Author's Note: I forgot to add this for anyone who saw this chapter within the first 15 minutes it was posted (wishful thinking).

First off, thank you all so very much for your kind response and helpful criticism, it is all taken very largely to heart. For guest Nayshay- I did get the reviews! Thank you very much for becoming a fan, as well to TiffanytheTitan.

I want to mention that Naomi running into Emily so suddenly is mostly due to the fact I feel with Naomi's cynical attitude and pessimism, the irony of her first day with her "new life" she would run into the one thing she claims she's running from best fits her glass-half-empty life. I feel strongly to Naomi and feel she's the type of person that, no matter what, cannot escape bad luck. Always in the wrong place-wrong time.

Anyways, I think updates will be quite frequent, I write from work so I have a fair amount of time almost every day, and when I'm passionate for something as I am for this story, I don't have the will power to hold off writing/posting just to keep some suspense alive.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, I hope this chapter clears a little of the vague back story and like always please review/favorite/follow etcetc.

Disclaimer: I do not own skins. Or the characters. I tweet Kat Prescott every day and I'm not kidding.

You have always hated exercise. You ride your bike as transportation and deem that your daily fitness. It's not like you speed, no, you take your time. Slow and steady wins the race.

But in that dirty bar you locked eyes with Emily, excused yourself to the restroom, and walked the fuck out the door. And you sprinted back to your new flat, up all the stairs (pausing only to throw up Jose Cuervo on floor 3) and collapsed onto the hardwood once safely inside.

By the time you've exited the shower Effy and Cook are home. He looks pleasantly smashed and she looks all too sober.

"So, are you going to ask me or should I just come out and tell you everything?" You're not in the mood for Effy's shit, and your stubborn side takes reign so you fire back,

"Am I going to ask you about what, Effy? Did I miss something? Shame I had to leave," She rolls her eyes and sighs and you know that you're not winning this.

Effy sits up straight, leaving her fag on the window sill and piercing you with her icy glare, "She's still doing her internship and has a few photography gigs on the side. She works part-time in that bar busing tables. No, she's not seeing anyone," Your expression softens against your will and she notices the hopeful question shining through,

"No, she hasn't seen anyone. And she misses you. So," she says with a pop to her feet, "I gave her your new number and our address." And as you stand dead still, clad in only a towel, Effy rolls Cook to the edge of his mattress, flicks off her shirt, and goes to sleep.

With your cellphone permanently glued to one hand and a pack of cigs glued to the other, you throw on a jumper and open the window letting the cool night air sweep your face before climbing onto the fire escape. The traffic below never stops, the sounds and energy of "the city that never sleeps" rising up to your flat. Dozens of people pass by, some briskly moving with a destination in mind, some staggering and swaying from the alcohol they probably just downed, some walking slowly, carefully, as if they were looking for something. A sign.

It's not until you're five smokes in and debating on whether or not you should give in to sleep that you see it. The flash of crimson that is so close to the shade you spent hours with your face buried in, just slightly darker, toned down. And the girl pauses as if she feels you there, feels you sitting up high off the side of that building, waiting. She doesn't look up but you can see a pull at the side of her lips. A sad smile, and then she continues on. It's not until she's almost out of sight that Emily glances over her shoulder and you know she knew all along.

Of course she knew all along, Effy gave her your address.

You and Effy spend the next two days unpacking. It doesn't take long because, really, there's not much to unpack and very little space to put things in. Effy tucks away the small box you pretended you didn't pack.

Cook met a guy in the bar the night before who offered him a job being a pedicab.

"Any chance to give beautiful women a ride with the Cookie Monster," was his cheeky response as he left the flat that morning.

With only five days to 'adjust yourself' to your surroundings and explore before you plunge into your new job, you've found it quite hard to even leave your apartment. The safety of the small space and lack of company has kept you holed up with no intention of exploration. Not with the chance of a certain girl residing mere blocks from you, working mere minutes from your residence, walking mere steps from your front door.

"Naomi," Effy snaps you out of your daze as you stare out the window, "We need to get the fuck out of here. I'm bored. You're boring. Let's go," she slips into her boots and with resignation you grab your jumper and head for the door.

