It had been almost twenty four hours since I had seen Peyton. I had called my mothers phone and found out that Peyton had dropped off the medication close to midnight last night, which meant she should've been home in the early hours of the morning. Now, it was nearing 8:00pm, and I was sending myself crazy with anxiety.

I hadn't slept at all, pacing back and forth wondering where on earth she could possibly be. I had called her phone numerous times, only to be sent straight to voicemail. I didn't have any texts from her telling me that she was safe, or otherwise. My mind automatically jumped to the worst case scenario; she must have been executed.

The phone call I had with my mums coworker had been tense, but emotional. He was angry that Peyton would risk her life, but grateful that we were able to save my mums. He told me that with her medication, she would hopefully make a full recovery. He explained that one of her seizures had been quite severe, and they had placed her in an induced coma in a ward separate to ENOV-18 patients. He told me that she was not at risk of being infected by the virus, but her condition could only be said once she was brought out of her coma.

The word 'coma' was daunting, but growing up with a nurse as a mother, I knew it was needed for her survival. I trusted her coworkers to heal her, and with the medication now safely in their hands, it was one less thing for me to worry about.

Thoughts of Peyton consumed me. Was she okay? Was she safe? Was she injured? Was she hiding? Was she dead? The latter was a thought I did not want to give merit to, but one that kept creeping into my mind. Why else would she not be home yet? Why else would she have not contacted me to tell me that she was okay? I was sending myself sick with worry, unable to eat or drink without dry retching. Dennis could sense my anxiety, laying his head on my lap as I sat on the couch, my legs shaking and my feet tapping impatiently on the floorboards. Occasionally, Dennis would get up and walk to the front door, sitting down in front of it and whining. He missed her, just like I did. He wanted her home, just like I did.

I knew it was somewhat creepy of me, but I needed to feel close to her. I made my way upstairs, opening the door to her room and making my way inside. Items were strewn everywhere, littering the hardwood floor. It felt like months ago that we had been throwing items out of boxes in search for a pair of my dads boots, when in reality it was only yesterday. These past twenty four hours had been torture, and they had been the longest twenty four hours of my life. The not knowing was the hardest part.

I stepped around the objects littering the floor and carefully made my way to her bed. The sheets and duvet were crumpled and strewn about just like she had left them yesterday, and I climbed underneath and covered myself up, curling the blankets around me. I could smell her cologne on the sheets as I breathed it in, letting it inebriate me momentarily. That smell — the one that I used to loathe, but had since began to crave. It was fresh, like summer, and as I inhaled I felt like I was getting drunk on her.

And then I cried. It felt like that was all I had been doing lately, but that realisation didn't stop the tears from falling thick and fast as I clutched the bed sheets around me and hugged her pillow tightly. In my anxious state, I had convinced myself that I was never going to see Peyton again. I had convinced myself that she was gone forever, because of me.

If I had insisted on leaving instead of her, she would still be here. She would be safe. I was selfish to let her go, but deep down I knew that I could never have stopped her. As soon as she learnt what had happened, she was going to go whether I wanted her to or not. And I knew she never would have let me. I wished we hadn't spent our last days together arguing. And I wished I had just kissed her. Now I would never get the chance.

I needed to take my mind off the pain. I needed to distract myself from the hopefully irrational thoughts that Peyton wasn't coming home. I reluctantly climbed out of bed and began picking up objects one by one off the floor. This time, instead of mindlessly glossing over them, I looked at them. I really looked at them. When my dad had died, my mum and I packed up his things without a second thought. We never reminisced on things or talked about memories we shared with him, so this was the first time I was doing so.

I was distracting myself from pain with more pain. The pain of potentially losing Peyton with the pain of losing my dad. At least with my dad, I knew he was gone. There was no anxiety surrounding it; no questions, no doubts. He was gone, and I had closure. It took an hour, but eventually everything was packed away neatly. I didn't touch anything else in the room, because it wasn't my room anymore - it was Peyton's.

I took to watching the local news, waiting to hear any updates. Earlier in the day they had reported a civilian execution and I almost vomited from fear. It wasn't until they had reported the time and location of the shooting that I realised it couldn't have been Peyton. The shooting occurred at 9:46pm, and Peyton had delivered the medication at midnight. Relief flooded through me, but then I instantly felt sick with guilt. Some poor person had lost their life and here I was, glad that it was not someone else.

By the time the clock hit 9:30pm I was barely functioning anymore. I was pacing the hallway upstairs, looking into Peyton's room each time I passed her open door. Dennis was lying on her bed, curled up in the covers just as I had been a few hours earlier. I kept calling Peyton's phone even though I knew I wasn't going to get an answer. I did not know why I kept doing it, but I knew that if I stopped it would feel like I was giving up. Maybe it was to hear her voice over and over as her answering machine played — would I ever hear her voice again?

The wind was picking up outside, causing the trees to sway up against the sides of the house. The windows rattled under the pressure of the gale force winds and the house creaked ominously. Every noise had me on edge, thinking that it could possibly be Peyton walking through the front door. I was close to giving up hope, tears sliding down my cheeks every few minutes as I thought of what could have possibly happened. I replayed them over and over in my mind, eventually collapsing in a heap on the floor of the hallway, curling up into a ball.

"Zara?"

I thought I was imagining it. I thought my brain was playing tricks on me, dazed by lack of sleep. But then I heard them; footsteps. The unmissable sound of heavy boots thudding on the hard wood floor. I almost pulled a muscle as I clambered to a stand, dashing frantically around the corner. I sprinted down the stairs, flinging myself around the banister and coming to a halt. She was here, she wasn't a hallucination - she was really, truly here.

Her hair was windswept and knotted, strands falling over her face. Her nose was pink and her lips blue, no doubt from the cold. She hadn't worn a jacket and I could see goosebumps on her skin as she stood here, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She had bags under her bloodshot eyes and she looked so, so tired; but she was so incredibly beautiful. She smiled at me the moment I appeared at the bottom of the staircase — a smile that I had been longing to see for twenty four hours. A smile that I had never thought would make me happy, a smile that used to come at my expense, but today made my heart burst and my stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies, desperate to break free.

"Peyton," I whispered, and then I ran.

It was like time had stopped moving. My surroundings melted away as I sprinted towards her, but no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't get to her fast enough. All I could see was her, getting closer and closer with every step I took. It was as if we were magnetic, being drawn closer together with such a strong force that nothing could break it — and I didn't want to break it. We were negative and positive; two polar opposites. Despite our differences, despite our past, despite the odds, there was an undeniable and unbreakable attraction. As I came nearer, she stepped forward, opening her arms to me. I leapt into them with no hesitation, wrapping my arms tightly around her neck. The moment my body touched hers, it was as if my body was on fire. Her touch had ignited me and I felt like I could burn for eternity. She caught me around the middle and lifted me off the ground, letting me wrap my legs around her waist tightly.

The scent I had been craving overwhelmed me, and I breathed it in as if it was my lifeline. I couldn't believe I was holding her, that she was safe. I didn't think it was possible for this moment could get any better, but then, without warning, she kissed me.

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AUTHORS NOTE
FINALLY! I know it's been a slow build, but finally they kissed! Stay tuned for the next chapter for a detailed description of this long awaited moment! Don't forget to vote & comment!