Hey! Welcome back!

Are you ready?

I ain't.

If you followed me here from my previous works, much love my fresh mints.

If you come here because you've somehow stumbled upon me, good luck.

'We Don't Meet People By Accident, They Are Meant To Cross Our Paths For A Reason'

I stared straight ahead, ignoring the group of school kids in front of me, determined to scream instead of simply speak to their friends. I would have gotten annoyed, but I had come to understand and deal with the downside of public transport.

Like, the fifty-fifty chance of climbing onto a train or bus that was either kept in good condition, or had stains of unidentifiable liquid on the seats and walls.

Luckily, I had gotten on a fairly clean bus, but had the unfortunate timing of getting on just as the local schools had finished up for the day. It left little to be admired, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I had been running late on my schedule this morning and was left to catch the lunch-time special.

It was worth it though. The steam coming from the factory, gave the playground I have been stalking for the last few weeks, gave it this eerie feel and that was something I always looked for when taking pictures. After a few touch-ups, and maybe a filter added, I could add it to my end-of-year portfolio.

My professor, had been impressed enough when I handed some drafts in for critique. At the time, I had been wondering if I should change my choice of theme and style before it was too late. He had told me to stick with what I had, and show him my progress every couple of months.

I liked Professor Reedus Jonah. He didn't sugar coat things, gave compliments when needed and didn't cater to anyone's needs unless necessary. No doubt, he had read my admittance paperwork and files but unlike a few of my other professors and lecturers, he didn't constantly check in with me.

I had already decided to show him another few drafts at the end of the month, because despite feeling vaguely settled with my pictures, something was off. It was like a nagging in the pit of my stomach, and I didn't like it.

The alert tone of my phone went off and I reached into my bag, pushing past the broken pair of earphones to grab it.

V: I got some inspirational photos of this hot guy two apartments above me. Two words. Moving Day. Yum. (Received at 3:56 pm)

I rolled my eyes at her words, a weak smile pulling at my lips as I typed back a message.

Legally, you can't take pictures of someone unknowingly for the use of public showcasing. It's also incredibly creepy if you keep it for your own personal gain.

Her reply came back like lighting, so fast that my phone didn't have time to automatically lock.

V: Tell that to my box of photos under my bed.

I blinked, wondering if she was being honest before shaking my head at her silliness.

Surely, she didn't have a box of photos of random men underneath her bed.

Right?

I shook myself out of my thoughts, and typed a short, sweet message back.

I'm about to get off my bus. I'll see you tomorrow at Building D?

V: It's a date, see you then girl x

I pocketed my phone just as the bus was turning down my street, leaning forward to hit the button with a long yawn. The little indicator light flicked on, and I collected my things, waiting until the bus has stopped movement before climbing off. The bus driver grunted his good-bye and I waved, walking the short five-minute trek to my house, were my Aunt would no doubt be lying in wait.

I kicked off my shoes before opening the door, and hanging up my coat.

"Lucy, is that you?"

"Yes, Ari." I replied, pulling out my camera from my bag as she came around the corner, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Remind me again, why you insist on calling me that name?"

"I'm not going to call you 'Aunt Aquarius' because it's too long, and you aren't actually my Aunt. You just pretend to be, when Svart isn't around." I informed her, walking towards the Kitchen to grab something to eat.

"He will be home tomorrow afternoon. I'm just staying with you tonight, to make sure nothing happens."

"I'm 23, Ari. I think I can handle anything that is thrown my way."

She looked even less impressed with my words, which is a feat since the blonde haired, buxom woman basically wore apathetic as her everyday emotion. Unless her husband, Scorpio was around. Then she was in full bloom.

I never understood that, how one person could make someone so undeniably happy. But, it was probably one of the things that escaped my indifferent perspective. I was happy to coast in the grey, realising that expectations lead to heartbreak, and heartbreak lead to alcohol. And in my father's case, death.

She watched me place my bag on the counter and open the fridge in silence, before speaking up, "I made you macaroni and cheese. And I know you don't like us looking after you, but it's the promise we made and since you aren't getting any better, it's safer to have someone around."

I opened my mouth to argue that it was a waste of time – that the last thing I wanted was to burden anyone when she cut in.

"Not only on your physical, but your mental health, Lucy. If you truly wanted us to give up, you'd have sent us away by now."

I tilted my head, sighing gently as I realised she was right. As much as I rejected the idea of human company, I needed it when it came to the people that I trusted. And the ones around me, were the people I trusted the most.

