Abigail stands facing the vast window of her one bedroom apartment, but she isn't observing the limitless city lights tonight, rather, but instead is intensely focused on rummaging through this dull grey, worn out book bag until she finally finds what she's looking for.

The pills. The bong. The stash.

Where is it? What is it?

For the longest time these questions are what she's been pondering herself - utterly acknowledging that her brother is indeed taking something.

Of course she doesn't wish him any trouble, but if anything to get him out of the possible trouble he's in.

Her plan, after she finds the expected stash? Perhaps a bit reckless. Perhaps it's just enough evidence to show him that she was right when he'd stumble in her apartment all those sleepless nights gifting her the responsibility of keeping him sheltered away from the merciless, pernicious city.

She just wants him to be safe, clean. And a bright side she likes to face; Hayden doesn't have a history of any dark sliver of drug usage so maybe, just maybe, she can talk him into rejecting all of this-

"Found it!" She boasts, holding a small ziplock bag accompanied by a few puny white pills up to align with her green specked irises.

Finally. It's all she needed to investigate. But what an unfortunate outcome of a feeling to see that she was in fact right about her brother. It hurts. This corrupt news unravels an uneasy darkness to coil inside her.

Yet before she knows it, she's out the door. Already pacing towards her 2014 white Jeep Wrangler, sliding into one door out of the two, Abigail starts the ignition with the bagged pills rested upon the passenger seat.

Originally, if it were an option for Abigail, she'd rush off to a friend's house for advice - or simply to have that one partner in solving crime.

But the truth about Abigail Reyes, is that she's not surrounded by a particular clique, or friends. She endures living on her own - attending New York University every day she's given by studying excessively and socializing with any person she seeks needs it.

For as long as she can remember, Abigail's life has always been revolved around her older brother, and her prominent classes atop of piling schoolwork, especially this sophomore year of college.

So, driving onto the quite occupied parking lot of NYC's Police Department, she takes the pills in hand whilst ejecting the car keys from the ignition, and hopping out of the car.

In her pastel pink denim skirt to end mid-thigh - amidst all of her waist high skirts - she starts in her determined, bold tracks towards the entrance doors in her white high top Converse.

And stepping into a waiting area just before some help desk, she approaches the secured area to meet the eyes of a cop behind a clear glassed wall, reaching out her hand.

"Can you tell me what drug this is?" She... boldly begins rather greets.

In her mind she has no time chitchat - Hayden would return home to her apartment from campus any minute now.

The officer blinks back at her, in return, only to remain seated before his thick brows narrowed together. He doesn't even observe the white pills in her palm for two seconds before examining her as if she were downing the pills herself.

She's confident to receive some unfortunate, pessimistic answer. Yes, it's one dangerous opioid, or it's Percocet, she awaits to hear, just say it!

Finally, the officer takes the small clear bag into his own grasp, and peers down upon it.

And his thin lips part for one awaiting, silent second.

"They're sleeping pills, ma'am." The officer merely diffuses a sigh; the same disappointment rather consumes her, too.

Simultaneously, Abigail is engulfed in a flood of... genuine relief.

Her brother isn't taking anything clinically dangerous. All she gathers now is the conclusion that he is safe and clean.

Abigail glimpses down at the pills the officer reverted to her hold, a moment, and a brief humorless laugh escapes her pink lips.

Guilt. Stupidity. Shame. What a distasteful mix weaved together from this. But she couldn't help herself - the curiosity became too overwhelming - from the countless nights Hayden would stumble in her apartment with a couple of his 'best buds' to drop him off.

The bitter aroma of alcohol on him was light, faint. And she had already heard that one of the boys he hung around attends play dates with cocaine every Tuesday night.

She became worried. Now, she's only weighed down by a guilty conscience by even for a mere second thinking her older brother was starting an unclean journey.

"Okay. Thank you, officer." Abigail finally speaks, planting the tiny ziplock bag into the pocket of her waist high skirt. And she spins around in her Converse to exit the police station - rendered in complete and utter alleviation.

Soon hopping back into her Jeep, she starts the car to head back towards home. The ride is silent as the traffic in the outskirts of New York City is calm; unraveling a prominent peace to think and take a deep breath before encountering her brother.

He can't know about this. Can he?

No. There's a slight and teensy chance that Hayden would never forgive her. But that's where the curiosity and overwhelming hesitation comes in - because they've always been closer than that.

But it's best to be safe than sorry-

And just like that.

Bam - a body collided with the right side headlight of her car.

Though the sky is only at dusk, and having a light fog lingering in the calm breeze of New York, it's not gloomy enough to not see a human being crossing the road...

Was Abigail's mind really this clouded?

