the reason Y this is over six months late is because i had really bad writers block and the past few weeks i started this shit up again and pushed my ass thru it amd I FINANLYL DFLIFINSIH IT im so happy. some things to note before you read: i wrote the first two letters and then stopped for around four months and then i wrote a few more and then i pushed through the second half of this these past few weeks. that means my writing style has changed a whole lot in these past few months so you might see some of an awkward transition. Okay!

mesmerizing; v
hold the attention of (someone) to the exclusion of all else or so as to transfix them

Her concentration is set forth in yet another assignment given to her by the college art teacher. She says, and promises!, that there will be no distractions this time to prevent her from finishing said assignment, like last time. They don't talk about last time. Well, at least she doesn't. He tries to bring up the conversation but she refuses to believe she failed an art assignment because of his utter stupidity... (not talking about it!)

They're in her dorm room. The dorm room filled with colored streaks and carpet stains; something that Darby absolutely hated and that's the one thing she could not stand about Maya Hart—the lack of cleanliness. Which is why Darby had decided to crash at Sarah's for a couple of days, so she could get the stench of paint out of her system that Maya Hart had seemingly gotten used to.

Lucas was also having headaches, but hey. She seemed to enjoy his company and so he intended to keep her happy. Eventually he would have to get used to the wafts of chemicals pumping through his system, just like she had.

He likes looking at her. It's one of his hobbies; one of his skills, per se. He's come to look at her so much, to memorize her features, that he could almost paint a perfect portrait of her. If he could paint, of course. Her face is plastered into his mind and she just won't budge, like always. She's stubborn in reality and she's stubborn in fantasy.

He can nearly read her like an open book, almost better than Riley can. There are two main contributing factors: he's near her all the time, and his Psychology class. Which isn't really that good of a class, but he thinks he's pretty good at reading people. Maya says it's extremely absurd and stupid, but whatever.

She's got some weird music playing, some rock junk that she's into. Her head is bouncing to the heavy beat and her mouth is quietly singing along to the emotional words. Must be that band Twilight he saw with her that one time. Or it could be someone else, he didn't really know; all punk rock bands sounded the same to him.

It's nearly one AM in the morning, and she would tell him to go to bed while she finishes up her piece, but she just can't seem to bring herself to do it. She enjoys his company, no matter if she doesn't even say it. It's the truth, and that's how it would always be. Maya and Lucas, Lucas and Maya.

She can sometimes tell when he's looking at her; when her back is turned, she just knows that he's looking at her. She either has a sixth sense or she can tell because of Riley's funny looks and that knowing smile she always seems to have when she knows something's up. Or just wild speculation, on her part.

She's done with her art piece, and the two are oh so tired but she doesn't want to go to bed even though his protests are filling up her head like a balloon. It's so late, he would say. Only one AM, was her response. Besides, she doesn't have early morning class and she can stay up however late she wishes, no concern for what he thinks.

They're talking about something when he notices a paint streak down her nose. He reaches to wipe it off—albeit unsuccessfully—and falls face first into the pile of paints located near her bed. He asks why there is a pile of random paints and then he asks the universe why it hates him.

She stands to help him up but trips over his leg and, too, lands face first in the pile of paints already splattered out on the ground. Her giggles fill the room as she feels a little bit drowsy from lack of sleep. "You got a little paint on your face, darling," is what he says after she accompanies him in the paint mess located by her bed.

Darby is gonna freak.

The two go into a fit of laughs and giggles, and Lucas can't help but look over at her. Her hair is matted with hues of blue and yellow and her face is covered in oranges and pinks, and she's so mesmerizing. He's not used to this feeling, the feeling of overwhelming love that nearly shakes his body apart.

He joins her in her harmonious giggle fits, and he knows—just knows—that she's the love of his life.

life of the party; n
a lively, amusing person who is the center of attention at a social gathering

The words college party ring through his ears like an enigma, and he's temporarily hating Maya Hart for dragging him to some godforsaken beach house thirty miles away from their campus. She had promised that going to a college party was most definitely worthwhile, no matter what he thinks. He needs to get out! Have some fun! Well excuse me, he would protest, the last time we had fun together (cue the air quotations around the word fun) we got thrown in jail!

It's only a college party, though. Only.

