YOU & ME, ALWAYS

PROLOGUE

Dear Diary,

I’m not sure why I’m writing tonight. I haven’t kept a journal since I was 17, not since Samuel found it and acted out his favourite parts, in his best Meryl Streep impression. To be fair, he does an awesome impersonation, but I never wrote a single one of my thoughts down since that day.

So why am I writing tonight?

Maybe it’s the storm that is brewing outside, or maybe it’s Noah sleeping beside me, calm and steady in a way I’ve never known. I love him. He is good for me. He’s kind, he never raises his voice, or keep secrets. He is… safe. Easy. He’s the kind of love that you hold onto with both hands, because it makes sense. God knows I need something in my life that makes sense.

But some nights, like this one, I feel it again. That ache I swore I buried.

It usually happens when it’s late and the city's gone quiet.

That’s when I feel it. That pull. That whisper of something darker. Wilder. Him.

And as soon as I let myself think of him, it’s like I’m 18 again, back in my hometown with ghosts in my blood and his name on my lips. It has been 6 years since I last saw him. I don’t say his name anymore. I don’t even let myself write it.

It’s not that I still love him. I don’t. Not like that. That’s a lie.

Maybe... I don’t know. Fuck!)

I’ve tried to stop thinking about where he is and what happened in Bulgaria. I don’t even know if he is alive. So why now? Why has the Switching started back up again?

I have had enough pain to last me a lifetime, but it is so hard to forget.

Because I remember everything.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

—R