You moved slower now. You’d noticed it those last few days in London with Rafe. The way it took more effort to keep stride with him, how you had to leave him in the afternoon’s, lying and saying that you were carrying on the siesta tradition from Spain. When really you were too exhausted in those warmer hours that you needed to recharge. Things you had once taken for granted, like the way your body moved freely, had become precious to you.

Everything just took too much effort now, and you knew what it meant. Your days travelling through Europe with the man you’d met in a small cafe in Paris and instantly known he was meant to be important, were over. You needed to go home, like you’d promised your parents you would once you started to feel it. But the idea of saying goodbye to Rafe, of having to explain a reality you didn’t want him to see, it tore at you. You’d wanted this too much.

A perfect summer, a perfect boy. So you’d down what cowards do. Waited until he fell into a deep sleep and vanishing. You’d left a note, making up a lie about realizing you still loved your ex and needed to go home to him. You wanted him to read it and hate you. To replace the love he’d declared for you, with anger and contempt. He needed that so he wouldn’t look for you.

The flight home, had seen you crying most of the way home. You think you may have scared your fellow passengers. And then it was right to the hospital for tests, that confirmed what you knew. It was back. It was time to do the treatments and fight like hell again. In those days were you’d puked up the poison that was supposed to save you, you played your summer with Rafe on a constant loop. It made it bearable to remember you’d had that. That it had been real.

It was a year now after that perfect summer. You’d done everything you could. The doctor’s seemed more optimistic. You got strength back. You wanted to leave dreary Boston, to go where you could put your feet in the sand and feel the sun on your face. And you’d known there was only one place to go. The Outer Banks, Rafe’s home. Maybe he didn’t call it home anymore. You had blocked him on everything, so you had no way of knowing what he was up to. It was a selfish choice, going there to feel connected to him again. You’d sworn you wouldn’t approach him, you just wanted to see him. The only boy you’d ever loved. Your future was still uncertain, and you didn’t want to break more promises.

You remembered every detail of the private beach he’d described to you. So you went. Trespassed, acting recklessly like you had that summer. You sat on the lifeguard tower, watching the sunrise. You closed your eyes, tilting it towards the sun.

“You’re not supposed to be out here. Private beach” your heart fluttered, the same way it had the first time you heard his voice. You froze. No sound came out of you. You could hear his footsteps growing closer, but you kept your eyes closed, not ready yet for the beauty of his face. When the footsteps stop in front of you, your eyes open. Teary green eyes met his stormy blue.

“Hi” you say so softly, you’re not sure he’ll hear you over the waves. His eyes narrow, and you know he’s heard.

“You’re a liar.” He says, climbing the tower in two quick strides and reaching for your chin, gripping it tight so you have to look at him. “It took me awhile, I was so goddamn angry at first, so focused on hating you. And then I started putting things together. You were sick.” His face hasn’t softened towards you, his voice sounds colder, more wary.

“Am sick” you correct, eyes roaming that face of his. That perfect face.

“Why are you here? Try the truth this time.” His voice holds a challenge to it, and you know this is the moment you tell the truth.