Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.

I'm leaving. Now.

I'm going to leave right now. But…

Looking at them – looking at her, one more time, won't hurt.

Music blares from inside the room. I can hear it clearly from outside in the hall where I hide in the shadows, invisible. Through the gap in the door I can see the streamers, I can see the spread of food, and I can see her: happy…beautiful.

I feel a pang of guilt because they're all happy and yet they won't be when they find my note and know I've left and won't see me for a long time. But what alternative do I have? What alternative do we have?

I watch her laugh and sway with the music, letting Iggy twirl her round. That should be me, dancing there with her. But I know I can't because it will ruin my plan and I'll never leave: I don't think I could ever summon the courage again, I love her too much. But I also love her enough to leave.

I'm hurting them – I'm hurting her by staying here. She can't think, she can't plan. I'm too much of a distraction and it's all my fault because if I hadn't pursued this – if I hadn't pursued us, it wouldn't have come to this. I made her realise she loved me when I should have buried the emotion: locked it up and pushed it down deep because it was causing more harm than good. I had been selfish by wanting her.

The light catches the ring on her hand, the ring I gave her. I'd wanted to tell her so much with that ring: I love you, I won't hurt you, I won't leave you. Little did I know that when I'd brought her that I'd break the latter two promises in a matter of days. Oh God, what am I doing? I can't go and leave her, not now when Dylan's here and wanting her and designed for her. How can I compete with genetics?

But she told me she loved me. She didn't know I'd heard, but I had. I just wished I could have told her that I loved her too, face to face, instead of in a letter. I wish I could hold her and kiss her and not give a damn about the whole saving the world deal, but that wasn't going to happen either.

We didn't have a simple teenage romance: nothing was normal about us and nothing was easy for us. But then if I were to be cliché, I'd say that the things worth fighting for never are.

I turned my back on them then – on her, and snapped out my wings. We couldn't be together yet. I knew that and perhaps, deep down, she knew that too. But in 20 years time, when the world had been saved, we could be together.