Hi friends! So, I've decided to be a tease. This is the early morning of the New York trip...and it is overly stuffed with so much Hannily fluff you might puke up rainbows. Just so you know. The next chapter will be the actual beginning of the trip.

Let's get into it! :)

WARNING: severe triggers, and Haleb fans, don't kill me. I have no thoughts in my head that Caleb could ever hurt Hanna on PLL, so don't get peeved. This is merely a fictional story.

I own nothing but the plot. All mistakes are mine.

"Where did she go..." You ask out loud, to no one but yourself. You stand on your tiptoes, looking for Hanna's telltale blonde head among the crowd.

An hour ago, Hanna had been spending almost 45 minutes trying to convince you to go to the bar a few blocks from your hotel. You'd been declining, because the last thing that you wanted to do was get shit-faced. The last time you went to a bar, you had a deathly hangover that was spanned across 2 days.

And, the entire night was a gaping space in your memory. But you woke up with the taste of Hanna's lip gloss molted into your mouth, and your lips puffy.

But, eventually, you gave into Hanna's begging...as you always do.

So, you got dressed and walked to the club, your nerves running high. After successfully passing the bouncer, you breezed into the club, which was filled with raucous laughter and pumping music.

You had made a vow you wouldn't get drunk so you wouldn't do anything questionable, opting for a root beer instead of something alcoholic. You felt like a 17 year old who can't legally get drunk yet.

Hanna, on the other hand, was smash wasted instantly. She had stumbled over to the dance floor, but her grip on your wrist had been loosened by a conga line of drunk Spring Breakers. You had called for her, but the music seemed 271 times louder.

It's been about 15 minutes of fruitless searching for the drunk blonde. And, as usual, worried and anxious knots had started to form in your stomach.

"Hanna!" You scream, trying to get her attention, wherever she is. You cup your hands over your your mouth, trying again. A few odd glances from strangers, but no response.

Then, something catches your eye. In the corner of the room, on a black fuzzy couch, there's Hanna.

And, beside her is a dude, he looks about college-age. But, it's not him that grabs your attention. It's what he's doing.

He's practically on top of Hanna, and his hands are being very intrusive of her "Personal Space". You can't see his face, but you can tell by his body language-he's trashed.

But Hanna on the other hand...she has a nervous and uncomfortable look on her face. That's all it takes for anger to flare up inside you.

You begin a stomping path to where you see them, every step making your anger stronger. By the time you get there, you're practically shaking.

"Hanna! There you are!" You exclaim, and relief floods her eyes.

"Hey, Em. Sorry." She says, still trying to awkwardly shift away from the guy. He looks at you, then her.

"Are you are...? You ask, crossing your arms.

"My name is Collin. Who are you?" You nod to yourself after he speaks, confirming what you already knew. He's drunk.

"I'm Hanna's best friend. And it doesn't seem like she wants your advances, Collin." His name leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

"Hey, she's fine. Aren't you, sweet cheeks?" He says, touching her cheek. She flinches.

"No, she obviously isn't." You say defiantly. A look of anger begins to etch onto his face. He stands up. He stumbles a bit, but he's a few inches taller than you. Surprisingly, no anxious nerves fill you. Just more seething anger.

"I didn't ask you. I asked her." He spits, his breath reeking of whiskey.

"Well, she's in no position to answer. Or to be...flirted with by some drunk idiot that needs some deodorant." You say, pointedly squishing up your nose. He takes another step towards you, his poop-brown eyes flashing.

Before he can do anything, your fist is hurtling toward his face, and colliding with his nose. He lets out a loud groan, stumbling backward. Finally he falls onto the floor, making a tall brunette squeak and jump away.

Heads turn. Gasps are uttered.

He clutches his now-bloody nose. "Don't fuck with my friend next time, Collin." You sneer, turning back to Hanna.

"Come on, babe. Let's go home." You say, extending your hand to her.

She grabs it and pulls herself up. She stumbles into you, before meeting your eyes. Oh god, she's going to be mad. She's going to. I know it. Your pumping adrenaline begins to fade. Finally, she smiles.

"Oh my god...that was awesome!" She squeals, her eyes filled with rushing joy. "Emily...I've never seen you act like that! It was so fucking awesome!" She cries, still slurring. You smile a bit.

"I...thank you. I don't like assholes hitting on you when you don't want it." You say truthfully, not meeting her eyes and grinning.

