Merry Christmas, my lovelies!

Final chapter!

"You think Didi's going to be okay?" Trish asks, taking the eraser end of her pencil out of her mouth, fresh chew marks now coating it. "I mean, settling in and all?"

"Focus, Trish. You've got a test tomorrow." Dez sips his freshly-brewed coffee, reeling back soon after due to the heat. "Ow! I burned my tongue." Trish cackles, any attention she has towards her studies vanishing.

"It's just a quiz, Dez. I'm more worried about your sister." She gets up and takes the hot coffee from her panting boyfriend, setting it down on the nearest table. She continues giggling, shaking her head at him as he tries to settle down. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess I should've waited." He shrugs. "Anyway, my sister's going to the University of Miami. She's commuting from home, she'll be fine," he reassures her.

She moves towards him. Her hands travel up his shirt, across the buttons, until they reach his collar. She tugs lightly at it, urging him to lean down. He refuses to oblige.

"Trish, you need to study," he states, a playful smile upon his face.

"What I need is a distraction." She pulls him down to her, as she pushes herself up off the ground on her toes, her lips meeting his in the middle. As much as Dez yearns to fight it, he gives into her and reciprocates almost immediately. His arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer. They maintain this position for a few moments, until Trish's ankles tire from the pressure that she's exerting on them. Upon releasing him, she strides over and takes a seat on Dez's bed. Dez quirks a brow at her.

"I don't think I'm ready to give you that sorta distraction," he squeaks, his voice raising a few octaves. Trish scoffs, shaking her head.

"All I did was sit on your bed – get your mind outta the gutter, you doof," she growls out. Dez reddens in the face, his cheeks looking practically sunburnt. He shifts his eyes around in embarrassment before he focuses his attention back on her.

He finds her smiling at him, which only makes him all the more apprehensive. The smile does not seem malicious, but he could be wrong. She winks at him as she lies herself down on the bed, resting her hands over her stomach and staring at the ceiling of Dez's apartment.

A few unopened boxes are scattered about here and there, as he has only recently moved in. The situation is still uncertain, yet Dez remains hopeful that something grand will soon come his way. He has, indeed, started training under the mentorship of director Ridda Scotts. And – as promised – she has been able to help him find work. A few small projects that pay just enough to cover his bills, sure, but he holds his optimism. The opportunities will grow, he keeps on encouraging himself.

Dez travels over to his bed and lies himself down next to his girlfriend. They lie there quietly, simply enjoying each other's company for some time. Dez lays a hand on top of hers on her stomach.

"Dez…" she utters, turning her head to him. Her eyes hold uncertainty and worry. Dez's apprehension quickly returns to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Well…" she inhales, holding her breath for a few seconds before letting out a thin, steady stream of air. Should I tell him now?, she questions herself. Dez grips onto one of her, now fidgety, hands and pulls it to his chest.

"Babe, you can tell me. It's okay, I won't get mad," he assures her – uncertain of whether or not he can actually keep that promise.

"What do you think about Trent and Kye?" she asks him out of the blue – the topic having nothing to do with the actual subject weighing heavily on her mind. She retracts her hand from his and sits herself up on the bed. She rocks back and forth slightly in her seat, anxiety slowly overcoming her.

"They're good friends," he nods, looking off in another direction as he thinks about it. "Trent has a huge ego, sure, but he's a good guy. And Kye's a complete sweetheart. Why'd you ask?"

"I mean Trent AND Kye. As in…You know…" she tries to explain, motioning with her hands obscurely. Dez catches on, all the same.

"You noticed it too, huh?" he laughs out. "We shouldn't meddle, Trish."

"Hey, our meddling helped get Austin and Ally together. Maybe it'll work on Kye and Trent, too?" she insists. She catches on to her own nervous rocking and manages to get herself to hold still.

"I guess…" he shakes his head. "They'll figure it out soon enough. They have been going on, what most people would call, dates. They can call it 'hanging out' all they want, but, whatever…" He sits up and scoots in closer to her, draping his arm over her shoulders. "Now tell me what you're really so anxious about?"

"Dammit," Trish mutters. "You're good. How'd you know?"

"Cause I know you. You shift around a lot when you have something you need to get off your chest. Now, what's up?"

"Can we talk about it later, Dez? I just…I need some time to figure out exactly what to say to you," she requests, folding her hands together in her lap.

"Oh no…You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" His eyes widen as he pulls his arm away. "Is it 'cause I said I wanted to move my boa constrictor out here? Babe, I was just kidding! This place it way too small for him anyway, and I was thinking about moving him into this reptile house I researched about–"

"–Dez!" Trish stops him, putting her hand over his mouth. "I'm not breaking up with you…" she pauses, shuddering as she remembers the giant reptile. She drops her hand from its position over his lips. "But, yeah, if you keep that snake here, I'm not entering your apartment."

