Hello to whomever wonders into this story, this is my very first fanfic. It was written as a one-shot but I can continue the story if you like it.

This is set years after Maya and Lucas had a bad break up.

Enjoy! And tell me what you think!

-AGA- xx

Disclaimer: I do not own GMW or any of its characters.

ROCKY STARTS. CHAPTER 1.

I was staring at her, holding my hand carefully in the lavatory, my blood was being washed away by the light touch of the water. She was slow in her task, patient, opening my wound the slightest so it didn't hurt me, letting all blood run out. I won't lie, the cut was deep, it hurt every time she touched it, but it didn't matter because it was her touch, she was here with me, helping me.

I won't lie, his cut was deep. I was trying my best to not hurt him, as of now he wasn't complaining. Neither of us were talking while we stood there, me cleaning his wound as he watched me in my task. How did I end up in here with him? This was all my mom's fault, what kind of comment was that? Is she crazy? Now I was stucked in the bathroom upstairs with my ex. I couldn't see him but I could feel his eyes on me, he also had a slight smirk, that one that I could never resist. His stare felt like fire in my body, he wasn't even trying to hide it, all these years later and he still had the same effect in me.

She was tense I could see it, but I couldn't stare away, I finally had her next to me again. Her blonde hair falling over to her side, barely touching the surface of the lavatory. Maybe I could give another step, be closer to her. No, Lucas don't do it. Think about something else, but how can I do that with her smell flooding my nose, fogging my senses.

"I think there won't be any more blood" she said suddenly, bringing me back from my thoughts. She grabbed a cotton cloth and put it over my cut "press this while I get the spray and the band aid"

I did as she said in silence, watching every move she made, remembering every freckle, every wrinkle in her face, taking it all in before this dream comes to an end. She opened a drawer she easily found what she wanted.

First drawer on the right, that's where we kept the first aid kit, that's where it has always been. I take the alcohol spray and a large band aid.

"What is that?" He asks pointing the spray bottle with his injured hand while the other one holds the cloth I gave him.

"Alcohol to disinfect the wound" I extended my hand asking for his, but he takes his away, shaking his head.

Memories from my childhood pop in my brain, my school nurse applying the alcohol on my scraped knee merciless, the agonizing pain that shoot to my back and ran up all the way of my spine. This was the last thing I needed.

"No, I don't need that, just put the band aid on" I tell her. She looked at me sternly and extended her hand again.

"The cut is deep, I have to put this. Come on, give me your hand" This was the most we had spoken to each other ever since the party had started and it didn't feel rushed or awkward, it felt like us.

"It's going to hurt too much, I don't need that"

Why is he always so stubborn? This happened every time we would go to dinner or picking out something to watch on Netflix, or when he was trying to 'fix' something, 'I know what I'm doing' he used to say. "You were literally shot and you are complaining for a little sting?" I ask him, regretting it afterwards, that was too insensitive.

"That's... a different type of pain" he says smiling hoping it makes me laugh, instead I'm shocked and thankful he didn't take it bad.

She doesn't laugh, but I swear her lips curl a little when she puts a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'll be careful, I promise" she looks right at my eyes, I froze right there and then, her blues eyes were like a nebula telling me the story of her thoughts. I hadn't read into those eyes for several years but now they were holding back, they wanted to scream but couldn't.

He is just looking at me, the hairs in my back stand up and a pressure sits on my chest. I don't want to look away, but he lowers his head sighs loudly and extends his arm to me.

"Do it quickly" he says, scared to stare now. I take his hand, remove the cotton cloth from the wound, the bleeding has stopped, I look at his face, he is looking over his shoulder waiting for the unavoidable pain that it's coming. His jaw is clenched, he shaved probably this morning before coming to my house, I can smell his cologne, the same he has always used and a faint touch of limes. I watch him carefully maybe for a second too long before getting back to my task.

