Meant To Be

Such Great Heights

The puzzle pieces of you and me

Fit as easily as falling asleep

And it doesn't make sense but I know

I know that I'm better with you

- Only You, from FOUR's third album, Changes

"You're really fine?" I say, phone pressed to my ear and bag full of heavy textbooks in the other. The campus is busy today, and I'm making my way to the library, burning some time before class. "Because I think the fans can wait. I think everyone can agree that you getting better is the most important thing, more than the shows."

"I'm fine. I've been cleared by a doctor, Cass. By two doctors," Holland says, in the tone of voice that indicates he's had this conversation with several other people. "We canceled five concerts, it's been a week, my concussion is mostly fine and I don't really need my arm to perform. Or to sing. I just won't play the guitar." There's some rustling, like he's moving around. "I promise, I'll be fine for the rest of the tour."

"Okay," I say. "But if your concussion symptoms return -"

"I'll tell someone." He says. "I appreciate your concern but you don't have to worry, Cass." His voice softens. "I promise."

"Okay," I say. "I trust you. I'm just worried about you, I guess."

"Is it awful of me to say that I'm glad?" He says, his voice low. "To say that I like that I take up space in your mind? That you think of me?"

I suck in a breath, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk. In front of me, a girl going the other way gives me a dirty look, maneuvering around me. Normally I would apologize, but I'm too consumed with Holland's words, his voice echoing through my head.

"No," I say. "I think about you all the time. Sometimes it - sometimes it feels greedy, how much I think of you."

It's been a week since Holland and I agreed that we were serious about us, but not much changed after that, not really. Holland was recovering, and I think we both got the sense that trying to take it slow might be a good idea. That both of us were falling ridiculously, illogically fast.

I wonder if any of his friends talked to him about it. I know Maggie and Anya talked to me, making it clear that they were completely supportive of me but it seemed like this was awfully serious awfully soon. That they didn't want to see me get my heart broken.

So confessing things like this feels dangerous, feels like a step beyond our flirting and phone calls.

"Cass," Holland says. "Love. I miss you so much, do you know that? Sometimes I think I'll go crazy with how much I miss you. Sometimes I think I already have." There's a pause. I can hear him breathing. "I don't know what you do to me," he says. "It doesn't make sense. I've met you once, Cass. Once. So why does it already feel like you're a part of me? Why does it feel like you're wrapped around my bones?"

I swallow around a lump in my throat. If I thought I couldn't move before, then I definitely can't now. "I don't know," I say. "When we were on that beach - Holland, it's like I looked at you and saw a future. It's like - I know it's crazy and it doesn't make sense, but it doesn't have to. Because it works. Because we work. I promise," I say, because he was sounding desperate and lost and a little bit broken, and it's reminding me of all of the things we don't know about each other, all the ways he could've been left behind by other people, and I want to give him something.

Something, even though I'm so far away. "I promise," I continue, "that I'm here, and I care about you, and I'm thinking about you every day. I swear, if a stranger found my phone they would think I was a hardcore Four fangirl. I - I take any scrap of you I can get, Holland."