Author's Note: So this is the end. Wow. I think I've already said all I could say before, but again I have to let you all know just how grateful I am to have shared this with you. You have no idea how much it means. And I need you all to be brutally honest with me about this chapter, alright, because it took me forever to write and I still don't think it's an entirely fitting end for this story. It might just be me, but then again it might not be. So get specific; tell me what seems good, what seems odd, what's lacking, what needs fixing, everything. Because, if I have to, I'll rewrite this chapter again and again until I get it just right.

Thank you all so much. Love from Miss Kiss.


Riku; 'Cause You Are Wonderful

Fenway Corporate Photography, an agency that dealt with photographers from all backgrounds. Wealthy ones, charismatic ones, bold ones, cold ones, visionaries and drama queens, amateurs just starting out and looking to improve. Then there were the people that managed these photographers, the appointments, the models they took pictures of (if they were the kind that dealt with models). There were the event planners, coordinators, set and outfit designers, makeup staff, technical staff, editing staff, secretaries, board heads, publishers, publicists and so on. Modeling agencies, wedding planners, advertising companies—anyone who needed pictures for fashion, print, personal reasons or otherwise—would call FCP to set up appointments, and photographers would be sent accordingly. It was an extremely nice, high tech, well organized facility.

In other words, they had their shit together.

It was a large, sleek building that looked like nothing more than an ivory marbled, heavily windowed cage from the outside. The interior told a different story—inviting and ultra modern are the only phrases I could think of that fit. The main lobby, like the other nine floors I would soon discover, was lavishly decorated in varying shades of black, white, red, and gold. Low, firm leather sofas formed boxy U shapes near the waiting area. Flat screens rested against the walls, flashing info on the latest fashion trends, celebrity news, and entertainment. Blood red carpets, thin yet comfortably soft, stretched out against the titled floor. The lights that hung from the ceiling were slightly dim, cup-like bulbs. Posters of different models hung here and there. There was an expansive, rounded front desk with a bolded FenCo logo on the front, manned by a well manicured and golden haired secretary in a black suit.

That desk had been my first stop when I trudged into the building on Tuesday after school, the day after Sora's and my muffin fiasco. The secretary shot champagne colored eyes in my direction when I approached and placed a business card in front of her. The card Paine had given me…what was it, last month? Just April, really? It'd felt like much longer than that. Considering the crap I had to go through with Larxene, though, it made sense that the job offer had sort of slipped my mind.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked in a soft voice.

I chose to ignore the way her eyes seemed to scrutinize me as if I was some unwanted pest and replied, "I came to speak with Paine."

She arched a brow, drummed golden nails beside her computer, before correcting, "Ms. Yun is currently in a meeting. I can leave a message."

"I'd rather talk to her in person."

Her eyes never left my face as her stiff hand crept over to the phone beside her computer screen, as she punched in a couple of numbers then lifted the receiver to her ear. She waited a beat before muttering, "Ms. Yun… Yes, I'm aware. You have a young man here to see you… No, no appointment that I know of. No… Hold on. What did you say your name was?"

The last question was aimed at me. Biting back what little annoyance I had creeping up inside of me, I tucked my hands lazily in my pocket and swept hair out of my face. "Riku Prioletti."

She relayed the name to her boss, and judging by the way her expression morphed from slight shock to an embarrassed grimace, said boss was probably (none too nicely) explaining just who I was and why I was there. Before long the blonde was nodding into the phone, muttering some apology, then hanging it up so she could glance up at me once more.

"She's ready to see you. Fifth floor, Room 2610A. The big red door. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," I said with just enough sarcastic charm in my voice to piss her off.

It didn't take me long at all to find Paine's office—in fact, hers was the only red door that could be located on the fifth floor—and when I gave a hesitant knock before cracking it open I was greeted by the sound of what sounded like…Chinese? I stared curiously around the room as I stepped in. It was a cozy thing, designed more like a personal lounge than an office. There were a couple glass bookcases with more designer knick knacks and pottery than actual books. Abstract paintings in warm colors, mostly reds and oranges, lined the side walls. The back wall was nothing but tinted windows and half-drawn blinds. The desk resting in the middle was low rising, circular, resembling something close to a dining table with red leather cushions for seats.

A miniature bar was directly to my left; beside it an entertainment system with a number of sofas positioned just right in front of it. Fake plants—but hell, they looked damn real if you weren't paying close attention—had been set up here and there to give the room an earthy feel. Slim racks of clothing were on my right, recently rummaged through and forgotten. I found myself eyeing them as I shut the door behind me, and wondering who could ever manage to slip into outfits so small. It wasn't until I heard someone clear their throat that I looked up.

