"Favourite food?" I ask, looking across at my angel as she takes a sip of her wine and makes a face at the taste.

"Not this, for sure," she mumbles, placing it down, "But I do have a fondness for watermelon."

I smile, "Note taken."

Having nearly used up our entire day at the spa, the four of us now sit in a sauna to enjoy our last hour. From 'couples' massages to steam rooms, we have been thoroughly rubbed, prodded, and spoilt to relaxation, and I can tell Quorra is much more comfortable with me. Lucas and Hannah sidle next to each other on the other side of the bench, wrapped in towels and whispering lowly. I don't want to know what moves my best friend is trying and failing to put on Hannah.

Did I mention that Quorra is in a towel too? Just knowing that she is completely bare underneath the fluffy material hugging her body tightly has me all kinds of uncomfortable. I am trying my best not to stare at someone who isn't mine anymore, but it's difficult to find a place to look that doesn't distract me. Even her face leaves me breathless, flushed with colour from the high heat of the sauna and as soft as I remember. It's difficult to be around her and not want to just stop, stare, and take her in. I've been deprived of her beauty too long.

I find it's best to just not meet her eyes at all, even though I know it will start to bug her soon.

Yet, I just know that she feels like me too.

I can see it in her eyes when her gaze accidentally falls to my stomach, or lingers a second too long on my arms, when her readable eyes sweep up to mine, or her lips curl up in a tentative smile. Working out was a way for me to vent my frustrations in the years while we were apart. Paired with my incredibly-stressful job, it worked well, and now instead of the muted outlines I used to have, I have a solid stomach. I'm no body-builder, but I don't think Quorra would like that anyway. The fact relieves me.

Her favourite place to look is my hair. Seventy percent of the time, when my eyes search for hers, they're looking up at my hair, as if she wants to comb it out of my face, but doesn't dare. Does she think it's too long?

I run a hand through my hair self-consciously.

"What's one thing about you that you wish people knew? That people never ask but you'd like them to know?" I ask, trying to retain every little piece of information she gives me.

She runs a hand through her hair, shifting her part. I love when she does that. It opens up another part of her face for me to admire and memorise. It makes her look like a new person, yet still my same, dorky Quorra. My Quorra. I'm sure it's fine to call her that in my head, as long as I don't say it. Right?

I tune back into real, boiling-hot life to hear her answer.

"About me? I'm a pretty boring person, Slater," she laughs softly.

Over the past few hours, she's grown used to saying my name. I can tell it doesn't hurt her anymore, like it used to. It's no longer a reminder of the tears I caused her, but of the happy memories we shared and are sharing. She's also been letting me say her name, but 'sweetheart' has grown on me too much now - rather, her little smile every time I say it has me prisoner.

"You're the most interesting person I know, sweetheart," I say, keeping my gaze straight ahead to avoid it falling where it shouldn't, "Surely there's something. Any secrets to tell me?"

Silently, she wonders for a while.

"I kissed a girl once."

That has the other three of us in the room in a trance-like state. Hannah and Lucas cut their conversation short. My head snaps to her, unable to stop itself.

Quorra seems embarrassed, colour blooming on her cheeks like fairy lights on a Christmas tree.

"Were you lesbian?" Lucas is first to ask, incredibly blunt, ignorant, and insensitive as always.

My angel blushes even darker, sitting up straighter and casting her gaze downwards, "No? I-I don't know. I was sixteen and just wanted to experiment and... see if I liked it."

I lean in closer to her, interest peaked, "And?"

She looks at me, the perfect picture of mortification, "I mean, it was just a kiss. I don't know! It was actually my first kiss."

"That doesn't answer his question, Neversea," Lucas steals her attention for a moment while Hannah remains shocked into a silence.

"I wouldn't know," she defends herself, voice climbing higher, "It's not like I slept with her!"

My best friend snorts unconvincingly, "You didn't have to sleep with D to know you fancied the socks off of him."

"LUCAS!" Quorra and I exclaim in unison while Hannah doubles over in a fit of bubbly laughter.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"God, I'm exhausted," Quorra sighs, face-planting elegantly into bed

We've been dragooned into sharing Lucas' spare bedroom, even though I have a feeling the door next to his room is another unused room. Quorra doesn't seem too bothered by it so I don't let it bother me either.

