A/N: This has barely anything to do with Skins so take that on mind. It's a short story written from Naomi's point of view; from the point of her more or less, diary. I hope you'll enjoy it and sure let me know what you think :)

There's always something interesting in the way that the sun sets and rises. I mean, even the fact that the low tide and the high tide are both caused by the gravitation of the moon is just something unimaginable. Isn't that just interesting? How can something affect something else by doing something very natural? Easily. Even though the moon is far away, even though the sea waves are reluctantly moving in different directions according to the wind, even though the earth is spinning for twenty four hours every day since the very first moment, through it all, I can state, that one does not emerge from the heart of nothingness. Also the fact that there can be hundreds of people in a single swimming pool and they're all sharing the same warm water as much as they're sharing the same windy air. It's almost as fascinating as the shades of people standing in front of a club when there's a humble coffee shop right next to it, glowing in the dark, early autumn scent. Now I am getting quite nostalgic here. I am sitting, yes. We are, as people, sitting very often. Like when you eat your breakfast composed of cereals without any milk or when you're at school, wishing for the lesson to end or at train station, waiting excitedly for your future adventure to begin. So I am going to lie down. On my back because I don't like lying on my stomach. It's probably just me; as it always is.

Have you ever wondered why we see ourselves differently in the mirror than we do in photographs? Do you know why we like ourselves more in the mirror? That is because we see our faces conversely in the mirror whilst in the images; we look exactly the way we appear in pure reality. In the past, present and eventual future. That's deeply disturbing and sadly disappointing. We're livid and traced and constantly watched by thousands of strangers who have no idea what you ate for lunch or when your first teeth started pruning out. But this is not what I want to talk about. Or write about. I didn't want to write about the moon and summer and potentially autumn. I didn't want to tell you about appearances or about the way I like to lie down. I do not know why I did. I guess you must be really something! You can congratulate yourself because you managed to catch my eye. Only a few people ever deserved my attention. I am a snob, I know that. Because of that, my love life has been sad and empty as the water well in Sahara. I am not complaining except I am. I am fully aware of my arrogant, snob-ish behavior, yet I am still surprised nobody wants to actually share their life with me once they get to know me. That's why I'm being neutral most of the time; most of my life. Why bother everybody else when I can bother myself? I do, and it's been twenty three years.

So I only ever date women who are stupid enough to love me. Only I hate people and love them at the same time. It's almost incomprehensible; nobody understands and nobody wants to understand. That's the problem. I am both introvert and extrovert at the same time. So I told you that I love the curves and the quality of women. My name is not important but I'll tell you anyway even though I'm not sure I want to; it's Naomi. Although you'll never know if I haven't just made it up. In this society, you're never fully allowed to believe in anything. Everything is so fake nowadays that even our own lives don't seem real enough. I just read this book because I simply love reading; because the world isn't as likeable as some writers make it ought to be. And it was about this boy who always cried when somebody told him something horrible. But as he grew up, he realized that the only thing that is really horrible about it doesn't even weights a pound. "Those are just words." he realized. "They can mean anything. Anything you want them to mean." And I really admired it. I am just sitting on my green bed in my small room where there is nothing except for the bed and my guitar. Also there is a small desk but I kept it simple and stuffed the only bookshelf I have with books I love.

But this is also not what I wanted to write about. God damn it, why do I always get distracted? It's like I write one thing and it leads to another and all of a sudden, I'm talking about something completely different. So of course I want to write about somebody. Somebody special. I will tell you how she found her way to me. And of course it was that coffee shop right next to the club. I don't work there or anything; I just love it and spend a lot of time there even though it takes me half an hour to get there. I usually ride on my bike because I love the smell of fresh air and because I am trying to stay fit whilst I usually spend so many hours playing with words in my head in my room, having an adventure with one of many books.

