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"What kind of tea do you like?"
You watch as she raises her cup of peach and mint to her lips. Her eyes close in content, long lashes brushing against her cheeks, and this gives you time to clear the mess that your head has become.
You already know the date without having to peek at your phone.
September 7th, 2013.
Alice watches you from afar, glaring at you as if she's aware of what you've done.
You sit on her couch, in a room that should be nothing but debris. This girl—you don't even want to think of what kind of fate she met—sits to your side. You fully face her direction, her legs gracefully crossed and yours clumsily criss-crossed.
The world outside her window is out of focus, a mixed blur of yellows, oranges and reds. Same goes for the light that comes under the door as it threatens to pour in and take over.
You can't go near it without seeing flashes of other timelines, happier ones and unhappy ones alike. It's inaccessible and keeps you from leaving. You don't even want to leave. You never wanted to leave in the first place.
Reality wants you to clean the mess that you've started making. You tell reality to go fuck itself.
"Max?"
You're not ignoring her. At least, you don't think you are. You heard her question, but you just want to look at her.
Kate.
You take in the details you've already memorized and memorize the ones you have not.
Her beautiful face, her flawless skin, her messy, blonde hair up in its usual bun, her modest black and white outfit that you find cuter than anything the rich girl next door can put together. The way her pink lips pout as she looks at you in concern.
"You there, Max?"
You know your answer—chamomile, because of course it is. You know that it's her favorite as well, but that's something she doesn't know yet.
You remember her reaction like it was yesterday. You remember how excited she was to find out that her new tea partner favored the same kind of tea. She'll quickly set her cup down, nearly spilling its contents all over her skirt, to clap her hands together and say, "Me, too!" with a dazzling smile.
So you say something different this time. You say her least favorite kind of tea.
"Black tea."
She grimaces slightly, before she realizes, herself, what kind of face she's making at you, and it quickly changes to a worried, apologetic one.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry! Please don't take that the wrong way!" she squeaks and frets, as if she had taken your feelings and hurt them all one by one, when, really, you just feel the opposite.
"It's just that I'm not a fan. It's a little too, um, strong for me. It-It has nothing to do with you, really, or anything—"
You stop her rambling with one word.
"Chamomile."
"Huh?"
"You seem like a chamomile type of girl."
She points at herself with her head tilting adorably to the side. "I do?" Then she smiles softly. "I am, actually."
You smile back at her, holding eye contact with her longer than you, yourself, are even used to. That is until she shyly looks away, brushing loose hair behind her ear to take another sip of tea.
"What exactly is a chamomile type of girl?" she laughs.
You honestly have no idea, so you tell her not to worry about it.
"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted," she continues laughing, and it's music to your ears.
"It's far from an insult."
She hums innocently as if she's thinking, her smile turning into something resembling a smirk. "I'm not sure if I can trust your word, coming from a black tea lover and all."
Something you learn about the proclaimed Angel of Blackwell is that she can be quite the tease when she wants to be, even if she usually turns a shade pinker at her own words or her own actions.
"I'm joking, of course." She beams and it nearly blinds you.
"I know."
The world around you shifts. You fumble through the timeline. Reality pulls and shoves you forward to a different time and location.
You fucking hate every second of it.
"Are you going to the party tonight?"
You've always dreaded this moment—the moment that she decides to go to the biggest mistake of her life. It's the moment that leads to her downfall, literally, and it's a disgusting thought in itself.
"Why?" You already know, but that doesn't stop you from asking.
For her whole life, she's been the quiet, conservative Christian girl. She's part of religious groups and holds meetings to promote abstinence that no one ever goes to. No one sees her as anything else, so she wants to get out of her shell and live life how everyone else in Blackwell does.
But she just shrugs. "Dana invited me."
As much as you like the cheerleader, you kind of hate her right now.
"No."
"Huh?"
You're not going.
"I'm not going."
You watch as Kate's form slumps slightly. She tugs at the sleeves of her cardigan, silently asking for more. Sure, she's being a little dishonest with you, but it's not like you can be completely honest with her either, even though you want to tell her everything.
You want to tell her how she'll be drugged at that party.
You want to tell her how she'll be recorded doing things that are out of her control for the whole world to see.
How she'll be taken to the dark room.
How everyone will reject her.
