Acrophobia

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"I'm afraid."

"Of?"

"Heights."

"What do you mean? Like...Mountains? Cliffs?"

"Yeah, and other kind of heights as well."

"I don't..."

"Some day you will."

It's been three years since you had that conversation with the platinum blond, and only now does he realize what you had meant by your strange words. 

Three years ago would he have thought to ask the question to you, you would've told him, but now he sees it in your blurry, teary eyes and quivering lip, shaking as you fell to the ground. 

"Love is like a flower, it grows. Love is like a mountain, it's high. And I've always been scared of heights."

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