We were great friends, Jace and I. The best of friends, and the closest you could get without dating or being friends with benefits. Although, there was that one time behind the old shack… no, I shan’t get into that, not right now. Him and me, me and him, we never really left each others side. And when we did, it was to go home and sleep. Then again, most nights I convinced him to sneak out onto the roof of the complex and watch the night sky with me. It was a spur of the moment idea when I decided to move to Ohio at age 14, it was a empty-wallet decision to move into that shitty apartment building, but it was fate becoming friends with Jace. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Fate? What?! That’s just a load of bullshit”. But believe me, fate is far from bullshit. It’s more real than you and me, it’s more real than your girlfriends tits, and it’s definitely more real than that “we’re only friends” lie me and him told all of our friends, family, and people who assumed we were dating. Sure, we weren’t actually dating. Sure, we’d only kissed once or twice because of the “adrenalin” of almost getting caught doing something illegal. Sure, throughout all of those movies we watched and cuddled throughout his hands stayed above my waist and below my breasts at all times. Sure, our friendship was a clearly PG-13 movie. But that didn’t mean shit compared to our feelings for each other. Our feelings were probably equivalent to a R rated movie, and wasn’t one you’d want to watch with your parents. So that’s why I had to run away from him, just like I had run away from all of the other important people in my life. I never dreamed in a million years I’d ever run into him again, nor did I ever dream that he’d still remember me and not fully hate me for running off without a good-bye. And yet, there he was, there we were, right in front of each other at least six years later. And yet, there I was, still in love with him.