I can't help but smile at her as I sit down beside her and place her legs over my lap, "Me too. Who knew that lying down and being pampered would be so taxing?"

The edges of her rosy lips curl up; the image alone is one I just stop to admire. I can't help but voice my thoughts.

"I can't believe you're here right now," I murmur under my breath, "It's surreal."

A pause.

Her eyes lift to mine, the paragon of ambivalence. Unless I imagine it, her smile fades a little. My heart rate skyrockets - did I say something wrong? Don't tell me I screwed this up already. She stiffens and lifts her legs off my lap, turning her body to lie back against the pillow beside me. The silence that hangs between us is enough for my anxiety to drown out any rationality in my mind.

"Me neither. I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she admits eventually, voice thick with emotion, "Part of me didn't want to see you again."

That hurt.

I have no right to be hurt after the pain I put her through, but god that hurt.

I was too much of a coward to take initiative and see my angel, but I know that sooner or later, I would give in. I had to see her. Life without her was dull, colourless, repetitive.

She understands my reaction, though I say nothing, "Sorry, but it's true. The pain you put me through was endless. At one point, I wanted to drop out of Harrow and become homeless for all I cared. It sounds stupid and irrational, but everything from the preceding months was just building up, and you leaving was the final straw.

"I'm glad I didn't give up, though, because it taught me a lesson. I shouldn't stop when I'm tired, or sick of something. I should stop when I'm done with what I need to do. That enough was my motivation; every day I lived by that to get me through the next mundane day. That's why I almost feel the need to thank you.

"You don't learn what it means to push on until you no longer have a surface to push off. Giving up isn't an acceptable option until it's the only option left. And it never will be. There will always be that second option to carry on."

I'm stunned by the raw truth. Hearing about the mental torment I put her through drives shame deeper into my heart. It pricks me, right where it hurts most.

"Sweetheart, I can't say 'I'm sorry' enough. I don't know what else to say. I keep telling myself it was the right thing to do, and that it turned out better in the end, and that I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you would graduate with the grades you got, but it's not true. I'm tired of being selfless. I want to be selfish for once. You make me want to be like that. I want you to myself, until the end of time, and I'm tired of hiding it. Maybe I should have done what I did, and maybe I shouldn't have - but all I care about right now is that you've come out of this stronger and that you're beside me right now," I confess, each word quieter than the last.

I only dare to look over at her when I hear sniffing.

"Goddammit," she lifts her hands to her face, words escaping inbetween tears, "I told myself not to cry. All I do is cry."

My heart aches.

"You're making it really hard not to hug you right now, Quorra," I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face as the organ in my chest throbs away.

I don't know if she wants me here right now, seeing her vulnerable wih her guard down. She's opened up to me over the course of today but I don't want to risk or presume anything. This healing will take time, and that is okay. I am just glad that it's started and I can make it up to her every day that I see her from now on.

The next thing I feel is her lean into my chest.

I look down at her, at the pink hue dusted across her cheeks, the generous lengths of her eyelashes, the subtle dip of her cupid's bow. I'm still entranced by her when her gaze meets mine. We don't speak a word.

Moments later, she's leaning in and my heart's stopping and her lips are on mine and her eyes are fluttering closed and I'm breathless and it's perfect.

I kiss her back, soft and slow, memorising the fit of her against me - though I never forgot it in the first place - and her hands threading over my shoulders. My mind is screaming at me, at the idea of my angel initiating a kiss. She still wants me. Thank god, because I never stopped wanting her.

My hands are pushing against the curve of her lower back out of their own accord, gently pulling her towards me. I feel her smile against me, and that only makes me kiss her harder, trading sweetness with desire.

We pull away to catch our breaths, and as she drops kisses down my throat, I slowly fall deeper and deeper into her.

In love with her. And as she tattooes a kiss right above my heart, I realise how far gone I am.

I thread my fingers through her hair to guide her back up to me, lips meeting hers immediately, and with much more confidence.

"I missed you," I murmur against her, leaning back against the pillow behind me and bringing her with me.

She steals my breath away for a moment more, teeth scraping past my bottom lip as she pulls away to reply.

Her cheeks are flushed, eyes a new shade, "Show me how much then."

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

My angel turns to face me, covers bundled up to her chest. The natural rosy to her cheeks leaves me even more breathless, and not for the reasons I already am. She is the picture of perfection, with her hair tangled and framing her face, her eyes full of nothing but serenity, and her reddened lips slightly parted.

