Trigger warning. Fasten your seat belts; this is going to be a bumpy ride.

It's getting dark too dark to see.
Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

One month later

That's fucking it. Today I'm going to find out who this person is. I stand from the couch, where I fell asleep. I'm not waiting any longer.

Just knock. I bring my head up to the door but pull away at the last second. fuck. I walk in a small circle in front of the door. I grab my hair in my hands. Just knock, you fucking loser. I've been doing this every day for the last month.

I walk next door, stand here like an idiot, and try to gather the courage to knock. I don't know why I'm so apprehensive about it. I think I'm afraid of being let down.

Pick up your hand and fucking knock. The mystery is at the point of killing me. I need to know who's sitting behind the piano.

I've become so transfixed by this person that they're consuming my every thought. I put my hand up again and hover over the wood. I grab my wrist with my other hand and push forcefully.

Fucking idiot. There's movement behind the door. Shit, I'm not ready. I turn to run away, but the door swings open, and I turn around.

My jaw hits the ground, All of my vocabulary dies, gone in a second. I rub the back of my neck with my hand. Holy shit, those eyes are staring right at me.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," I whine. Her face pulls into a frown. "I smoked a lot of weed," she replies with a head nod.

It's the last thing I expected her to say. "Good for you, I guess." She just smiles with hooded eyes.

Shit, this is very awkward. She raises an eyebrow, and suddenly her face is inches from me. Zoomed into my neck. I grab the spot she's looking at with my hand, thinking it's dirt or a bug or something.

I don't feel anything there. She narrows her eyes, and then she's back to where she was. Well, she said she's high, so... She stares for a while and tilts her head to the side.

"Harry?" It comes out as a whisper; her eyes are filled with emotions as she says my name.

I look down, thinking I may still have my name tag on from the bakery, but I don't.

"How do you know my name?" This is getting freaky. I knew I shouldn't have spoiled this for myself. My mind is running through all the faces I can remember, and I do feel some kind of familiarity, but I can't place where I've seen her before.

"Harold?" She asks again. I hope it's the weed that's making her this slow.

The realization almost knocks me straight to the ground. This is some fucking joke from the universe; it has to be. There's only one person who's ever called me that.

My body starts to shiver from the impact of the sudden emotions I feel. It can never be; it can't be her. I struggled with her name on my tongue for far too long.

"Aliza..." The moment her name leaves my mouth, her lips start to wobble. Jesus Christ, it is her.

I'm pulled into a sea of memories, floating through me like camera flashes. It's intense, and I lose the ability to breathe for a second.

"You look completely different." She says, tears evident in her eyes, and her voice wavers. She looks completely different too.

"You're hair; it's shorter." I stutter; it's an only fact my mind can rest on right now. It's so soft and shiny. Her hair is to her shoulders, cut straight.

She brings her hand to her hair, weaving hair fingers through it and combing to the end, where her shoulder begins.

She sniffs softly and takes a deep breath, smiling at me. "Yea, I... would you like some tea?"

What do you do in a situation like this? What do you do if you see someone you've made peace with never seeing again? How do I tell my heart that I was just kidding all these years?

Regret pushes through me; You're not who you use to be. She won't love this Harry. It's cruel really, I found the one thing I thought I lost forever, but I can't have it. I'll ruin her, taint her with my darkness.

I stare at her, taking it all in; what a masterpiece you are. I step back; it takes everything in me. "I... I'm not good. I'm not." I force down the sob in my throat, but I can't stop the tears. She stands there calmly, but her eyes are heavy with emotion.

"You don't... Do you not... You said. I don't understand?" She walks towards me, and I take another step back.

She reaches out to me, no... She can't. "Don't touch me," I whisper, and her hand falls to her side, her eyes casting down.

"I'm better with it now. I can handle it." I shake my head. "Please don't."

She takes a deep breath and looks me straight in the eyes. "I understand. It was... You're beautiful, Harry; you have long hair." She gushes. She's giving me a genius smile through her tears.

God, I'm so sorry. "Nobody puts flowers in them," I whisper. I have to get away from here; I can't do this to her. "I broke one of your promises... I'm not good enough for you anymore." I rub my heart; I think I can feel the pieces drifting apart.

"Let me decide that.. please, Harry." She pleads, and I can't take it anymore. I can't breathe. I close my eyes, looking up at the ceiling; it's closing in on me.

"I can't." My voice breaks. I look at her. "It's too late." She's shaking her head wildly. "Please, I need you, Harry." Fuck. She's losing her grip; I can see her body is trying to crumble in on itself.

"You'll hate me," I tell her. "I could never hate you." She says quickly. I look down again; she's closer than before. "You can- Don't touch me. It'll hurt you." She nods in resignation.

Her body language changes. She stands straight and clasps her hands together in front of her.

A sudden void crosses over her eyes, and her face loses all expression. She's staring at the wall behind me, her eyes unfocused.

"Aliza." She doesn't acknowledge me; she's still as a statue. There's a raging storm inside of her. "Tiny Dancer." Her eyes snap to mine. "Don't... I don't." She crouches down, folding her arms over her knees.