Designated driver he is, like always. Maya had invited Riley and Farkle and Zay, so it wasn't just the two. Of course Lucas was appointed the designated driver, he always was because he didn't prefer being drunk off his ass, unlike some other people (and now he's looking at Maya).

Despite being a heavy weight, Zay was well into the party scene and already drunk off his feet the first half hour in. He wouldn't be seeing Zay or Riley the rest of the night, they had successfully found a room to themselves—ew—and it was going to be quite a night for the two. Farkle was currently trying to get over his break up with Smackle, so he would be somewhere off making out with some girl.

And, yet again, it was just the two. Maya, being the attractive single woman she is, always attracted attention. Her being a light weight made her easily drunk and early in the party, her shirt would already be off and she would be dancing on the table to some overplayed pop song that had been stuck in the DJ's head for some weeks.

The life of the party, per se.

The bottle in her hand is soon empty as she takes yet another swig, thus dropping the bottle on the floor and watching it roll. Everyone gives the girl a shout and a holler as she grabs the half empty bottle from the bartender and chugs it down in one sitting, wiping her mouth and giving the now empty bottle back to the poor boy hiding behind the counter with a smile. "On the house?" she asks with a sultry smile. The bartender only nods blankly in response.

Soon enough she's back on the dance floor, putting up her perfectly curled hair and dancing to the beat like she hasn't got a care in the world. "C'mon, Huckleberry!" he thinks he hears her say. "Join the fun!"

He ignores her pleas.

And, you know, he really really loves her. A whole lot.

knowledge; n
facts, information, and skills acquired by a person through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject

He can see right through her. She has a façade up, she has a reputation and, hell, she fears for it being ruined. But he knows better. He's always known better.

Throughout the entirety of her high school career, she had acted dumb—stupid, even, to please her peers. It was something she had always done, to please others around her. A natural reflex to when people around her didn't please herself. However, he always knew better. From the moment he saw her, he knew that she was more than just a sack of flesh and bones with a passion for punk rock and a deep disdain for school.

She was smart.

It comes no surprise to him when she gets her shit together in the ninth grade—however, not even then did she show her true potential. It comes no surprise to him when she gets accepted into NYU on an art scholarship, along with her academics. It comes no surprise to him when she accepts a summer abroad immediately after high school, because she's just that talented at what she does and he's amazed... He really is. It comes no surprise to him when she chooses to major in English, along with her arts.

However, it does come a surprise when they're sitting down on her bed, she's eating a pencil, studying for their college Math finals for Sophomore year (she's never been really good at Math, he thinks) and she corrects his mistake (stupid mistake) without even looking up from her booklet.

"Mmm?" he asks her, looking up to see her.

She shrugs turning the page booklet. "Nothing, really, it's just that problem thirty is wrong. It's just that," she ponders, looking at his page for a moment, "in the equation negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus four AC divided by two A, you forgot to make the B negative in the beginning of the equation—so five X right there," she points at his equation, "and then you plug the five into the equation, getting rid of the X so instead of what you had, the equation should look like negative five plus or minus the square root of five squared minus four times two times negative nine over two times two. Or simply, negative five plus or minus the square root of ninety seven all of this divided by four." She scoots close to his body so she can indicate what she was talking about. Their breaths become one and he turns his head to looks at her, her face is flushed and hot but she continues to speak anyway after a brief moment of silence. "Anyway," she mutters, shaking her head.

He looks over the equation once more, and he finds out that she's right. "Yeah, you're right," he notes, scribbling it down in his practice booklet. "I just didn't think..." he trails off, looking for the right words.

"You can say it," she laughs, not even looking up from her booklet. "You didn't think I was good at Math. It was an honest mistake, Lucas. An eighth grader could have spotted it."

"You said my name."

She finally releases her gaze from her booklet and looks up to look at him. Their bodies are flushed together, their shoulders touching; they were an inch, only an inch away from kissing. She speaks to break the silence. "I read. I paid attention in school."

And with that, she turns back around to flip the next page.

And he knows.

"I've always known your name," she mutters without looking up from her booklet. He remembers what she said back then in the eighth grade and then he smiles, turning the page along with her.

jealous; adj
feeling or showing suspicion of someone's unfaithfulness in a relationship

They like to play a game together, they think, in which it consists of getting either one the most pissed off or the most jealous. Neither one of them know that they're even really playing, but they both know they get something out of it - may it be good or bad, they do. And one has to end in heartbreak, one ends in triumph.

