A/N: Right. First fic ever, so any suggestions, criticism, thoughts, anything at all really, I'd love to hear them.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters from Skins. Just borrowing them for a bit. I'll give them back when I'm done, promise.

Chapter 1

Naomi

It has seemed like such a good idea at the time. Just me and a backpack, three months in a strange country halfway around the world. Now it just seemed like sheer stupidity. I should've known that it would've been a disaster.

I scowled a final time at the old lady who insisted on selling me some weird looking tofu thingy in a wooden barrel instead of coffee, turned my heel and left. Fucking language barrier. I briefly pondered buying a plane ticket right back to London. Frowning again at the memory of the look on my mother's face when I'd told her I was going to fucking China, of all places, I decided suddenly and firmly that I was not going to back to familiarity. Expanding your horizons. Wasn't that what traveling was all about? Well, that and crabby old grannies talking loudly in Cantonese making you feel like a mong.

I sighed. Hong Kong, first stop in a three month trip. It was nothing like I'd imagined. It was supposed to be somewhat bustling, very modern. From photos, it looked glitzy and cliche, with all the comforting materialism and consumerism I'd grown up with. Now that I was actually here, I found it was, in fact, loud and messy, rather suffocating, with narrow streets and tiny shops wherever they could fit. The air was hot and humid, with moisture clinging to my skin and staying there stickily. People bellowed to each other from across streets and sat on the curb eating stuff I couldn't identify for the life of me. I gritted my teeth together and pulled out the fat notebook I'd filled in the weeks before I left. It'd seemed mostly overkill then - how hard could it be? Now, it looked foreign and insignificant.

I fished out the first of the various printed pages, a list named, simply, "Hong Kong". I sat down at a wobbly table in one of the tiny street corner tea shops and, after lots of pointing and waving, finally got a mug of tea and some exotic species of bread. I started crossing out (rather disgustedly) shopping malls, high end hotels, and amusement parks. I'd narrowed the list down to a manageable five to visit within the day and a half I would be there, and was marking them out on a map when my phone buzzed.

How's HK? Jet lag? Hotel? Emailed u on food, probly come in handy. HKers should speak English, just don't try old people. See u tmr aftnoon. 2W

I felt my face smile despite my crappy mood. I hastily finished my tea and stowed the map away, replying on my way back to the shitty hotel.

Hotel crap. Need coffee. Kick the dog out. xN

It was only 8 in the morning and I would never have gotten up this early except I could hardly sleep the last night. I'd slept nearly the whole flight, all 12 and a half hours of it, totally blowing my body clock into oblivion, and arrived in Hong Kong in the dead of night. Then I'd taken a bus, checked into a hotel and spent the whole night eyes wide open, alternating between watching mindnumbing videos online and watching the sun come up. (Thank fuck for free internet.) I yawned now, flopped onto bed and turned on my new (well, refurbed), extremely cheap laptop. Waiting for it to power on, I gulped down the can of coffee I'd gotten at the convenient store on the way back. Downloading the list of food, I scanned for stuff that looked edible, jotted them down on a blank page in the notebook, and snorted at the descriptions. Salty duck eggs mashed with pork and baked into pancake shaped things? Lotus roots steamed with Osmanthus flowers? Chicken feet preserved with small green chili peppers? I scrolled slowly to the bottom of the list.

It said in big, bold letters,

Stop thinking about what it's made of and eat whatever smells good. You'll thank me.

I stared at it for a second. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I flipped shut my notebook and threw it in my bag, along with sunglasses, a jacket, a water bottle, and extra cash. Checked myself out in the mirror. Ripped jeans, converse hi tops, and a t-shirt that demanded, "I have problems! DO YOU?". Satisfied that I looked totally dashing if I do say so myself. Headed out. First stop, Repulse Bay Beach.

I sat on the sand, feeling like an utter idiot. That or an English tourist. Probably both. It wasn't the beach's fault, it was a rather nice beach. Children ran around babbling in some language or other, and ten feet behind me, a repulsive looking Middle Eastern couple were kissing and doing strange things with their arms. However, I somehow couldn't find a way to justify going halfway across the world to be sitting at the beach. I felt like I should be doing something, well, different. Something I hadn't done before. My thoughts wandered to a previous "family" outing (if you could call that a family), with a rough Irish accent saying, "What? It's just a cunting beach!" I sighed for the billionth time that day and was about to shuffle to my feet when my phone buzzed again.

ok? bord alrd, C hi, pics?

