To my dismay, Lottie managed to persuade me to act as her photographer during the interview, despite the fight I put up. What won me over though was her question of, "What if I slip and end up asking him something about you two? If someone else is there, they will know what happened."

So there I was, a few days after the phone call, hands clutching at the camera as I waited for Lottie to finish tweaking her hair in the mirror. We were in the storeroom, grabbing the last of the things we needed for the photoshoot and interview. Yet a message had pinged through a few seconds ago that Frazer had arrived.

"Why are you trying to doll yourself up?" I grumbled as I watched her twirl another blonde lock into place before reaching for her powder in her bag. All the while I stood in the background, a grey, lifeless cutout compared to her. My brown eyes seemed plain compared with her blue ones. My blonde hair seemed dirty compared with her shiny, champagne shade.

"I have to look my best. This is Frazer Young."

"And the fact that your best friend has history with him means nothing?"

"I'm not going to make a move. But I do need to interview him. And if I want him to pay any attention to me when you're in the room then I need to make an effort."

I scoffed. "You make it sound like he's going to spend the whole time staring at me."

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

I gave up trying to take pictures of him without support ten minutes into the interview. Holding the camera steady as his green gaze beguiled me through the lens was impossible.

He was still just as beautiful as back then. Maybe even more so.

His hair had grown out, but the locks were no longer frizzy. They were defined, curled into place, and perfectly tucked behind his ears.

His once bumpy skin was now pristine.

The green flecks of his irises somehow shining even more emerald.

My throat felt impossibly dry though as I set up the tripod.

Because his focus was still locked on me, dissecting every move as I pulled out the legs and refastened the locks.

"What would you say is your favourite place in this town?" Lottie's voice rang through the room, a touch of impatience lacing in as she struggled to steal his attention once again. We were starting with a focus on Frazer's hometown favourites and experiences, though we were unfortunately only a few questions in.

His head cocked to the side as I tightened the security screw into the base of the camera.

And as I peered down the lens, refocusing on him, his gaze was wandering over the length of me.

"The park near where Em and I lived of course." He finally glanced back at Lottie.

"I can't publish that though."

"You can just say the park near where I grew up."

"But why? What's its significance removed from Em?"

He looked back at me when he spoke his answer. "I met someone who changed my life there."

Lottie grimaced as she watched me cower behind the camera, clearly sensing my discomfort at his words of wonder. She crossed her legs and straightened her back before hitting him next with, "How about we talk about the rumours of you dating Maya Stevens?"

His head snapped back to Lottie in an instant. "How about we stick to the topic you pitched?" he countered.

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

I could feel the knot unweaving as I packed away the camera equipment in the storage room.

It's over with, I thought. First encounter down. The next is a music gig so I won't even have to be alone with him. Then after that is a livestream.

The worst is surely over.

"Did you know Are You Okay Day is next week?"

I jumped. Pivoting around, I stared at him for a moment like a kangaroo caught in headlights.

But just as quickly, my eyes started scanning for an exit. An escape. Like he was the predator and I was his trapped prey.

I was certain he'd only kill whatever pride I had left if we stayed in each others' presence any longer.

"It's been a while," he said when I didn't say anything.

So I couldn't help but snap, "And I intend for it to stay that way."

He's always full of false promises, I thought as I grabbed my things from the ground.

Always saying he will do something and then doing the opposite.

I can't believe Lottie fell for his lies when he said he'd keep his distance.

I rounded him, heading for the doorway.

When, suddenly, his hand extended, shoving the door shut.

I gasped. Turning on him, I bellowed, "Why did you do that?"

"I was just giving us some privacy—"

"More like trapping us in here!" I banged on the door for a few moments, as if it would do anything. Then, desperate, I rummaged through my bag for my phone.

"Chill, Em. I'll open the door, okay? Just breathe." The eagerness from his voice had flooded with concern.

"That's the thing, Frazer. It doesn't bloody open without a key."