How she'll try to end her problems with her own life.
"Wild parties aren't really my scene, y'know?" you tell her instead, feeling a knot growing in your chest. "I'm not into drugs, alcohol and sweaty teenagers grinding on each other."
You stare deeply into her, as if trying to get your point across. "They don't seem like your kind of scene either, Kate."
She goes from tugging at her own sleeves to fiddling with the cross around her neck. "You're right, but… I just thought it would be fun, or whatever, to go together." She shakes her head with a sigh. "Never mind, it was dumb of me to ask—"
"Stay with me," you interrupt her. She looks at you in surprise.
You sounded a little more forceful than you hoped, but for once, this moment is one of the harder ones to change to your bidding.
"It's kinda hard to say no to Dana," she mutters, and you know that's just an excuse, so you keep trying.
"We can have a sleepover and watch movies. You like Disney, right?" It may be unfair to use her love of kids' movies against her, but, for God's sake, you just don't want her to go to that fucking party.
"That's the thing, Max…" She straightens her posture, making you bite the inside of your cheek. "We're not kids anymore. I'm… We're away from our parents, and I can finally have fun for once in my life."
Nothing about what will happen to you will be fun.
You look at the sweet, bright girl in front of you, and you see flashes of the girl that you don't want her to become—the girl you could barely help.
You see pale skin and dark eyes, slumped shoulders hunched over her desk as she sits in class like a zombie, just trying to get through the day.
You see rain blending in with an endless amount of tears and the face of someone who finds no worth in living.
You see her falling to the ground.
"You'll regret it," slips out of your mouth.
"What?" She looks at you as if you just said the sky isn't blue. "How do you know what I'll regret or not, Max?"
"It's not safe," you slip some more, and it's too late to go back on what you're saying. You've already said enough.
"Not safe?" she huffs. "What… What are you? My mother?"
As much as you dislike a certain cheerleader right now, there's no nice way to say that you definitely hate her mother.
She gets up to her feet before more words can slip out of your mouth and makes her way to the door. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Max."
The light is harsh on your eyes as she opens the door, but it ends with a slam, returning back to its state of blurry, swirling colors.
You let out the breath that you don't realize you've been holding, falling face first into your pillow. It's not like you can run after her.
"Max, is that you?"
You can barely hear her voice through the loud music in your ears, but you're able to make out her small frame through the flashing, multicolored lights. They mix with the blurry mess of yellows, oranges and reds, and it hurts your head a bit.
You push through the crowd of drunken art students and nearly get the wind knocked out of you when she runs into you.
"I'm so glad that you came, Max!" She latches onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck. She leans into you messily and her feet stumbles as you try to hold her up.
She's safe, you repeat in your head over and over. She may have already been drugged, but for once, you're able to thank reality for bringing you to a point before things can get worse.
You're just glad that she's safe.
"I'm sorry for getting mad at you." You notice the slur in her voice. Her breath is hot on your neck, and it doesn't smell great. "I just turned eighteen, but I'm still a f… f-freaking kid."
You tell her that it's okay. Everything will be okay. You barely say it loud enough that you think she didn't hear you, but her frown turns into a lopsided grin at what you say.
You don't realize how hard you're holding onto her until the other girl clears what little distance there is between you two. She gets even closer, but you become uncomfortable. Something soft brushes against your chin, and you realize that she's trying to kiss you.
This isn't her, so you place a hand on her shoulder to stop her. You may be glad to see her safe—so much that you just want to kiss her right now—but you'd rather save the moment for later. She deserves better.
"Rejected by Max? That's pretty sad."
"How the fuck did she even get in?" A familiar voice reaches your ears.
"Look away, Vic, no one wants to see Hipsterfield and Freak-for-Jesus make out." You recognize Taylor's voice as well.
"No! Let them!" A much deeper voice belonging to some jock encourages you two, and that's when you finally take notice of the crowd of people watching.
Victoria leads the pack, phone in hand as she points it at you and Kate.
You like Victoria. You've seen the true Victoria underneath her rough exterior. You're aware that Victoria has no idea what her cruel actions will cause, but right now, you fucking hate her and Kate needs to be protected.
So, with Kate in hand, you approach the Queen of Blackwell until her brown eyes uncomfortably fill your vision and literally snarl at her. The crowd goes silent and you can almost imagine the music stopping with a record scratch.