The game starts in high school, and leads all the way to college without either one of them knowing. She sometimes, perhaps accidentally, forgets that her best friend was supposed to be sleeping over at her dorm that night (her best friend being him) when she's brought her date home. And she sees him, clad in his pink underwear, watching The Simpsons on TV as she comes in with her date.

Suffice to say, the date doesn't take it well that the most attractive guy in the campus, probably the state, was sitting in her room with only his underwear on and eating a bucket of popcorn with a goofy grin. And almost immediately, the date leaves and she's stuck with him (it isn't so bad, she thinks). So she throws stuff at him because she's pissed because he ruined her date (I ruined your date? the guy was a deadbeat anyway!) and then they get in a fight.

He refuses to leave because he still wants to watch his show (that's not really the reason why, he thinks) (and are you ever going to fucking leave?!) (no! because your date so rudely interrupted my show!). But she watches the show anyway and ends up falling asleep on top of him. They don't tend to talk about their fights, it's just automatically assumed that they're forgiven unless they really fuck up.

He tries to make her jealous by attempting to cancel their plans, but she tags along anyway with her date (whom she had to ask for forgiveness (Maya, if you have to ask for forgiveness then he isn't worth it!) (it's your fault anyway, you stupid Huckleberry) for). He really just ends up jealous as he watches how handsy he is with her.

One time it ended with a black eye, not for him anyway. (The date was giving him the stinky eye, anyway. He knew that him and Maya had a relationship that he could never achieve.)

But now that they think about it, it only ever ends in heartbreak, really.

Suffice to say, they're both extremely oblivious and enjoy making the other one pissed off. Like always.

intimate; adj
closely acquainted; familiar, close. private and personal

He's always touching her, she thinks. Because somehow, someway, his hands find a place on her hips whenever they're squished next to each other, or somehow in someway, his fingers are always combing aimlessly through her hair with no further intention. He's probably unaware of his actions, the act of being close to her was just normal by now.

Riley the observant notices a lot of things, and she starts to notice when they get closer - not emotionally, more physically. Sure, they were always touchy-feely as friends, they always had their bodies mashed up next to each other no matter the situation, Riley noted that this was a more likely occurrence on the couch for some reason even though the couch could stretch for miles with open room. Riley knew that it was just what their relationship was.

She liked to grab his butt randomly sometimes, just like she did to most everyone else. He liked to pick her up by the armpits or crouch down and throw her over her shoulder in a fireman's carry just to annoy her, that's what their relationship was.

But Riley the observant notices when things start to change. It's not so much touching each other to piss the other one off, or touching each other out of habit, but more of a need to feel one another, to be near one another. She notices these things at the beginning of her Sophomore year of college. He's always got his hand on her best friend's back, she thinks. More of a need to always be near each other.

Their hands start to intertwine at some point, she can't pinpoint an exact moment when it started to happen but it most certainly did. She notices this at one point when she's walking behind with Zay and Farkle, talking to them about something that happened in her class. She doesn't really remember the conversation, her mind being set on the pair in front of her. Their hands intertwined, her head lying on his shoulder as her body shook in laughter at something he had said.

She brings up the subject of the matter to Maya, heavily suggesting that her and Lucas were probably, most likely, definitely more than friends. Maya laughed off her insinuation and giggled at her best friend.

So Riley the observant shoves her observations down to the base of her stomach where they will never be disturbed. But that doesn't prohibit the action of her not noticing things, Riley the observant notices everything. She notices the way his eyes flicker every time he sees her best friend walk into the room, he notices the way his hands lie restlessly atop her stomach as she lies her head on his thigh. She notices the way his fingers bring out a joyous laugh in her as he tickles her until she's begging mercy.

She notices the way her best friend is always touching him in some way or the other.

Yes, Riley the observant is observant. And the two are far past intimate.

hot-blooded; adj
lustful; passionate

They've got built up sexual tension, several years in the making and it comes to no surprise to anyone when they finally act on it. Not that they would know, of course.

It happens because of a fight, of course. She doesn't really remember what for, but she does clearly remember the fact that he was being a pain and she most definitely needed to embarrass him in front of the public eye. She remembers Riley telling them that they should take their fight outside and she remembers Lucas standing up and barging out of the restaurant.

