She was lost. She couldn't comprehend how a situation that had felt so safe and familiar could suddenly feel so alone and surreal. Actions she had usually completed without a second thought suddenly took all her willpower to not do. She convinced all except those closest to her that she was fine, faking a smile that didn't reach her cerulean eyes that were drowning in their own sadness. Her friends and family offered her sympathy, a shoulder to cry on, and chocolate, and though their acts were appreciated, they weren't quite enough to help.

She was lying in bed, darkness cloaking her as the night grew old, desperately hoping to hear her phone alert her of a message. She wanted her best friend to call and tell her everything was going to be alright.

This becomes difficult when your best friend is your new ex-boyfriend; the source of your turmoil.

The split was not necessarily permanent; he needed to clear his head and didn't want to drag her along in his wake, fearing it would hurt her too much. She was convinced nothing could hurt more than she did in that moment, other than perhaps if he called and told her it was over for good.

In the romantic movies she loved to watch, the girl would get over the ex-boyfriend by eating copious amounts of ice-cream (which she had attempted) and their best friend would come to comfort them, and, if said best friend was a guy, they'd fall in love and live happily ever after.

She'd thought she had her happily ever after, now it remained in limbo. Whether they became lovers again or just friends lay in his hands.

Eventually something inside of her snapped, and before she can think she's dialling his number. It goes to voicemail, and she's about to hang up when she hears the tone, requesting her to leave a message, almost taunting her to do so.

"Hi," she murmured softly. Every word she spoke was a shaky mess, and she wordlessly wondered if she's actually coherent. "I-it's me. I know we said we shouldn't call each other but… I'm really hurting, a lot and… I need my best friend. I need you to come and tell me everything will be okay, and cuddle me and let me cry. I don't want talk about what we are, or what we'll be. I just need you. I didn't want to call because I don't want to influence your decision in any way, and I don't want to rush you because I'm worried if I do you'll tell me it's over for good… Just… I need you, please. Please." She slammed the phone down as if she's been struck by lightning. The realisation hit her as humiliation washed over her. She quickly switched off her phone and pulled her duvet over her head, refusing to accept her mistake.

She's awoken by a light tapping, which at first she thought was the rain pounding outside her window. However, its rhythm changes, and becomes louder and more frantic. She tentatively removed her head from its hiding place, and she locked her eyes on her window.

At first she thinks she's dreaming. She walked over in almost a trance, her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes watering. There, sat on her roof outside her window, was him.

Her best friend.

His raven hair was drenched and his bangs were dripping down his forehead. He looked frozen but his only concern seemed directed elsewhere. She gently opened the window in front of him and he tentatively placed his head through.

"Hi," he murmured softly. "Are you okay?"

"Ash…" is all she can splutter out before she bursts into tears. She hadn't realised his own tears had been concealed by the rain. He cried softly into her hair as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, allowing her to cry into his t-shirt, drenching it more than it already was from the rain. As her sobbing subsides, he gently pushed her back, his heart breaking at the despair in her eyes.

"I got your message," he explained softly. "I tried calling you but it went straight to voicemail and then I tried your front door and you didn't answer, hence the window."

"You got a train all the way from Pallet," she sighed in disbelief. "You didn't have to come, I'm such an idiot," she said, placing her head in her hands in embarrasment.

"Of course I came, you're my-" he paused. Knowing the loss of their previous label was still raw, and its replacement or renewal was undecided. He smiled softly, gently rubbing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You're my Misty."

She couldn't respond, but the smile she gave him was answer enough for him.

"Go back to bed, I'll come give you those cuddles," he said softly. She nodded wordlessly, but feels herself panic as she noticed him leaving the room. "I'm just getting a towel," he explained, "I don't want my hair to wet your bed."

Slightly drier than before, Ash kept his word, and laid on the bed beside Misty, wrapping his arms around her as she gently sobbed into his chest. He ran his hands through her hair tenderly, as he murmured in her ear.

"Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot, and I'll bet anything in the world that he wants nothing more than to be back with you when the time is right and cause you as little pain as possible. Because you're amazing, and he wants to be the boyfriend you deserve."

She smiled against his chest, and in that moment she knew everything would be alright.

Because the loss of a label did not mean a loss of love.

A/N: Sorry if this is a load of rubbish, I'm going through something similar at the minute and I felt the need to write. It's kind of bittersweet though because my boyfriend was my biggest fan, he always supported me and read all my stories and every time I posted I knew I'd get at least one rave review. He's my best friend, and I feel a bit lost without him, hence the title. I might update this someday, if I feel the need, but I left it kind of open to interpretation on purpose. Thanks for reading.