Ari had been friends with my late mother, and worked in the hospital with her. I felt comfortable around her, even if the idea of being a burden and annoying my family made it hard to breath at times. I closed my eyes and nodded, agreeing with her silently.

I took a long moment to attempt to slow my heart-rate, feeling it thump away inside me. Aquarius hadn't said anything new, or surprising, but my heart didn't listen. It never did.

A warm smooth hand wrapped around my wrist, lightly feeling for my pulse before her gentle voice soaked through my senses.

"How long has it been that fast?"

"Not that long. Since I got on the bus, maybe."

"Feeling dizzy, or breathless?" She asked, and I opened my eyes as she lead me to a seat, fingers still resting lightly on my wrist. She held up her other hand to check her watch as I answered quietly.

"A little, but that might have been from the walk."

"It's 120 beats per minute. Not great but not terrible either." Ari's eyebrows are pulled into a little frown, and I remain quiet, willing my heart to slow down. Of course, it didn't and the added stress made my fingers tingle and my eyesight cloudy.

"Just sit here for a few minutes, before I take you upstairs. Have you taken your medicine today?"

"Yes."

She nodded, "Do you feel like you are about to have an episode?"

Ari didn't quite understand how hard that question was to answer. When it got to this point, it was always hard to tell. It could either calm itself down or it would get worse.

"I don't know. I don't think so." I said instead, before asking, "Can you turn the blender on?"

Recognition lit up her eyes, as she walked over to the cabinets. She filled the blender with water, before turning it on. For some strange reason, loud noises made me calmer when it came to these situations. Where I felt like I was tethering on the edge of an attack. It drowned out my heart, made me think a little clearer and most of the time, calmed me.

I had only had a handful of violent attacks, but they were always incident related. Like the time, my heart had been 180 beats per minute, I had become so breathless that I had fallen forward and cracked my head against the tiled floor of my bathroom. The attack itself wasn't the scary thing – I had gotten used to the pain and heart palpitations by this point – but it was more the effects afterwards that always landed me in hospital with a concussion or a few scrapes.

The constant whirring of the blender made me sigh a little, and I focused on keeping my eyes open, fighting the dizziness. Even though, in other circumstances, loud noises gave me anxiety and it made me fidgety, this was the perfect distraction from my heart.

After a few more minutes, she turned it on, spoke a little louder, "Better?"

"Yeah. I think I can stand now."

"Good. Let's go upstairs, I'll bring your dinner up after you are in bed."

"I can walk by myself, Ari." I inform her, but resist struggling when she helps me out of the chair and towards the stairs.

"Yes, you can. But if you suddenly loose balance or become breathless, a concussion would make things worse and I don't feel like driving you to the hospital tonight." She states and I sigh, nodding in agreement. We make our way up the small flight of stairs, and into my room.

"Sorry." I mumble, as she is lifting the covers to help me into bed.

"Don't apologise. It's not your fault you have this condition." I want to argue with her, but decide to keep my thoughts zip-locked in my mind, because a fight is the last thing either of us need. Aquarius always gets very protective after any sign of an episode – even more so when I do get an attack – and a fight would probably cause stress on both of us.

"I'm going to get your dinner." Once she strides out, my thoughts began to peel away the seal in my mind.

Because it is my fault. I didn't used to have this condition. I was diagnosed with SVT, a relatively common case of tachycardia. It basically meant that, my heart would beat too fast suddenly. It's not passed down, it's just me. There were so many causes, smoking, drinking large amounts of caffeine, drugs or my case, which was self-induced SVT because of stress or large emotional instability.

When my mother had died, I began to get small symptoms and experience light-headedness here and there. Then, my father drank himself into oblivion, passed down all his money to me in his will and went on a weekend bender with a few of his 'firm buddies'. The next week, he was found in an alley. Death by concussion they ruled, and from the bruising on his skull, it was apparent he had most likely been mugged, and when they came up empty, they had killed him.

A few years later, I was thirteen, and the men responsible were imprisoned; after a particularly lucky CTV camera caught the crime in action. I didn't bother watching it, the last memory of my father had been him kissing me on the cheek and promising me he was going to protect my future. I didn't want to ruin that.