She remembers their bickering in the car and Zay begging for them to please shut the hell up! And then she remembers Zay running up to his dorm as Farkle dropped them off at their campus and Lucas angrily following Maya behind her as she stomped to her room. (Oh, of course, she distinctly remembered him calling her fat.)

"Okay, I did not call you fat!" he clarified for the umpteenth time in an hour. "You took my words the wrong way, why don't you listen to me?"

She turned around on her heel and glared up at him sharply, her eyebrows bunched up in an angry matter and her arms crossed above her chest, pushing up her breasts slightly so that her cleavage was nearly falling out. The tiny red dress was doing him wonders, and he most certainly wished they were in her dorm attending to other activities instead of screaming at each other like a divorced couple.

"I heard what you said," she said with a haughty stare, removing one of her arms from her chest and using her index finger to point at him. "You told me to stop eating so much junk food, which obviously means you think I'm fat!" In which he wants to repeatedly bang his head on a door frame and groan as his more than friend took everything the wrong way.

"Even if you were fat, which you aren't!, doesn't mean that's a bad thing! Besides, that's not what I was saying. I was saying you need to limit your junk food and caffeine so you can stay healthy and not have those bags under your eyes!"

"Oh," she said with a drawl and shook her head, "so now you're saying I'm ugly?"

"Okay, what is going through your head?" he asked her, and before he had even time to process his movements, he took one swift step forward so that her back was plastered against her dorm room door and his body flushed against hers, her head tilted upright so she could see him and all of his height. "Why are you so damn difficult?" he grumbled.

And just then did he realize that she was biting the inside of her cheek and breathing heavily. And just then did he notice the shiver of pleasure race down his spine with the thought of ripping off that dress she had on, which left way too much to the imagination.

She breathed out a shaky breath and shook her head, clearly limiting herself. "Okay, you're right Lucas. Sorry for being wrong, I should go to bed now."

But he stops her hand before it can reach the knob behind her. And he asks her one question. "Do you want this?" and she can hear the lust filling his voice and his dark gaze and her panties are wet and she wants wants wants this more than anything.

And she replies with one word: "Yes."

The rest gets a little fuzzy.

goosebumps; n
a prickly feeling related to having bumps on one's skin due to fear, excitement, or cold

She can't pinpoint the moment she starts to recognize what she's feeling (lust—that is) but she knows what is. And far more than that, she starts to think. Because every time he touches the small of her back or her thigh or even the jut of her hips, she can feel those goosebumps and they start to prickle up slowly near her spine and she gets what it is. And she shivers

Because she is so fucking in love.

She thinks she's stupid for realizing this under him completely and totally naked in her dorm room where Darby is MIA. She thinks she's stupid for denying her stupid feelings for him (and they've got to be a lie, she had to tell herself over and over and over again until she felt better, and she never did) and she thinks she's stupidstupidstupid because nothing ever goes well for Maya Hart.

But all she can feel are these stupid goosebumps all over her skin and his heavy breathing and she's so stupid because she would have never fallen in love with him if she had half of her brain. Because she knows what it's like being in love, she remembers her Mama telling her in the dead of night as she clutches her pillow listening to her scary stories of possibly the scariest thing in the world. (And Maya doesn't want to be in love.) Because her Mama tells her that being in love is probably the worst thing in the world.

They tell you they love you and then they slam the door in your face, leaving you in a pile of messy unpaid bills and clutching your wrist as you cry because being in love is the shittiest, worst feeling in the world. (And when will I know if I'm in love, Mama? I wanna know how to avoid it, Mama. I wanna know when to back out.)

And, oh sweetie, you won't ever really know. All you'll know is that one day, you'll see one person one day and you'll know that it's them and it's been all this time but baby, don't give up on love just because your Mama had some rough times in that department.

She wishes and she wishes and she wisheswisheswishes that she gave up on love fifteen years ago in the apartment room with her Mama, listening to her weeping words. She wished she had given up on love as she met his stupid ass on a subway and she wished she had given up on love as he held her hand and made her cry and she wished that after her moms words that she could have stopped. But everything was wrong in the small dorm room of her campus hallway because things were fucked up. Things were fucked up, and she didn't hate it (and she totally wished she did).