Ah, Effy. The girl could fit the history of this universe and several others into a text if she wanted to. She's probably asking if I'm OK, and stating that she's bored already, which is the understatement of the year because Effy was born bored. And Cook says hi. Cook, you know, big tosser, Effy's fuckbuddy, blessed with the ability to find pills in the Sahara. And she wants pictures soon. Where the fuck am I going to get her pictures?

With a bit of difficulty, I got to my feet, and started trudging up the sandy slope to the road. Reaching the pavement and relieved to have solid ground underfoot again, I pressed reply, and typed:

Im good, actually. HK stuffy tho. Ur always bored, go party or sth. Say hi 2 Cook too, n try not 2 get into

which was harshly interrupted when I suddenly walked into something small and soft, which said in a low, slightly husky, and quite indignant voice, "Hey!" My vision snapped up from the phone to be met with a shock of flaming hair, which spun around promptly to make my heart stop right where it stood. My eyes traveled down almost involuntarily - moist ruby lips fuck me they're kissable, checkered blouse, plain black skirt, rather nice legs, worn black trainers, back up, the same nice legs, half a dozen rings on her fingers, hair so red it made my eyes water, and finally porcelain skin and large brown eyes that oddly reminded me of a puppy. A pissed off puppy that was just walked into by a twat too busy texting to look where she was going.

"S-sorry," I stammered, when I suddenly realized that this was normally expected under these conditions.

My eyes met with hers, and I felt exactly like I was drowning in a warm pool. My mind grasped for a way to describe the experience, and could only think back to when I was five years old, and devouring the largest piece of chocolate I had seen in my short life because my mother wasn't looking. Let's just say it had been more than worth the trouble I had gotten into afterward.

And suddenly the moment was over, and that same voice was saying smugly, "Nice shirt."

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" I heard myself replying. A detached part of my mind wondered loudly, what are you doing? I silenced it.

The girl smirked. "You're here on vacation all alone?"

"No, vacation is what middle-aged pen-pushers do for ten days a year. I'm traveling by myself. You?" I felt a totally irrational surge of hope, for totally unknown reasons.

"Yes travel, no alone. I wish, though."

Her voice made something stir in me. It felt all strange and tingly. I was about to open my mouth when something resembling a small, redhaired, tackily dressed hurricane whipped over with two cones of banana and mint ice cream. Added to their hair, they gave off a strange sense of traffic lights. Red stop, green go. The detached part of my brain realized that, under normal situations, I should've buggered off long before now, but my feet refused to budge.

"Hey Emsy! Who's this?" asked the hurricane. It had a lisp, and was dressed in scarily high heels, stripes and leopard print.

I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't seeing double. They were dressed different, but they were most definitely twins, same hair, same height and build. They also felt different though, with different auras. I nearly rolled her eyes at that thought. Living all your life with an old hippie doesn't make you one, I scolded internally. Jesus. 18 years old and already turning into my mother. The hurricane handed an ice cream to her sister, and they licked in unsettling synchronization.

"We just got to talking," replied the former twin.

"I'm Naomi," I quipped.

"Katie," said the leopard print, "and my little sister Emily."

Emily. Somehow, the name made me want to grin madly. I was suddenly assaulted with images with myself and Emily walking hand in hand on the beach, kissing those oh so tantalizing lips, clothes flying - STOP IT, demanded my brain, snapping me out of my daydream. Very suddenly I knew I had to stay away from this girl. I opened my mouth.

"Well, as fun as all is, I've got other places to be. Nice meeting you." And without waiting for a reply, I left hurriedly, breaking into a run as soon as I'd turned the corner. It was a good 20 minutes before I collected myself enough to complete the text.

too much trouble. Dont have a camera.

I pressed send with a lot more force than necessary, and sighed for the billionth and first time. It felt as if an age had gone by.

The rest of the day was spent wandering through tourist sites and nibbling at fish balls. I couldn't help but feeling a bit "so what" about the whole thing. Found myself back in the hotel room by dusk, with a bottle of lukewarm beer in hand and staring out into space again, with my mind somehow or other always finding its way back to a certain redhead. One that, with any luck, I'd never see again in my life.