I'm on my knees in front of her, but she hides her face in her thighs. "I'm sorry..." She cuts me off.

"Just go." She whispers into her knees. This is what you wanted. My hands hover over her back. I can't touch her; I can't break her like this. "Look at me." She turns her head slowly; her cheek pressed to her knee now.

She waits for me to speak. I sit crossed legged in front of her. "I'd give up forever... I need you to know I'd give up all the seconds I have left to hold you for only one." She blinks slowly, her wet eyelashes dance on her cheeks.

"Stay still." She warns me. Her dainty hand moves towards me. I hold in my breath. She takes a lock of my hair in her fingers and twists it around. She let it fall against my shoulder.

"Just as beautiful as I imagined." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "It wasn't... It shouldn't." She gasps for breath. "I can't do this to you." I'll kill myself before I kill you.

"You can go... I'll turn away, and you go, for now. Never happened. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I'll turn, and then you'll be gone... But you won't because you were never here." She rambles frantically.

She does as she says and turns her body away from me; sobs rip through her shaking body. The muscles in her back contract with every shudder that runs through her. "Just go," She mumbles, defeated.

I hear her cry when I reach my apartment; It doesn't stop when I close the door and slide down it into a heap of my own. It's there in the back of my head, like an electric pulse that runs through me.

What did you do? The thought repeats in my mind over and over. How can I go so many years wishing to have her back and then just fuck it up completely? I'm doing the right thing. She deserves better than me.

You left her again. This time I had a choice. I need a do-over. I pray to whoever is listening that I can have one more chance. I'll give up everything, just please give me one more chance. She's not like the rest.

***

The next following weeks are rough. I don't eat or sleep; when I do, I wake up with a hoarse voice every morning in the middle of a panic attack. My asthma is also at an all-time high. 

The music stopped, and so did the flowers. It's your fault. She's right next door, go to her. I can't. I wallow in self-pity most of the time. I go to work and come back home. I go for a run until I have nothing left and want to puke or pass out just to do it all over again the next day. 

My worst nightmare has come true, the only thing that could end me. I found her, and I'm not ready. My mom wants me to come to visit but I won't. I'll break her heart, too, if she sees what I've done to myself. 

I'm angry at myself, mad for hurting Aliza. Tears spring to my eyes; I want it all to go away. I stumble through my apartment in a drunken haze; I haven't been completely sober since that day. 

I stand in my living room, peering through the glass door; I'm so sorry Tiny dancer. There are bottles on the table, half full of liquor and some empty, just like me. My eyes go wide. Since when do you snort shit again? There are pills strewn across the glass next to the white powder.

She sent you flowers. I look at the vase that's resting on the dining room table. The water is murky and almost green. The flowers inside have died long ago. I should have known just from the flowers that it was her.

I wasn't supposed to go back to this; I was supposed to leave it in the past. I grab a handful of pills; I don't even know what they are at this point, just for a little while. I convince myself. I gather them in my palm, rolling them around twice. 

Would anyone even care, If I decide to take my life right now?  What a sad existence. Nothing is alright anymore. 

I bring it up to my mouth and swallow it with the bottle resting in my hand. It goes down smoothly, almost taking immediate effect. I fall onto the couch, my body too heavy to keep myself up. My eyes start to droop, and I smile because I can get some relief. 

There's a knock on the door, but I ignore it. They'll go away. My head falls to the side, and I close my eyes. "Harry!" Just go away. I fold my arms over my torso and disappear into the void.

It doesn't go as planned; my eyes shoot open, bile already rising in my throat. I make it to the bathroom just in time to empty my stomach. Shit, that hurts. I slide to the floor. I can't even feel my body right now. 

What did I even take?  I nearly crawl back to the living room. I lift the bottle of pills to my face. My vision is blurry, and I have to squint to see. Diazepam.  I could have killed myself.  That's what you wanted, isn't it, Harry? I turn around quickly. Green eyes stare back at me. "Why are you here?" I ask, confused. 

I'm sure I locked the door. It's not possible; I must be having a nightmare. You should just take more, end it all. I grab my head; the bottle tumbles from my hand. "You're not real." My breathing is shallow, and I'm pretty sure I'm having some kind of manic episode.

Maybe I'm already dead cause this is hell. I can't remember how many I took. Shit. I turn away from the intruder. I spot my phone on the couch and rush towards it, but my movements are slow and jerky. 

I fumble with the buttons and press it to my ear. Please don't let this be the end. It's ringing, but he's not picking up. The sweat is dripping from me like a river. I bend forward and heave onto the floor. Suicide has always been my last resort. 

Voicemail, I dial again. It's getting harder to breathe; my lungs are burning. You've always been weak. I turn my head slowly to the person sitting next to me. "Just please go away." 

I rush off the couch. The phone falls from my hands; I can't hold it anymore. I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. I open them and focus on the glass table. I'm suffocating. I'm so sorry. I give up. I'll just close my eyes and rest for a while; then it'll all be okay again. My muscles relax. I'm so sorry Tiny dancer.

***

It's going to hurt for a while, but you know, that's life. In the spirit of the Great Louis Tomlinson.      "Darling, just hold on."

Mkay Bye!