Chapter 1: It Begins with an End

Go to school. Go to work. Go to game night. Eat food. Call Ian. Study for classes. That was my life in a nutshell. Day in and day out I practice the same monotonous routine over and over again. But one Saturday everything changed and kicked off the wildest week of my life so far.

It always took me 20 minutes on the nose to walk from the coffee shop where I worked to my apartment. I only ever made the walk when I missed the bus. I only missed the bus when stupid college students, not too unlike myself, decide that they are going to walk into the coffee shop and order coffee after I cleaned everything, but before I close up for the night.

That was how I found myself wandering around the streets of my city that Saturday night. The air froze my lungs every time I took a breath and my fingertips burned from their measly single layer of gloved protection. When I have to walk home late at night on nights such as this, I call Ian. The boy turned man that I have liked for the last - and please don't judge me when I tell you this - seven years. This would be all good and fun if Ian saw me as more than just a sister. Not that I am his sister; this isn't that kind of story. He didn't like me romantically the first time I confessed my feelings and after the third time I accepted that he never will. I know this, I have truly accepted this and one day I will come to peace with it. Until that day, I will quietly harbor my feelings for him like a fugitive harbors his stolen jewels. But, this story isn't about Ian. If this tale depicted my life in relation to Ian it would be over 200 thousand words long and titled "Love and Other Horrible Afflictions."

Ian and I talked about shows that we watched and new music we found until the conversation inevitable turned to the new girl he found to play with. Why would I like a guy who plays with girls? Short version: he wasn't always this way. He didn't pop out of his mother's womb an asshole he just became one over time and various heartbreaks. Is that a good excuse? No. Not in the slightest. Does this excuse help me to sleep at night? No. Not really.

Ian went into details that I don't want to hear, but listen to sportively. He thinks that he will see her again tomorrow (technically today with how late it is) and "study" with her. I could practically hear the suggestive eye brow wiggle in his voice and a small, unwomanly part of me wanted to cry. However, like the good best friend that I am, I lied about how happy I was and told him to "get some". I didn't want him to get some. Deep down I selfishly wanted him to die a virgin like myself.

I try to an convince myself that it will all fall apart before it gets to that point, because it always does, but I couldn't fight back the voice that quietly suggested that tomorrow might be the day. Tomorrow I would receive a call and it would only be Barry White playing distantly in the background in proclamation that Ian had finally done it with a girl, a time honored tradition in our group of friends.

I told him I had to go because I got home and thanked him for keeping me company on the long walk back. The good byes lasted until I arrived at my floor at the top of my small apartment building.

All part of the familiar routine. The same stairs. The same posters on the walls. The same paint chips underneath those posters. The same, grey concrete underneath those paint chips. I checked the door to the roof, which was always locked and, just like every other day, it was locked.

Wait. I had to physically perform a double take to make sure my eyes didn't deceive me. Not only did the door stand unlocked, it was slightly ajar. Cool winter air wafted in through the crack, chilling me. A smile only a devious imp could make crossed my face. If I had a mustache with a curl at the end I would stroke it. It wasn't exactly permitted for people to go onto the roof. Of course by "not exactly permitted" I, do indeed, mean, "No students are permitted to have rooftop access". However, with the door cracked open I could see the light of the night filter into the stairwell and I couldn't pass up such a sight. Maintenance workers, typically took care to lock the metal door after they finish whatever business they have up on the roof. The school did't want students jumping.

I enjoyed living enough to not jump from my 5 story dorm. Instead, I planned on taking lots of photos from the roof to add to my personal collection of pictures on my computer. I'm not a photographer by any stretch of the word or imagination, but I decided that it would be neat none the less. If nothing else, I would be able to tear my thoughts away from Ian and the hick he wanted in his bed.

I pushed the door open and the night air was just as frigid as it was when I entered the building. I could practically feel the liquid in my eyes freezing over. Northeast American in the winter was not something my Georgian blood had a tolerance for. Four years in this new state and the icy air still solidified my lungs. The dark night sky glowed red from all of the city lights. This boring abyss couldn't be the same galaxy I spent hours mesmerized by at my family's ranch house back home.

