A/N: Hey! I'm back, yes sir. And this time, I present you a little drama that was heavily based on the song Savior, by Rise Against. I absolutely love this song, and the plot hit me in the head while I was listening to it, so without further ado…

"So… This is it?" Neil asked in disbelief. They were both standing in her tiny bedroom – he was pacing, Claire was still as a rock – and the argument had already dragged on for what he could assume were ages. Totally pointless, if you asked him. But she wouldn't hear of it.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Claire's reply was acid; she didn't move a single muscle besides her mouth when she talked. Her eyes burned him like dry ice.

"I just don't get it! I mean… What, do you hate me now? Because if I'm not mistaken – and I remember it pretty damn well – just a week ago you were going on and on about how you were in love with me. So either you're fucking bipolar, or…" There was a sarcastic tone in his voice as he paced back and forth, unable to keep still. She merely scoffed.

"This was never love in the first place."

Silence lingered in the air for a moment, the tension thickening. For the first time in what felt like hours, Neil stopped and just stared at the black-haired ice sculpture in front of him.

"I don't hate you, Neil." Her voice was softer now, more gentle. "But we were such great friends before, remember? I miss that. Right now? This argument? We never argued when we were just friends. I… I want to save our friendship while there's still one to save."

Claire's fists were clenched so tight that her knuckles were starting to turn white. Neil approached her without a word and took her hand in his, gently uncurling her reluctant fingers. There were little red scars where her nails had been.

When he pressed his lips to hers for a split second, she was too dizzy to show any resistance.

"I love you", he whispered, still inches away from her face. "But you still have a lot to figure out, and I'm sorry, but you won't get any answers if I'm still around."

And so he walked away without another word.

This was exactly ten years ago, the last time they ever heard of each other. A wall had risen between them since that day – constituted mainly of pride and uncertainty – which made any contact completely impossible.

Every time Neil reached for the phone, he changed his mind and decided to wait for her to call, while gulping down yet another shot of whatever form of alcohol was within his reach. Whenever Claire felt compelled to dial his number, she did whatever she could to get out of the house and away from the undying memories of her former best friend.

As the years went by, the memories drifted further and further away, until they were no longer painful and there was absolutely nothing left to do or say about it. He can't even remember her face clearly; there's only a dull recollection of the tiny scars her nails had left on her hand that day. She moved out some time ago, began a whole new life in another country; eventually it was inevitable that she was forgotten.

But today will be exactly ten years since they last saw each other. As she gazes at the mirror, her face is now adult and serious; her eyes have been hardened by ten years of undiluted reality. A single tear drops down her new grown-up face, one she quickly wipes away.

Lying awake in his bed, in the early hours of the morning, Neil struggles to remember the color of her eyes.

A/n: What do you think? I'm quite proud of this. Opinions, please!