Fifteen | ✓

lastly

It was winter, and the earth had wrapped herself with a thick layer of frost, recovering, as Christopher had so wisely put it half a decade ago.

He'd returned from London, seeking to complete himself, to make himself whole again.

He had left to London, but he had left his heart here. With her.

It was always her. He just hadn't realized at the time.

So you could imagine how happy he felt when he spotted her within a melt of human beings in a crowded place, just when his faith and hope had begun to deteriorate and he felt his soul leaking.

He thought he had been dreaming. Was it really her? Was this the same Catherine from all those years back?

He knew it was her; she knew it was him.

They then sat later underneath the soft illumination of a cafe light, separated by a table even though all he wanted to do was to press her small body up against his. She was just as beautiful as she was years ago.

There was a pregnant pause, a span of minutes that felt like centuries. A film of sweat coated his skin as he started to speak, "I really can't believe it's you; that you're really here." He made to reach for her hand in emphasis, but on discovery of its absence in his eyeshot, withdrew. "I've been thinking of you nonstop all the time, looking for you. Nothing feels the same without you. I miss you. I-I..."

Hair fell into his face as he struggled for words, the lump in his throat accumulating in size per second. "I can't sleep at night anymore. No one is there to talk to me on the phone past midnight anymore. No one gets me like you do. I need you. I really do..." his voice trailed as he fought with himself, trying to muster up courage to air up his confession, a confession bottled up for years on end.

She sighed, a bored look adorning her face as always like he remembered when he had known her before. She smiled genuinely rarely unless he got her to, and when she did, he swore the whole world would light up. "When I was fifteen," Catherine started to speak suddenly after some time, "you broke my heart."

The lumps within the walls of Christopher's throat doubled. "Y-yeah, but it wasn't intentional. I didn't think... I didn't think we could be more then; my heart was out of it then. I-"

"When I was fifteen, I fell in love with you." She twirled her cup between her palms, not bothering to gaze at him once. It was full of tea; she liked tea, as he remembered from when he knew her before.

"I-I-"

"When I was fifteen, you were everything to me." A puncture was visible on the surface of her nose, although no jewellery was dissected through; he remembered from when he knew her before that she'd said she wanted a piercing there.

"When I was fifteen, you were my best friend." Dark curls framed her face, like he remembered from when he knew her before.

"When I was fifteen, I thought we'd be inseparable." A light chuckle escaped her lips, soft and full as he remembered them from when he knew her before. Christopher also recalled when he had kissed those lips, and ached to kiss them again. But the laugh was humourless, mocking.

"When I was fifteen, you were the funniest guy ever." Her small hands reached to pinch his cheek, and he shivered at the contact of her warm skin. Her voice was a little reedy, just like he remembered from when he knew her before.