Twelve.
I went back home Saturday night- knowing that there was a good chance my parents would be home, I figured I better not be staying at Benn's. It was around nine that I decided to go to bed, and I'd barely been under the sheets for five minutes, when I heard a repeated tapping sound on my window. I got up and looked out, to find you standing there, chucking pebbles. It made me smile, ignoring the stabbing pain within me. I opened the window, climbed down the tree and fell into your arms.
"You're still here," I said, surprised.
"Leaving tomorrow," you smiled. "So come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Surprise," you winked, and grabbed my hand.
"I'm barefoot and in pyjamas!" I refused to move.
"Dear Lord, Bec."
You scooped me up into your arms, and I only jokingly objected. You put me down next to your car, before opening the passenger door for me.
We drove for about an hour, and I started recognising the outskirts of the city. Manchester, while I hated it at day, was beautiful at night. You parked the car in the emergency stopping bay on the side of the road, opened my door, and offered me your hand. I took it, not caring where we went. I was with you, it didn't matter where.
I didn't try to fight the carelessness I felt when I was with you anymore. I didn't try to fight the idea that being with you was all that mattered. I didn't try to fight forgetting the world around me when I looked into your eyes. It gave me a sense of warmth within me, it lit a fire that I'd never felt. It gave me a feeling of being home, no matter where I was. It was one of those rare things, that even though it was strange and unfamiliar, it didn't scare me. I loved it, actually.
We climbed the rather steep hill, and my jaw dropped as we reached the top. To my surprise, it was beautiful. There was a big old oak tree, its silhouette lit up by the near full moon, surrounded by lush grass. But the best thing- from under the oak tree, we could see the entirety of Manchester- all lit up. It looked peaceful, and from here you couldn't even hear the noise of the cars on the road below. Apart from your breath and mine, it was utter silence.
"Wow," I whispered.
We sat in the grass, and just talked. Eventually, fatigue was getting to me, and I lay down on my back, looking up into the star-cluttered sky. I saw you looking down at me, and smiled. You had this amazing sparkle in your eyes, something I'd never seen in anyone. It made me sure that everything would be okay; it took away everything I feared, every worry I carried, and it made me forget everything that hurt me.
I closed my eyes and stretched. I realised that in stretching, my singlet had slid up, the moonlight helping to reveal just a little bit of one of the most controversial things I'd done yet.
"Is it real?" You asked.
"Yeah... I got it about a year ago."
I felt you run your fingertip along what was visible of the two Chinese characters on my right hip.
"What do they mean?"
I sat up, and pulled my pyjama pants down just a little bit, so you could see the whole thing.
"The one on the left stands for freedom. The one on the right stands for hope."
"Why do you have it?"
"Because I hope I'll be truly free one day."
"But...you are. I mean, you do pretty much whatever you want. And you're only seventeen."