Because her dad left her mom fifteen years ago and everything went to hell because life sucked, life totally and royally sucked for Maya Hart and she hated it. And Lucas was just another thing to add to the baggage of more things she fucked up. A never ending list, that is. And he was probably at the top.

So, why was she still here? Writhing under her once best friend in pleasure and her little red dress off somewhere scattered on the floor and why did her life suck? Because she didn't like change and change is all that happened around in Mayaville. And change was the destruction of everything that she had ever held close.

And so they're lying next to each other and they're breathing hard and she can still feel the goosebumps trail her skin lightly and she wants to fucking scream in the dead of night next to someone who she loves in more than one way and everything is so fucking confusing. But he doesn't say anything, and there's nothing to say, so he grabs her hand once and squeezes it twice and sighs thrice and she realizes that they're both equally fucked up people lying in the middle of her dorm room with no idea what to do next.

So they hold hands, and they think.

She doesn't like change. She doesn't and she doesn't and she doesn't.

fight; n
an argument or quarrel; dispute

Things change in their relationship. They're the bickering type, for sure. They're always at each other's neck and always thriving off the attention the other gives them and it's utterly and absolutely insane how their relationship works, but no one really understands it anyway. (Farkle's argument and thesis being that they're stupidly in love and they're also stupidly oblivious, but he digresses.)

And since it's like them to fight over petty things, no one really thinks much of it when they're actually arguing over something serious. And no one really pays attention until they see the tears start to prickle out of the blonde's eyes and until they see his face fall slack and until she's barging out the door and yelling at him not to follow her because she can't deal with anymore of his bullshit.

And the conversation went as so:

"You're dating someone?" Lucas would bellow, and at this point, he would stand up to confront her. Plus, with his height, he had an intimidating advantage to her, but she was never really intimidated by him in the first place. So she stands up too, flushing her body against his and staring up at him menacingly, crossing her arms in front of her breast, her heavy coat concealing her cleavage.

"Yeah, and what's your point?" she counters back quickly, her eyebrows raised in a challenging matter as if to threaten him. His hands are clenched to the side in balls and all he really wants to do is punch a wall because he's so fucking angry for some damn reason and they aren't even dating (but they fucked and that has to mean something).

His breaths are heavy and she thinks she can hear his heartbeat, but that could be her own. "Are you seriously going to 'what's your point' me? You really think of me that low and you really think I'm that shallow to let that slide past me?" he asks her, his voice dangerously deep and he knows he's thinking about certain things that he could be doing to her (sexually wise) and this was not the perfect situation to be granted doing so.

"Exactly what I'm saying," she punctuates loudly. No one really pays attention to them, anyway. It's just an everyday occurrence to see Lucas and Maya wanting to murder each other, and it's likely that they'll make up in the next hour and be the touchy-feely people without even dating type of deal. Common knowledge, really. "Why do you care?" she finishes off with a lick of her lips.

His eyebrows would raise in disbelief at this point because he can't actually believe the words coming from her mouth. Something happened between them the other night, something that felt good and she hasn't bothered to bring it up in conversation. She's been snippy and aggressive and loud lately and now she's acting like it never fucking happened! "You know why I care!"

"Then tell me why you care," she said lowly, her eyes shooting daggers at his face and if looks could kill, he'd be ten feet below ground.

"Because..." he trails off, thinking about what to say. "Something happened the other night..." and he doesn't know if he can finish. Because there's something off about the situation they're in and something's not right, not that it would ever be.

She rolled her eyes. "What happened, Lucas?" and she's forcing the answer out of him. She knows exactly what happened, she knows because she replays it in her mind over and over again until it gives her a migraine and she knows what happened. She's not so sure she wants to know, but she knows.

He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. He doesn't know what to say to her, because yes, they had sex. But something more happened, something else. "I..." and he doesn't answer.

She shakes her head softly, closing her eyes and backing away from him slowly. "I see," she mutters through her mouth, chuckling lowly. "I get it, Lucas. I do. Because you're so disgusted with the idea of me that you can't even bring yourself to say what happened between us," she stated with a click of her tongue. "I get it now."

His eyes opened widely and he began to speak to her, promising and reassuring her that that wasn't the case but ghosts took the place of his words and he didn't know why he couldn't speak. He knew that that wasn't the case, that he wouldn't be lying to her because he wasn't disgusted. He loved her more than he had ever loved anybody else in the world, he was so enamored with her that it left him speechless.

