love, and I had wanted my first relationship to be the complete fairy-tale that romance books and films had shown me it was supposed to be. I had wanted the lavish gestures, the singing choir of angels in the background, the passionate kiss that set off fireworks in your head. I hadn't realised reality was different from fiction – needed to be different from fiction – and that all these so-called romantic gestures meant nothing when you had to force them.

"I know. I'm sorry," I said, so quietly that I didn't know if he'd even heard me until he stopped in his tracks and stared at me. When he didn't say anything for a full minute, I added defensively, "What?"

He shook his head slowly. "You've changed."

He was right. In all the time we'd been together all those years ago, I had never once apologised to him, even when I'd known I had been in the wrong. The last time we'd had such an argument, I had burst into tears and shouted, "Let's break up then!" He had fallen silent at my ultimatum, and the topic had never come up again.

"So have you," I countered.

He stood there, hands in pockets, staring at me. "I guess we both grew up," he said.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, choking a bit on the chuckle that escaped my mouth. "We were young and stupid back then."

"There are so many things that I would do differently," he said softly now, "if I had the chance."

I couldn't tell him that I agreed. "It doesn't matter. It's been over a long time."

"It doesn't feel over to me." He came towards me again, stopping just short of me. I was still sitting but he was standing before me, so close that if I stood up, we would be practically standing in each other. "Does it?"

No, it wasn't over. But I didn't say that. I couldn't. History had already proven that we were terrible together. It had been three years since then and we had both changed, but what was to say that this time wasn't going to be the same unmitigated disaster?

I had lost more than half of my closest friends and almost all my will to live the first time we had broken up. I couldn't take it another time.

So I shook my head and changed the subject. "Wolf would swallow his tongue if he heard you say that." Then I bit the inside of my cheek, because now I had dropped myself into a new can of worms.

"Why?" Nik was watching me shrewdly. And, just like every other time before, when he'd asked me about the group in this challenging tone, I got the feeling that he knew much more than he was letting on.

I shrugged, unwilling to backtrack but not fully committed to enlightening him, either. Maybe, I realised now, it wasn't about helping Nadine keep her little secret. Maybe it was pettier than that. Maybe a part of me liked keeping Nik in the dark. A part of me liked knowing something he didn't. It was a childish form of one-upmanship, but maybe I was just that childish.

"I'm not an idiot, you know," he said drily, when it became clear that I wasn't going to say anything else. "I know the lot of you can't stand one another."

Well, so much for the one-upmanship.

I wasn't as surprised as I ought to have been, but I did have some questions. "How? And when?"

He shrugged. "It was obvious enough. The moment I got off the train, you were all standing so far away from each other, glaring like enemies. A complete stranger would've been able to tell."

I'd known he could be observant, but even I hadn't expected this. So, this meant that Nadine's little act had barely worked five minutes.

"Wait. So you've known all along? Even before Lux missed the turn?"

A corner of Nik's lips tilted upwards in amusement. "Wolf is a really good liar."

"Isn't he?" I chimed in agreement. Then I realised that wasn't the point. "So, if you knew right from the start, why did you play along?"

He smirked suddenly, an action that sent my heart rate soaring without warning. "How else would I ever get to see you?"

I couldn't tell if he was joking. This was the second time, since he'd been back, that he had all but declared his intentions towards me.

"You've gotten really..." I trailed off, searching for an appropriate word.

"Irresistible?" he asked, with the lingering ghost of a smile.

"Forward," I finished, ignoring his suggestion. I nodded, satisfied with my choice of vocabulary.

The smile faded. He studied me seriously for a moment. "You know what I've learnt from everything that's happened these past three, four years?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this, but I obliged, "What?"

"That it's surprisingly easy for people to walk out of your life forever. That's why," his eyes were locked onto mine as he spoke the words softly, "when you find someone you want to keep around, you do something about it."

Uncomfortable with the level of intensity radiating off him, I tried to laugh it off. "That's a quote from a TV show."

His gaze dropped, as if my reply had disappointed him in some way. When he next looked up, he was smiling faintly. "Doesn't make it any less true."

It was my turn to look away, lips pursed. I didn't know how to deal with this new Nik, the one who pushed instead of withdrawing into himself whenever he met with an obstacle.