Thirteen, technically orphaned and sitting on a fortune I had no right to accept, I had my first panic attack. Which then transgressed into an episode, and I was diagnosed. It wasn't incurable. But, it hadn't helped that the first few years I had it, I didn't have hope it would go. I thought it was someone's way of punishing me at the time, but many years in therapy had taught me that blaming it on the universe was a form of denial.

So, I blamed it on myself. If I had been stronger, if I hadn't of fallen down into that darkness after losing two of the most important people to me, I'd be able to enjoy a rising heart rate without the threat of harm.

Once I told Svet, who had been my legal guardian – my only living Uncle – until I turned eighteen, how I felt. I will never forget the look of pure disbelief and sadness on his features. It had caused our first fight, so I never mentioned it again.

Ari walking back into the room shook me from my thoughts as she placed the tray with a bowl of macaroni and cheese, as well as a glass of orange juice on the side table. Realising that I was still seated in bed, instead of 'relaxing', I shifted and covered my legs with the blanket.

She placed the tray on my lap, eyeing me before speaking up, "When is your next session at Mrs Smith?"

I blew on a spoonful of macaroni and cheese, "In three days. At twelve thirty."

Aquarius nodded thoughtfully before stating, "Tell her, that the loud noises help. But, in case you are in a place where loud noise isn't allowed or any other sort of situation, you need something else. Hopefully she can help you with that, to give you some ideas to try."

I thought that was an alright idea so I agreed, scooping the food in my mouth before swallowing.

"I also have my doctor's appointment on Friday. He's going to do another ECG and maybe an electrophysiology test. Not sure which one, specifically."

"I'll ask him when I see him tomorrow. Are you feeling better?" She smiled a little when I took a large gulp of orange juice, and shrugged.

"I'm okay now. Thank-you."

Her eyes narrowed, "You kept me waiting ten minutes while you ate to get that thank-you. If you had done it sooner, I would have left."

I laughed a little, but it was a truly pitiful sound. With how dark my thoughts were getting, faking a laugh hurt my chest but I pushed past it for her sake.

After getting to college a little bit too early, I found myself strolling through the crisp Autumn weather, a cup of boiling hot chocolate in my hands. Virgo wasn't going to be here for a while and it was eerie, sitting on campus grounds with little to no people around.

I continually checked my phone, which had an app that would monitor my heart rate. Satisfyingly, it stayed under 100 beats per minute, even though I was doing a fair bit of walking. My shoes made soft crunching noises against the dry leaves, before I found the path that led me through the creative arts block, which was a little further away from the rest of the buildings since students practised with potentially distracting instruments. I passed a moulding class, watching curiously for a few seconds before moving on. When I turned the next corner, which had rooms with music halls, and aggressively sound proof studio's, a loud crash made me jump.

Someone was playing the drums, the sounds of percussion making the very ground shake beneath my feet and I found myself following the noise, the bass drum providing a mindless bravado of music, accompanying the almost hypnotic shrill of the other parts of a drum-kit. I hadn't paid attention to music when I was in High School, so it wasn't surprising I was drawing a mental blank on what everything was called. I sipped on my hot chocolate idly, following the impressive pounding.

I reached the room where it was coming from, a double-door entrance to what I could only assume was a hall of some sort, since sound-proof rooms would at least muffle the sound. I slipped inside quietly, the loud noise assaulting my hearing, but instead of wincing back, I stood at the top of the stairs; staring down at the person who was placed in the middle of the stage.

I definitely hadn't seen him before.

My eyes traced over his features slowly, from the mass of pink, almost spiky hair that rested on his head messily. I could see a glimpse of his features; his face was angled down and his eyes were closed. I silently remarked to myself, that it was impressive he was creating this beat without the help of sight. A strong jaw, crooked nose, lips pressed into a manic grin as his hands flew at impressive speed, gripping the sticks, smacking and hitting each counterpart with everything he had.

I wanted to get closer, but felt it might have been inappropriate. I wouldn't like someone watching me so closely as I took photographs. But I couldn't resist sliding into one of the seats far at the back. He hadn't noticed me, and I leaned forward, resting my cheek on my arm as I continued to watch him. The golden cymbal crashed together in a melody of pitched percussion, blending seamlessly with the hypnotising low notes, and the shaking middle ones.

I don't know how long I had been sitting there, just listening but it had brought me out of my mind and my eyes began to slip closed after sometime. When I awoke, he was packing away his things, his back turned to me. I shifted a little, realising I had completely zoned out and had no idea how I managed to lose track of so much time. I felt the nagging responsibility to thank him for his help, because I hadn't felt that amount of peace in a long time.