It's better if I don't look, that way I won't know when it's coming. I focus on her touch, her hand holding mine, steady but gently. We are really close, I hope she doesn't notice that my hand is sweaty. She changed her shampoo, I can smell it from here. What is taking her so long? How did I end here? Maya's mom. I can feel my heart beating fast and I don't know if it's for the hand of because of her. After everything that happened, everything that was left behind, everything that was ended, how could I be so close to her again? Inches apart from the girl I first loved, from the girl I hurt so badly, the one heart I broke, the heart I left and didn't repair. Inches apart from the girl I will always love.

Then I feel it, an excruciating pain floods my thoughts, the feel of my nerves being burned by a hot knife, it goes all the way back to my spine.

He inhales sharply the moment I spray his wound, his hand is shaking. I don't remember ever using this spray except when I was a kid, but if it did hurt this bad I don't want to find out. I take his hand to my lips and blow out.

It takes me by surprise, the smoothening of a breeze. I turn to look at her, her plump lips curled together, saving me from my pain. It's cold and gentle, barely there but so refreshing.

After some seconds she puts the band aid on top, sealing my wound, no trace of pain, like a leave settling in the water.

"There you go, see... it wasn't that bad" she says lifting her head to look at me. I admire the finished work one last time before dropping my arm.

"Yeah... Thanks" I say lifting my head, I stare at her, her hair framing her face, I maintain her eye contact, I just want to see her blue eyes for the rest of my life. Why did I let her go? I see through her sapphire eyes, I see her, like I always have. I know, for the first time today, what she is thinking, because it's the same thing I have in my head.

We are inches apart, our eyes glued to each other, my heart threatening to come out of my chest. He is here, alive, the guy I swore I would never forgive but eventually did, my first love. Am I leaning in? I don't know, everything seems frozen in time.

I'm taken over by something inside me and I close the space between us. I press my lips into hers and then I feel like I'm falling, hard. She reciprocates, the kiss is not fierce, but is not gentle either. My hand is in her cheek tangled with her hair, the other one is low in her back, she rests her hands in my chest. We start to pick up the pace of the kiss, my tongue asks for permission to enter her mouth and she gladly responds. We move against the bathroom table, I lift her legs so she can sit on top, she pulls me closer to her, playing with my hair.

Her lips, her smell, her skin, how I missed everything about her. While we are here, our bodies pressed together, everything else seems so far away. I feel like we are 18 once again, I pass my hands around her sides lifting her top the slightest, just so my fingertips touch her skin. All these years that are between us disappear, all those fights, all the distance is closed.

I can't think straight, he feels, this feels so good right now. It's like not a day has passed since we were together. He sucks on my neck, a moan threatens to escape my lips. I shouldn't be doing this, how can I just forgive like that, why can't I stay mad at him forever, that is what I want. Something inside me won't stop, I pull him up so he kisses me again and again and again, his arousal pressed against my thigh, he let's go a low groan when I shift my position.

I'm crazy, something is seriously wrong with me, I tell myself, but how can something that feels so good be bad? How can I still love him like some stupid teenager that started to believe our relationship would last forever. But I do, I love him, but I can't be with him, I can't allow myself to go through that again.

God, I love her. I want her, she is the one for me and I knew it long ago, but too late or maybe it is not too late to salvage the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Her legs are around my waist, we are tangled together like magnets, unbreakable. For a second this feels like it might be the last time we do this and fear settles inside me, I can't think about that. My hands find themselves dangerously cupping her ass, her fingertips trail the waistline of my jeans.

"Maya! Did you find the band aids?" Her mom screams from downstairs. And like an elastic band that has stretched too much, we break apart, like some kids who were caught doing something wrong. We are breathing heavy, she drops her legs and gently pushes me away. I don't want to leave, 'let's ignore them' I think of telling her, but it is too late now, she has slipped through my fingers once again.

"Yes mom, we are coming down!" She responds, getting down of the table and fixing herself in front of the mirror. I look for her eyes, for a sign that what we did wasn't bad, instead she averts my sight. "We should go back to the party" she says by the door.

"Yeah" I tell her and she leaves. My heart slowly sinking in my chest, the pain returning to my hand.

Remember to tell me what you think! Comment and like! If you like.