Are you okay?

07:33AM

She flinched like I'd slapped her, her widened eyes darting around the restaurant before leaning across the table. "Keep your voice down Cassie!" she scolded, composing herself as she disappeared into her thoughts for a second, the deliberation written across her face which let on that my words had struck a nerve. "It's not- don't call it that word. It's not his- it's not his fault that he can't help-"

"Okay, I think we're done here," I cut her off, fed up with hearing more of what was drilled into my head when I was younger. Trust myself. I didn't need to be reminded of more reasons why everything was all my fault since He could do no wrong in the eyes of my mum – I knew the truth and saw my parents for who they truly were, and she couldn't take that away from me.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced up at me. "Cassie, I didn't choose for it to be this way, you know that," she continued, ignoring my blatant dismissal of whatever it was she had been yet to say. "Your dad and I love you, and I know he can be difficult at times, but it's just the way he is and-"

"I don't want to hear it mum," I interrupted again, turning my head so she had a clear sight of the deep yellowish bruise adorning the back of my neck. "If you don't want to see this and acknowledge that it was put there by the deliberate actions of your husband, then I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

Standing up from her seat, I watched as my mum zipped her jacket up a little higher before shaking her head to herself, yet again nothing to say towards my defiance. I felt a rush of déjà vu as she strolled past me once again, leaving to go to work – like she always did – but not before muttering a final phrase I wish she hadn't bothered wasting her oxygen on. "I tried my best for you, Cassie."

I sat absolutely still until I heard the swish of the automated doors open and close, taking a moment to drown in the chaotic noise of the city that brought me more peace than the fleeting arrival and departure of my mum. It almost didn't feel real: the last time I'd properly spoken to her had been months ago, but even then, the conversation hadn't lasted more than five minutes. But it had been real, and she had grown even more difficult to empathise with than the last time I'd seen her.

Reaching up to remove my hairband, I revelled in the comfort brought by having my hair down in its curly mess, shielding me from the world around me as I tried my hardest not to cry. I'd done enough of that tonight to last me a lifetime. I could feel my hands trembling as I reached for the cup of hot chocolate and took a sip, feeling Matteo's tentative gaze trying to read my emotions.

"I didn't hear anything unless you want me to have heard something," he spoke gently from across the counter, a way of testing the waters to see what sort of emotional state I was in. His blue eyes met mine with undertones of understanding as his lips stretched into a sympathetic smile, but as kind as the gesture was, he wasn't the person I wanted to be speaking with right now.

"It's fine, Matteo," I assured, though thankful for his offer to act oblivious to what he'd just witnessed. My mind seemed to want to follow suit, since the first thought that arrived after my mum's departure traced back to the last time I spoke with Matteo, and his suggestion that I might have been heartbroken.

"It's just... I suppose this is why I'm reluctant and closed off to the possibility of being in love," a wry smile crossed my lips, a choked laugh escaping me as I willed myself not to cry, "because how can I feel something I've only ever received in an unhealthy way from my parents?"

My perception of love in itself was tainted: to my mum, love was an unconditional devotion to someone regardless of how they treated you, and to my dad, his love was demonstrated in the volume of his voice and the quickness of his fists. Growing up I never truly received a real example of love, so how could I possibly give something I had never been granted?

"You see, my mum just told me she loved me," I laughed, ignoring the concerned look across Matteo's smooth caramel complexion as he sat back down in front of me, resting his arms on the table. "But she uses love as an excuse to keep hurting me, the same way she uses love to excuse the actions of my dad too."

"But that's not what love should be," he finished off for me, nodding in understanding, his cerulean gaze glazing over with memories. "It shouldn't be pain."

"And in my life, pain and pleasure have been so closely intertwined that I'm not even sure of one without the other. I can't recognise love unless it comes with pain, but- but what I'm feeling right now..." all of the confusing emotions I'm feeling towards Romeo, "It- it doesn't feel like the usual sort of pain that the love I've known would accompany."

It felt like missing something you never had. Like being so close to something and then having it taken away from you right as you tried and reach it. It felt like being frustrated and in disbelief but yet not feeling a single ounce of hatred. It felt like hurting when the pain was caused with good intentions. It's- it's like I was falling and now I've just...

Hit the ground.

Except it wasn't a soft landing like I'd been expecting. It wasn't a comfortable decline into the open arms of another, but rather a harsh slam into the floor as the impact shattered anything left of my dwindling hope. My perception of falling had only just began to alter before life came back and reminded me that I hadn't been wrong:

Falling had only ever been a destructive concept, and maybe me falling for Romeo had been doomed before it even had the chance to begin. He compared us so much to Romeo and Juliet, and perhaps he had been right in the sense that it seemed like we had truly become a pair of star-crossed lovers.

Fate had helped us together, but it was also prying us apart at the same time through factors out of our control.

Every time it felt like I made a little progress, or felt a transient moment of peace, something had to happen to destroy any lingering hopefulness that was fighting to remain. The memories we'd made tonight that had become stars in the darkness of my mind were now starting to dim a little, fading into unwelcoming reminders like I'd known they would, only serving to haunt me with what I'd lost as opposed to what I'd gained.

I could've stopped this. I could've prevented this feeling by stopping myself from falling, and by not listening to Romeo or allowing him to help me save myself. The hardest part, I was realising, wasn't making the decision to start healing, but actually the process that came with trying to heal. Similarly, it wasn't allowing myself to fall that had been the scariest part, but rather the actual motion of the free-fall into unknown emotions that I had no control over, and no way to suppress the capacity of what I was feeling.

I knew I'd been falling, but I never thought about the possibility that no one would be there to catch me.

"That's sounds a little to me like heartbreak," Matteo pointed out, letting out a sombre sigh as I refused to meet his eyes, taking a final sip of my finishing warm drink.

Acknowledging his words allowed me to feel the full impact of Romeo's departure, awakening the suppressed feelings of sorrow at his abrupt disappearance. Before, I wasn't fully letting myself process how I felt, but now that I was accepting the numbing ache in my heart and tightness in my chest, it didn't make me feel any better.

"Thanks for the hot chocolate," I mumbled, slipping out of my seat and shrugging my rucksack back on before walking over to drop my cup into the bin. "I suppose you were right," I turned again to look at him, a sad smile crossing my face, "when you said you were good at reading people."

Without waiting for a response, I began making my way towards the exit, continuing to speak as I did so. "You'll make a good lawyer one day... You're really good at proving a point." Sending one last weak smile in his direction, I strode out of the McDonalds feeling like there was a dagger in my heart, twisting it's way relentlessly deeper and deeper; like Juliet had done when she realised all chance of a life together with Romeo was gone.

Whatever Fate brought next, I hoped it would try to go easy on me.

(A/N) Exactly a year ago today, I posted the final chapter of the original version of AYO.

It's bittersweet to think how quickly a year has passed, and also to reflect on how fragile my mental state used to be and how much it has improved. It may not be perfect, but compared to the version of me a year ago, I would consider my mental state to be somewhat stable. For that, I'm proud of myself.

- T.R.