He stepped away, as if conceding to drop the subject – for now. "What happened here, with the others?"

"That's easy," I said sardonically. "When we broke up, they all thought it was because I cheated on you with Ansel."

There was a pause in which I thought to myself that if he asked me the question outright, I would walk out, own room or not. Nik was looking at me with narrowed eyes. I wondered what he was seeing in my expression.

"I know you didn't cheat on me," he stated confidently, then hesitated. "But after we broke up... I wondered."

I suddenly felt the need to play the devil's advocate. "How can you be so sure nothing happened before?" I mocked. "Ansel and I got really close after you left."

He stared at me for a moment longer. "I know you wouldn't," he said, but his confidence was faltering. "I trusted you."

"Just like I trusted you." I stared back, my expression saying everything my words didn't.

He blanched.

This line of conversation was skirting the edges of the Pandora's box I never wanted to reopen. I wrapped my arms around myself. "What do you want, Nik?" My voice was soft, tired. I was so, so tired. I think Nik knew that.

He stepped towards me, his footsteps echoing in the room, only coming to a stop right in front of me. We were so close – so close to touching. "Tamy," he said, eyes fixed on mine with a sort of feverish determination, "what happened back then–"

"There's nothing left to say," I spoke over him. I'd put too much strength into the statement, however, and my voice came out sounding far too loud. The unexpected increase in volume made us both flinch.

Unable to stand being in such close proximity to him any longer, I leapt up from the bed and went over to the sink at the other end of the room, under the guise of washing my hands.

I let the running water fill the silence for a while, before shutting off the faucet with an almost violent flick of my wrist. "Leave the past in the past, Nik," I said. My voice was barely a weak thread of sound.

"Is it because of Ansel?" His eyes were guarded as he asked this, but the frozen way in which he waited for my answer told its own story.

I hesitated. It was on the forefront of my mind to lie and tell him that I was with Ansel, simply because it would be the easier way out. I knew Nik. He would never jeopardise a friend's happiness – especially not Ansel's. Being the only guys in the group before Wolf had joined in the tenth grade, Nik and Ansel had always had a special rapport.

Then I realised that, it was because of this special rapport they shared, that I couldn't let him believe the misinformation that the others had obviously passed on to him.

"No," I said after a long pause. "I'm not with Ansel. I don't know what you've heard, but I never have been."

Nik exhaled, his breath expelling in a rush. "Good," he said. "Then I won't have to steal you away from him."

I was sure I'd heard him wrongly. The Nik from three years ago would've never said something like this. "What?"

"You heard me," he said unsmilingly.

It took me another moment to realise he was serious. I started sputtering, "What are you...? But you guys are best friends."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Tamy," he said slowly, "but Ansel and I haven't been best friends in a long time."

I was silent for a moment. Logically, I had known that. Ever since Nik had returned, the tension between the two of them had been an almost tangible thing, shadowing the both of them at all times. Three years ago, when I had chosen to run to Ansel, I had known it would happen. It had been inevitable. But hearing it spoken out loud...

It made everything sound more sordid, more real.

More of my fault.

"It doesn't matter." Nik looked away, but I saw that his eyes had dimmed. No matter what he said, it mattered. Ansel and Nik had a relationship that went way back. Their mothers had been best friends; they had grown up together. They had a history no outsider should have been able to touch.

Except I had, and I had ripped it clean apart.

An acidic surge of guilt washed over me. "You're living with him now," I began, not quite sure where the sentence was going. "Surely..."

"Surely, things can be resolved? Just like with you and Nadi? With you and Lux?" His voice was hard; unforgiving.

I clamped my mouth shut immediately, frowning at him. "That's not the same." I had never been all that close to Nadine. There had been a point in time when we had gotten along, but even then, she had always felt like more of Nik's friend than mine.

But Lux – Lux had been...

Nik shrugged, unrepentant. "It's not that much different."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Well, then it isn't that much different with us, either."

He came over now, until he was only a hair's breadth away. "Oh, trust me," he murmured. "It's different with us."

For a long, terrible moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. He had that look in his eye. My heart tripped, suspended in that split second between leaping and falling. He was up close in my face, his breath ghosting over mine. A part of me wanted him to lean in all the way. The other, more rational part knew it would ruin me.