Two sets of garnet eyes had settled on me by then. Paine, along with some lean woman with deep silver hair forming a bob cut around her pale face. They both were settled at her rounded desk, facing me. The other woman's face was much sharper, much older, but the similarity between her and Paine was jarring. Even an idiot would be able to tell that they were related. A mother daughter relationship, if anything. They had continued to speak to one another in—yes, I was sure of it—Chinese in an almost absent minded way. Then the elder woman patted the cushion beside her before waving her hand at me. "Come sit. Riku was it?"

I blinked at how quickly she seemed to switch to English, and without the slightest hint of an accent. "Yes ma'am."

"Polite, too," she mentioned to her daughter with a cool smile.

When I need to be. But I said nothing and merely settled myself beside her, setting my bag on the floor. It felt…weird, the way she was watching me, sizing me up. And Paine said nothing, simply watched the two of us with a knowing, almost amused smile on her lips, a freshly poured glass of wine held in her hands. Her mother picked up a strand of my hair for a brief moment, catching me off guard, before muttering, "Beautiful hair. A shame."

She said something else to Paine, switching languages again, causing her daughter to laugh and shake her head. "I doubt he'd go for that."

"A shame," the woman repeated. Then she was sighing, getting up from her seat. She gave me a pat to the shoulder, which for some reason I didn't seem to mind all the much, before making her way out of the room.

"Bye, Mama."

"Aye."

I waited until the click of the door closing sounded behind her before arching a brow at Paine. "What was she saying about me?"

Red lips were still curved in a lazy grin, and she took a short sip of her drink before saying, "I showed her some of your pictures. She was just shocked you'd rather be a photographer than a model. 'A waste of a young face,' she said. 'He should be posing for our cameras.'"

I smiled at the compliment, obviously flattered by it even though I'd heard such things before. "I'm better handling a camera myself, if anything."

"Figured as much." Then her whole demeanor changed; her expression grew solemn. "I'm sorry."

And even though I'd been half expecting it, even though I had tried to brace myself for it, I squirmed in my seat and glanced at my feet. My smile had faded. "For what?"

"Larxene."

Of course. That woman…was still a touchy subject for me. It wasn't like I couldn't handle hearing her name; that wasn't the problem. It was just the rush of emotions, however brief, that washed over me whenever her name came up. A mixture of pain and shame and smug satisfaction all at once. Most of all, though, anger that just wouldn't die no matter how much time had passed. I doubted if it ever would.

As I took in the look on Paine's face, I found myself choking down that anger and forcing myself to remain calm. The woman pursed her lips, set her drink down on the desk. "I could have stopped her…"

"It's not your fault," was my defiant reply.

"I was there." She snapped it in a way that had me jumping back a bit, but her tone softened when she saw my reaction. "I was there, and if I had stayed that day, if I had kept her from pulling you in her room like that… Maybe not even that. If I had just stayed, had heard what all she'd done to you, you could have had a solid case."

"The tapes helped my case."

"And if Marluxia hadn't found them, hadn't turned them over?" Her eyes were probing, narrowed, and her question had me thinking back on the verdict three days ago. She had a point. "If the police hadn't gotten their hands on those tapes, no one would have known. Maybe, if you'd told me about it sometime afterward, I would have believed you. I knew what kind of person Larxene was. I knew she had problems, but I just didn't think she had it in her to…"

A lengthy pause. I studied her carefully, waiting for her to catch herself, to formulate her words. It was odd to see so much emotion, something so raw, on the face of a woman who was just a little bit more than a stranger to me. To see her feel so strongly for some kid she barely knew was…different. I wondered if she had experienced the same, or if she knew someone who had. Or if she was just passionate when it came to things like this. Eventually she found the words.

"What I'm trying to say is I had the opportunity to keep something awful from happening to you, and because I didn't take it you had to deal with all this crap. So I'm sorry."

"If you really wanted to make it up to me," I started after a moment of silence, watching her carefully, slowly smiling again, "you'd give me a job."

Whatever awkwardness there was before went away with that statement, and we were moving away from the subject completely. Fortunately; I'd be fine in the long run, but I didn't want to linger in Larxene too long if I could help it. The woman's eyes twinkled with amusement. "With what application, what resume?"

"A resume?"

"You thought I'd just hand over a job to you?"

