Flowers on my doorstep

"You've gotta seal it with a kiss."

A/N: This ones for @DeniseBlair2. Thanks for lighting a fire up my ass, So to speak.

"Okay." I agreed, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulder and a new hope set in. Maybe things in Miami would be better than even I thought. "Thank you Camila."

"For what?" She asked simplistically.

"For not..um..." Damn I lost the word again. What was it? "Re..re..Fuck." I muttered frustratedly, looking away from Camila feeling embarrassed. "I can't remember the word." I told her, opting for honestly seeing as that what we were doing...Honesty hour and all that jazz...

"Is that part of having a brain injury? Forgetting words?" She asked sympathetically.

"Um...yeah. Sorry." I apologised feeling like a idiot.

"Hey, don't apologies. It's not your fault." She insisted kindly, but it kind of was my fault. If I hadn't been such a selfish idiot that day I probably would never have ended up half brain dead. But I didn't want Camila to feel bad about not being able to make me feel better so I just smiled appreciatively and continued (not)watching the movie onscreen for the rest of the night until I had to go back to my room for the night because I had class tomorrow and I wouldn't be able to go if I didn't get enough sleep. So, I said my goodbyes and thank you's before shuffling back to my room.

-

Today I woke up feeling incredibly fatigued and I noticed my movements and coordination was not the best which frustrated me to no end, but nevertheless I got up and dressed to head out to my first class: music. I had always wanted to study music before everything that happened I was even given scholarships from prestigious colleges, because I was very good. I'd like to think I was still good at music and somewhere deep down inside of me was that talent I had before, but the reality always hits and soon I realised I couldn't play the piano as well as I did before, nor could I even pronounce the words properly; let alone sing them, but I definitely wanted to try. I was here to learn. That's what my mom always told me. We go to school to learn, not to acknowledge genius.

So before I knew it I was sat in the music room jigging my leg nervously waiting for the lesson to begin as I watched more and more people filter in, but no one stopped to talk to me, which made me sad because I tried to smile at them and appear friendly but it didn't work. Until a familiar face walked in and I jumped up waving and smiling to get her attention. "C-Camila." I called her over hopefully.

"Hey there." She smiled and sat down next to me. "I didn't know you was in this class."

"Yes! Started late." I explained to her.

"Oh yeah. Sorry, I'm an idiot sometimes." She laughed, but I didn't think it was funny. People shouldn't laugh at themselves.

"No. You're n-not an idiot." I reaffirmed.

"I can be." She dismissed, "Anyway, how are you finding Miami?"

"It is good. Different, but good." I told her.

"Must be a nice change from the New York weather. I went there once with my family and it was freezing, like I think I almost died. Plus, you New Yorkers are scary people."

"Only some. I'm nice!" I insisted, because I didn't want her to not be my friend because she thought I was mean. I tried not to be. I hated hurting people, I would never do it.

"I dunno, you're a bit intimidating. I think it's the whole New Yorker vibe you're giving off." She said nudging my side playfully and tried my hardest not to shift away in a panic. I didn't want her to think I was weird, especially now that she knows.