All the rights to the TV show, Misfits go to the creators- blah, blah,blah

"Hey! Alisha! Did you even hear me?" Curtis asked, shortly, while closing his locker.

"Hm? Wha- oh, I'm sorry." Alisha mumbled uncharacteristically.

She lovingly folded a photograph and placed it into her pocket then tried to rub the tears out of her eyes. Alisha turned around and smiled at him convincingly.

"Okay," he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Anyway I was saying-" with that Alisha drifted back into her thoughts again, nodding thoughtfully every time Curtis glanced at her. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on what her friend was saying, her mind couldn't leave Simon. Simon. How fucked up was her situation right now? If she thought about it for too long, she turns into a sobbing mess of tears. Alisha stuck her hand in her pocket, and felt the photograph absentmindedly. She missed him. Simon. Future Simon. She loved him. But he's gone now; he left her alone and loving him more than ever. He told her that her falling in love with the present Simon, turned him into the Simon that she fell in love with in the first place. But, this Simon- in the present- is so different. It's difficult for to imagine her falling for him, now. It was so complicated that sometimes, she didn't know who she loved.

"Alisha, you're not even paying attention." Curtis rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Obviously you've got a thing goin' on, I've got somewhere to be." He snapped, while zipping up his green Adidas jacket. He narrowed his eyes at her, irritatedly, then turned and left the locker room, swiftly

Alisha opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. She didn't really have the energy to go after him. And did she really want him there while she had a meltdown? Alisha felt a lump in her throat forming. She quickly unzipped her offensive orange jumpsuit, and shrugged it off- shoving it forcefully into her locker. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then pulled on her clothes. As she was about to shut her locker and leave, a photograph slipped out of the jumpsuit pocket, on the top shelf, and fell to the tiled floor. The picture landed face up, almost as if it was mocking her despair. She placed a hand over her mouth, and let out a choked sob. Alisha sank to the floor, and reached out to touch the photograph. Her own face smiling up at her contently. A pale arm, belonging to Simon, slung around her shoulders lovingly. Simon. His face was lit up with one of his shy, but infuriatingly endearing grins, and his icy blue eyes were gleaming. The lights from the large, gaudy Vegas sign above our heads, casting strange patterns across our faces. A perfect snapshot of a memory that hasn't happened yet.
Alisha tucked her knees to her chest and rested her head them, weeping silently. She sat like that for a while, crying until she had no more tears to cry, on the community center's dirty locker room floor.

But at the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up reflexively. Shit! Alisha thought to herself. I thought everyone had gone home. She used her sleeve to dry the wetness on her cheeks. She assumed her make-up was smeared beyond repair, so she didn't bother to try and look presentable.

"Alisha? Is that you?" A familiar voice tentatively asked.
Her stomach did somersaults as she glanced up to see the very boy that was the source of her utmost misery (unbeknownst to him). He was standing somewhat awkwardly, dressed in navy jeans, a deep purple shirt buttoned up to the very top collar, with a dark blue jean jacket. The dark colors of his outfit and the strange fluorescent lighting of the locker room made his- already frighteningly pale skin, look almost translucent. He tugged at his fringe nervously (a very Simon habit, that she had come to know and love) .But despite his apprehensive demeanor, his face was etched with so much concern, that Alisha hated herself for letting him see her like this.

"Hey, Simon." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The sound of the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her voice, caused Simon's eyes to visibly soften. He slowly kneeled beside her, taking in her disheveled appearance. Her red, puffy eyes and smeared eye make-up. "What's wrong?" He asked gently. "Are-are you okay?"

Alisha lowered her eyes to the photograph in her hands and folded it into her jean skirt pocket. "Ahm- yeah. I'm fine." She dusted her hands on her skirt and stood to her feet, wobbling slightly on her heels.

Simon, still crouching on the floor, looked up at her- his eyes wide with worry and confusion.

She sniffed and wiped away the last remaining tears on her cheeks with her sleeve. "Walk me home, yeah?" She gestured to the locker room door. His eyes were locked with hers, staring at her with those piercing eyes that always seem to see through everything Alisha tried to hide. Even now, when he isn't aware of what is to happen, he still sees her better than anyone. This eases her mind slightly. Maybe- she thought- maybe it won't be so hard to fall in love with this Simon.

He gripped his briefcase nervously. Alisha noticed his knuckles turning white. Simon reached for the black earbuds on the wooden bench, she didn't see earlier, and stood up. Alisha watched silently as he turned and made his way to the door and stop, with his hand on the door knob. Simon looked back to her standing by the lockers still- his lips curved upwards slightly, "Aren't you coming?"

Alisha waited for him to turn back around before grinning madly. It won't be difficult to fall in love with him, she mused to herself. "Hey? Wait up!" She shouted, pushing the doors open with both her hands, trying to catch up with Simon. It won't be difficult at all..

+++Updated n finished+++

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