"Uh, duh. Why else would I be here?"

She laughed at that—it was a surprisingly pleasant sound I didn't think she was capable of—shaking her head as she got up from her seat across from me. "No, you work for it like everyone else. The only advantage you'll get is me actually reading your application first instead of waiting a week to get around to it. And because I'm so nice, I'll even help you with your resume."

"Really?"

"Of course. Next Tuesday, I expect your pretty boy ass in here for a proper interview. And grab an application form from the main desk on your way out."

I rose with her, grabbing my bag off the floor and slinging it around my shoulder, slipping my hands back in my pockets. There was something unspoken between us now, like an agreement. An understanding. She looked like a tough woman with her emotions locked away, but I could make out the lingering apology in her eyes. Maybe something close to pity—no, but it wasn't. In that moment, I felt like we could be friends.

She blew out a breath and scowled, taking her drink in her fingers again, then gave my shoulder a light squeeze with her free hand. "Now get lost. I've got an actual meeting in ten minutes, and I don't want to be late."

"Paine."

"That's Ms. Yun."

"Whatever… Thanks."

There was no mistaking the slightest twitches of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Don't you mention it."


Watching Sora's body change was an interesting experience.

There was something almost magical about it. Before she had come out and been more open with everyone else, she always had to shed a skin to be comfortable. Leave "him" behind to become who she truly was. And while I've always love the "him" she'd left behind just as much as I loved the her, she truly made a more beautiful girl than anything else. No longer a girl now, but a young woman. But she blossomed into something even more stunning, more gorgeous, than I'd ever thought was possible.

It was like witnessing the birth of an angel.

"I feel like I'm going through a second puberty, though," she'd told me at one point. "It's kind of annoying."

"It's kind of funny. So, did your balls start shrinking yet?"

To which she gave me a rough yet good humored smack upside the head. These changes were something else, though.

Sora already had a somewhat curvy figure but those curves, little by little, were becoming softer and more defined. Muscle became more lean, shoulders less broad. Arm and leg hair seemed to fade away or was removed. (Where her mother was getting money for those kinds of procedures was beyond me, but I didn't question it.) Her face was steadily getting rounder, more feminine. Her chest began to develop pitiful little bumps one would probably find on a late blooming fourteen year old girl. Mind you, Sora was wildly thrilled and fascinated by those tiny bumps all the same. ("I have breasts, Riku. My own real breasts. Booobehs~")

She also started to break out more often, leading to what I believed was a mild obsession with her skin. ("You know you're perfect with or without pimples, babe. So chill the hell out.") Her voice, much to my surprise, didn't get any higher as a result of the hormones; that didn't mean she couldn't make it so herself. She seemed much shorter—or maybe I was just having my own growth spurt. The occasional mood swing would occur when I least expected it, though it wasn't anything to seriously worry about.

Then there were other changes that didn't deal with the physical. She treated the world to more of her breath taking smiles with each passing day. More shopping sprees for either the most random or the most fashionable outfits she happened to come across. More phone calls lasting late into the night, about anything, everything. More "I love you's" that always managed to make me weak in the knees. More kisses when we were together, steaming and tender. Less anxiety, less depression, less moments where she stressed over the prominent maleness that still resided "downstairs." Less of the bad in general. She was becoming so damn happy all the time that it was sickening in the cutest of ways. And I loved it.

And I'm not saying it was all sugar and rainbows from that point on. Because like any other couple we'd have our lovers' quarrels—though they always ended in some sappy apology and a mild makeout fest. I'm not saying everything was worry-free, because at the end of the day there were still a lot of things running through my head that bothered me, loose ends in my life that still had me wondering if I could handle it and how. My camera. Balancing work and school and extracurricular activities. College—specifically, what money would be used to pay for it? Aerith was willing to make it work, but I didn't want to have to rely on her for it all. What would happen after I graduated anyway? What schools would Sora apply to, and would we have to settle into a long distance relationship at some point? Could we handle long distance? (This, I tried not to think too much about.)

I'm not saying everything was perfect, but it fucking felt like it and I wasn't about to complain.

There was just one thing.

"Pick up already…" I mumbled to myself, pushing aside cooking magazines and settling on the kitchen table.

I had Aerith's…the house phone propped against my ear and was listening to the dial tone while sucking on my bottom lip. I was home alone on that Wednesday evening in December, two days before our winter break started. We'd be off from the twenty-first all the way until the day after New Years', so I figured now would have been as good a time as any. I wanted to make one call. Just for the sake of it, just out of curiosity, just for old time's sake, just because I could and it bothered me…

I was scared.