"I know. I don't like it either." She leans on your shoulder as you begin to push through the still-staring and whispering crowd.

When you get outside the club, you shake out the hand you hit him with. You may feel buzzed, but your fist hurts.

Neither of you speak until you get back to the hotel. You get her into pajamas, the alcohol and her exhaustion making a bad combination for her functionality. Right before she falls asleep beside you, she whispers something that makes your heart warm, and a smile erupt onto your face.

"Thank you, Em. I love you."

It's a few hours after midnight when a sound wakes me up. I don't particularly like being woken up at all, but what wakes me definitely wasn't what I would've chosen to be woken up by if I could've chosen.

It was the sound of the love of my life stifling sobs into her pillow.

As soon as I hear it, my senses snap awake and I resist the urge to fly into a sitting position because I don't want to scare her. I glance at the clock; it's a few minutes after 2. I shouldn't be up for about 2 hours longer...our flight doesn't leave until 7:30 am and we have to leave for the airport at about 5:15.

But alas, I am awake. I'm awake, lying beside a girl who is crying into her pillow, trying desperately (and unsuccessfully) to not make any sound.

I momentarily contemplate what to do, but decide on just handling this like I handle most things-by winging it. I slowly sit up. Hanna's too immersed in her tears to notice the shift.

"Hanna...?" I whisper, gently putting my hand on her back. She stiffens. "Are you alright?"

"I...yeah. I-I'm okay." She says, her voice shaking.

"No you're not. You're crying."

She doesn't bother trying to lie. She just remains silent, sniffling.

"Do you want to tell me why?" I say gently, noiselessly praying she will. I know it'll probably make my eyes burn and my stomach heave, but I need to know what's plaguing her.

"It's stupid. It's nothing." She says quietly. A strand of hair drapes on the side of her face-which remains buried in the pillow. I brush it behind her ear.

"If it made you cry, it's not stupid or nothing." I point out gently, and I hear a soft sigh emit from her.

"I just...I just had a bad dream. That's it."

"Baby, that's not stupid." I say, rubbing her shoulder. "Do you want to roll over and tell me about it?"

She's silent for a few beats, then she slowly turns. Her hair is strewn around her tear-stained face. Her eyes are red and puffy. But her beauty never ceases to make my heart gallop. I wipe away the tears that are left.

"Yeah, I will. But...you'll be mad."

"No, I won't. Nothing you could tell me would make me mad, Angel. You can tell me. I won't be mad." I tell her.

I look at her, silently saying whenever you're ready, Hanna.

"I...do you remember Brook's party? What h-happened?" She says quietly, not meeting my eyes. My heart tugs a little bit.

"I could never forget." My voice is already choked.

"Well, you saw...that again." Tears fall out of her blue orbs and cascade down her cheeks. "It was really b-bloody. And pretty horrible. And then...you left me." Her whisper is barely audible.

My eyebrows cock to the heavens. My heart beat immediately picks up.

She had a dream I left her?

"H-Hanna..."

"You ran away from me, and when I tried to call you, my voice wasn't there. It wouldn't make any noise. I heard the front door slam and then the car start and then it pull away."

"Hanna..." Nausea bubbles in my midsection.

"And then, I just kept bleeding and silently screaming for you until I hit the ground. You were already long gone. I kept saying your name until I couldn't anymore."

My brain can't process her words. Why would she dream that? What did I do that would make her think that could happen? Did I do something really wrong?

Questions pummel my mind at top speed and I can't stop them. I know one solid thing-Hanna contemplating udder abandonment needs to be eradicated immediately.

"Hanna, listen to me." I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "You need to know something. A lot of bad things have already happened. A lot of bad things are going to inevitably happen. Things will probably get worse at some point to some degree, I'm sure of it." I don't break our gaze. I can't. I need her to know this.

"But, I don't care how bad things get. I don't care if I cry until I can't breathe. I don't care if it makes me want to curl up in a ball and die. I don't care how bad it is. I will never...never leave you. Iwill stand by your side through whatever means "necessary. If you need to cry, I'll comfort you and cry beside you. If you need to punch pillows until your hands hurt, I'll ice your knuckles. If you need me to soothe you and hold you and listen to you, I will."

Words fall from my lips at a breakneck pace. I don't want them to stop. They need to be tattooed onto Hanna's conscious. And replace the words Caleb tattooed.