She left him speechless with the idea of that even being true (and it wasn't).

Her body shivers from the cold, only slightly and she shakes her head, and she thinks she feels the trickle of tears near the edge of her eye because she thinks she understands it now. (And why is her life so royally fucked and why is she so royally wrong about everything?)

So she backs away and she runs out of Topanga's, because she never deserved this much pain. She may be a Hart and the universe may hate her and fuck her over and over again but she never deserved this. And he's about to follow her until he hears her voice, muffled and soft but he still hears her.

"Don't you dare fucking follow me," she says, out the door. "I can't deal with this bullshit anymore, Lucas."

And suddenly heads are turned to him where he's standing in the middle of Topanga's, everyone's face curious because they're wondering how he fucked up so bad to the point where his best friend won't talk to him anymore. He's fucked. (And he's messed up, he's really messed up because the girl he thinks he loves just left him alone in the middle of a cafe and wanting to scream.)

They've both got problems.

evanescent; adj
soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing

It was always them, together, that is. It was always Lucas and Maya and Maya and Lucas and it always them together, glued at the hip and always, always together. That's how it had been at the start of college and that's how it had been since when they remember, it's always been them. (And they can't really see it being any other way.)

Because when she sees his face she remembers the time he always held her hand and she remembers the times he tickled her back when she was crying and she remembers the times when she fell asleep on top of him and he didn't complain and she remembers everything good about him and she's so fucked up. Because if she even dared peek in her future, all she would be able to see would be him and only ever be (because he's her best friend and she's stupid, so stupid sometimes).

She tries avoiding him one time, you know. Back in their sophomore year of college when she was certain (certainly thought, at least) that him and her needed space. From what, exactly? That was still left unanswered to the fact she didn't know why she needed space, all she knew was that she was feeling things she shouldn't be feeling for her best friend that was a boy and she needed time and space to figure herself out (at least that's what she told herself). And trust her, she really really tried to avoid him.

But there was always the problem: he was in half of her classes. And there was always an open seat next to her in her math class near the wall and no one dared fill it up (because no one dared filling up Lucas Friar's seat unless you had a death wish, or unless you were Maya Hart) and he always sat there. Not only was he in all of her classes, that was the easy part. He also was her alarm clock and he was always there in the morning to wake her up with a cup of black coffee and he was always there at the end of the day with only his pink underwear and watching a show with popcorn stuffed in his face.

He was always there, whether she liked it or not.

He didn't ask her why she was avoiding him that time, because he doesn't really think she was avoiding him, anyway. Things went back to normal for them in a span of week, but this time it was different. He knew that something had changed and that something was up and this time he knew that she was avoiding him and this time she made an effort (and this time he didn't make an effort).

Because in math class she sits in the back now next to Back of The Class Brenda and Lucas knows that Maya hates her, but makes the sacrifice anyway as she trudges her way to the back of the class to avoid him. And this time, she wakes up early to do her hair and her makeup and she's out the door before he can even wake up to think about getting her coffee. (And he plays a part too, you know. He doesn't come home to her anymore in the dead of night with his pink underwear and a remote anymore. She comes home to an empty dorm room with curious Darby and missing Lucas, so she's not alone in the avoiding part.)

(But she sure did start it.)

So she brushes her teeth and combs her hair and lies in her bed for a moment or two before Darby is shooting out questions like a cannonball and Maya really wants to stuff her mouth with a sock but she just turns the other way and tries to go to sleep. (Because she never thought that Lucas was going to be evanescent like all the other masculine figures in her life.)

(And she never thought that Lucas would leave her like everyone else did, and she hated being wrong.)

So she wakes up in the morning and not feeling his warm presence next to her with a cup of coffee and she sighs, because everything is super fucked up.

delicate; adj
easily broken or damaged; fragile

There was this thing about her: she wasn't delicate, she wasn't fragile. She was damaged and she was broken and she was fucked up but things never hurt her, really. She wasn't some poor little girl living in a penthouse and crying when her broken nail goes down the drain, she wasn't like that because she never ever really grew up like that.