You have no idea how scared I'm talking. I'm talking ten times what I felt whenever Larxene was around. Ten times more scared than when I heard Sora was in the hospital. A thousand, billion, times more scared than I've ever felt before. I was fucking scared and—

"Hello?"

I froze at the unfamiliar voice that answered the phone, arched a brow. "Who is this?"

The woman gave a short pause before replying, "Ya'll callin' my number, and askin' me who I am?"

Okay. So, yeah…not my smartest move. I refrained from asking just why she was using my mother's number in the first place and quietly said, "Sorry, I just figured…Molly would pick up, is all."

"Why, you her boyfriend or somethin'?"

"No. Her son."

Her silky voice paused yet again, and I heard her make a sound in her throat like she thought I was lying. "Son?"

"Yeah."

"Shoot, her kid?"

"Yes."

"Well damn." I didn't know what kind of expression this woman was wearing at that moment or what was running through her head, but I figured she held the same amount of curiosity about me that I did for her. She made another short sound. "Mm… Look, kid. I ain't seen your moms in, like, couple months now. She left her shit n' everythin', just took off."

I eyeballed my bare feet without the slightest bit of emotion on my face. "Sounds like her."

"Hell… She just up and left you?"

"What do you think?" I asked harshly. She didn't seem offended by the tone, and I instantly regretted it.

"Molls' a piece o' work. Ain't changed a bit since high school. Shit, I ain't know she got no son, though. Didn' tell me jack. Just said she was trying to start over, needed a place to crash for a bit."

Somehow I figured in my mind that this woman was the Tara my mother had tried to text so many months ago. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person she used to be when she and Mom were younger. What kind of person was she now? Had she dumped Mom as a friend back then (whenever then was) or had it been the other way around? How had they even become friends in the first place, and why had this woman thought the relationship was worth it? There were so many questions skipping around on the tip of my tongue, but I settled for just one. "Where is she now?"

I could hear her shrug. A sigh. "She mentioned somethin' 'bout getting back with some old guy of hers, making amends. Said he was willing to take her back. Some Cain, Cole…Conner, somethin' like that."

My jaw grew tight. "Caleb."

"Yeah, yeah. Ya'll know him?"

"He's my father."

"Oh. Well then."

"Well then."

We were silent for a while before I finally heaved a deep breath and said, "Sorry to bother you. Thanks."

"Well, wait now." And when I did, she added. "Ya'll called for a reason, right?"

Again I focused painfully hard on my feet, flexing my toes together. I said nothing right away. Yes, I had called for a reason. I didn't need my mother anymore; I had told myself that. I had plenty of other people who cared about me, who would help me when I needed it, and they were more of a family than she could be. That didn't mean I didn't want to talk to her, that I still didn't miss her. It had been a worry of mine since the end of November, but I hadn't said anything until it just grew and grew into this secret need that not even Sora knew about.

I didn't tell her any of this. "Just wanted to shoot her an early Merry Christmas, and maybe a Happy New Year… Nothing much."

"I can give ya'll her new number." I bristled. She seemed to sense that. "Don' have to call her if you don' wanna, but it don' hurt to have the number. Just 'cause."

"It's…fine. Thanks."

"Ya'll sure?"

"Yeah."

I hung up before she could say anything else.


"Merry flipping Christmas, pretty boy."

Roxas always did have a way with words. The next day found us heading for our lockers, mildly stoked for the upcoming holidays. He held out a small rectangular shaped box covered in blue and white wrapping paper, practically waving it in my face as we walked.

With a slight smirk I snatched it from him and eyed it curiously. "It's not even Christmas yet, idiot."

"Whatever. I'm gonna be out of town next week, so better now than never."

"What is it?"

I didn't trust the sly grin he gave in response as he started spinning in his combination. "Why don't you open it and find out."

It couldn't have been anything major. I mean, the box was like…smaller than a pack of sticky notes. A little heavy, but easily held in the palm of my hand. The blonde laughed at the suspicious expression on my face, stuffing textbooks he wouldn't need over the break into his locker then shutting it with a flick of the finger. Even with that weird glint in his eyes, something told me it wasn't anything to worry about. But still.

"I don't know if I should trust presents from you," I told him half jokingly after a moment.

He just gave my arm a light punch and slung his back over his shoulder. "You'll need 'em." Then he was heading to his next class.

