Days pass into weeks, weeks pass into months. I move on autopilot.

I go to my lectures. I do my coursework. I read my textbooks. I go on nights out. I smile at the punters. I smile at my friends. I smile at Nate. I'm always smiling. It's this fake, cheery thing plastered to my face to let everyone know I'm okay.

But I'm not.

I am not okay.

There's a deep pit of despair that has opened up inside me and no matter what I do, I can't get it to close.

I think about that day with Jordan constantly. Hearing his voice break as I leave, the resounding click of the closing door, the silence that followed.

I see him sometimes but we avoid each other as much as we can. From what I have seen he looks as bad as I feel. But we don't talk. We stay away from each other.

I ignore Kerry when she's tells me it's for the best. I ignore my mum when she tells me these things happen. I ignore Reign when she tries to convince me I just need to get under someone else. I ignore the fact that no one seems shocked.

I fleet from being in agonising pain to feeling nothing at all. But when the pain does come, I am more then certain that the intensity of it is worse than death.

I plan my future with the same enthusiasm I have about everything else. Which is barely any at all. I move around like a zombie, but everyone keeps telling me how well I'm doing.

Nate has been a real friend. He's picked up shifts at work with me to help keep me occupied. He comes on long walks, and some days he brings me coffee to fill the void. Even though he doesn't like coffee.

He lets me remove the fake smile. He lets me cry. He listens to me go on and on, he holds my hand and doesn't tell me it's for the best. He keeps my connection to Jordan alive, he lets me ask as many questions as I want, he tells me how Jordan's really doing, doesn't sugar coat it.

He doesn't think I'm pathetic for asking after Jordan. Or for being consumed by my breakup. He doesn't judge, doesn't make snide comments. He lets me be me.

He's my best friend.

That's how my days go, an endless cycle of the same misery. I cling to the idea that I have done the right thing. That Jordan wouldn't be able to love me the way I want, that we would be in repeated of cycles of pain until we inevitably imploded.

But there are days where I miss him so much it's like an elephant is sat on my chest. I crave him constantly. But as the time passes I start to get used to the feeling. I grow an ability to live alongside it. It becomes bearable.

But it never leaves.

I dream about him most nights, even in the day he still consumes my thoughts.

"It'll be okay," Nate is telling me. I'm sweeping whilst he lifts chairs onto tables. "You'll be okay."

"I know I'll be okay," I say, sighing. "I just don't want go on feeling so... empty."

"Listen," Nate says. "Why don't you see Jordan before we break up for the summer? Talk to him? Get some closure."

"Because as Reign has rightly said - do I want closure or do I just want to give him the chance to tell me what I want to hear?"

"I get that," Nate nods. It isn't lost on me that we close the bar in perfect harmony. It's ironic, really. Nate is almost the perfect guy for me. Yet Jordan is the one I'm completely bonkers for.

What a cruel thing, what a sick twisted joke played on me by the universe.

"But it might be good, for the both of you." He keeps on. "He's plunged right off the cliff, there's no bringing him back from the brink."

I stop sweeping and look at the tall, strapping lad before me. "Do you want me to speak to him for me or for you?"

"Both." Nate says, grinning. "Definitely both."

"I think it's more for you."

"It would be nice," Nate is smiling. "If I didn't have to spend most of my days listening to the both of you pine after each other."

"It's not my fault you decided to make up with him. You could have stayed hating him, it would have helped me."

"I know," he says. The humor falling from his face a bit. "But he's a mess and I felt like he needed a friend."

Four days left until we break up for the summer. Then I won't see anyone for two months.

Nate, Reign, Jayne and I have found a house for next year. We're moving into together. Kerry got back together with Rory, and she's moving in with him, Jordan and a couple of the rugby boys.

That night, when I crawl into bed, the familiar ache of missing Jordan settles in my chest. My dreams are filled with him kissing me, touching me, telling me he misses me.

I wake up with a tear soaked pillow, but that's not uncommon these days. I go about my day as usual. I spend cheerleading practice messing everything up and getting shouted at. Then I'm late to work.

"You're late," Pete says. He's rarely ever down here with us. I wonder if he was waiting for me, trying to catch me out.

"I'm not," I insist. "I'm seconds early."

Pete laughs, "I'll let you off."

It's a busy night, busier than usual, made worse by the fact that Nate requested it off to go to some football match. The final of the world cup or something. I feel completely rushed off my feet, stressed, exhausted. I'm whizzing out beers as much as I possibly can.

My eyes catch a familiar shape at the end of the bar. I snap to it, focusing; only to find Nate and Jordan. Completely wrecked, arms on each other's shoulders, singing some kind of football song.

The song changes to chants of my name when their eyes land on me.

I start to panic, causing me to sweat more. I feel my hair start frizzing from the wetness.

I don't have my armour on. I'm not prepared to be in close proximity to him. I can't be in close proximity to him. How am I meant to work when he's there, leering at me. Eyes on me. Everything I've been dreaming about for months.

It's my second to last shift before I leave. I've managed to do my exams. I've managed to get through it all. This is meant to be fun. I'm meant to be enjoying myself.

What the bloody hell is Nate playing at, bringing Jordan here!

"We're drunk," Nate tells me as I reach them.

"I can see that." I try not to sound too cold, it's not like he's murdered my mother. He's only trying wear down my soul. "Nice time?"

"A bar crawl," Nate tells me. "This was the last stop."

"How convenient." I say. "Especially given you know my rota."

"You know her rota?" Jordan asks, it's the first time he's spoken. Even hearing his voice sends bolts through me. I can't look at him yet, not dead on. I just can't.

"Yeah, we're friends." Nate tells him. "We work together. Come on, you know that."