His face fell to a deadpan. Then he glanced at the door, as if I were telling lies.

Yet when he spotted the lack of handle...

"What brainless idiot invents a door like this?" he demanded.

I almost smirked at his question... because it felt like just the thing we'd joke about before. I wanted to retort with, The same kind of brainless idiot who thinks it's a wise idea to shut himself in a room with a girl who clearly despises him.

But we didn't joke anymore. "It's to prevent theft. There's a lot of expensive equipment in this room. Do you have your phone? I left mine in the studio."

"Who are you thinking of calling?" he responded, not reaching for his mobile.

"Lottie."

"She won't come for another ten minutes."

"What do you—"

"She said she'd give me ten from the moment she saw the door shut."

His words took a few moments to sink into my head. But when they did...

I rushed to the door, banging on it. "Lottie! You absolute conniving wench! Let me out of here! Lottie Price!"

But she never came. I didn't even hear a sound from her.

It was just Frazer behind me, continuously trying to calm me.

"Please, Em. Just let me say my two cents and I'll go."

"Why do you still not understand? I don't want to hear a thing from you. I'm done with you. Forever. In fact, I wish we never met."

Though I regretted the words as they left my mouth. Because when I spun around to glare at him, a well of water had glazed over his green gaze, and I watched him descend to a state of sorrow I hadn't seen since the first day... on that park swing.

He slumped to the ground. Legs pulled against his chest, he turned his head away from me as he took deep breaths as if trying to steady himself.

"Frazer, I—" I started to say.

But then his breathing got more rapid.

"Fraze," I said softly, crouching beside him.

His arms wrapped around his knees. Eyes distant and unfocussed, he began to pant, to gasp, as if he couldn't breathe.

"Frazer!" I called loudly, hoping to get his attention. My hands grabbed his arms, shaking him, trying to get him to look at me.

Though he just continued to hyperventilate. He continued to shake. Nothing was bringing him back.

And I knew what he was going through all too well.

I softened my hold on him, hand running down his arm until I reached his hand. Then I gripped hard on his fingers before I said calmly, "Can you name five things in this room?"

He didn't say anything for a while, continuing to heave instead. Though eventually he forced out, "A sink."

"Very good. What else?"

"Lightbox."

"Mhmm."

"Clothing rack... tripods."

"One more."

"You."

Always me... But also never me. Why, Frazer? Though instead of voicing that, I asked instead, "Can you tell me four things making sounds?"

"You."

"Yes."

"Me."

"Mhmm."

"It's too quiet."

"That's okay. Three things you're touching."

"You."

"You can't use me for every answer."

"Yes I can. The ground." His responses were becoming steadier. Slower. More detailed and coherent.

"One more."

"The wall."

"Great. Two things you can smell?"

"Your perfume. It's different."

I winced at the sound of his displeasure, yet once again ignored the comment. "And?"

"Paint."

"Very good," I commented, glad he had steadied and seemed almost composed once more. "And one thing you can taste."

"Vomit."

"That's not good." I dug around in my bag. I may have not had my phone, but I at least had my water bottle. Handing it over to him, I said, "Take a sip."

He complied, his breathing normal, the tears having run dry. Yet he was looking everywhere and anywhere but me.

I waited for him to take a few sips, a few moments, before asking, "Since when do you have panic attacks?" Because he wasn't even that bad when his father had passed.

"Since I couldn't get hold of you."

I pressed my lips together, not sure what to say back.

But then his red and raw eyes met mine. "I'm so sorry I let you down, Em."

"Let's not talk about—"

"I want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"Because I need to make things right."

"What is even the point of that?"

"I hurt you. And I need to fix that."

"You don't need to do anything. You and I are so far in the past. It's been months. Just let it go."

"I don't ever want to let you go."

"Frazer."

"I can't ever let you go. I tried. I tried to respect your wishes. That's why I never came to find you when I got back, after your dad told me to leave you alone... But I just can't, Em."

"Why?" I breathed.

"Because I still love you."