I watched after him for just five seconds before dumping my bag down in front of me and tearing into the wrapping paper to find—batteries. A pack of four AA batteries.

That. Little. Troll.

Who the fuck gave batteries away for Christmas? What the hell was he trying to pull? And he had laughed. I had half the mind to go and slug him, but he had already darted off into the growing stream of students. Blue eyed bastard. Blowing out a breath I tucked the batteries in my pocket and tossed crumpled wrapping paper on the ground, opened my locker. Then froze at what I saw resting in the middle of it.

It was a camera. A Canon SX120 to be exact. I'd researched it before years ago when I was looking to buy my first camera. Sleek, a whitish silver color, and a red bow tied carefully over its lens in a strangely intimate fashion. There was a small note card slipped underneath the ribbon, but I was too shocked to even reach out and touch the damn thing. No, it wasn't the powerhouse of a device my mother had given me last year, but… This was a new camera. There were two cutesy words scrawled on the outside of the note, two words that had me carefully reaching for the paper and unfolding it.

Merry Christmas

And the inside read:

For the perfect man in all our lives. Thanks for being so fab-u-lous! You so deserve it.

So . Kai . Nam . Rox

Those blue eyed bastards.


Sora was all smiles over the phone that afternoon. Even wIth all the chatter drowning my ears on the bus ride home, the brunette's smile was the loudest sound. I could hear how hard she was grinning; it was ridiculous. I hadn't even said one word yet, but her excitement was there. "Do you like it? You did get it, right?"

"How in the hell," I started, fingering the sleek metal of my new camera in my free hand, "did you manage to afford this?"

"It was like one-eighty. We just split the cost between the four of us, so it's more like forty-five dollars. No big deal." But the pride in her voice told me that she did think it was a big deal, that she had worked hard to come up with the money in the first place. That she had worked hard to come up with the idea in the first place. I couldn't say that I wasn't impressed.

My voice was a lot softer than I'd intended it to be. "Sora, we talked about this…"

"I know, I know. It's not the same as the one your mom gave you. But." And she just left it at that.

I ran a finger over the camera's screen. "But?"

"But."

Somehow that seemed to make perfect sense to me. Somehow it explained everything in a way I couldn't really describe. And in spite of the mixed emotions I had welling up inside of me, I laughed, wiped at the corners of my eyes. "You have no idea how much I love you right now."

"Ri, are you crying?"

"Hell yeah."

"You baby," she teased.

"You angel," I shot back, still wiping my eyes and glancing out the window. Thank the heavens people on the bus were too wrapped up in themselves or each other to notice the silent tears running down my face. I smiled through them. "I'm gonna come over right now."

"I'm about to go to work."

"Then I'm heading to Sonata."

"I'll be waiting."

And she was when I got to the tea house.

Aerith was surprised (but not really) to see me drop by, and with a new camera no less. There weren't many customers at the moment, so she allowed herself time to slip out from behind the counter and approached me. I gave her the shortest of explanations, though, before asking her to do me a specific favor. Sora came out just as the woman nodded at my request, nothing but cuteness in a yellow apron and a curious smile when she took in the expression on my face.

Before she could even say anything, before the handful of customers even realized it, I was pulling her into a long kiss. A long kiss. And I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Aerith was lifting my new camera up to snap a picture of the two of us, the first picture, just as I'd asked her to. I didn't have to see her to know she was grinning herself silly. And I heard a few whoops of encouragement from the customers, some claps, but they were quickly tuned out when I slipped my eyes closed and held Sora close to me. I ignored them, because they didn't quite understand just what this moment meant to me, to us. They wouldn't.

Because people didn't always get it. But we locked hands and we held on tight and we kissed without stopping for air, without opening our eyes, because we were both feeling it and thinking the same thing: He gets it. She gets it. We have each other.

And that's all that mattered.


Sora became a full-fledged woman on the summer of '13, precisely one year after her first shot of estrogen. The summer we officially graduated from high school. Her surgery had been planned for the end of that June, roughly two months before her move-in date for Glenston University, so she had plenty of time to recover and get used to her new body.

I remember when I first visited her just days after the procedure one weekend. She cried so hard, and without the slightest bit of shame or regard for her brother, mother, and granny exclaimed, "My. Vag. HURTS."

That was the humorous start of something new.

We worked our summer jobs, hung out when we could. Packed. Before long our new schools were beckoning. I knew Sora and Rox were staying local—though Roxas would be a mere twenty minutes away from home compared to Sora's hour. I'd wanted to get away from Glenston, though, much to Aerith's surprise.