"Why do you know her rota?"

"I just told you why." Nate clasps a hand on his back. "Tell her your good news!"

"News?" I repeat. I'm trying not to look at Jordan, I really am, but my eyes are drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"He got an internship with The Observer for the summer."

"Oh..." my heart is pounding in my chest. He made a choice about his future and it had nothing to do with me. He didn't have to factor me into it. "That's great?"

I face him now. I have to. He's staring at me. One look at this beautiful face and I am melting. The yearning within me taking over. The need of him so consuming, my love for him in the forefront.

"Yeah." He grunts.

"Well done." I say, my voice strangled.

Nate is grinning, I want to call him a bastard and never speak to him again. "Ask her if she read your last article for The OxStu. The culture piece you did?"

My heart stops in my chest. "Culture piece?"

"Yeah." Nate says. "What was it about?"

"Nothing." Jordan grunts.

Me. It's about me. It's about our dates. He wrote it. He wrote a whole piece about it. I feel sick. I feel physically sick. What would he have said? Does the whole school know?

"Excuse me," I whisper, making a break for it. But Jordan is up, he's following me along the other side of the bar, his eyes never leaving my face.

He corners me at the end, "You haven't seen it?"

"No." I croak. I can smell him now, it's too familiar, too powerful. When I look at his face I can only see all the places I've kissed him, all the tender ways I've loved him.

"Do you want to?" He asks immediately.

"W- what?" I stammer.

"Do you want to read it?"

"No."

He stares at me for a long while. "What do you want me to do? Do you need me to drop out? How can I make this easier for you?"

"You can't," I gasp. Then more forcefully I say, "You can not drop out of uni because you have an ex. That's absurd."

"But I'd do it. I'd do it for you." His voice is so tender, I feel the ache within me rip wide open. "I'll take a gap year, choose another. I have options. I'll go to York. Or Leeds, or something."

I snort, "What are you going to do in York?"

"Drink," he shrugs. "Get laid."

I banish the image almost as soon as it enters my head. The nausea takes hold of me again, and I push past him, desperate to escape.

"Fuck, Autumn." He calls after me, following me. "I'm sorry. Wait. Autumn."

I push my way through the crowd and outside.

Air.

I need air.

Jordan is hot on my heels, following me to the bitter end. It's raining but I don't care. Let it drown this feeling out.

I turn to face him, letting the full force of him overtake me. He's so bloody perfect. The shape of his brows, his strong nose, the mess of hair. Those eyes, God, those fucking eyes. Everything about him is perfect.

We stand there, six-foot-apart, letting the rain wash over us.

"What do you want from me, Jordan?" I say, I can feel tears stream down my face.

"I don't know," he tells me. "I miss you."

"I can't do this. School is over in two days. I'm flying to Barcelona for the summer. I might do my year abroad there."

"That's okay." He tells me. "Take all the time you need."

"All the time I need?" I repeat. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I miss you." He says again.

"Do you even know how to miss someone?" I swipe, angrily batting away the tears.

He laughs a little, "I would have said no. You know, before."

"Before what?"

"Before you."

I glare at him. "You're a real fuck, Jordan."

"I know," he says.

Even after all this time I want him so desperately it hurts everywhere. I want to be held by him. To kiss him, I want his hands on my body. I want to be with him more then I feel the need to breathe.

But there's another tiny part of me that doesn't want to want him anymore. I don't want to feel like this.

"I can't do this," I repeat, going to step around him.

"Autumn," he implores. I hate my name in his mouth, the way it tugs at me. I stop dead in my tracks. "Just talk to me."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you. I haven't heard a peep out of you for weeks and weeks. You let me walk right out that door and haven't so much as waved in my direction. And now you want to talk?"

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry. I really messed up. I don't know how to fix it."

"There is nothing to fix. You're the same. Nothing has changed."

"Yes it has." He says forcefully. "Everything has."

I shake my head, "I don't believe you."

"What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. It's over."

"Then why can't you look at me ?"

I lift my head to meet his eyes, "I am looking at you."

But I don't look away quick enough and the air beings to cackle. It's familiar and strange at the same time. Then he makes this weird sound, like a groan, and he springs at me, colliding into me.

I grab at him and pull him towards me, our lips meeting at long last.

It's everything I remember and so much more.

We kiss for ages, I let all of the emotions wash over me, attacking every last one of my senses. It's a goodbye kiss, I tell myself. I deserve one of those.

When will pull apart, we're still holding each other.

"I'm going to wait for you." He tells me, his hand in my hair. "However long it takes. I'm going to wait for you.

"We're no good together."

"I don't care." He says. "I'm going to wait for you."

"You won't last five minutes."

"I've lasted this long, haven't I?"

"You haven't...?"

He touches my face as if I am the most delicate thing in the world, "Not since you."

"This is a real mindfuck, you know that, don't you?"

"Go to Barcelona," he says. "Have a good summer and when we come back, we'll see where we're at."

Despite everything I know to be true, I feel that little blossom of hope begin where the ache for him has been.

A dangerous thing, hope.

It can be taken far too quickly.

We kiss once more, then I insist I have to go back to work. He and Nate leave soon after. I wallow in the feelings that attack me, the despair and hope that grip me.

I hate that I miss him already.

When I get to my room that night, there'a a newspaper on my bed, staring me right in the face.

The front page has a headline that says, 'HOW TO FALL IN LOVE IN TWENTY DATES, AND HOW TO F*CK IT UP' by Jordan Nickleson.

I feel a smile spread across my face.

He loves me too.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know that definitely love him, and I maybe still want him, even if it sometimes is a complete shit show.

*THE END*