Riley was like that, she was more fragile and she took things more emotionally and more to heart than the average person would. Granted, Riley grew up on different terms than Maya did, which gave them their such opposite personalities. Riley was optimistic and took things slow, careful, her best friend was a pessimist and took things fast, reckless. And it took a lot to make Maya cry, it took a whole lot.

Farkle had only seen her cry twice, once when she fell off her skateboard and once when she confronted her father. Riley had seen her cry four times, once when fell off her skateboard, once when she confronted her father, once when she talked to Shawn once upon a time, and once when she was yelling at Lucas in the middle of Topanga's. Lucas had seen her cry twice, once when she confronted her father, and once when he had made her cry in the middle of Topanga's. Zay had seen her cry zero times.

And so it was common knowledge that she wasn't delicate and she wasn't fragile, but she was something that you had to handle with care. She had one too many cracks in her thick heart and if you dropped her she would explode.

"Lucas and I broke up," she tells Riley one time, lying on her best friends comforter with a ball fiddling in her hand.

Riley turns away from her book curiously and gives her blonde friend a bunch of her eyebrows, because she was certain with what her best friend had told her that her and Lucas were certainly, never to be dating. "I thought you said you and Lucas weren't dating," she states with an eyebrow raised.

Maya had to roll her eyes and turned her head to look at her best friend and she frowned. "Not like that," she reassures, shaking her head. "I mean, we were never like that. We broke up... like friendship-wise, you know what I mean?"

The thing that Riley was certain about was that Lucas and Maya were always going to remain the best of friends (besides herself and the blonde) no matter what happened, Riley was absolutely certain of that fact. So there was a good amount of surprise and the brunette had dropped her book on the floor, meeting her eyes. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Maya shrugged and pulled her body up so she was sitting upright to face her best friend. "We... did... something..." she trailed off uselessly, biting her lip and thinking of the words to say without getting Riley completely disgusted. "You know what I'm saying, right?" she asked her friend. "Something your mom and your dad saved for after marriage?"

And then her best friend finally understood what she was insinuating and her mouth hung open, nearly catching flies. "You?" she gasped loudly. "And Lucas? Had sex?"

You never really know how delicate someone is until you've made the cracks into their skin yourself, and you never really know how delicate someone is until you're the one holding their body as they cry to you about how they fucked up and how he fucked up and how everything in the world is so fucked up (because, she says, the universe hates me and I'll hate it right back).

(The official count of the amount of times Riley has seen her best friend cry is now five.)

chemistry; n
the complex emotional or psychological interaction between two people

Riley thinks that when she's older that she'll be telling her grandchildren and the grandchildren of her grandchildren (if she lasts that long, but she has no doubts) the greatest love story of all time. And it's easy to assume that she's talking about her parents, everyone knows the story—the one about Cory and Topanga and how they were each other's true love or some other romanticized bullshit. No, that wasn't the story she was going to tell her great great grandchildren, she was going to tell them the story of Lucas and Maya.

And how they were the two stupidest people in the whole fucking world.

Because she gets where they're coming from, she really does, because the change is far too great than Maya would like—and she's always been one that hates change. But they're both two too stupid people that are stupidly in love and stupidly oblivious (and honestly, Riley cannot stress the word stupid enough).

And things change, you know, for the better. Because Riley was certain that she was at the peek of her adolescence at the mere age of thirteen years old and Riley was certain that she had this whole life thing down. She had it planned out, she was going to meet her true love just like her parents had, she was going to fall deeply in love and he was going to do the same, she was going to get married (as were Maya) and she was going to have thirty children and whatever you will, Riley had a plan. Granted, when you're thirteen, things don't always pan out the way you suppose it will, and much to her surprise, it didn't.

Because it wasn't hers and Lucas' story anymore, it was Maya's and Lucas'. (And the mere thought of Maya and Lucas having more chemistry than her poor old self would plummet Riley deep into despair at the age of fourteen and at the age of fifteen she would see everything more clear and at the age of sixteen—but this is Maya and Lucas now.)

Because this was supposed to be the story she would her grandchildren's grandchildren, the story of how these two, stupid idiots fell in love. (And there was quite the obstacle in her story, these two stupid idiots also managed to be not talking to each other.)

She even distinctly remembers talking to Maya about how she was going to tell her children the greatest love story of all time, and it didn't have to be hers. It just had to be one too great for the books and one too great to write down, but she had to tell the story.