As my luck would have it, there wasn't much to see for a rooftop view. It was too late for night owls be wandering between buildings and grabbing 1am snacks. It was still too early for the early worms to run about for their morning jog. (Or whatever it is people do before 10am.) The buildings loomed over the walkways with their dark windows and that was about it. When compared to the buildings surrounding it, my dorm was paltry at best, a little old granny surrounded by nicer, newer, taller buildings. Rumor had it that the school was going to tear this dorm down after this year to erect a nicer, newer, taller building in its place. But they have said as much since my freshman year, three years ago, and I doubted that they would do anything about the building any time soon.

I decided against putting my fingers through the icy hell that would be taking out my phone and snapping a picture. It wasn't worth it. With a sigh I shuffled back towards the door. My hand was on the handle, when I heard a shuffling on the other side of where the door let out. If I was acting logically, I would have ducked back into my dorm before whoever was working out here caught me. But at 3 in the morning my sense of logic didn't exist. I peeked around the door and I saw someone standing at the other end of the roof.

Not just someone. A smile crept over my lips like a pervert creeps into women's changing rooms. It slowly spread across my face, unnoticed, until my pearly whites were flashed to the elements of the frosty night air. I could see my breath exhale in large puffs of cloud as I silently chuckled to myself, elated at my good fortune

His name was Iain. Or, if you were me, you mentally called him "Ian with an extra I" because you have to find a way to separate him from your Ian back home. Also the extra "I" simply didn't belong.

Iain was Adonis' 317th reincarnation. He was also that hipster that played his ukulele underneath the giant oak tree in front of our building and sang to pretty girls. Until I saw him do this, I had never seen a girl swoon. They would flock to him like birds on bread crumbs. Iain walked to and from the common male bathroom with just a towel because saliva is something that should dribble out of women's mouths and not run down their throats. Over the course of our time at school together Iain had 17 confessions via our school's post secret page. Could they have all been from the same girl? Sure. But, I think that would be unlikely.

His blonde hair was shaved close to his temple on the sides, but was kept long on the top, as was popular in those days. His blue eyes looked like the Hawaiian waters. Both lithe and lean, Iain stood at a respectable 5'11.

Am I a little weird? Sure. But I'm not some awful, creepy person who stalks down attractive men. I have more self-respect than that. I knew Iain because he lived on my floor freshman year. He had a tendency to stay up extremely late and not wake up until the morning had completely passed him by. Freshman year was admittedly rough for me, new school, no friends, no family. As a result, I spent a lot of time being awake and wandering around the halls like a ghost. The common room of our floor quickly became a favored haunt of mine and it wasn't because of the cable or the massive television. (Although, those were very nice perks at a time before I had a tv of my own.) Iain would spend a fair amount of time there after midnight to work on projects. I spent a fair amount of time there to work on my own homework. We didn't talk much during those times. To be completely honest, back then I was shit when it came to talking to boys. Add a modicum of attractiveness to said boy and you would have had a silent and or stuttering girl on your hands. It's sad, but I worked on it. In fact, considering that an attractive boy stood nearby on a moonlit night, I thought I would take the opportunity to flex my social skills.

I could say "fancy meeting you here?" or "Come here often?" or "Woah I can't believe they left the rooftop door open." or "wow, I always thought this view would be better, haha." I took a few steps forward and stopped.

Too wrapped up in my own musing to realize the scene in front of me. Iain stood, not near the ledge of the building, but atop the ledge of the building. He stood at the edge of his life, staring down at its end. Every witty greeting I thought of died in the middle of my throat and my mouth hung open in shock and fear.

A/N: I'm going through and editing the chapters. Thank LN for pointing out that my tensing was all jacked up. I'm going to fix it. I'll try post updated chapters with new chapters. Please let me know if the rewrites make things worse or if I have greatly overlooked anything. All reviews are welome ~Nocnovus