AU: well, i really felt the urge to write a second part. so here it is. expect two more chapters, one from him and one to end this. :)

SUPER IMPORTANT-

MUSIC:

THINKING OF YOU - KATY PERRY

:)

I think it is a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.
-Vladimir Nabokov

apart from him.

He’d changed her permanently, that he did. She realized this faintly throughout her trip, but it was when she got back home that it really sunk in. Nothing seemed the same, adequate, right. She felt restless, impatient with other guys, especially the one she’d convinced herself she’d been in love with, right before leaving. Now, however much she tried, she couldn’t go back; couldn’t forget him.

What had he done to her?

Sam’s last year of high school zoomed by, uneventful, as she threw herself into her studies, trying desperately to not think about him, but finding that he snuck in at every moment available. She wondered about him every single day, wondered how he was doing, if he had found someone new, or if he was doing the same thing as her. The pessimistic side of her told her to move on, told her that he’d found a prettier, more dependable, less crazy girl to fall in love with.

But the other side of her clung on to his memory, his presence in her mind, refusing to let her let go.

Prom night came and went. Sam’s date had been the boy from before the trip. Sam thought maybe he could change her mind about things; he was nice to her, so nice to her, and perfect for her as well. She’d even been interested in him before. But something just wasn’t working.

At the end of the night, as the two of them stood at the door to her house and stared into each other’s eyes, Sam tried hard to feel something between them, feel something as he came down to close the gap, but she knew the moment their lips touched that it wasn’t right. It was never like it was between her and him.

He, after pulling back, realized it.

“There’s someone else, isn’t there? There’s been someone else, ever since you came back, right?” he whispered, slightly bitter.

She nodded sadly.

“And there’s something that’s keeping you from going to him, isn’t there?” he whispered again.

She nodded again.

“Trust me on this one. Get to him before someone else does. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

With that, he kissed her on the cheek briefly one last time, before walking back to his car and driving off into the night, leaving her alone with watering eyes on her doorstep. Her mind reeled and her thoughts swam, and before the first tear even hit the ground after sliding off her cheek, Sam stumbled to her backyard.

Behind a rather large tree that had grown for quite some time in her backyard, Sam fell and began to dig with her bare hands, vision blurry, the only source of light being the moon that shone strong in the night. Soon, she hit a simple black and rectangular jewellery box, and she frantically dug around it, loosening the dirt and ripping it out of the ground.

The tears began to fall faster as she tore off the key-necklace that she always wore around her neck and shakily inserted the key into its lock. She turned it once, twice, three times, four times, and the lid popped up, a sweet but melancholy melody pouring out, blending with the sounds of the night. Right on top of the pile of pictures and trinkets and memories was a letter, a letter Sam knew off by heart. She’d memorized it the day she opened the box, the day she’d gotten back home.

It was a letter from him.

He spoke of his feelings, of the times they had together, and how everyone kept telling him, insisting that this was just a summer fling, when he knew, he knew that it was more than just that. He told her she was beautiful, inside and out, and that he wouldn’t change a single second they’d had together, whether they were fighting or laughing, happy or sad. He told her he was sorry that he couldn’t go, told her he was a fool and that she deserved better, but told her he couldn’t get over her, he knew, no matter how hard he’d try to convince herself that it was good for her.

He told her of his dream. She’d known this, his passion for music and dance and drama had been part of what had drawn her to him. It wasn’t because he loved music, loved dance, or loved drama that drew her to him, but because he had passion for these things. He had a dream he was hell bent on achieving, and he’d set his sights on it and wasn’t straying.

He told her this was the second most vulnerable part of him, this dream. That it had been the most vulnerable, but she ‘had to come along and become my number one in everything’. He promised to wait for her, to never leave until she came back, even if he became famous. Lastly, he made her promise to pursue her own dreams, and to not go back until she had achieved one of her own.

While reading the letter, when she came to that part, she nodded even if he couldn’t see, hiccupping slightly. She whispered, “I promise,” to the crickets, folded the letter carefully, and put it back in. The melody began to slow down as she reached underneath the letter and pulled out one of the many pictures of them together.

It was his favourite one. He’d said so himself, after they’d used up ten shots to get it perfect. They’d placed it on his tripod, and she worried for his camera since the wind was kind of strong. They’d argued for awhile, and she gave in, looking a little grumpy as he set the camera and the timer. But the moment he dashed over, under the tree with her, all of this melted as he put his arms around her and hugged her. She loved that about him. With him, there was no pressure to kiss all the time, or hold hands, because he understood that hug could mean so much more. They hugged for much longer, long after the picture had been taken.

And when they did let go, they held hands as they went to check the picture, and he smiled so wide when he saw how it had turned out.

It was perfect.

It had been their second last day together, the day before the airport. They’d fought over the picture, not seriously, but he was insistent on keeping it.

It wasn’t until she had opened the box that she’d realized he’d put it in.

Sam stared at the picture. The music came to a stop, and trembling, she shut the jewellery box, stared at it for a few seconds, and then turned the key once, twice, three times, four times. The lid popped open, and a sweet but melancholy melody poured out.

Sam looked up at the sky, at the stars, at the moon...

I am a hopeless romantic. Oops?

JFAT should be out... soon... before school starts on the 8th, hopefully.

Hopefully. You guys can't see, but I'm starting to sweat. LOL.

Hope you enjoyed this!

- julie .

p.s. r&r? :) send me some loveeee.