But, how could I?

Chances were, he would get upset that someone crept in – someone he didn't even know- the middle of a private practice, and zoned out so much, that they missed the ending of the piece. When I tried to think back, it was an endless onslaught of loud. And I had loved it.

A voice cleared, pulling me from my thoughts about self-preservation and the do's and don'ts of a normal society, as a warm tone, almost as deep as the bass drum he had played so well spoke, "I have to lock up the hall when I'm done. And there's a practice starting in fifteen minutes."

I blinked, so he had noticed I was here?

As he crouched down, I stood up and collected my things. I wondered if my soft voice would carry in this hall, knowing I couldn't be quite as loud as he was.

He was probably just a loud person.

"Thank-you." I spoke normally, turning towards the door, not really caring either way if he heard me or not. If he had minded my appearance, he was taking it rather well. I liked people like that. Calm, level-headed people. I wondered if the pink-haired drummer was always like that. I hoped he was, the way he played the drums, made me think of being wild and free. Having no limits, and no restrictions.

I don't know why the idea of him being as reckless as his drumming, made me a little uneasy. Like he was someone I couldn't really handle, or get a grip on. It had taken me three years to get used to Virgo, and she had been more subdued when I met her.

It's not like he's going to actively seek a friendship with you. A voice bounced around in my head, the voice of reason I had come to hate but also rely on. I left the hall, checking my phone to see forty minutes had passed. I wondered if his hands hurt. Mine would. I've never played the drums, but all that vibration and clutching sticks so tightly, it would definitely leave my hands sore.

Maybe it was like playing a guitar, the more you held down the strings, the less it impacted your skin.

I glanced down to my phone, just about to check my heart-rate when Virgo messaged me.

V: I'm here. Where are you?

After sending back a quick message, I pushed all thoughts of the pink haired drummer boy from my mind, but the question of what his name might be lingered in my thoughts for the rest of the day.

I was in the library, picking up some books from my selective reading list for my Ancient lit class, when a familiar voice, a lot quieter drawled beside me.

"So... Did you like the percussion?"

I startled a little, glancing over to find pink hair. It was a lot messier when it was in my face like this. I traced over his features quickly, surprised when I found a silver piercing just below his lip. It made his face more… edgy. He was tanned, dark green eyes stuck on me with a note of curiousness in them. My eyes trailed over the strength of his jaw, before going lower, noticing the swirling black marking that slid along the side of his neck, before disappearing underneath his black hoodie.

He was tall too, my nose would come to his collar bone, which was surprising since I hadn't though him to be very tall when I saw him before.

"Pardon?" I replied quietly, despite not really enjoying talking to strangers. I guess I owed it to him, after sitting in – uninvited – on his practice.

"The percussion? Specifically, the toms. I've been struggling with the transition." He informed me and I blinked dumbly for a few seconds, wondering who Tom was and what he had to do with it.

Realising he was still waiting for a response, I admitted, "I liked it. It was mindless, and wild."

His lips twisted a little, as if fighting a grin and I found myself wondering why he cared so much for a random girl's opinion.

"Because the girl I'm asking, is pretty damn beautiful. Beautiful people have beautiful opinions."

I hadn't realised I had said my thoughts out loud, but focused on his words, tilting my head, "That's a very biased comment."

"What, that you are beautiful?"

The compliment had no effect on me and I didn't bother to hide it with a false smile of gratitude, pushing forward gently, my voice almost a murmur, "No. That beautiful people have beautiful opinions. It's an insult to less attractive people, and it's also forcing expectations on people that may have been blessed with some sort of beauty."

He openly bit back a laugh, "Not one of those 'everyone is beautiful, in some way' girls, are you?"

I shook my head, "Not necessarily. All people have one or more appealing feature about them, and the broad spectrum of beauty is ever-changing because people have different opinions. However, I think the comment you made is biased, because if 'beautiful people have beautiful opinions', then doesn't that mean everyone in the world has a beautiful opinion; especially since I can look at you, and find you aesthetically pleasing, that's enough for beauty. But someone else can think you are ugly, and that's their opinion."

"Christ, that is one kind of mind." He breathed, eyes lit up with excitement as he asked, "You think I'm aesthetically pleasing?"