"Delete the video."
"Get the fuck out of my face, Caulfield." You're tempted to just snatch the phone right out of her hand and drop it into the nearest punch bowl.
"Delete it," you repeat.
"Why should I?"
She glares at you hard, and long ago, you would have crumbled underneath the Chase's ice cold stare. However, your mental state is absolutely fucked.
You're responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people, and reality has been reminding you of that everyday for God knows how long. You've developed a glare of your own that can rival the worst of them.
You beat Victoria at her own game, and she takes a step back, actually looking afraid for a second. In the background, Taylor flinches and Kate asks you what you're doing. That's when you finally decide to ease the intensity of your gaze.
"You'll thank me later," you say softly, leaving Victoria stunned and confused. "Let's go, Kate."
You tug on her hand, and she follows with no complaints or concern for where you're taking her. She just continues to stumble on her feet, and you wrap an arm around her waist to hold her up.
You push through the crowd, holding her as tight as possible, fearing that she'll just disappear from your hands and into the wrong ones. You make it to the exit, but someone slams their palm into the door before you can leave.
He smiles at you politely, rubbing the back of his neck apologetically, but you can see his true intentions in his eyes.
"Never seen you around here before," says Nathan. "Sorry for bothering you, but want me to take her back? It's my fault that she got this wasted. I encouraged her to drink and all."
You don't buy his bullshit at all, and just like Victoria, he falters under your strong glare. If looks could kill, Nathan would be six feet under right now.
But that's the last thing you want to happen to him.
You hate that you only have two options for him, and that both of them are shitty ones. You tell Nathan that you're sorry, leaving him with the lesser of two bad endings, and leave with Kate in tow.
Luckily, he doesn't keep you any further. Nothing is said between you and her as you take her back to the dorm, but neither of you let go of each other.
You reach your room, where the colors reside. The moment you lay her into your bed, she passes out. You push a desk in front of your door and never leave her side.
You pull out your phone and anonymously text David everything that he needs to know.
"What are you doing here, Max?"
Stop! Don't come near me!
Your breath is labored from the long climb up the stairs. "Looking for you." You watch her carefully. "I can ask you the same thing, Kate."
She turns away from you and slowly takes a seat on the ledge, silently inviting you over. You walk over and sit beside her, keeping your eyes on her in fear that she'll just fall over. You want to pull her away anyway, but you're, at the very least, thankful that she doesn't dangle her feet off of the edge.
Clouds start rolling in and a cold breeze makes you zip up your hoodie. You watch as the stray blonde hair that didn't make it into her bun flows gracefully in the wind.
"It has a nice view up here."
To you, the view is anything but. It's horrible, out of focus and blurry. The sky almost resembles a sinister red when it should be blue.
"They never lock the door." She offers you a distant smile. "I come up here whenever I want to clear my mind."
You can almost feel how thick the air is with tension, so you attempt to clear it with a gentle poke to her temple. "Yeah, what exactly is going on up there?"
She laughs slightly at your antics, but she still ends up curling into herself, hugging her knees to her chest. You can tell right away what it is that's on her mind.
"Nathan…" She shivers, and your gaze falls to the ground. "He drugged me."
You wait patiently as her mouth opens and closes, trying to put words together.
"He and… Mr. Jefferson were arrested for drugging and kidnapping girls. They killed Rachel Amber, and… I was their next victim?"
You place a hand onto her shoulder. She leans into your touch, scooting closer to you.
"I used to stay after school to assist him—alone for God's sake!" The thought makes you shiver alongside her. "Who knows what could've happened to me?" she whispers to herself.
You know exactly what would have happened.
"Don't think about it too much," you tell her.
She closes the rest of the distance between you two, wrapping her arms around your waist, catching you off guard in the most pleasant way possible.
"It's all thanks to you, Max." She presses her face into your shoulder, her voice becoming adorably muffled. "I can't thank you enough for being there to drag me out of that party."
You return her embrace, and you notice that both of your shivers have come to a halt. It's felt so long since you felt this kind of contact with her, and even though you know that it's been far from a long time, you still find your own face heating up.
"I feel awful for not trusting you. I must have been such a nuisance."