Her name was interesting enough to make me notice her existence. Emily, they called her. I was quietly sitting on my spot (near the window but not as close so people don't get to see me but I get to see them), reading local newspaper. There wasn't anything interesting really, but I read it anyways. I always do. I was in my own bubble, not caring about anyone or anything. Or at least I was trying to. But then the coffee started tasting weird, the newspaper seemed more boring than ever before and the desk was not worth of leaning to. So I gazed up and took a glance at this person that was sitting on the other side of the café. She was as quiet and concentrated as I am when I'm reading. It was only then that I noticed that she was actually reading. I looked back at the table. The coffee was almost cold by now and I had no further intentions in drinking it. I moved it further away from me and placed the newspaper there instead. I couldn't help but give her another look. I must have been staring for a couple of minutes and I'll tell you or at least I'll try to tell you what was going on in my head: "Oh wow. Beautiful. Like actually beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen somebody so beautiful. Sexy as well. All of it. Oh my god. I'm sixteen again. I feel sixteen again today. I don't feel stupid. Maybe I should, though. Should I? Wow, no idea. But look at it. I can't stop looking but I want to stop. Or I think I want to stop but I just can't. What do I do. Mother, tell me. I am your daughter for Christ's sake! I need help. Oh my god don't look here, don't look at me just get back to reading that book. Oh thank you. Thank you for not looking at me while I am burning a hole through you. What is that book? What is it about? Why are you reading it? Can I have a look? I love reading and you do, too. We're the same person. But we're not. Jesus, what am I even talking about? Do you see what you're doing to me? And you haven't even talked to me. Hell, you haven't even looked at me."

So basically my mind shifted from twenty-something to sixteen or fifteen. I was not able to do anything else. I guess I just found my guilty pleasure; watching somebody read. I watched as her eyes were lining up the words in the book. I watched as she took a sip of coffee which was placed in front of the book. The book was lying on the table so I did not have the chance to recognize it. Basically I saw nothing. I realized that I had my book with me, too. It was peacefully resting in my bag along with many other things in the chair right next to me. I fished the book out of my bag and had a closer look. I've seen it many times but that does not mean I can't like it even more. I like the cover; it's only simple blue with the title on it. "What's the meaning of meaninglessness?" I read in my head. I read it once more before I glanced back at the stranger in the corner of the coffee shop. She were five meters away from my sitting spot and I could still see every emotion that was coming through her face. She smiled politely when there was a hint of humor. She smiled widely when there actually was something funny. She raised her eyebrows when something didn't make sense or when something was kind of shocking. I saw it all.

I looked at my watch just to take a break from talking too much in my head. I realized I had to go; I did not have all the time in the world. But I wished I had. I spent another ten minutes just considering if I should leave her an anonymous note or if I shouldn't. I decided that yes, I will do it. Mostly because I was sick of being sick and sick of doing nothing. I had no real friends. I only had books. Snob snob snob snob. If I had the mood I would just go tell the waitress that the coffee tasted horribly and she would deny it, saying that I drink it every day and I've never had a problem with it before. I wouldn't admit that it was my fault that my taste went crazy. I wouldn't. Instead, I'd yell at her and she would hate me for the rest of her happy, pink and childish life. But I did not have the mood. Not when there was this beautiful creature sitting just a few steps away from me, breathing heavily, deeply and steadily whilst her eyes were scanning through page by page. Instead, I called the waitress to pay for the coffee. "One fifty, please." She said and I noticed she had it all written down. I handed her the money and she just smiled. She also put the piece of paper on the desk. There was written "1 coffee, three sugars, no cream" on it. I smiled for myself. I noticed her little sign, hanging on her uniform. Effy, it read. We exchanged looks, I almost stood up and she almost went away. "Could you do me a favor?" I asked innocently. "Okay, what is it?" "Can I borrow your pen first?" She handed me the pen and this is what I wrote on the piece of paper with my order: "I did not dare to interrupt you because you looked like you were on your best adventure. I hope it is worth of your time. Here I attach something that was worth of mine. May the stars fade but I will never stop thinking about the beauty of words. It might be just me." I returned the pen back and with that, I slipped the book into her hands. "Put it on that table when I'm gone." I pointed towards the place where she was sitting, hoping she'd get it. She just smiled, like it was nothing at all, whilst I was completely nervous and had no clue what I was, in fact, doing.

I slowly left my chair, gave her my last look, then gave another last look to the waitress and left. I so badly wanted to see her reaction. "How can I see her whilst she doesn't see me?" I am an expert in that. But this time, I was outside and she was inside. It was conversed situation and I didn't like it as much as I did from the inside. So in the end, I hid myself behind the corner. It was a competitive position; I could always run or just hid myself behind the corner fully. It didn't take long for the waitress to do what I asked her to do. I started sweating a little and I felt nervous. Deep inside, I knew she wouldn't burn the book or do anything similar. She was a book lover after all. And so was I.

