[Disclaimer: I don't own Pretty Little Liars]
All that is Love
How do you welcome someone you never truly said goodbye to home, despite you'd fooled everyone, including yourself, that you had?
The same someone that once had your young heart dangling on a string for, to the point that all of your happiness, sadness, loneliness was all subjected to the whims of her discretion? Dare you think, because so, she meant so much more to you than she had meant for anyone else – at some point; you were convinced that she did and with conviction you were sure however fragile of a connection you had with her, that it'll always be there, infinitely.
How could it not? As she made you feel things that were infinite, intangible yet beautiful like the blanket of stars unfurling onto the limitless night sky, shining above the two of you, the only witnesses to the secrets she made you keep.
You made yourself remember every moment you'd spent with her to the minute, and one of those just happened to be that one time, Ali waking you up in the middle of a sleepover, whilst leaving the other three girls fast asleep in their own respective spots.
In your heavy-eyed daze, you couldn't bring yourself to question the answer she gave you before you even asked. Her finger had been pressed against the curve of her lips, beckoning you to keep quiet, before that same hand came to reach for your own, to lead you out, fingers entwined, through the open balcony door.
You felt your skin prickle in the cool breeze. The late summer air was chillier than you'd expected, but your attention was on the head of golden waves and curls that fell past her shoulder and obscured the straps of her pink camisole. You couldn't help but wonder if she was a bit cold in that, though the fingers entwined with your own would attest differently. Then it finally registered with you that the two of you were holding hands and you couldn't help but stare at the fleeting gesture at its end, almost hoping she wouldn't notice if you just held on for a touch longer.
You broke out of your daze when she broke contact, turning to face you with her perfectly maintained brow slightly raised. You opened your mouth to improvise, asking her about the thing she had wanted to show you, away from the others, alone, in the dead of night.
You felt your throat tightening after your own words echo back to your ears, a perceptible blush threatening to creep onto your cheeks. You swear you could see the ghost of a smile grace her lips as she held your brown eyes with her blue ones, almost looking delightfully satisfied by your sudden slip of nervousness.
To avoid her knowing eyes and the potential slew of quips that'd no doubt follow if you'd stood and done nothing, you obliged her request. Though tilting your head up, what you saw was something you hadn't exactly expected, for you were never told to look for them and prior to tonight, you had no reason to linger and study their splendor.
The cloudless night with its legion of thousands upon thousands of scattered stars lighting up your eyes. Your jaw drops in amazement as you inhale in beauty. And in amazement you look at her as if she were one of those stars far in the ink colored horizon, light years away – flawless, infinite, unreachable – to be admired from afar but never to be understood, never to be reached, never touched.
You remember her telling you there's more to stars than their beauty, even joke about how everyone had their place just like stars that aligned to form constellations, pointing out the stars that according to her represented Aria, Hannah and Spencer, leaving you on the edge of your seat for what she had to say about you. When it was your turn, you notice she motioned for a star, the one closest to the brightest star in the constellation reserved for Ali herself. Your heart raced as you shyly asked her if star alignments were permanent.
'They're forever, Em.' the reply itself coupled with her enigmatic look, although soft in tone, cemented itself into your racing heart with what you chose to hear – a promise. Your cheeks flushed, in wake of her whisper, or perhaps at the sight of the genuine smile that followed after. The one you returned with haste, before your eyes promptly dropped lower to stare at the balcony floor than to see her blue eyes lingering hesitantly on your lips, seconds before she announced she was cold and disappeared into the room once more.
And with foolish certainty, you believed her. You'd wanted to go on like this with her for as long as you could muster, for as long as she allows, because the alternatives were not in your favor. Yet, when the news came, you came to regret everything that hadn't been said, on your part at least.
You'd wanted to believe that it was all a ruse, she was too important to be gone, just like that.
In fact, you were sure among the four that was left behind by Ali; you cried the hardest and missed her the most – because there were things the others couldn't have comprehended between the two of you – shared smiles and furtive glances, no one else caught on. You cried yourself to sleep, silently forcing yourself to accept the facts while she was very much alive in your mind, in your dreams but most importantly, your heart.
Sure, all of this would've been easier if it'd worked out like all of those self-help books, which you poured through in her indefinite absence, had promised – 'time' heals everything – almost all of those grief gurus had promised in one form or another, as if it was easy.
Let the sands of time bury everything that was between the two of you and move on.
But not in your case, not with the dangerous game 'A' trapped you in, exposing every sacred detail of you and her to the point you were almost made to believe it was Ali herself behind these sick games in retaliation for not being there to help her in her final moment. So perhaps that was why you kept dreaming of her all along. Your conscience conjuring her in times of peril as a reminder of your incompetency, but shamefully, you were almost glad – because if it was the case. It meant you'd at least get to see her one last time and tell her what you couldn't have when it mattered.
Most auspiciously, that ceased to be the case.
With Alison alive there were endless possibilities where fear and doubt ought to play no part.
So, how do face someone that against all odds had been in your heart this whole time?
Emily Fields' eyes fluttered open in the dark, the recognizable patterns of Alison Dilaurentis' bedroom greeted her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Aria and Spencer left the Dilaurentis residence hours before, while Emily had stayed behind with Ali to keep the shaken girl company. And once again, the blonde told her things she hadn't expected to ever hear this candidly from Ali, let alone know, how to process.
Part of her wanted to believe Alison like she'd always believed in her and close the distance between them right then and claim the other girl's lips with her own, while another, the part that'd been a direct result of Ali's absence questioned the validity of the blonde's comments along with her motive left her motionless upon Ali's revelation.
With 'A' gone, she had naively believed it was safe for the blonde who was currently lying with her back to Emily to come back to Rosewood, yet, again reality proved to be less ideal than what she'd hoped for. With all that had happened from the moment they came back from New York, Emily thought that she was going to have to find the perfect opportunity to finally talk to Ali, preferably alone, away from the other girls. Yet again, nothing ever falls into place because she willed it.
'Why are you telling me this now?' she'd wanted to question again, but found herself unable to break the harmony that'd finally seemed to settle with the evening. Instead, she'd suggested that they ought to head to bed if they wanted to be at least semi-functional at school tomorrow, seeing it was already a quarter past twelve in the morning. However, upon closing her eyes, she found herself bombarded with thoughts she couldn't quiet on her own. Ali's confession played on a loop. They were urgent questions which begged for answers – answers she couldn't sleep without, answers she didn't have.
A barely audible sigh escaped her lips before she gave the idea some more thought.
If there's never going to be a good time to ask, then now is good as ever.
"Ali, are you asleep?"