Our Love Is Like The Wind, a skins fanfic

Emily,

Living might mean taking chances if they're worth taking / Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making

Do you remember playing me that song and telling me to listen to the words? You told me to really listen and I did. Since then I have tried to live these words, and whenever I falter you have been there to show me the way.

I cannot imagine a better person to spend my life with, put my trust in. I didn't always know it, and then I tried to run from it, but you are and will always be the love of my life.

Anyway, here is our story.

Middle school is an awkward time. Even more so when you see a beautiful red head, who suddenly turns everything you knew, everything you thought upside down. It was a lot to handle. Why when I saw you smile did my heart beat a million times faster and I suddenly found it hard to breathe? I didn't know how to cope. That's why I ignored you. It was easier that way, to pretend if you didn't exist. I can only apologise for my foolish ignorance and cowardice.

Do you remember Laura O'Neill's 14th birthday party? I know I do. It's my second vividest memory of middle school (my first is seeing you one the first day of middle school). I wasn't even going to go to the party but that was the day mum decided to start letting randoms have a free ride in our house. I needed to get out. So I stole mum's less than half full bottle of vodka and off I went to my first proper party. It was exactly as I expected. A bunch of kids dressed up in clothes too old for them, acting about three years older than they actually were. So I sat outside drinking my vodka, just happy to be away from my house. I heard the door shut behind me and someone stumble on to the grass. I turned around and there you were, radiant as ever. You were wearing a plain white t-shirt, black shorts, purple tights, a black cardigan and glittery black flats. Your hair was half pinned up with tartan bows, the rest of your cherry hair framing your face. Somehow while having an internal nervous breakdown I managed to choke out the words inviting you to sit down. And we sat, talking, laughing and drinking. Then suddenly we turned towards each other and I could feel the tension. I had never kissed anyone before, but full of Dutch courage, I leaned in and quickly pecked you on the lips. It couldn't have lasted more than a second, but I felt a jolt of electricity when our lips touched. You smiled at me, shy and coy. I smiled back. I closed my eyes and felt you leaning in. This time our kiss lingered. I felt your lips start to move against mine and I reciprocated. Then I felt your tongue pressing at my lips. Before I had the chance to respond we were ripped apart and I was subjected to a tongue lashing at hands of your sister, and well you know the rest. It was never how I imagined my first kiss – I imagined it to be boy, probably on some lame date, in the back of movie theatre. I can honestly say no matter how it ended, I don't regret anything (well except not being able to indulge you in a battle of our tongues).

March 12, my 17th birthday. I hadn't told anyone. Since my eighth birthday, March 12 had meant remembering the day my dad decided I wasn't worth sticking around for. English was our last class for the day. I was rushing in, late because I had been having a quick fag outside. You were waiting by the door, my favourite chocolate bar in your hand. You quickly muttered "Happy Birthday" and then suggested we skip English for the pub instead. The day had been long and English with Josie was the last thing I wanted to endure so I took you up on your kind offer. You handed me the Galaxy bar and I munched on it on the way to Keith's pub, offering you a bite or two. Mere weeks before I had deflowered you (I felt like you had deflowered me too) and pretty much ignored you since. But here you were openly celebrating the fact that I existed. It confused me. Even more so when you didn't allude to the sex (oh the sex, the memory still as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday) or try to touch me, kiss me. As I got more tipsy all I could think about was walking around to your side of the booth, pressing you against the wall and our lips meeting. Only then Cook had to come in ruining our makeshift party. Scared and confused I ran away, again.

But the most poignant memory from this year was the Love Ball. I came to apologise for being such a twat but your mum scared me away before I could see you. I remember calling you over and over just begging you to pick up. I just wanted to hear your voice, to apologise, to explain, and I so badly wanted see you and kiss everything I had done and said away. But life is never simple and Katie got in the way. I was so mad at you for having sex with JJ. I didn't want anyone else to see you like that. Of course I was under the impression that the sex with JJ happened after our fight about the Love Ball. The thought made me physically ill. I moped about in my bed before deciding I wanted to confront you. I put on my dress (I had bought it the day after our fight in the hope that I would apologise and we would go together, as friends – yes I was still a twat) and Keiran gave me a lift in his shitbox to college. When I saw you standing on the steps with JJ my heart sank and I felt hurt. I put on my angry mask because I wanted you to hurt as much as I did. The next part is a blur, fighting with Katie. Then my memory flashes to you standing up to Katie, showing your true colours. My heart swelled with pride, and I realised if you could stand up to Katie fucking Fitch, I could be brave for you. Leaving the Ball with you was the third best thing I ever did (I'll get to the first two in a bit). We walked back to my place, you shivering in your sexy slip. I led you upstairs to my room and I remember staring you straight in the eyes, "I meant what I said Emily. I'm done pretending. I love you. I'm not going to run away from it anymore. I'm really sorry for how I've treated you this past year. You always said I was a twat, and you were right. But I want to change, for you." Tears brimmed in both our eyes. You nodded and moved slowly towards me. I captured your lips in a sweet kiss that soon turned fervent, with lust, passion, need and love.