Her cheeks turned the color red when the waitress placed the book with my note on the table. Second thing she did was that she looked around the café. That's understandable; everybody would do it automatically. I slipped back behind the corner and then looked again; when I was sure it was safe enough to look. Well, I wasn't sufficiently sure, but I risked it for a biscuit. Her whole gaze was now pointed towards the book. Her eyes slowly scanning the-my-so-favorite cover and in the depth of her pupils; she was smiling. She didn't open the book; she just slightly ran her fingers through the cover and smiled again, this time with the help of their lips. I didn't look anymore. I hid behind the corner and my legs started moving. I might have been walking in a completely wrong direction but I didn't care much because that day was sunny and everything was shining and my heart was pounding and all the people around me were breathing the same air as me and suddenly; I even wanted to share. I felt myself not being so angry and my thoughts revolved of a particular stranger in the most precious coffee shop in town. I came home; to my apartment. I lay down on my green bed and my gaze turned up so I was facing the ceiling. It was simple white, though my walls weren't. I'm telling you straight away that I cannot put two colors to match. I was not gifted with that talent. I guess I am just unlucky.

The entire evening, I spent by staring at the ceiling and reading. I often changed the direction of my gaze for I could not concentrate on a single thing. I noticed there was a black mark; probably from a dead beetle. It's still there. I started reading but I could not match the words together for life. They were running from the paper, I swear. So I stopped, feeling slightly tired. There was just something in the air that night; maybe because I've never felt that way in my entire life and maybe because for once, I wasn't acting like a snob. Snob snob snob snob. I congratulated myself imaginably and my inner voice started talking again. You can guess what about.

The very next day, I couldn't decide whether to go for my favorite cup of coffee or not. What if something will happen? And that's the thing. I'm casually worried that something might eventually happen even though I so desperately want things to happen. Because nothing ever happens to me. Finally, after what seemed like an entire life of a hamster, I decided to go for it. Because really, why not? "Nothing will happen." I convinced myself every time I started panicking. I almost started regretting it; the note and also the book. But I plucked up the courage and the café was empty so I sat down exactly where I sat the day before; where I sit every lazy time. Nothing was different, yet nothing was the same. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The same waitress from the day before noticed me and blinked at me. I gestured somehow (like I always do and she always knows what I want) that I want my cup of coffee, with sugar and without cream. She nodded. I didn't even blink and she was already there, putting the coffee down on the table. "I did what you asked me to. I think it turned out well." I smiled, not quiet realizing she actually wanted to talk about it. So I just said "Yeah. I know." But that didn't help at all. Vice versa. She sat down in front of me and looked me deadly in the eye. "How do you know if you were gone?" I considered lying to her but she looked so innocent and caring at the same time; I couldn't. "I kind of spied. I'm quite good at it." A small pleasant laugh escaped her mouth and I didn't think anything of it. "Have you ever spied on me, too?" She actually looked like she was curious; as if she was trying to make a serious joke. "Only when you sleep." I said and smiled back. We both laughed and it wasn't awkward; we knew each other for quite a while, though we've never talked except for the sign language. I don't know if that counts. She raised her eyebrows and stood up, returning to her daily job. "Good girl." I didn't really hear her but I saw her lips moving so I figured.