"Oh…Phew!" he dramatically sighs out in relief – only to jump to yet another conclusion immediately after. "Wait – you're not dying are you?! Trish…No…" he pales, starting to whimper. "You can't die! I love you!" he cries, eyes watering as he clings to her side – sobbing incessantly. Trish stares down at him, her irritation doubling at the fact that he would not even give her a chance to answer his question. She lets him stay attached to her arm for a bit, allowing him to calm down before she responds.

"Dez," she says as gently as possible, her lips tightened – threatening to bend into a snarl. "I'm not dying." He releases his grip on her, his sobbing now reduced to sniffles. He rubs his eyes dry, relief flooding over him, returning the color to his face.

"Really?" he asks, sniffling a few more times. She responds with a quiet nod, her patience visibly wearing thin. "Good, 'cause even though I've already planned out our wedding, I'd need time to make reservations and gather funds for the food and venue…And heck, I haven't even figured out how to propose to you yet…And a ring! I still need to buy a ring! If you're gonna die, you need to give me at least three months' notice in advance, okay?" He ends his rant and takes her hands in his. "But, if we needed to, we could always just elope." Trish pulls a hand away and slaps it onto her forehead, in annoyance.

"Dez."

"Yeah?"

"Please stop talking." She drops her hand from her forehead and glares at him.

"Yes, ma'am." He looks down to his lap.

"Wait – why would you wanna marry me if I'm dying?" she asks, as if that was the only thing off about his ramblings. "You wanna claim all of my Zaliens stuff or something? Dez, I'd want those to go to you anyway. I mean, I might give some to Austin, but you're a bigger fan, so…"

"What? No! I just…I want to marry you." He takes her hands in his once again. "Is that bad?"

"We're only nineteen, doofus." She shakes her head at his naiveté, pulling her hands away again.

Dez made this wish of his no secret. He would often talk about their future life together, as he hopes it will be. He has even made a long list of names for future children they may have, along with a list of names for potential family pets. Trish isn't even sure what classes she wants to take next quarter. Marriage? A distant thought.

But, if she's honest with herself, she really cannot see spending her life with anyone else.

"Well, if your lifespan is only nineteen years, then you're really old," Dez reasons. "But yeah, I don't mean now. I was just saying in case you, or maybe I, were dying, I'd like to have a chance to…But I mean, I want to eventually…I like to think that we'd work out, you know?" he continues, rubbing his right shoulder in uncertainty. "Don't you want to? Have this relationship work out, I mean."

The curly-haired female lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Can we take a walk, Dez? I need some fresh air."

"Sure." Dez exhales heavily, feeling ill at ease from her lack of response to his question. He hops up off the bed, takes her by the hands, and pulls her to her feet – his cup of coffee long forgotten.

"I love you," Dez finally speaks up after a prolonged period of silence as the couple go about the neighborhood on their walk.

"I know," Trish responds, matter-of-factly.

"I love you," he repeats with more fervor – pulling his hand out of his pocket and reaching for hers.

"I know," she states again, exhaustion emanating from her voice. She takes his hand, reassuringly rubbing the back of it with her thumb. A few minutes pass by, wordlessly. The two continue walking, hand-in-hand, until the redhead decides to break the quiet, once again.

"…Trish?"

"What is it, Dez?"

"…I love you."

"Dez!" The short girl's outcry catches the attention of others nearby, but she disregards them. She wrenches her hand away from her boyfriend and turns to face him.

"What?" he questions, innocently, as he turns to face her.

"For the last time – I'm not breaking up with you! I'm not dying, and no, you can't have the last slice of pie that I left in your fridge. I'm saving that for later."

"But it's chicken pot pie – you know I love that stuff!" he whines, shoulders slumping. Trish closes her eyes and rubs her temples with her index fingers. She had intended on clearing her head through this walk, and that certainly isn't going as planned.

"What did I do, Trish? If I did something wrong, just tell me." He draws closer to her, desperate for answers.

"You didn't do anything! It's not you, it's me." Trish covers her mouth with her hands immediately at the realization that she had just delivered a break-up line. Dez's widened eyes and shaking lower lip are telltale signs of a potential breakdown.

"Y-you just said that–" he starts, shakily.

"–I'm not breaking up with you," she assures him, placing her hands up onto his shoulders. "But…I was thinking about…Going away for a little while."

"W-w-what? Going w-where?" His shaking ensues without a sign of stopping.

"There's this program…My econ teacher was talking about it a week ago. It's a set of quarter-long courses – three months long. Courses surrounding international business," she begins to explain. "At IE University."