"For the record, I missed you too," she whispers quietly, as if it is a secret only we can know.

The thought makes me smile as I turn on my side to face her as well, not stopping the covers from slipping down across my stomach.

"Are you hurt?" I can't help but ask, as she reaches one hand up to comb through my hair for the millionth time in the past hour.

"Your hair is getting long," she notes, completely ignoring me, though she doesn't seem aware of it.

I frown, momentarily forgetting my question as I reminisce back to the spa where she couldn't stop looking at it, "Do you want me to cut it?"

Her eyes dart down to mine, eyelashes fluttering as she laughs softly, "Slater, you can do what you want to your own hair. I don't mind it long."

I narrow my eyes at her to decode her expression, knowing that she runs her fingers through my hair more often than I do, but decide to leave the matter. I'll cut it tomorrow.

Reaching over to stroke a finger down the side of her face, I repeat my question, loving the sprinkling of pink that scatters its way across her cheeks.

"Does it hurt?"

She smacks me away and blushes harder, turning onto her back to avoid my analysing gaze. Without a reply, she sits up, exposing her back but keeping the covers against her chest. I sit up as well and link an arm around her to keep her from running away from me.

Her mortification only grows as my hand accidentally grazes the soft curve at the side of her chest, "I'm not answering that," she finally says.

I want to smile but her words only leave me worried.

"Does it? I'm only asking because I feel guilty. I'm not going to tell anyone," I reassure, furrowing my eyebrows at the very thoughts of sharing with anyone what just went on in this bed, "I promise."

Her gaze is downcast.

"I mean, my downstairs was just violated and impaled by a generous pole, so I think it's fair to say that it's not exactly a pleasant sensation," she replies bluntly, pausing before she adds, "anymore."

I'm stuck between embarrassment, amusement, and remorse. Deciding to discard all three, I ignore her pleas to let her go and pull her back against me, lying us down against the pillows. I could stay this way forever - her legs tangled in mine, head next to my neck, chest to chest.

She flushes crimson and pulls the covers between our bodies.

"I'll never fathom why you feel so self-conscious about your body against mine, given what we have just done," I comment aloud, capturing her gaze in mine, "You are perfection, sweetheart: in mind, body, and soul."

Her hands traces mindless patterns on my stomach as I lift the duvet higher up on us to combat the chill blowing in from the small gap in the window.  My angel shrugs in wordless reply, the colour on her cheeks dissolving into a natural rosy.

"I missed you," she repeats arbitrarily, diverting my attention away from the sensation of her against me and the fit of us like two jigsaw pieces, "I tried everything to distract myself, but it looks like you were all I needed. The trigger and the resolution for my pain."

I smile at her honesty.

"I missed you a hundred times more," I murmur, brushing the hair away from her neck with one hand and smoothing the other down the curve of her back under the covers, "You are the salve to all my wounds. I don't care what anyone else may think - you are the one for me."

As if not expecting my confession, she smiles against my chest, pressing herself to me further and seeking my warmth, "I hope I'm enough. I'm not the most... anything person in the world, Slater."

I shake my head at my unpredictable, impossibly feisty, and completely perfect angel.

"You have always been enough, sweetheart. Maybe not for them, maybe not for yourself, but for me, you're all I've ever needed and more. You're enough for me. Is that enough for you?"

She props herself up on her elbows, suddenly smiling as bright as the sun.

"You know what's funny about being enough? I'll tell you now. It feels no different than when you thought you weren't enough, because you've always been it. It's a matter of realising, not becoming," she commentates, making me laugh, though I don't understand her reference.

"Thank you, Slater Hartley, for making me realise," she whispers, and my heart swells when she leans forward to place a mesmerising kiss on my lips.

I smile and pull her impossibly closer, rolling us over so I am leaning over her.

"And thank you, my sweetheart, for realising."

--------------------------------- T H E   E N D ---------------------------------

If you feel a gaping hole in your chest that physically hurts like mine does, and you're just stunned and staring at your screen feeling empty, I've done my job.

I can't believe it's over.

There's still an epilogue, so I'll save all my emotion for a separate author's note. I can't fathom this...

I love you more than you will ever know.

Over and out,
Spud 🥔