So, whatever, Riley thinks she's got it down when she shoves Maya into the janitors closet of some restaurant where all five of them are eating (because she started an intervention because they're not on speaking terms) and does the same to Lucas and suddenly it's just those two and Riley's gone but the door is locked and it's only those two.

(But he tells her he loves her after a minute or two of being locked in the dreaded closet with her, because he thinks he knows what he's talking about and she thinks he's being pressured inside of the tiny closet that could give anybody claustrophobia.)

(And, you know, she tells him to shut up shut up shut up because you have no idea what you're talking about and he tells her he does, because he thinks he does, at least. Well, he knows he does. And he tells her this once and again and again until she finally tells him to shut up for the thousandth time in the span of three minutes because he has no idea what he's talking about.)

"You know, I'm in love with you in the way that I want to marry you. You know that, right?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

(She says it back only once because she thinks he only needs to hear it once because he's such an insufferable little asshole and she really wants to slap his head with a book because he's got that shit eating grin again and he's really getting on her nerves and—I missed you.)

"I missed you too."

And he's such an insufferable little asshole.

boyfriend; n
a regular male companion with whom one has a romantic or sexual relationship

It slips off her tongue one time, an absent thought that she doesn't even process, really. She talks to him one time (and they're not really official, she says she doesn't like labels) about something or the other, and it falls off the tip of her tongue and it feels oh so right. "Well, you're my boyfriend."

And his eyebrows raise a few centimeters and that shit eating grin she's gotten so used to appears and she wants to bang her head repeatedly on a desk because she may not like labels, but he does and he loveloveloves her and he really wants to be with her—all of the time and all of the day and he loves her.

So his eyebrows quirk slightly and he's got a breathy tone. "Did you just call me your boyfriend?" he asks her because he can see that annoyed look on her face, the look she has right before she wants to murder someone, and he loves it and he loves her and he loves being her boyfriend, frankly.

"You're my—guy friend," she has to correct herself because she is not going to let him get under her skin that quick and she wants to slap (kiss) that grin off of his face, and god, he is so fucking obnoxious. She really loves him, and she really hates herself.

(Because, you know, her boyfriend is the one that tickles her back at three in the morning, but whatever.)

So, you know, naturally, he calls her his girlfriend (and she doesn't like labels) and she calls him stupid because the word just so happened to slip off her tongue and he really needs to get that smile off of his face and she's going to ignore him now.

But she sees herself using it more and more than she thought she would, because she tells Riley something one time and the word falls out and Riley thinks nothing of it but her head is spinning and her heart is racing and she hates herself but she loves him. (She told him she loved him before she ever called him her boyfriend.)

"Your boyfriend, Lucas," and she wants to correct Farkle but he's not really wrong there because he is her friend, he is a boy, and she is romantically involved with him in one way or another and they are far more than fuck buddies (even though they've only fucked twice) and so there's really no other label to put there except boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend and she loves him more than anything, so he's her boyfriend. But there's the problem, you see, because he's so much more to her than a silly little boyfriend.

And so, instead of using the terms boyfriend and girlfriend, they accidentally, perhaps intentionally, start using petnames for each other. Sometimes, not exactly civil (oh, hey fuckass) and not exactly sweet (I hate you, boobturd) and whatever. But she prefers calling him baby than ever calling him her boyfriend because he's much too important for that.

He likes to call her baby and princess and he likes to hold her hand and he likes to touch her skin and he likes it when she smiles big and bright and he likes to kiss her cheek and he likes hug her close and he likes the way she smells and he likes it when she touches his face and he loves her and he loves her and he loves her and he loves her.

"Hey princess, you're really cute and I'm really in love with you."

"Hey babygirl, I love you a lot."

"Hey darling, you smell super nice and I love your face a lot and I love you a whole lot more."

"Hey angel, I love you a lot. Like a super lot. Like a big amount, like I love you, like I really really really really really love you."

So she says one time, "Hey baby, you're super annoying and I hate you most of the time I'm around but I love you."

ache; v
feel an intense desire for

And, you know, they're super in love with each other.

the ending was weak i know but i just wanted to finish this shitfest. alirhgtlksjk IM so happy i finished this now i can move on thank GOD.

anyway REVIEW AND FAVE AND FOLLOW nad whatever thanks bye