Waiting for the 7.18

She glanced upwards, her hair still dripping. She caught her reflection in the mosaic-framed mirror. A flicker of fear ran through her. She stared, almost longingly, at the girl who gaped back. She reached out, touching the cold, unpleasant surface of the virtual image. The radio droned in the background, some song about finding "The One". She let out a despondent laugh as she wiped the glistening teardrop from her twin. The real tear continued on, regardless of the death of its counterpart. It rolled suicidally towards her chin before gently diving towards the hall floor. Today was the day. In her mind, the rain was like some form of pathetic fallacy.

He had never really understood it all. He was just your average teenager. He wasn't overly handsome. He wasn't captain of the sport's teams. He played chess but only when his granddad was over. Video games were only played on rare occasions with friends. He didn't fit into a category. He just . . . existed. He travelled from friend to friend, desperately grabbing on to anything that resembled a social situation. Anything to escape from the darkening cloud of depression. His dad had suffered from it and he knew he eventually would too. However, with not much going for him, he grappled with keeping friends. He had lost them all eventually, for various reasons.

She grabbed the warm sandwiches she had made earlier and hastily packed them into her carrier bag. She gave the clock a fleeting look. Fifteen minutes. She scurried around her parent's suburban terraced house, scavenging anything she thought would be essential. Toothpaste and a brush made there way into the bottom of the bag, nestling beside the sandwiches. She took some clothes, not her entire collection(which spanned two wardrobes), instead she took just the two t-shirts her father had bought her, a beaten up pair of jeans she had owned for many a year and his jumper. She packed underwear, a mix-tape and a wooly hat.

He had just expected it to be another day at school. He would go in, stand alone, awkwardly greet former friends. He would usually revert to positioning himself outside other social circles. He would try chime in with his dry wit however, it was never heralded with more than a smile. He grabbed a seat beside the radiator. The weather had been dull for the past month or so, as is typical in his area. He opened his books and began to daze. He was stirred from his reveries by an abrupt slam of books beside him. He turned around and caught a glimpse of a glistening pair of eyes. They were brown. Not just any brown though, they were the darkest brown eyes he had ever witnessed. The whites of the eyes were made immensely vivid by their neighbor's darkness and he had to fight his way out of staring. He decided to focus on who this person was. She was smaller than him, marginally. Her blonde hair sat just past her shoulder and flowed with every turn of her head. She was quiet, giving him a quick hello but nothing more. He grunted back, still not full awoken from his daydreams. However, she smiled. That was it. His jaw dropped. Her perfectly formed lips curved, releasing the most beautiful teeth he had cared to notice. Her cheeks creased a little and her eyes reflected his apparent shock. "Phoenix, meet Robyn, she's new.".

She sat at the small, circular table in the kitchen and began to write. "Mam, Dad, Emily...". She choked back a tear or two before attempting to continue. Eventually, she lost the battle and possibly the biggest tear she had ever produced bounced off the lined paper she had sat in front of her. She grasped the fountain pen and persisted with her note. "I love you all". She sustained her writing for the majority of the note before her body's shaking forced her to cease. She folded the paper and placed it under a heart-shaped paperweight on the counter. She grabbed her favourite red jacket and trudged towards the door. Now, the wait. She placed her carrier bag beside her Cons that had accompanied her through many obstacles. She sat dejected on the bottom step of the winding staircase.

He spent the next week or two casually creating conversation. He used his humor to win her over. However, making friends was not really the challenge. Keeping them was were he failed. He interrogated her, scouring for information, for something that he could build a bond on. It was hard. He couldn't concentrate for losing himself in her smile, or her eyes. They exchanged e-mail addresses and would spend entire nights clattering away at their keyboards. He knew he liked her. She was, on the surface, perfect. He adored the way her hair would blow in several different directions, rebellious to the wind. He adored the way she didn't care when it did. He had found solace in her laugh, her cute laugh. In his opinion, that laugh was the single greatest thing he had ever heard. He loved when she tried defending her name in their petty top trump fights. "A phoenix would beat a Robin any day", he would suggest, usually provoking a debate which would last into the night, her always fighting a losing battle.