Abigail slams on her breaks, firm and fast, glimpsing at the unknown tall figure hidden away behind a black hoodie as he or she stumbles onto the near sidewalk.

By this time Abigail's breath has picked up rapidly; her heart sufficiently hammering and pumping fast. She carefully pulls over onto the side of the quite vacant street, before rushing out.

She paces around her Jeep to quickly approach the stranger she accidentally hit; a million thoughts incessantly streaming through her head all at once.

What just happened?

Did I really just hit someone, with my car?!

I wasn't driving too dangerously fast... was I?

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" She halts in her quick tracks; her green eyes frantically scanning over the stranger's tall body. Their back is currently facing her, and even in the few seconds that pass does it agitate her. She instantly feels sick to her stomach in fear, and her only medicine right now is to know if this person is OK.

"Are you hurt?"

Finally, it's the worry and clear concern in her soft voice that makes him turn around. Now facing her, his much taller body hovers - while Abigail's heart still remains wild.

And he removes the hood from off his head, causing his brown hair to appear messy before her - before his mysterious brown eyes lock on hers for the very first time.

Her pink lips are parted as she examines his features only expecting a scratch of blood or bruise of some sort. But there's nothing.

Just him, tracing over her forest green eyes with his own perceptive gaze too, in return.

Her blonde hair would've been one shade darker if she were standing out here just one hour sooner to catch the rain, as the nearly golden strands overlap her shoulders.

Her features to him are soft, delicate. And boy does he feel like an unacquainted burden just hovering around her. He can sense her bold and bright aura without even having to meet her yet.

His legs are slim in black boyish skinny jeans that surprisingly don't portray a rip across either of his knees. His black Converse are slightly worn out from how often he walks around the outskirts of the city with his therapist - or psychologist, he prefers - but Abigail doesn't know that, yet.

Placing his hands into the connected pockets of his black hoodie, Noah is forced out of his perceptive trance by Abigail's awaiting tone, breaking the momentary silence between them.

"Well, are you?" She asks once more, voice hinting oncoming impatience to gather the simple answer that he is indeed OK.

"Am I what?" He speaks, finally, latching onto her worried gaze.

"Oh no..." Abigail glances down a brief moment, slipping into in disbelief. Yes, is she indeed diving into an unnecessary pool of conclusions. Instinctively she brings her hands up to run them through her blonde hair. "Amnesia. It's a possibility when a victim gets hit by a car. Perhaps it's temporary amnesia, oh gosh I hope it's temporary." she rushes, finishing breathlessly, to herself.

"What? No. I'm not suffering from amnesia." The stranger clarifies. His London accent hangs loose and soothing in the dusky air, it's the first time she realizes it.

Abigail's observant eyes fixate on his, again. She raises her brows, "are you sure?"

The stranger lets out a vague breath. "I'm positive. And there's not a scratch trust me, love. Look,"

Before Abigail knows it he's reaching back to pull off his hoodie - presuming that's his form of reassurance to show that there's not a scratch on his body.

"Whoa, you don't have to take off your shirt, I believe you." She says, holding up a firm hand to gesture for him to stop his mid-action, as he soon does so. His solemn gaze meets hers again.

"It's a hoodie." He corrects casually.

Abigail suppresses her scoff. "Right, hoodie." She crosses her arms over her chest, pursing her naked lips. "Well, I am truly sorry for... bumping into you. If there's anything I can do to..."

"Fair enough I'll keep you in mind." He says, almost in interjection, but it's calm. The boy earns for Abigail's brows to escalate as she's taken slightly aback.

"Excuse me?" She questions.

Noah's lips curve upward immensely - revealing a dimple. His dark brown eyes avert to the cemented sidewalk below them for a moment. "Relax, gorgeous. I'm just keeping your favor in mind."

His mysterious gaze finds hers again, and she stands in silence.

"I may need a fake date on some pointless occasion someday, or just someone to accompany me with enough spare time to chitchat." He says casually, cockily avoiding Abigail's current dropped jaw.

"I-"

"But I'm Noah." His inevitable accent lingers yet again, whilst he extends out a hand. "Perhaps I'll see you around, likely." He says - and it's then when his unreadable brown eyes latch onto her green ones as she accepts his tattooed hand for a shake - and he's sure to plant a tender kiss upon the back of her soft hand.

She watches his warm lips retract from her cool skin. "Abigail." She introduces, later clearing her throat.

The surprise glinting behind Abigail's green specks - a twist of shock, of inevitable flattery - is visible. And Noah endures it; feeding on her radiating innocence before this moment can carry along any further.

And neither of them know it yet, but this very moment is the start of so much.

---

Hello, my loves!! Thoughts on the story so far? Let me know what ya think!

Thank you for reading!

Much love,

V 💋