[First Draft] Crystals (girlxgirl) (studentxteacher) (lesbian story)

Chapter One

A/n: I would like to apologise to you for any parts you may find in this story which don't add up. It is currently undergoing some editing and might not make sense at parts since I can't do it all at once. Sorry again for any confusion caused.

Copyright © 2013 by Kate_Katnic.

All characters and events within this publication are fictitious and any resemblence to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any mechanical means without prior written consent from the author.

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Lilly

Today was my eighteenth birthday. It's a day which almost every teenager anticipates for years. It should be full of happiness and the joyful antcipation of adulthood, but in my case it mostly brought unpleasant memories. For the children in my family, their eighteenth birthday is the day the search begins. Today was that day for me. It was, potentially, the beginning of the end. Of my end. Literally. This failed and I was dead.

I'd cried over it countless times and prayed for the day to never arrive. But come it had and, despite everything wrong with it, I couldn't help feeling slightly excited.

From this day onwards I could, supposedly, become happier than I had ever been before. At least, that's what I'd been told. My older siblings said that until it happened to them they couldn't imagine the feeling. They said it was wonderful and that I could have that too. I said I didn't believe them, but I did. Of course I did. I saw how happy they were with their partners, the way they looked at them. How could I not?

So, a little part of me was excited, knowing that could happen to me as well. No, that it would.

Would ... unless ... I ended up like Harry. Two years hadn't been long enough for him. Who was to say it would be long enough for me?

I pulled myself out of bed, trying to guide my errant thoughts from the path down which they were eager to travel. The path that, once I started along, led in no other direction and held no route back.

I failed.

I remembered his last phone call.It had come the night before his twentieth birthday, his last night, from a quiet street in Amsterdam. We had all crowded eagerly around the small table on which our home phone sat. We expected good news. We were so eager that my mother had been forced to yell at us so loudly her voice cracked.

Harry had sounded desperately afraid but was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide it under his usual jovial attitude. He'd said he wished he could be home with us and that he loved us all.

He'd been searching the streets of that city until his last breath.

He had had no chance.

His life partner could have easily slipped by him on the overcrowded sidewalks. It would have been impossible to enter everyone's mind on busy city streets. And having to translate along the way couldn't have sped anything up.

When he'd said goodbye he was crying and that had set us all off. It was unfair that he died when he was so close. So close he could've found her if given just another day.

That night, after the phone call, no one had slept. We simply couldn't. We'd stayed in the crystal room, watching his with tired eyes, willing it to change colour. Wishing with all our might it would turn green, although we knew that there wasn't enough time and that, even if he did find her, she wouldn't say she loved him before morning.