Once again, she was out of words. What was she supposed to say to that? She believed that his words are meant for her as nothing else but a friend.
And so, to divert his attention, or rather, hers, she suddenly sat down on the ground.

"So your spot, huh?"

Landon did not waste a moment before sitting beside her, his long legs crossed and his arms caging them.

"Yep. Been coming here for about four months. This place is like, considerably away from the city, so I have a really clear view of the sky from here. And also, it is undiscovered and insanely beautiful. So I like spending time here, is all," Landon said.

"I second you, this place is so pretty. But you, Mr Landon Davies, have been in this place for months, and the thought of meeting up with me never crossed your mind?" Alvina said, with mock anger.

"Vanilla! Don't pull that card, now. I was hella busy the whole time and I ain't even lying. I had so much to do that—"

"I believe you! Jeez. Can you chill?"Alvina said, chuckling a little. "Anyway, I hope you don't mind your spot being invaded, because it's going to happen a lot of times in the future!"
Landon grinned at that.

"What's mine is yours, darling,"

There, Alvina thought, there you go again with messing with my mind and my thoughts and my heart.

Landon got up and offered his hand to Alvina.

"Wanna go walking for a bit? There's so much catching up to do!" Landon squeaked like a child. Alvina laughed at that. Sometimes, that's what he was, a child trapped in the body of a twenty-year old. And she never admit it aloud, but she quite liked this child.

Alvina shook her head at him with a smile and began getting up, but Landon being impatient, grabbed her by her arm. Alvina shrieked in pain.

"Jesus, Vanilla! What happened to your arm? How did you get it cut— are you okay? Is this why you were out so late at night? I knew something was up. Who hurt you? How—" A furious Landon spoke.

"I'm okay, fine. Please. It's just a cut, not a big deal," Alvina tried to convince him.

"How did this happen, Alvina?" Landon said, pressing his words.

Alvina. He had called her by her name. Landon seldom did that. Only in the matters of great urgency, or under emotional influence. And Alvina knew better than to invigorate him.

"It was—"

"And don't lie to me this time."

"I won't," Alvina took a deep breath.
"It happened at home. Stephanie.."

"Whoever this Stephanie is, she's going to have a hard time," Landon muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw.

"Stephanie is... my stepmother, don't you remember her? Anyway, I came back home from University, thought I would sip on some wine and have a great night's sleep afterwards. But of course, have any of my prayers been answered before?" She laughed, humorlessly.

"Anyway, so I reach home, and guess what welcomes me? A piece of glass ripping right through my skin," Landon flinches at that.

"She starts telling me off about how I'm not supposed to celebrate and that I am an ungrateful daughter. Can you imagine? She called me an ungrateful daughter," Alvina lost her balance all of a sudden and landed on the ground. Landon hurried beside her, listening to her patiently. He considered asking her to stop, but was aware that now was too late. And so he kept his hand steady on her shoulders and sat her down.

"You are not an ungrateful daughter, Vanilla. You are anything but one."

"She said—she said I killed my dad!" Alvina said, ignoring Landon's words.
"I killed my dad? I didn't! I didn't do it. Why would I? I didn't kill him. Right?" Alvina was now shaking her head vigorously.
"I didn't kill him! Please tell me I didn't. I didn't, right? I am an ungrateful daughter. I'm just that. I killed my own father, for Christ's sake! I—I," and then Alvina was crushed into an embrace by Landon.

He was upset, so terribly upset, that the word didn't even begin to describe what he felt at the moment. If this was what they meant when they said soul-crushing, he was sure that he was almost experiencing it. Landon knew she was having a panic attack, and so, he did the only thing that came into his mind—a tight embrace.

He wished he could tell her what she was saying, what she was made to believe, was utter bullshit. He knew, because he was there.