She looks up at you with her pretty, beautiful face. You can feel the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and the childish giggles that rise in your chest. You're able to feel like a little girl gushing over your crush again, and it feels amazing.
You don't realize that a few giggles have already escaped you until she starts pouting at you.
"What? I feel terrible!" she squeaks. "I'm so sorry."
"Everything's fine," you say, because it truly feels like it.
"I wanna make it up to you somehow."
You already have the cheesiest line you can think of ready to go.
"Kate, just seeing you safe is enough for me."
Apparently she doesn't think it's cheesy, because she gives you the brightest smile you've ever seen to grace her face. Her grin is an amazing improvement from the original, depressed Kate that's been burned into your memory.
You're so glad that she was able to stay her happy, cheerful self. You're so happy that you could prevent this Kate from becoming the sad one that you have millions of regrets for. Emotions flood over you, and you swear you're about to overflow.
"Are you crying, Max?"
You deny it and blame the rain.
She laughs in disbelief until she flinches, due to a drop landing on her own eye. Faster than either of you can react, rain starts to fall, dots of water turning the roof a few shades darker.
With a smile, you get up and offer your hand to her. She doesn't hesitate to take it, and neither of you let go, even after you descend the first flight of stairs.
Once you to make it back to the dorm, the colors return, spreading around you, coming closer and closer. You decide that now is the time to change some things.
"You know, Kate, if you want, you can still make it up to me with some tea."
"Oh, of course," she laughs, bouncing on her heels excitedly. "Tea in my room?" she offers.
"Actually, I was thinking of that one tea shop we've never been to—the one right outside the bay?"
She looks at you as if you've gone mad. "Are you sure? But it's so expensive there!"
"No? Not even for me?" You smirk, or at least try to smirk without it feeling weird on your face. "I could really go for some black tea right now."
She clears her throat, harsh with exaggeration. "What, am I taking you out on a date or something?" she fires back with her own Kate Marsh version of a smirk.
"Yeah."
"Oh."
You've never seen her turn red so quickly. She covers her face in an attempt to hide it, but you can tell that she's smiling behind her hand. You absolutely adore her reaction, mentally praising yourself for being able to have that kind of effect on the other girl.
But her face goes from shy and excited to concerned in an instant.
"Oh, Max, your nose is bleeding!"
She drags you to the direction of the bathroom faster than you can lie and tell her that you're fine.
You're far from it.
"You're not dressing up for Halloween?"
You never thought about what costume you should wear, because you rarely ever get this far.
So you simply tell her, "I forgot."
"About your favorite holiday?" She crosses her arms and leans on your doorframe. You just shrug at her with your most innocent smile. She starts tugging at her own costume, blindly adjusting it with a sigh. "I guess I'll admit that this was pretty last minute."
Honestly, you expected her to dress up as something that requires bunny ears on top of her head, or that of some other cute animal. She completely shatters your expectations with worn out bandages wrapped around her everyday black and white. They dangle off of her wrists and her ankles, with more bandages wrapped around her forehead to cover one of her eyes.
She's probably the cutest mummy you've ever seen. It's oddly fitting, yet strangely adorable.
With a smile, she twirls around in a circle to show you the rest. "What do you think? I, um, figured wrapping myself in toilet paper for Halloween would be kinda lame."
You look great, you want to say, but you decide to test the waters a bit.
Reality never filled in the blanks after it shoved you forward by weeks or even months. The last thing you remember is a planned date, and you have no idea how that turned out.
The fact that she's still talking to you, wanting to spend Halloween together, is a sign that you didn't completely blow it—especially when you look at your phone charging on your nightstand, and the wallpaper is the very girl in front of you.
"You look great, babe," you say instead.
"Oh," she giggles. "That's a new one," she says without a shake or stutter, but the redness on her face shows you otherwise.
Suddenly, she's taking your hands and pulling you up from your seat. "Come on, I'm sure we can find you a last minute costume as well."
Her hands are warm on yours, but your blood goes cold as you realize that she's dragging you to the door.
It can barely be described as a door to you anymore. The yellows, oranges and reds have completely taken it over. The walls of your room are no different. Everything's become a blurry mess of colors, and your head starts to hurt the closer she takes you to it.
To her, it's nothing but a door, but to you, it serves as a reminder.
Reality wants you to start cleaning up the mess you've made now.