Though the area is a bit dodgy, you really are pleased with your neighborhood. Learning 'blocks' and 'districts' will be easy and you're relatively close to anything you need. Effy links arms with you and you walk in comfortable silence, breathing in the sun on your face and avoiding the urge to scan every street as you pass. You both stop in a small cafe and buy a coffee and muffin, overpriced and mediocre in taste but you're not picky and frankly any food is good at the moment. Until your phone beeps in your pocket and suddenly everything tastes so very sour.

:Hello, It's Emily.

Well, you figured. You've had the phone barely a week and have given no one your number except Cook, Effy, and your mum.

Hello.

You're at a loss for words but the thought of not replying at all seems utterly impossible.

:Care to explain what youre doing in nyc?

Came here to murder you.

Smooth.

Just kidding.

:...Why are you here Naomi? Effy told me you all moved. Why didnt you tell me? I feel I have a right to know youd moved to a different country where I happen to live...

You don't have 'a right' to know anything, Emily.

You silence your phone, put it back in your pocket, and give Effy a death glare from Hell. She smiles a consoling smile and just when you think you've gotten off the hook she says,

"I think you should see her, Naomi," taking a fag from your pack and leaving you staring at the table, not unaware of your hand gripping around your phone like it's your life vest.

"Babe, we just moved across the fuckin' Atlantic ocean and you're pussying out on one pint?" You're done with this conversation. You're angry that your best mate has been conversing with the enemy. Plus, Cook's pep talks were never much pep, mostly just jabs at your dignity. All three combined, it worked.

"Okay, James, I'll grab one fucking pint with Emily at her fucking stupid bar down the fucking stupid street. But only to set the record straight. Only to tell her that I came to New York out of a job opportunity and an adventure with my best friends and a change in lifestyle. Not, in any way, for her." My conviction is not believed by either of us.

"...You need fanny," He concluded and texted Emily to inform her of my acceptance.

You found the perfect spot. The way the sun shines through your bedroom window and bounces off the tiny rock is beautiful. The moment the bedroom door is open your eyes are drawn to the ring box, the beams of light and flecks of color reflected across the walls and ceiling ever so faintly. A tiny kaleidoscope reflecting the beauty that is your shared life. You know she'll notice it. You know she will say yes. You know this is the moment.

"Babe?" You hear her close the front door and the familiar thud of her bag on the table. With a final deep breath and your best poker face set, you enter the living space and greet your girlfriend warmly. A nonchalant peck on the lips. Keep your daily routine so as not to cause suspicion.

"How was it? Last day as a student, officially shoved into the big bad adult world," You sit as relaxed as you possibly can, speak as relaxed as you possibly can.

There's a glint in her eye and a twitch of her mouth as she holds back a smile. A secretive smile. Fucking shite, she knows.

"Oh you know, tearful goodbyes and parades of glitter as we walk off campus. Police brutality. The usual," She's smirking and you muster up a chuckle though your throat has closed completely.

"Remind me to talk to you about something but first I absolutely have to shower," And she's up, heading towards the bedroom, opening the door, standing and you can feel the air disappear from the room.

"Naomi."

She's taken exactly four steps into the bedroom and though you can no longer see her, you know she took only four.

"Naomi."

You sense the hint of panic.

"Naomi!"

"Emily," You clear your throat for good measure. Stand up. Wipe your palms on your jeans. Follow her.

"Everyday I wake up and I feel panic. Anxiety controls my life, hinders me from doing things I long to do. For years I woke up with the feeling of dread, and I would break and not go to school, blow off plans, hide away. And then you came along," Take two steps from the bedroom door. You're arms length away from her. Her back looks stiff. You can't see her face but you know her vision is set on the ring.

"Now, if I wake up and feel panic, I roll over and see this beautiful girl," One step.

"Who loves me unconditionally. And suddenly, there's nothing to be anxious about. You make me want to do better. I'm not asking to be your entire life, Emily, I'm asking you to let me experience your entire life, by your side. I'm ready to be brave," One last step. Kneel.

"Marry me."