It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since the "Battle of Silas," as it would come to be known. Two weeks since her entire universe came crashing down with one grand gesture. Two weeks since her realization that had come far, far too late.

Laura woke up screaming every night. She'd be flailing beneath her sheets if not writhing in agony on top of that damned yellow pillow. She'd be drenched in sweat if not hot, desperate tears. Sometimes a combination of the two.

There were always arms to comfort her during the terrors. The arms that shook her awake and held her while she cried were not the ones she longed for, however. The voices that soothed her with assurance that everything would be okay were not what she needed more than anything to hear. No amount of love from her friends could be enough to even begin replacing what she knew she had lost. Laura didn't need any of Danny's speeches, Kirsch's jokes, Perry's pastries or LaFontaine's algorithms. The only thing she needed was now buried somewhere under a pile of burning rubble in a literal pit of despair. Her realization had come too late.

Laura stared into her camera for a good five minutes before she thought of anything to say.

"Greetings, gentle viewers," she almost whispered as she did her best to muster a slightly less morose facial expression. "After everything that has happened recently and my journalism class ending, I've made the decision to discontinue this project. This will be my last entry. Ever. It's been really great to have you guys, though. You'll never know how much I've learned from this experience. I just wanted to say thanks for watching and I hope this impacts posterity. If you want to close this window and carry on with your day now, I urge you to do so. The rest of this entry will be kind of for my own satisfaction, anyway."

Laura paused and looked down at her hands fidgeting in her lap. After some time, she began to find the words she had been searching for.

"To my friends: thank you so much for being there for me whenever I needed you. You're all a true blessing to my life and this semester never would've been the same without you. I hope we stay friends not only until graduation, but also for the rest of our lives. To my dad: I know you've been watching these, even though you promised not to. That's why I haven't returned your calls. I'm sorry. I know how worried you are. I mean, you're always worried, but that's not the point. Basically, what I haven't had the courage to tell you is that I'm an adult. I don't need you to send me weekly bear spray. I don't need you to send me an entire box of hand warmers every time it snows. I don't need you to call me at three in the morning just because there's a chance of rain the next day. It's not that I don't need you, it's just…Dad, I'm a grown woman. I'll be fine. I'll survive."

With that, Laura had to stop and catch her breath; gather her thoughts. She took what she was sure to be the most shaky-sounding inhalation of her life and raised her eyes to the red dot and lens once more.

"And, finally, to Carmilla," she began as she repressed tears she felt threatening to escape. "I have something very, very important to tell you that I should've said a month ago. I know you're not watching this now, but-,"

"On the contrary, Creampuff."

Laura quickly searched the reflection on her screen for the owner of the sultry voice she had just heard- or maybe imagined- before accepting that it was too dark to make anything out. She slowly turned around in her swivel chair, fresh tears streaming down her red cheeks like a newly-burst dam.

"Well?"

The small girl didn't reply, only stood up deliberately and stared in disbelief. Then, after seconds that felt like hours, she ran. She ran full speed across her half-room and came to a collision with the dark-haired figure leaning against the doorframe, almost toppling both of them.

"You came back," the aspiring journalist whimpered into the torn Ramones t-shirt she had buried her face in upon contact. "Carm, you came back."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Carmilla asked in her usual tone of mock-arrogance.

"You were dead," Laura stated softly. She finally detached her face from the vampire's chest and looked up. Suddenly, her arms fell from around the taller girl's neck. Her eyes widened and a look of fury that no one would have ever thought possible came across her face. "You were dead. You were dead. You were DEAD. How dare you let me lie here in misery for two whole weeks, wanting to go to sleep and not wake up to escape the sheer and utter sorrow that your little stunt inflicted. You think you can just come waltzing back in here like nothing happened after two motherfucking weeks and everything can just go back to normal?"

Carmilla stared down with her mouth slightly open, which was admittedly very uncool, and was struck by a feeling she hadn't experienced in over 300 years until she moved into room 307. She was speechless. Laura went on.

"I had nightmares. Every. Night," she spit out as she emphasized each of her last words with a quick jab to Carmilla's chest with one accusatory index finger. "You stupid, useless vampire. You had the nerve to just let me sit here blubbering about how much I-" she stopped and glared at her roommate's still-stunned face. Carmilla closed her mouth and lowered her eyebrows, only to part her lips once again to begin what would probably be a slue of snarky comments about worrisome little girls and being a 300-some-odd year old badass that could speak 42 languages and had earned 23 college degrees, but she was cut short before she could even begin. Just as Carmilla was about to launch into the spiel she'd planned on improvising, she was grabbed by the face by tiny hands and hurled forward at an almost alarming speed. Laura couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't let out months of pent-up emotion in any other way. She did the only thing she could think to do, which was seize the vampire's cheeks and kiss her. It was the only way to Laura could even begin to communicate what she couldn't find the words to say. All the rage, all the anguish, all the raw emotion in Laura's body was released into the most desperate, passionate, hungry kiss Carmilla had ever been a part of. Eventually, the 19-year-old pulled away, dropping her hands to the pale waist only inches from her own. Neither of the girls had an inkling of what to do or say next. After a moment, Laura regained her courage.

"If you ever, ever leave me again, I'll stake you without any hesitation."

"Is that the very important thing you were going to tell me?"

Laura waited a beat.

"No."

"Yeah, I'd hoped not," Carmilla joked. "But, Laura, seriously."

Laura was almost startled at the other girl's uncharacteristic use of her actual name in place of some sweet food item like cupcake or moonpie, or even the generic cutie or sweetheart. She hardly ever uttered Laura's real name.

"…What?"

"I love you, too."

It was the first time in forever that Laura shed happy tears.