You want to tell reality to go fuck itself, but reality has had enough.
The pain in your head increases mercilessly, turning a simple headache into what feels like a hot poker being shoved into your brain.
"Wait," you manage to plead through the pain.
"What's up?" Her hand reaches the doorknob, and you cautiously take a step forward, afraid that simply opening it will have reality pulling her in. Now, your ears start ringing.
You can't go with her. You can't have her leave yet.
"What's wrong?" She approaches you, looking at you with that damn concerned face of hers—the one that makes your insides melt with warmth.
That's when you realize that the pain in your head and the ringing in your ears have all vanished. You know that it's just reality taking pity on you, but you want to believe that it's the effect of the girl in front of you—anything to justify staying any longer.
You love her so much. You thought that you could bend time to your will, but that was proven wrong long ago. You don't have a lot of time left—barely, if any.
So you take that chance before it's too late.
"Max?"
Your body acts on its own before your brain can even keep up. Your hands reach for the bandages that covers her left eye, lifting it up for you to gaze into. She stares back at you knowingly, eyes twinkling with subtle anticipation for what you're going to do next, and you pull her closer, away from reality's grasp.
Your lips land on hers. You watch as her eyes open wide in surprise until she melts into you. She returns your affections with every bit of passion that you feel for her with lips so incredibly soft. You almost forgot how it felt to kiss her, despite this being far from your first kiss with her.
When you pull away, she leans in for more, before shyly realizing what she's doing. You smile and laugh as she tries to hide her embarrassment.
"Why don't we stay here instead? We can watch scary movies?" You already know that she doesn't like horror, but you figure that neither of you will be paying attention anyway.
Not that you'll even get to experience it.
"Y-You…" She tries to catch her breath that you've stolen from her. "You don't want free candy?"
"You're already sweet enough for me."
She stares at you silently for a few seconds before grinning. "That was awful."
The pain returns shortly.
"Are you okay, Max?"
Her fingers are firm on your shoulders. Her breath is hot on your lips. Her eyes gaze into yours lovingly. Her body presses against yours as she pins you to the door.
But the colors have turned into a monster, and it feels like it's taking bites out of your back. The hot poker in your brain turns into bricks being tossed onto your head one by one. You almost didn't hear her over the painful ringing, like a gun being shot right in your ears.
"Yeah, I'm fine… It's just…"
It hurts.
"… Can we move to the bed?"
She covers her mouth as if it's her own fault. "Oh, of course!"
She takes your hand to guide you somewhere. You can barely see without the lights on. The illuminating colors swirling around you do nothing to help.
"I'm sorry. I got a little bit too excited, and, um," she giggles shyly. "You just looked so great all night… I couldn't wait to take you home."
Away from the mess you've made, the pain slowly goes away, just in time for you to enjoy the feeling of kisses on your neck. Her smile has never been so inviting before as she lays you onto the bed and settles on top of you.
Your vision starts to clear up, enough to realize that you're no longer in Blackwell. You don't recognize the layout of the room, not even the ceiling, but you see Alice's cage and a healthy looking Lisa together in the corner.
You realize that you and Kate must have moved in together.
Your head starts to clear up, enough to realize that there's a subtle weight to one of your fingers, and when you grasp at her hand, metal clinks as fingers curl together.
You realize that you and Kate must be committed to take things seriously.
She kisses you tirelessly, her lips reaching every sensitive spot that you know and didn't know of. She kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your chin.
You inhale sharply when you feel her tongue moving from your neck to your jawline and her teeth nibbling on your pulse. She does so with an adorably intense blush on her face, before you and her become a mess of lips, light touches, heavy breaths and tangled limbs. You've never felt so loved or in love in your entire life.
But another brick to your head reminds you that yes, you have—in other timelines where Kate would be too shy and you had to initiate everything. Other timelines where Kate would rather just snuggle into your side. Other timelines where Kate made the decision to change her stance on abstinence.
Your head is still clear enough to savor every feeling, because you're aware that reality is still rearing its heavy hand with more bricks and new ways to torture you.
She wraps your arms around you entirely, her body warm, soft and flush against yours. You wonder if she's just as overwhelmed as you are. You close your eyes as she tilts her head to the side, deepening the kiss further, but you can still see the colors even through your closed eyes.
She doesn't say anything.