"Through your tears and your blood and your cries, I'll be there, holding your hand and telling you it'll be okay. I know you haven't been able to count on anything other than pain for 8 years, but now, you can count on me. For everything." I finish my little speech with my voice heavy and my words hard. I know it seems overdramatic to go on this tangent because of a dream she had, but even if she doesn't realize it, some part of her conscious thinks I might leave her if she dreamt it.

Once, Spencer told me that if you dream about something happening-even if you don't realize it-some part of you believes that could happen. Or, you want it to happen. Her and I got into this discussion when I had a...less than G-rated dream about Hanna.

So now, I need every part of her-even that unnoticeable part of her mind-to know I'll be with her no matter what happens. I'll love her and care for her and stand for her no matter how horrible things get.

She's silent, searching my eyes with hers. I presume she's visually questing for any traces of deceit or secretly empty promises. But I know she'll only find sheer truth and perpetual love.

After what feels like days of deafening silence, she sits up. She's now at my level, and she interlocks our hands. "I love you." Her words are quiet, but they are also louder than 1,000 people screaming into bullhorns. "I love you so much. Do you know that?"

"Uh-huh. I love you too." I respond, squeezing her hand gently. "Do you know that?"

"I definitely do."

Her eyes look deeply into mine. It feels like she's peering right into my soul and exploring the deepest corners. I notice she has flecks of purple-ish teal across her ever-blue irises.

Then, after at least 5 minutes of intense and sheer staring, I speak. Well, I whisper. "Do you believe in angels?"

The seemingly-random question seems to surprise her. Understandably. But she nods. "Yeah, I do."

"So do I." I bring my eyes to hers again after a brief second away. "And you're mine." The barely-audible words obviously send shock waves through her pajama-clad body. My heart begins to immensely pick up as soon as the hushed words escape my lips.

Within a few moments of horrible silence, I'm in panic. I freaked her out. She's disgusted. She's mentally cringing right now. She's weirded out.

Why the fuck did I even say that?

I swallow. "I-I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to say that. Never m-mind." I turn away from her, putting my face in my hands. Part of me aches for her to talk. The other half doesn't want to hear her verbally tell me how grossed out she inevitably is.

Jesus Christ, I'm sorry Hanna.

"Hey, stop." She says, and I hear shuffling, then her hands on top of mine. She gently pulls them from my tired, flustered face.

I suddenly get an exploding flashback of our cruise...the second time her lips met mine. That feels like millions of years ago. Before all of this. Before Caleb ever hit her. When Hanna was still effervescent, silly, flirtatious and full of jokes. When her smile was always real. Before he broke her.

When I put my crushing fear aside and look up, I'm met with her eyes, perpetually sparkling with love...and not disgust. What? "Emily, stop. Why are so upset all of the sudden?"

"I-I thought I w-weirded you o-out..."

"The only thing you just did was make me think. Think about what I could have done to deserve you."

"You're you. That's what you've done to deserve me."

"I'm not an angel. An angel is someone who's pure and innocent and beautiful. I'm the opposite of an angel." She says sadly, and I see pain in her eyes. I take her face in my hands, which forces her to look at me.

"You're the definition of beautiful. You're the epitome of pure and innocent. You've just had some bad stuff happen to you, that's all. It changes your future...but it doesn't change who you are. You're still my Hanna Marin, you're still my Angel."

We stare again. It feels like my heart is seething love from between my ribs. I feels like my chest is pooling with all the affection I have for the girl sitting in front of me.

Then, her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips. Hanna...what are you doing...

Before anything else has an opportunity to happen, I feel a little butterfly land on my lips. A little butterfly that tastes like Hanna.

It's 2:19 in the morning and she's kissing me.

For the first time in 8 years, Hanna Marin's lips are on mine. For the first time in 8 years, there's a tingling that won't stop exploding all over me, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. For the first time in 8 years, the love of my life is performing an act that will stick to my conscious forever.

And for the first time in 8 years...it feels like everything is right in the world.

The ending of this chapter made me smile like a Hannily-shipping idiot. But, that's okay, because that's what I am.

So, what did you guys think? Let me know in a review :)

The next chapter is called The Morning After...which is the aftermath of Hanna's kiss and the beginning of the trip. And oh, it will be a trip to remember ;)

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