Then he moved back, a wry smile lighting his lips. "You don't need to look at me like that."

I had to clear my throat and swallow once, twice to get my voice working. "Like what?"

"Like I'm as appealing as Death." He sighed, half-turning, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't– You're–" I bit my tongue.

"Do you hate being near me that much?" He wasn't looking at me when he asked this question.

I didn't know what to say to that. "I..."

When no further elaboration was forthcoming, he shrugged, the slump of his shoulders looking somehow defeated. "Thanks for the coffee," he said abruptly, moving to grab his coat.

My brain must've been still addled, because I heard myself asking, sounding almost confused, "You're leaving?" Was he angry? Had I hurt him?

His gaze was wary when he looked back at me. He reached out as if seized with an urge to stroke my cheek, before changing his mind and jerking away. He let his hand fall back to his side, where he shoved it back into his pocket. "It's late. You look tired. Get some rest."

I watched him walk away, frowning at the feeling of dissatisfaction that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat.

"Nik," I found myself calling his name. My right foot lifted and hovered, as if ready to take a step forward.

A few steps from the door, he turned back and flashed me his customary half-smile. "Don't worry. At the risk of sounding like a stereotypical villain, I'll be back. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

***

The conversation with Nik stayed in my mind all through the next day, and then the one after that. I was starting to feel more than a little disgruntled about the whole thing. He had turned up out of the blue, bullied his way into my room, forced a confrontation... and then left just as suddenly as he had arrived.

It wasn't that I had wanted him to stay, I reasoned. It was that something... somehow, felt unfinished. It felt like an itch festering inside of me that I couldn't quite reach.

But it had nothing to do with the almost-kiss, or the resigned look on his face when he had pulled back from touching me. Nothing at all.

You're not getting rid of me that easily, he'd said. I scoffed to myself. If only that had been the case four years ago. Eighteen-year-old me would've appreciated the sentiment a lot more.

But I wasn't eighteen anymore.

What a mess. The debris from the aftermath of what had happened all those years ago had long settled, but, in returning, Nik was stirring up old memories better left buried. And now, want it or not, we were all close to knee-deep in it again.

But in the end, in spite of Nik's parting words, the next couple of days passed without incident. It made sense, though – he had to be busy with preparations to start his new job. It was even likely that once he had started work and moved out of Ansel's place, I would never see him again. And wasn't that what I'd wanted, from the beginning?

Thursday afternoon saw me heading for the garden on campus near the side exit for a breather before my next class. It was a large plot of grass, lined with two straight rows of religious statues and the occasional stone bench in between. The statues had been vandalised by some immature students and sported splotches of red paint in inappropriate areas that made the overall effect look rather unfortunate. Still, the garden was a tranquil place to relax when I needed somewhere to go in between classes.

Even though it was winter, being the only spot of greenery on this side of the campus meant that there was always the odd student milling about. Because of that, I didn't pay much attention to the single figure seated on one of the benches when I approached. It was a girl, that much I could see, but her head was bent and she looked busy leafing through a stack of papers. Only after I had sat down on a bench opposite and the girl looked up, shaking golden curls impatiently out of her eyes, that I realised I knew this particular student.

Odd. All these years, and I hadn't once run into Lux – nor any of the others – on campus. But now, barely a week after Nik's return, it was like an invisible force was suddenly pulling all of us back towards each other.

The surprise on Lux's face quickly morphed into anger and she scowled at me. Without a word, she stuffed the sheaf of papers into her tote bag and swung it over her shoulder. Then, sniffing disdainfully, she bounced to her feet.

She was in such a hurry to escape that a few loose sheets fluttered out of her bag as she flounced off. I watched the sheets drift to the ground, internally debating if I ought to call after her. I still hadn't exactly made a decision when I looked up again and saw that she was already halfway across the plot of land.

Definitely out of earshot.

Shrugging to myself, I got up and picked up the papers she had dropped. A glance at them told me these were her class certificates – slips of paper with her grades and the professors' signatures on them, that she was supposed to submit to the students' affairs office so that they could process her credits. She would definitely be in a panic once she discovered they were gone. She needed them to graduate.

Holding them so hard that the sides began to crumple, I moved to shove them into my bag. Maybe if she asked nicely, I would give them back to her.

If not... Maybe I could burn them.

***