She checked her watch. Her grandmother had given it to her in her will. She willed the second hand on its endless journey around the face of the timepiece. He was late, ten minutes late. He was never late. Never, for anything. He insisted on punctuality. Yet here she was, for the first time in their relationship, waiting for him. She began clicking her heels together, her formerly-red, now almost pink, Cons clunked off of each other, their laces rattling off the ground at every collision. She let out a sigh, kicking out pathetically at an ant that had scurried in through the slight gap under the door. The creature stopped, almost mockingly, before continuing in its quest for nutrition.

He had a gut feeling he was falling for her. Admittedly, he had never loved before. How could he confirm this feeling? He did know, however, that he had never felt like this before. He was intoxicated by her scent, soothed by her voice, and her touch gave him goosebumps. He found a new meaning. Something to wake up for, even if waking up from his dreams of her was not his top priority. They continued to live nocturnally as he started making noises about his feelings. He was shy. He had never announced his feelings to a girl before, he had never even ventured close. But there was something about her, something that made him feel he could say it. He made a plan. He invited her out, a day to the zoo. He had planned it perfectly. They met up outside the zoo, the thundering rain seemed to collect on his glasses. They trudged around the empty, unwelcoming, animal cages. He held a single, red balloon and despite her constant questioning, he refused to tell her why he had it. That was until the end of the day. They sat down on the wet bench, reclusively placed in aice the cage that held arctic wolves. He handed her the balloon and she, bewildered, thanked him. He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a sewing pin. He gave it to her, gesturing towards the balloon. She took the hint, popping the balloon with an almighty bang that echoed around the lonely zoo. A slip of paper began its slow descent to the ground, It floated lightly, despite the rain pushing it down. She reached out, catching the now drenched paper. She opened it up, trying to read the soaked ink. She choked back a tear; "Yes! Yes of course!". She reached towards him, grasping him and squeezing to within an inch of his life. He gasped before realising his surroundings. He held her back. He knew. That feeling in his stomach. He knew. He loved her.

She heard a car and her heart jumped. She looked out of the little oval window on the door, nothing. Just a neighbor. Not him.

He had told her his plan after two months together. He was sick of not being able to spend his days and nights with her. They would run, runaway to a place where they could find peace. Where they could have fun. Where he could support her and where they could begin to spend their lives together. At first she was doubtful. Her life was perfect. It was frustrating that she couldn't see him whenever she wanted, but she loved her family and she loved her friends. However, he convinced her that he was serious when he got his driver's license. She gradually came around to the idea.

She looked up again, it was him. His hair glued to his face with rain. His red jacket was soaked through. She opened the door and they greeted each other with a kiss. He beckoned her towards his old Fiesta. It was lashing rain, the wind thrashing around. She stopped and thought for a minute, looking back at her warm, illuminated house. Pictures of her parents sat on the hall table, a family photo hung above the the fourth and fifth step. She threw her gaze to the ground before slamming closed the door to her old life.

They set off. Together at last. Like something out of a movie. He drove for what seemed like days as she slept peacefully in the passenger seat. The man on the radio kept him informed on the time but he hadn't payed much attention. They only stopped for petrol and even that was an event that occured without speech. They finally gave up in a little village on the outside of the next county. They rented a cottage for a week, spending almost a quarter of their savings in one go. They feasted on her prepared sandwiches that night, eager for energy. They sat out on the balcony, falling asleep in each other's arms.

It seemed great. They would drive for hours, stop, find somewhere to stay and fall asleep together. It was a dream come true. They lived out of bags without a care in the world.

However, after 6 weeks on the run, they began to run out of money. Instead of renting places to stay, they slept in the car. Food was rare and cherished when they fell upon it. Their relationship, however, stayed strong. He loved her. He would love her through whatever. In his opinion, this was nothing. Nothing. To her, this was hell. She loved him but she missed her family. She longed for her friends. She would often awake and stare at the stars through the muddy sunroof, whispering to herself "There's no place like home.".

"There's no place like home."

She loved him, she adored him. But she set off into the night. She ran. There's no place like home and she ran there. She ran through the rain, over mountains, rivers and through fields. She ran for days, often stopping for breaks. He awoke to find nothing. She was gone. He was alone again. His love was gone. His one reason for being was gone. It felt like his soul was gone. He was a shell, sitting alone in a hatchback on the side of a motorway, he realised that dreams are only dreams. That he pushed her too far out of her comfort zone. He had pushed his only loved one into a situation were she felt the need to run away from him. He sat, broken, slouched in his seat. He sighed and let out a whimper, a pathetic attempt to scream with anger.