The street lights turn on as she takes a seat on the last buss. She's almost there now. She's been waiting all week long for this, this night. The moment she sees him her heart lights up, and face with a smile. Relief, the feeling makes her want to cry. Instead she hugs him hello and they walk down the forest sided pathways to his warmhearted family's house. As they get comfy in the basement living room, on his wide black sofa with a good movie playing on Netflix, realization makes her want to cry in a different way. She realizes how much she depends on him. How much she needs his support and friendship, in turn, just how much she has come to love him. The fact that he is sitting right next to her, with his crystal blue eyes, breathing, not only breathing, but also talking, joking and laughing with her is the best thought she's had all week. He's okay. He's alive. He's even happier than she's seen him in ages. All evening long, it is as if the outside world, his parents and all her worries, turn to nothing. The nothingness didn't matter at all, and they were infinite. Nothing seems to be in their way. Life becomes clear and the feeling of relief moves her to draw her eyes from the screen once more and look into his. The reason is obvious. She wants him even closer.
"I'm just so glad you're okay."
"Ya, don't worry, I'll never do that again."
Saturday's Christian forced upon activities drive her mad. At first she is shy and pushes herself to smile but throughout the program it fades. Handshaking, mindless mingling, it means nothing to her. The so-called facts are supposed' to make her change her mind and confess to the countless people worried about her, but no. She refuses. Love isn't wrong.