"That sounds amazing, Trish – you should go for it!" he encourages her, failing to see the downside to this. Soothed by the knowledge that this isn't her breaking up with him – or any of the other terrible conclusions that he had previously jumped to – he relaxes.

"Dez…" She grabs onto both of his hands. "It's in Madrid."

"…Madrid, Spain?" he asks, his brows pushing together.

"What other Madrids are there, Freckles?"

"Well, there's a Madrid in Maine, one in New Mexico," he goes on listing. "And I'm pretty sure there's a New Madrid in Missouri, but–"

"–Dez. I want to go. I really want to go," she pleads.

"Then you should go." He shrugs. "It's not like you need my permission."

"Three months, Dez. I'd be away from you for three whole months," she reiterates.

"And you'll be three whole months smarter." He smiles down at her, head tilted.

"Dez, that's doesn't even…Never mind." She shakes her head. "You're not upset?"

"Trish, I know what I've done and said before when you moved out here. I was stupid. Selfish. That's not fair to you. You do whatever you need to." He bends his knees, bringing himself down to her eye level. "If you're happy, then I'm happy."

"But you were right. I should've talked to you about it before I made any decisions." She drops his hands.

"Well, you're talking to me now. And I do appreciate that, by the way. But it's your call, babe."

"We'll talk on the phone every day," she promises him.

"Sounds good to me." He winks at her, straightening out his legs, making himself stand upright.

"We'll video chat whenever we can," she continues.

"Sounds like a plan."

"I'll even try really hard not to stare at all the cute guys."

"That's gre – wait, you better not," he crosses his arms and pouts. Trish laughs, nodding in agreement.

"You don't know how relieved I am to know you're on board with this." She emits a hefty exhale, finally feeling comfort. "Thank you, Dez. I love you."

"Of course. Like I said, I just want you to be–," he stops, replaying her words in his head. "Woah, woah, woah. Back up. Did you just say what I think you just said?" he takes her by the shoulders, eyes pinned on hers as his face is stretched out by his broad grin. "Can you repeat that?" The girl rolls her eyes, but complies.

"I said I love you. I love you, Dez." She grasps his forearms and pulls his hands off of her. "Don't get too excited. You still can't have that last slice of pie."

"It's just that…It's the first time you've said that to me." He rubs the back of his neck, his smile refusing to let up. "I mean, I knew. I just…It's nice to hear it too, y'know?" His arm drops back down to his side.

She nods, smiling back up at him. "I'll try and say it more often."

"So…When's the program start?"

"Next quarter, actually." She starts walking again, and Dez follows suit, by her side.

"That's so soon! I guess I should start emotionally preparing myself now."

"You've got about a month." She takes his hand as she continues on forward.

"I should throw you a going-away party. Trent and Kye could help decorate. And I'll cook! We could have it back at my place."

"Just don't burn down the kitchen, whack-a-doodle. Two visits from the fire department within a month are more than enough."

"Hey, I didn't burn the place down or anything. Just the counter. And my favorite apron." He frowns. "I miss my apron."

"That kiss-the-cook apron? Ugh. Please." She sighs. "How are you going to live without me?"

"It'll be a tough few months. I probably do need someone to look out for me. But I think I'll manage."

"You better. I should have Trent and Kye move in with you while I'm gone," she insists.

"Yeah, maybe…And when you get back, we can talk about you moving in." He swoops down sideways to give her a quick peck on the cheek. She looks up at him, taken aback by the sudden offer.

"I'd like that." She smiles. "I'd like that a lot."

Epilogue

They keep their promises. They keep their friendship – they keep so much more. All it takes is some trust. Trust in the fact that it will all work out in the end if it needs to. Trust in their own decisions. Trust in each other.

The path to success can be thrown off by numerous obstacles. But sometimes all it takes to overcome said obstacles is to reevaluate one's definition of success.

Dez's career grows rapidly enough. He soon finds himself working larger commercial gigs, as well as some independent films, and creates a very promising future for himself in show-biz.

Trish manages to expand her clientele, starting up a large-scale management company – even before she finishes her degree.

It takes risks. It takes sacrifice. Not everything in their relationship runs smoothly, but they make it work.

Because they find happiness in each other, with each other.

And what the heck is success without that?

- End –

I apologize for the delay, y'all! And I'm sorry if this chapter does not live up to your expectations for a finale. It's a lot shorter than I had previously planned, but I wanted to get it done and not have it be excessive. Still, I hope you are satisfied with the ending here.

A HUGE thank you to all my loyal reviewers and supporters. Much love to all of you!

Have a VERY merry Christmas – happy holidays, and have a fabulous new year!

-AJ