He was too young. Or too youthful. She knew it was the latter because he was older than her, but he still dropped silly hats on his head, or rushed to a playground far faster than her charges, or simply talked on and on and on about the randomness of things that she never quite followed. And he was absolutely in love with her. It should have occurred to her sooner: the unexpected visitations, the small gifts given with hopeful grins and expectant eyes, the way he said her name as if it were a cherished breath… even if he'd said it ten times in a row trying to gain her attention.

"I've got a boyfriend; I've got a relationship… I can't…" she started, watching the way the hazel flecks in his eyes seemed to dim, as if she'd broken him with the words and she had to look away to keep from feeling guilty. Clara had nothing to feel guilty about. He knew she'd been dating the same bloke for months; knew she'd been talking about moving in with him, taking on a job at the school, transitioning into being a grown up – or at least feeling like one – and he knew. He knew.

"Yeah," he uttered, sounding dejected, "Yeah, yeah, I know." He smiled, wide and thin lipped and those sad eyes found hers, tried to perk up for her to alleviate the anxiety she was feeling, because he always did that – didn't he – put her feelings ahead of his. Tried to protect her from hurt or worry, the horrible things in the world around them.

"It's not that you're not…" she started, but he raised a hand, shaking his head.

"You don't have to explain, Clara," he sighed, her name taking on a new ring. A pained one. "I understand – we're just mates. Just good mates."

She reached out to clasp onto his hands, feeling them go rigid despite his words as she repeated hoarsely with a nod, "Best mates, man."

Clara watched him bow his head, hair falling forward into his eyes and she resisted the urge to sweep it back, knowing any other day she would have, but today it would have felt too… too much like a caress; too much like a soothing one reserved for the man they loved. And she realized that maybe she'd done it too often. She watched him lift his head to gaze off into the distance, smiling at the creaking of a swing set before he settled his eyes on her and nodded, "Come on, Oswald. Race you to the sky."

He shifted off the bench and moved in a slow jog towards the wooden seats, clasping the chains and giving her a laugh and a wave of his arm and Clara stood and made her way to the swing next to him. She sat and he gave her shoulder a quick pat before kicking off and beginning the delicate balancing act that took him higher and higher into the air and Clara inhaled deeply, setting herself to the same task.

She thought about her boyfriend and how he'd proposed the night before and how she'd felt happy. Clara would be starting a new life; she'd be thinking about her wedding now; she'd be daydreaming about children and the colors of rooms and the size of yards. The sky became a haze and she blinked away tears as her stomach turned slightly on each pass through the air at his side. Clara would no longer be Oswald and she knew, glancing sideways at the young man so affectionately nicknamed 'the Doctor', she'd no longer be his best mate.

It was the moment she understood her whole world had changed.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful. He could see her from a distance, knew instantly that it was her standing in the line at the coffee shop struggling to order a tea amongst a line of businessmen in a hurry for their latte and he laughed easily as he shifted past the line and stood over her, calling softly, but firmly, "She'll have a Raspberry tea, two sugars, extra sugar on the side."

"How…" she started, shifting away from him a moment before her eyes widened as she took him in. "Doctor," she managed, shaking her head and laughing. "Small world," she admitted, glancing back at a woman who was glaring at them.

"I'll have the same," he told the attendant handing him a card.

Clara shook her head, "No, no, you don't…"

He took the receipt and slipped his gloved fingers under her arm to shift her aside as he bent to whisper, "Small penance for letting me skip the line, I'd say."

She smiled to mirror his devious look and they waited quietly to be handed the two steaming mugs before finding a small booth so settle into, both taking sips and immediately adding the extra sugar with a grimace. He glanced up first – he always did – and he looked her over quickly. She hadn't changed in two years. Slender and graceful with eyes that made him feel like he had two hearts in his chest drumming away whenever they met his.

"How've you been?" She asked quietly, shyly, and he ducked his head to grin.

Looking up, he shrugged, "Working, getting by – the usual. You?" He snuck a glance at her left hand, took an unexpected breath of surprise when he saw her ring finger missing the band he'd expected to find. The Doctor watched her overlapped fingers scratch at one another nervously and he settled his tea down on the small table between them, reaching across to drop his hands atop hers, concern evident as he asked, "Clara, are you alright?"

She smiled, and he saw something like relief washing over her as she admitted, "I just thought I'd never see you again – you sort of disappeared not long after…"

"Decided it was time to grow up," he nodded, "Concentrate on schooling, get a proper job, find a wife, have the children – you know, check off that list they hand you at birth."

Her hands shifted into his and she gave them a squeeze, "I've missed you."

"Oh, Oswald," he sighed, and he felt the small search her thumb did over the ring finger of his left hand and he could see the corners of her lips tugging up slightly before he grinned deviously, "We have a lot of catching up to do."

He watched her nod slowly as her eyes floated over his features in the way they used to. In the way he remembered in dreams and longed to see when he woke. Listening to the small laugh she released, he relaxed, letting his fingers cross over hers naturally, as if they'd been doing it for years – finding familiar spaces from long ago. And when she lifted a hand, glancing over the crop of short bangs that hung just above his right brow before running her fingers through it, he grinned.

"Fancy a swing?" She laughed, eyes lighting up. "Race you to the sky?"

It was the moment he understood his whole world might just have righted itself.