"Sure. For a cliché, bad-boy character in an erotic novel." I informed him truthfully, jumping when his loud booming laugh reached my ears. It sounded a bit like the way he played his drums, full of depth, and bass. I glanced around nervously, having not found my book yet and not wanting to get kicked out because I had somehow made him laugh.

I wasn't a funny person. In fact, I was called relatively bleak and ambivalent on almost every single one of my report cards in High School.

"Are you okay?" I found myself asking, against my better judgement as he rubbed his stomach a little, glancing at me with a look of unhinged amusement. I wondered if this guy was legally sane. He didn't look like it. But I wasn't one to push people in a box, and found myself just waiting for him to calm down.

He was a little breathless when he spoke next, a feeling I could understand rather well, "You got my hopes up, then threw my ego into a burning building."

I processed his words before frowning, "I insulted your ego? I apologise, I didn't think it was so fragile."

He began laughing again and my frown grew, wondering if it was considered polite to laugh at someone's genuine apology. I figured it was not, but spied my book a moment later. His shoulder was right in front of it, blocking my grasp to get it easily, and I knew contact was not a good idea – I didn't really enjoy being touched or touching other people – so I just had to wait out the storm.

"See, there you go again. You've got a sharp tongue." He tugged on his lip piercing and I found myself oddly fascinated with it. Wondering how much it hurt. It looked kind of cool, I guess.

"I do?" I echoed and he clicked his tongue as if my words proved his point even further.

"I'd love to see you rip apart my friends. Think you could do that?"

"I don't really like blood." I squirmed a little, wincing as I added an afterthought, "Or homicide."

His pink lips stretched into a thrilled grin, stretching his mouth wide so I saw white teeth and odd fang like canines. My heart stuttered vaguely in my chest, as something burst my vision, a splatter of brightness on an otherwise grey, cold world. His grin was something else, something overpowering, that left me overwhelmed in his wake.

He could have convinced me to do anything in that moment, just because of that grin. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever since my parents had died. And I had forgotten what colour looked like.

It was almost frightening, the way he looked at me. I recognised that emotion. Wonder. I didn't think I had done anything wonderful, but the expectation to do it made me begin to shrink back into my lovely shell of grey. People like him didn't befriend people like me.

Before I could completely shelter myself, his hand reached out and touched my arm very gently. I jumped, the walls crumbling entirely, as he continued to beam at me.

"What's your name?"

My tongue was heavy on my throat, as I waited for the prickly feeling of someone touching me without my permission to roll over me. His hand was warm, and rough, but it didn't send raise my hackles. It stayed on my arm, just light that I could shake it away, but there, so he could ground me to him.

I hadn't used another person as a way of keeping my head on, I liked relying on myself. Relying on other people was dangerous.

"Lucy." I whispered, feeling my heart begin to slowly speed up with how his green eyes glittered at me.

"I'm Natsu." He pulled his hand back, before stating, "I have the hall tomorrow at seven, in case you wanted to hear me play again."

An offer?

I blinked, a little mystified as he checked his phone, wincing in apparent pain, "Damn. I'm late. I'll see you tomorrow, Lucy!"

My name sounded funny coming from him. I didn't know if I liked it or not.

He didn't even let me reply, because Natsu was taking leaps and bounds out of the library and I was left in his wake, shaken.

My heart racing alerted me to a possible problem, and I pulled out my phone shakily. I pressed my thumb to the little touch button, and waited a full minute. The number flashed on the screen and I pulled my hand away, shocked.

My cheeks were flushed, my breathing harsh and my heart felt like it was going to race out of my chest. But the numbers were wrong.

98 beats per minute.

Why would I feel like my heart is racing, when it's not?

The first addition of, Let Me Be There, is finally out.

Okay, so this is going to be updated every four days ~ it may change considering the fan-base and/or my real life situation.

On another note, I kept getting my partner to count my heartbeat and research everything I could about SVT which is the acronym for Syperventricular Tachycardia. In this book, Lucy has the most common one in the three that belong to this certain group. I also had to call my friend who is a training nurse at the wee hours of the morning to get some of my facts straight - DO NOT BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ ON GOOGLE.

Continuing on, leave a review if you enjoyed it, if you wanted to be added to the Skype group were you will get the chance to message me, and receive sneak-peaks on any upcoming works or one of the many fics I'll never published, either find me on Tumblr or message me here.

You guys are looking fantastic, and I hope you've killed some of your New Years Resolutions!

I'll see you next time,

as always guys

stay fresh!

xo freshprincess.