Even facing what I do now, I can still honestly say this was the worst time in my life. I was an absolute idiot. Deciding to get back at you for loving me so much by sleeping with Sophia...WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING? I don't like to dwell on this time too much. All I can say is I'm glad that I was finally honest with you and even more glad, and forever grateful that you forgave me. You have always been the better person out of us.

We were lying in the park in summer. Our first year of uni was over and we'd spent the past month enjoying favourable weather and more importantly, each other. After nine months mostly apart it was blissful to wake up with you every day. I had spent the past year in London at Goldsmiths. You had stayed at home going to Bristol Uni with Effy who was doing a lot better. You had just finished your vanilla Cornetto and you had chocolate on your lips and around your mouth. I couldn't help kissing it off. Pulling back you looked me in the eye, "I applied for a transfer to UCL and well I got in. I know you're in New Cross and I'll be in Bloomsbury-" I cut you off with a kiss.

Do you remember that shitty flat in Kennington? Some of my happiest memories happened there. It was awful but it was ours.

We finished our final ever uni exams within two days of each other. The next day we moved our stuff back to mums house in Bristol and a day later hopped on a plane. Three glorious months spent fucking, drinking, eating, exploring and loving our way through South America. You finally got your trip to Mexico and more. We were two days out from flying back home, stood on a beach in Mexico. You were dressed in a simple white sundress. Against the backdrop of a dusty pink sunset you look iridescent. I knew this was the right moment. I took your hands in mine and simply asked you, "I love you more than you could ever know. I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you as my wife. Emily please, marry me?"

We got back from South America, freshly engaged. Jenna finally accepted me as a part of your life and even seemed happy for us. Having a wedding planning business together meant Katie and her were even more mental about wedding plans than the average crazy mum and twin sister. They were planning ice swans, hundreds of exotic flowers, a church that seated two hundred people. It was all getting too much. No matter how much we told them no, they just steamrolled on (and over us). We woke up one freezing December morning, a couple of days after Christmas. You rolled over and said, "Want to elope? It's just mum and Katie are driving me up the wall. Our wedding is turning into something that I don't even recognise. All that matters to me, is you and I actually getting married. Everything else is just...background noise." You never had a better idea. We booked flights and got on a plane to Australia that day. We didn't tell anyone. We married on the beach in a small town, a couple of hours out of Melbourne. That was the best day of my life, the best thing I ever did, my happiest memory. We spent the ensuing week indulging ourselves in every pleasure – shopping, massages, drinking, food and lots, and lots of sex. I remember walking together in Brunswick. We passed a tattoo shop, and you got this mischievous look in your eyes. Suddenly I found myself being dragged into the shop, and somehow you convinced me to get a tattoo – our wedding date in small cursive script on the inside of my left wrist. The same tattoo that you have on the curve of your right hip. Do you remember how we emailed everyone our wedding photo and how mad they were, especially Katie and Jenna?