It rained that day lightly. As I was sitting near the window sill, I watched the drops drop and I found it entertaining. It was like the first rain after a hot weekend; smooth and chilly. I didn't pay much attention to the world around me; to the people around me. Everybody was either having a conversation with their beloved person, or typing something on their phones whilst drinking their coffee anyway. To be honest, I found the drops more amusing than almost everybody else in that coffee shop. I wished there was no window so I could raise my hand and feel the drops falling on and off of my wrist. It's still very interesting; the fact that it's just falling from the sky like there are no problems. Even the fact that the water can be from miles away; from a lake or a sea somewhere across the continent. A small noise interrupted my intense staring session. There was now my book lying on the table. I automatically looked around and I smiled widely when I noticed that she was sitting on the exact same spot as the day before. She looked for what seemed like the very first time and I couldn't make the eye contact infinite so I gazed down. I carefully patted the cover of my favorite book, trying to find out if it has any damage visible. It was perfectly flawless. I took it to my hands and placed it on the table so it was standing. The pages were slightly open and it didn't even take ten seconds until something fell out from it. It was a note. Of course. "It's not just you." I laughed in my head really loudly but nobody could hear. I stopped smiling for a second and looked at her again. She didn't know what to do else either but she seemed inviting enough. So I plucked up the courage, packed my things and went towards her table with the book in one hand and the coffee in the other. "Can I join you?" I asked carefully, my voice trembling a little. I can't even remember the last time I was this nervous. She nodded and added a silent "sure". We were sitting in silence for a while. I could finally see her closer which just confirmed that I have been right the entire time; she was perfect. All the details, human of god. "So did you like the book? Or have I made a mistake?" I couldn't look at her for I felt like a peasant. Do you ever meet somebody so beautiful, you feel suddenly so embarrassed of yourself? "I loved it. How did you know?" I was relieved. I saw a glimpse of the waitress so I looked around and she just blinked at me and gave me thumbs up. "How did I know what?" I underpinned my head with both my hands. "How did you know I would love this?" I smiled again because I had no idea. "I just knew." I lied. I looked at her hands for a split second; I always look at people's hands. It's like some people look at tits and bums and legs and I look at their hands. It's that simple. "So I guess you're my soul mate, then." It was that moment when I noticed that her each eye had a different color. One was chocolate brown and the other slightly green. I loved it. "Yeah I guess. Your eyes…" "Um, yeah. Lots of people ask me about it. I had a surgery once to save the vision in my right eye because I had an inflammation of the iris." She must have suffered a lot, but it turned out to be wonderful. Genuinely unique. I just smiled, not wanting to comment it anymore. I even started to feel more comfortable around her. "So what was your favorite part?" I do have my favorite part and I somehow hoped it would be her favorite part, too. "If you'll let me look into it for the second time, I'll read it to you." She took a sip of her coffee. I already drank mine. I slowly handed her the book and without wanting, our ends of fingers touched. She didn't even blink, though she was smiling. But I started realizing the fact that she might be smiling her entire life. She opened the book and stopped when she reached the wanted page. She took a breath and started reading out loud:

"Shake it off. Shake it until it's precisely gone. Feelings flow through human beings, yes. They flow through me. They make me feel, and that's why they are called feelings. I was lying on the grass and I was gazing on the stars. I was also breathing and freely living my life. But I think it doesn't matter equally. Nobody cares. Though, once you stop breathing, it begins to matter. It only makes me think even more. Why do things matter after they're radically meaningless? Let's go to the forest now. It's dark and it's late and I should not be in the middle of nowhere in such time. People tell you that because they're constantly worried. Some of them, I mean. The closest. Horrible things are happening. I am here, sitting on a tree trunk and somehow, I feel safe. Safer than with all those people, whose mouths are filthy and whose brains don't think before the mouths do their action. It only makes me feel better now. Throughout the years, I learnt one thing. I'm better than all of them. All of the filthy mouths and all of the empty brains. Thank you, Merci. Thank you for everything."

As she finished, my inner self begun to rejoice. That was exactly the part I have waited for all my life. I have waited for somebody who'd think the way I do. And it was a pleasure; I finally found them. She gingerly closed the book and moved it towards me. I was speechless. But I knew I had to say something. "Yes" was all I managed. "Yes?" "Yes, I guess you are my soul mate." We spent the rest of the afternoon by just sitting and talking about everything and agreeing and then smiling and also realizing that we really might be somehow connected to each other. It has never happened to me before. I mean, I have met people who I agreed on things with; but never like this. Not ever. I felt honored. We talked about the weather, about the universe, the undersea, music and the literature. We spent maybe another hour only talking about our favorite books and recommending each other what we should read. It felt wonderful; having somebody you have SO much in common with. But then she had to go. I almost started believing that we could talk like that forever. But then we were just two people, sitting in a coffee shop and everyone around us had no clue. It was getting dark outside; the entire day was dark since it was raining and I think there were no natural intentions in stopping. I didn't mind, though. The rain was making peaceful atmosphere and I was grateful for that. I didn't hear any voices except for hers. I didn't drink anything else. I guess I wasn't thirsty anymore.

Reviews appreciated!