NYU. New York. I applied early and chose no other school. Part of my own money went towards tuition; Aerith provided some more. A good chunk of it, surprisingly, came from Sephiroth. He hadn't given me any warning or explanation, just mailed a check with more zero's than I'd ever seen at once to the house with a short note attached: Be grateful.

I guess it was his way of thanking me. Thanks to that, though I was set for my first two years of college.

And college life. An experience, I must say.

My roommate was a total hunk. Snow Villiers. He dressed like a hobo and yet always managed to look downright sexy. If I didn't have Sora and he didn't have his girl, I probably would've boned his straight ass in his sleep. (But of course not really. That's just asking for all sorts of drama.) In all seriousness, though, he was a nice guy a bit on the talkative side. We got along well. He was familiar with the streets of New York and didn't hesitate to show me around whenever we got the chance. Not saying that we went to wild parties on a regular basis or anything. But we did indulge every now and again.

My classes weren't easy, but they weren't too challenging. I even dabbled in a bit of film history and cinematography along with my photography class, just to get a feel for them. The classes were scheduled and spaced out in a way that allowed for part-time work at a restaurant near campus, a fun and home-style place that reminded me a bit of Sonata.

Sora and I would Skype every week, usually Fridays, email, call, text, send pictures. I'd had my worries, but they were needless when I realized just how easy it was to keep in touch with one another. Sure, we could get busy, and yeah, we had to wait until our breaks to go home and physically see each other—God, I'd miss her—but we made it work.

And it was weird to think how many other things in my life had worked themselves out. Maybe not a straight up fix, but enough to keep me content. I had Kairi and Naminé texting me every day about their adventures around their campus—they had requested to be roommates; big surprise there.

I had Roxas who'd call or write once in a while, just to see how things were going. How we'd managed to reconnect after all this time I'm not sure, but I didn't mind it him or his little boy toy anymore.

I had Aerith as my legal guardian, as my mother, always asking for new pictures to frame at home whenever she got the chance. I felt as if I'd never be able to tell her I loved her enough.

I kept in touch with Paine, who guaranteed that I'd have the beginnings of a career waiting for me at home when I graduated. Not without the proper application and attached resume, of course.

There was the ever stoic Sephiroth who was obviously fond of me and obviously interested in most aspects of my life. He'd just never admit it out loud. We'd chat once in a while, more often than I did with Roxas. I'd be lying if I told you I didn't see a bit of a father figure in the man.

I thought of my mom often, would call Tara once in a blue moon for some sort of behavioral report. Same old, same old. Different men. More drama. Drifting here and there. But at least, for the most part, I knew she was okay. I still didn't have and didn't want her new number.

On rare occasions Larxene would cross my mind. But she was promptly pushed out of it and never brought up again.

I'd worry, just a little, about how I'd cover my junior and senior years' tuition. I'd worry about what careers I could pursue with a photography major and whether or not I could make a stable living with it. I'd worry about where I would settle down to after I graduated—and how would Sora fit into that? Because I wanted her, always, in my life if I could help it. I'd ask her about it, ask her where she saw us ten years from now.

"Well, I expect ten babies. And a three-story house with a pool in the backyard and a two car garage. Maybe a motorcycle. And I want a big ass kitchen—"

"But seriously," I'd interrupted her.

I was sure she smiled. "If I'm with you, I really don't care."

And as sappy as that was, that was just fine with me.


What makes a story? The plot? The characters? Maybe its themes, its symbols. Who knows? Does it always have to have a proper beginning, an ending? I still think, not really. It's just a series of snapshots. It's picture after picture of different moments in life. Key moments. Maybe not yours, maybe not a person you know, but someone's life. It's those moments that hold and give meaning to that life. It's those moments, good or bad, that shape who you are and how you see the world. It's those moments that define us—or that we define.

I do define. I am defined.

I'm a photographer. Now and always.

I'm a son, someone's.

I'm a friend.

I'm a fighter.

I'm a lover.

I'm loved.

I'm strong.

I'm smart.

I'm beautiful.

I'm whoever and whatever I want to be. I've finally found a spark, bright eyed and true, that I can honestly say I'm willing to spend the rest of my life with. I've found peace of mind. I've found comfort in the strangest of places. I've found and made meaning for myself. And most of all, I've found clarity. Somehow the world makes more sense. Somehow things just click. I think differently. The world's less scary if I tackle it head on. Sora's shown me that. She's there with me, every step of the way, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

I get it.