You're glad for that, as you feel like just trying to speak will prove to be difficult.
She just hums and snores softly as she sleeps with her back pressed against your chest.
It's comforting, soft and warm, but it does nothing to ease the discomfort in your head.
You can't think of any more creative similes to describe the pain that you're feeling. It hurts too much to even try, so you use the ones you've thought of beforehand.
You know… Just to be prepared.
It's like a sledgehammer slamming into your head repeatedly, your skull shuttering with each strike. Your ears feel like a bomb went off in both of your eardrums.
You shut your eyes to keep the colors away, but to no avail. The color black has joined the mass of yellows, oranges and reds.
A different kind of red, and you almost feel that it's a welcome change of pace, is smeared under your nose, all over your arms, your pillow, your sheets, everything on your side of the bed.
None on her, of course. You don't want to get any blood on her.
Kate.
You hold onto her tightly as if she'll disappear.
You place the palm of your hand on the left side of her chest, as if her heart will stop beating.
You bury your face into the crook of her neck, as if her pulse will stop as well.
You focus on the feel of her, as if it's the last time you'll be able to touch her.
You force your eyes open to look at her as if it's the last time you'll be able to see her. Tears hinder your vision and the colors come rushing in.
Reality almost bashes your skull in with its sledgehammer.
Another reminder that none of that is true, and you'll just do it all over again.
"Max?"
You can't take it anymore.
"Max," she tiredly calls for you. "What are you doing up this late?"
No more creative similes. You feel like your head will literally explode, and you don't want Kate to be the one to clean it up. You taste iron on your lips as blood doesn't want to stop pouring from your nose.
You sit on the floor, covered in red, flipping through the diary on your lap with hands also covered in red. Every entry is about her. Every picture is of her.
She calls you back to bed, but you ignore her. You have to.
Every page brings you closer to tears, as you think about this Kate that you love so much, and how she'll just end up as another Kate that you've left behind with the rest of them—another Kate that you've failed.
How none of them truly loved you.
How all of them were manipulated into loving you.
How every single Kate has been merely tricked into loving you by using what you've learned from the previous one.
You hate yourself so much right now.
You're positive that if you were to tell her any of that, she'd just shake her head and smile sweetly, telling you that you're wrong and that she truly does love you.
You hear blankets shifting and the bed creaking.
You finally reach the beginning of your diary, where you find the picture you've been looking for. You've purposely started from the end just to stay a bit longer.
It’s a candid shot of Kate with her eyes closed, sampling a cup to her lips, labeled with black sharpie.
september 7th
tea date with kate! ^.^
"I'm sorry," you whisper, not even loud enough for her to hear.
Her footsteps approach from behind.
"I'm so sorry," you sob, taking the photo into your hands. You can barely even see it through your tears.
You don't even dare to look back at her. Any minute longer and you'll pass out from the pain. You've never passed about between timelines, but you don't want to find out what will happen.
Just one look at the beautiful angel behind you will make you tear the photo in half.
But you don't even try, as you can't even imagine what kind of punishment reality will put you through. Still, it can't be any worse than what you're going through right now.
Her sweet voice is just a whisper in your ear.
"It's okay."
Arms wrap around you, but they're gone the moment they came.
"It's okay, Max."
"What kind of tea do you like?"
You watch as she raises her cup of peach and mint to her lips. Her eyes close in content, long lashes brushing against her cheeks, and this gives you time to gaze at her and remember every nonexistent memory you’ve shared with her.
You already know the date without having to peek at your phone.
Reality silently awaits your answer.
"Chamomile."
The color blue fills your vision. You don't know if it's a welcome change or not from all of the red.
Kate is plucked away from your fingers.
"You did it again, Max," she says, and it's more of a statement than a question, as she shoves the photo into her pocket for her to hide somewhere and for you to find later.
"Yeah."
You watch as she paces around the room, because she should be angry with you. You'd be angry too if you were in her shoes, but she's been nothing but sympathetic. She's the only one who knows what you've been through.
But you allow yourself to be selfish, because she can never understand what you've been through.
"You can't keep doing this, Max." Chloe tries to scold you, but it just comes out sadly. "It's not safe."
You just want to grieve, but you grieve to feel better, not to get better.
It's all worth it when you get to see her again.
"I know."