"I loved him as I fell to sleep,

I tried scrambling back, and then a little more, but the wall was right behind me. My wide eyes were glued to him. And there was just this foot of distance between us. I couldn't back away any further. I couldn't escape.

He seemed surprised too. I think. How was I supposed to know when I just--when I was freaking out?

"Oh God." A barely-there whisper escaped my lips and I pressed my other hand flat against the concrete wall behind me.

Alastair.

No. No. No.

"Hey," I saw him stepping a little towards me and he seemed cautious. But his voice was soft. His voice was just as soft as I remembered, just as soft as I sometimes heard in my head--telling me to let go. But he was right here, right in front of me. My Alastair. He was standing right in front of me. And he looked so much like Alastair. The eyes. The hair. The face.

I didn't feel the panic settling in, not until I felt my hands pressing flat, so tightly against my ears, and I was sliding down on the ground just because my knees couldn't keep me up. My knees were pulled up against my chest. And my eyes were closed shut.

It was suffocating.

"No, no, no," I murmured again and again. And it hurt, the way my heart was thudding so loudly in my chest, the way I had my eyes closed so painfully shut, the way I couldn't breathe past the heavy lump in my throat. "Not again. Not again, please."

I couldn't, even in this drunken haze I was in, believe that this was happening to me again. That I was making him up in my head again, making up Alastair in my head, so much so that he looked so awfully real. I was doing it again. Like that time at Maria's New Year's Eve party. When I told him that I loved him. Love him. Did that even matter?

I was doing it again.

I was making him up, thinking that I could see him when he wasn't even real. I was making myself think he was here when he wasn't. He wasn't here. He would go away and it would hurt and it would hurt so so much.

Maybe this is what I get for kissing Noah.

Maybe this is what I get for being so miserable all the time.

"Ophelia." So soft. His voice was so soft near me. Why could I still hear him? Why was he still here? "Hey, hey, it's all right. Hey, look at me."

Not real. Not real.

I was crying. God, I was drunk out of my mind, seconds away from throwing up, and here I was sobbing out on this empty street, making up fake things in my head. If Steph came out and saw me--

"Ophelia." Alastair sounded scared. No, he wasn't real. He couldn't sound scared when he wasn't even real. "Ophelia, what--please look at me."

I jerked back when I felt a soft touch on my wrist, and a small, strangled sob escaped my lips. I didn't open my eyes, though. I wanted it gone. I wanted it away from me.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said. I hated that he sounded so much in pain. I hated that even if this was fake, he still sounded in pain. He wasn't real and I was still hurting him. "I promise I won't hurt you."

How would he stop me from hurting when he wasn't even alive?

"You're not real." It came out muffled in between my cries and I tugged back my wrist, wishing awfully to forget about the touch. How was he touching me? "Please. Please, let me go. Please."

The soft, feather-like touch went away and if I thought that'd make me feel better, it didn't. It nearly felt like I would die right there. My chest hurt. My throat hurt. My head hurt. Everything hurt. It felt like I couldn't breathe. It felt like every sob that tumbled out of my throat was squeezing my lungs even more than before.

"I am real." I heard a whisper from somewhere near me. "Ophelia, I'm real."

I couldn't take this, I realised. Selfish and cruel, that's what the universe was--for taking away the only person from me who ever fully loved me, who I loved more than anything, who knew me for me, who loved me for me. The universe was cruel for making me remember him every second of my life.

I couldn't handle this for a second longer. Not when it felt like I was tearing apart, quite literally.

So I screamed.

It went muffled though when a hand pressed against my mouth. It was the absolute surprise--somehow finding its way through the guilt, fear, panic and dread inside of me--that made me open my eyes.

I nearly forgot to exhale.

"Hey, don't shout." He said (Alastair said) and he was so close. He was frowning. And his wide grey eyes were trained on me. So close. "See...I am real."

I blinked, again and again, and kept on staring at him. I could still feel the hot tears on my cheeks. I could still feel his hand covering my mouth.

It was silent. An agonizing silence as we both stared at each other. I wasn't breathing.

Alastair slowly, cautiously pulled his hand away. He was crouching down in front of me, his frantic gaze not leaving me even for a second.

It'll hurt. It'll hurt. It'll hurt.

"Ophelia..." He trailed off when I shook my head, a little too frantically.

Stop, I wanted to say. Why was this happening?

"I can...explain." He added in a whisper, warily. I shook my head again, a lot more desperately this time, and his frown deepened. "Ophelia--"

"Stop." I choked out, and then I was scrambling my way up even when my legs felt like jelly. "Get...get away from me."

"What?" He sounded hurt.

"Get...away from me." My voice broke again and I think I was crying again. A mess. I was a mess. "Whoever the fuck you are."

He didn't try to stop me when I rushed inside the studio again. And how would he? I thought. He wasn't real enough to stop me.

"Lia, what the hell?" Steph was frowning by the time I grabbed her arm, furiously wiping off my tears, and turned her around. "What happened? Are you all right? Lia, why are you crying?"

I could only imagine how worried she must've been at that moment, looking at me and the mess I seemed like right then.

"No. No." I shook my head, scrunching up my forehead. My heart was beating at a feverish rate. "Steph, we have to...we have to leave. Please. I...I can't stay here. Please."

I knew we were getting some stares. I could feel them drilling onto me.

"Okay. Okay. Hey, calm down." Steph gripped my hand. "We'll leave. We'll get out of here. Deep breaths, Lia."

"Is everything all right?" I think that was Andrea. "Lia, are you all right, dear?"

No. No. No. When was I ever fucking all right?

It felt like if I didn't reach home, within the safe confines of my bedroom right that second, I might faint. Pass out. Die, probably. It felt like I was going to die. Something was gripping my heart from the inside, squeezing my insides into tiny painful knots.

"Lia--" Someone touched my shoulder but I harshly pulled away. Thankfully, it wasn't Steph. Thankfully, it wasn't him. It was just Andrea. "We should get her outside."

I didn't know how we made it outside. But Steph somehow got the message that I didn't want anyone else near me. Not Andrea. Not anyone else. So we were alone by the time we left that street.

We were walking away then. I think we were making our way back to the festival.

Steph didn't try talking to me all the way back. But I saw her glancing anxiously at me from time to time. I knew what she must be thinking at that moment. That something was wrong with me.

Something was, a small voice spoke in my head. Maybe I was finally losing the little control I had over myself.

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just finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows. i cannot quite believe that i put off reading that masterpiece for so long.

Crystal Xx.