A/N: Regina's response as requested. It is probably not what you all expect but I do hope you like it.

I will try and update this again soon x

So I ran towards her house and back in a flash, dropping the scruffy piece of paper from my diary onto the step outside her door. Terrified of being caught there I didn't want to linger but now I seem to be doing just that. Of course I am doing it from a distance though. I wait just long enough to see her open her door and look confused as she stares at the note flapping lightly in the breeze.

I swallow hard, watching as she reaches down and snatches it up with poise. She stares at its blank surface knowing it is for her and no doubt from me, then proceeds to look around for any sign of me. I duck down further where I am hiding paranoid that she can see me and then don't look back up until I hear the door shut and I am certain she has returned inside.


I hold the scrappy piece of paper in my hand and stare at it. I know it is from her but I am not compelled to open and read what is inside just yet. Crossing to my study I thunder inside and throw it down on the desk as I walk around and seat myself comfortably in my leather chair.

Creamy yellow paper stares at me. I feel myself scowling,

The idea of what is scribed upon it and concealed within folds frightens me a little. I have actually felt like this since last night now that I think about it and slowly I clench my fists in frustration. Does she not understand that I can't take this pressure. Not now. Not ever.

I have a life that does not revolve around her and her needs. A job that I love and want to be able to enjoy without feeling that I have to commit to another. She has become quite clingy lately and I am not sure I like the behaviour. The more I tried to get close to her the lower we both seem to get and I don't want to be dragged down and suffocated by superfluous and unimportant dramas. I have real issues and a real past. Issues that stem from actual occurrences and horrible times in my life, not over dramatized mediocre, silly and childish concerns.

I exhale deeply even though I only spoke that in my mind, feeling exhausted by it. She is such a mess and without any real reason or need to be.

She makes my head spin!

I exhale quickly again, frustration taking hold on me and I don't want to act out on intention and maybe regret the decision.

Suddenly reaching forward I snatch the paper up again and just hold it. My eyes drop to my bin and the thought crosses my mind just to throw it away. I can't, reason being it is too easy to reach down and lift it back out if I change my mind. Flicking the folded page fast in mid air I contemplate what I actually want to do.

Finally I decide to read it. Just once; and once I know of its content I can decide correctly on how it should be filed. Trash. Keepsake. Burned never to see the light of day again.

Slowly I unfold the paper, seeing black ink at the top of it first which is addressed to me personally.

That is bold, I think as I slowly unfold the rest of the sheet to reveal scribbled ramblings.

Sighing deeply in contempt I start to read even though the content is hard to decipher amongst the splash marks caused clearly by fallen tears.

I am annoyed at reaching the bottom of the page and realising I am crying now too. Quickly I wipe at my eyes and throw the paper down on my desk after one of my tears falls onto the page staining it and smudging ink on one of the many declarations of 'love' it contains.

Damn! I don't want to be in this state over her, not now; I don't need the pressure.

I am conflicted and quickly pick it up, reading quickly again. My tears continue to flow as I try to make sense of this little outburst and how she developed such feelings. I have never given her any reason to think this 'love' thing exists between us.

Naturally I start scrunching the paper in my palm until it is crumpled to within an inch of its existence. If only I could crush it to dust.

Angry and gripping tightly in the ball of paper I have created out of the love note, declaration, confession; what ever the hell it is supposed to be, I simply let go and it drops onto the varnished top of my desk. Then I stare at it, maybe if I do so for long enough it will 'poof' and disappear or suddenly become inflamed and no longer exist.

Nothing works. It just stares back; a screwed up ball of feelings and it makes me feel sick.

Why has she put me in this terrible position?

Getting up quickly when I can stand it no longer I storm out of my office, wiping quickly at the tears I no longer wish to fall and run upstairs to my bedroom. I will not and can not be seen like this by anyone and I want to be alone. Properly alone.

Slamming the door I am careful to lock it and then I cross over to my vanity and sit before the mirror. I wipe again quickly at my eyes and sniffle before looking up and seeing my reflection.

There she is staring back at me; a broken hearted girl. The one who has felt unloved for so long, the one who worries but tries to conceal it all inside. The one who has taught herself over many years not to feel but can't help it and the one with defences so high I let people scale the wall to the top only to push them back down when they have gotten too close.

She has gotten too close!

That is how this horrible mess has come to be. She has developed feelings based on this closeness I have allowed. Friends was one thing and it was working but lovers.

Is she serious?

We barely know each other.

Actually I am not sure we know each other as well as we thought we did.

I ponder that thought for a few moments whilst wiping away the black smudges of eyeliner from my eyes and in essence the evidence of any upset.

Actually I'm not sure either of us really know the real side of the other.

I stare at my face, a little blotchy and red from being upset and take a deep breath to compose myself. I am an adult, maybe I should deal with this in the grown up way in which I would everything else. Sitting here crying over it won't achieve anything and it certainly isn't making me feel better.

Wiping my face once more I then reach for the foundation. Slowly I re-apply it to my face making sure to cover every blemish and imperfection until my mask is firmly back in place. Eyeliner follows, enhancing my eyes and then a touch of mascara and some lipstick.

When I finally look back up I see me and a quirk of my lips resembles a half smile as I rise and turn to leave my bedroom.

We need to have a chat.

I need to know why?