I thought I knew sexy. But fuck Ems, you pregnant...amazing. You were emotional, insecure and horny – not that I minded, especially the horny part. I've always been a boob girl, so those nine months were heaven and you were happy to indulge me. I thought I knew love. Then Lachlan was born. I couldn't believe I felt so much love for someone I didn't even know. Lachlan James Fitch, born 19.04.17 – one of the happiest and worst days of my life. You were driving and somehow in the four blocks between Katie's house and home, you were involved in a car accident. I was at work, giving a big presentation and my phone was back in my office buzzing away. It wasn't until an hour later that I found it – 1 missed call Emily, 1 missed call James, 2 missed calls Rob, 8 missed calls Effy, 11 missed calls Mum, 18 missed calls Jenna, 32 missed calls Katie. I listened to the first message of 15 and all I heard was Emily, car crash, hospital. I grabbed my bag and jumped into a cab, demanded the quickest route to the hospital. As we pulled up I threw a wad of bills at the driver and jumped out. I was directed to emergency where a frosty Jenna hissed at me, "Where have you been Naomi? Where have you been?" The doctor was in your room. I identified myself. They told me you needed immediate surgery, you were bleeding internally. They said they would have to deliver the baby, and that there a chance you wouldn't both survive the surgery. Then they asked me a question that made my heart stop, "Miss Campbell. If there are complications and a choice has to be made...?" I immediately went to say, "Save Emily," but I knew if you had any say you would tell me to save the baby. So I whispered, "The baby. Emily would want you to save the baby. If I come out of this without Emily, I don't how I'll survive. And if we come out of this without the baby, I don't know how either of us, especially Emily would survive. So I need you to do the best surgery you've ever done, okay?"

The next five hours felt like a lifetime. They came out to let me know the baby, our son had been born safely. They took me to the nursery. The nurse held him out to me and I hesitated. But then I heard your voice in my head, telling me it was okay, to hold our son. I cradled him, this tiny being into my chest. He calmed me. It was three hours before you came out of surgery, and another sixteen hours before you woke up. I was in the hall carrying a cup of coffee (I hadn't slept in 30 hours) when I heard you screaming, "My baby! Where's my baby?" I ran into the room. "Emily," I smothered your face in kisses. "They had to deliver the baby Ems." "But it was three weeks too early..." you trail off. "He's fine. He's perfect." You exhaled, a proud smile on your face, "He?" I stroked your cheek, "Emily we have a son."

I wanted to have another kid. After what happened with Lachie, you were hesitant. Due to complications in surgery, you would never be able to have another baby. But after five years of niggling I managed to convince you. This time I was the grumpy, emotional, hungry, horny, fat one. But the moment Addison Katie Campbell was born (4.09.22, drama free) it was all worth it.

This isn't a highlight. But it was something that changed me. September 3, I went to the doctor to get some test results. I met you and the kids for school pick up. You knew something was wrong. We had to wait until the kids were in bed to get some quiet time. I repeated the doctors words, stage 2 breast cancer. Tears streaming down both our faces, we decorated the living room for Addie's 9th birthday.

I had the chemo and it was awful. I couldn't eat, even the smell of dinner made me feel nauseous. I woke up in the middle of the night shaking, not able to sleep for the next three or four hours. I lost so much weight, I looked gaunt and scary. I couldn't rock a headscarf. I was so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open let alone hold a conversation with Lachie or Addie. Lachlan knew what cancer meant, I could see the understanding, the fear in his eyes. Addie was too young to know what was going on. She just knew that Mum wasn't feeling well, and that she couldn't talk too loud, jump on our bed and we couldn't play games. The whole time you were amazing. You never stopped. You had to work, be mum and caretaker. And you never gave up hope. That's what kept me strong.

42 43

Shit, I'm 43. That sounds so old.

The doctors tell me I only have a month left, three months if I'm lucky.

I've come to accept my fate. At first when the cancer came back I didn't believe it, then I was angry, then I was sad, but now I accept it. It's not what I would have hoped for, but it is what life has allowed me.

I've had 26 mostly amazing (and all the bad parts were me, you were always too good for me) years with you. I've seen Lachie grow up into a wonderful man (Can you believe he's 18? I remember bringing him home from the hospital like it was yesterday). While she's a right little teenage rat, I know underneath it all Addie has a good heart. I can only hope I played some part in both of them turning out so well, but I suspect it was all you.

Emily, from the bottom of my heart, I can only thank you for seeing something in me, something worth believing in. And damn did you believe it – almost to your detriment, but thank fuck I removed my head from my ass and admitted what had been there all along, love. Amazing, life altering, transcendent love.

I want you to always remember our love, but when you're ready, if you find someone (and trust me, there will be a crowd of women lining up) I want you to move on. I want you to be happy and not to feel guilty about being happy. All I want for you, Lachie and Addie is for you all to be happy and healthy. That's all I can ask.

I want to leave this letter with a bible verse you read to me at our wedding – I can't believe you found it in A Walk to Remember, seriously Ems? You have shit taste in movies).

Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful, or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in people's sins but delights in the truth. It is already to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. Love does not come to an end.

Love you forever,

Naoms.