Author- Esme Mackins.

Idea- I got it, when i was listening to 'the drumming song' by Florence + the machine.

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out

- The Drumming song; Florence + the machine.

It seemed to only happen with him. When ever he was mentioned or when I saw him.

At first, it scared me. I would wonder what was going on, and where it was coming from. It would start off really quiet, then as I got closer to him or more into the topic I was talking about, it would get louder. Louder than anything around. The sirens of the dashing police cars were over done by this sound so were the church bells that chimed every hour.

It was a drumming sound. it filled my head up, it made such an almighty sound, I would think I was having a migraine, but a good one. A tremendous headache that felt nice. Is there such thing these days?, no matter what I did, I couldn't get rid of it. when he was out of site, or off the topic, it would slowly die down, then come back, louder than before.

Love.

My mother must be insane. I can't love him!, he's eight years older than me! What would he do with a girl of fifteen years?. I'm no use to him. I'm not in love. I'd know if I was, that's what dad keeps on saying anyway. 'Trust me when I say this, You will know when you're in love.' he would always tell me when I went to him, asking him how to know you're in love. He was never any help these days.

He would come parading round here like he owned the place, thanks to the words of my faithful mother 'Make your self at home, my dear.', He done exactly that. getting food from the cupboards, drinks from the fridge, one day I even came into the house when my mom and dad were away on their monthly husband and wife time holiday, and found him at the dinning table with bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, shovelling it into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a year. He slept here most nights, claiming he can't be bothered to go home to his own apartment, I actually found out that he wanted to be my 'body guard'. One that was there twenty-four seven. But I wouldn't let him, So instead he just came and went whenever he pleased.

He is a family friend. That's what mom calls him anyway, she told me, when I was born, they couldn't keep him away from me, where I was, so was he, so, naturally like any other ten year old boy, he was heart broken when we moved away from Chicago, to make a new life in San Francisco, when I was two. Then three years later, we came back. He remembered me like it was just yesterday ; the Last time he had seen me. Whenever he heard that I was going out to play in the front yard, he would be there, despite the fact that he was thirteen years old, and had friends to entertain and hangout with, he would forget that he even had other friends to play with, he would stick to playing with me until it was time to come in for dinner, then would be round mine again just half an hour later to make sure I was OK.

Now that I'm fifteen, He understands that I have other friends to be with, and so does he, and he would be with them in the day, but when he got bored, he wouldn't tell the guys and ask if they wanted a drink and go to the pub, he would just up and leave and turn up at my house in a drunken state, declaring he would stay the night to watch over me and fall asleep in the landing out side his assigned room. Then in the morning, obviously a victim of sleep walking, he would find himself either hanging out the fridge with a tube of tomato purée in his hand, half squeezed and a line of it trailing down from the corner of his mouth to his collar bone, or in a bath tub, quarter filled with cold water, and he'd still be fully dressed.

But when he came over all sober and cheerful, he would cook me dinner, Anything I wanted. no-matter how hard he thought it would be. if he burnt it, we'd laugh it off and order a take out, or if I was in a nice mood, I'd cook him dinner, always what I choose, I never let him choose. It's my way or no way. And he would give me hell about it. we'd playfully argue about me being so selfish and stubborn, then he'd send me to bed because it was late and I had my tutor coming round the next morning at half seven.

The mornings with him were totally different story. I'm a teen. It;s expected of me to be a heavy sleeper, and not wake up when my alarm goes off. So In addition, I have two alarms. One was a curved black box, it had a screen with purple numbers, and would roll off my bedside table and hide somewhere in the room whilst making the most annoying sound on earth. The other one Looked awfully like a man. around five foot eleven, brown-y blond hair, bright blue orbs that would stare at me in the eye with a glare until I got up, he would wake me up a different way every morning, I swear he wanted to kill me some mornings; I've had a bucket full of icy water tipped on me, a fog horn in my ear, My mattress taken off of my bed and tipped upside down, he once thought it would be funny to jump up and down on my bed whilst singing 'I know a song that will get on your nerves' but that earned him a very harsh kick to the crown jewels, so he stopped doing that.

But just recently, well when I say that I mean, around five months ago, I started to get this sound making it's self known in my head when ever I was around him, It's a drumming noise. Like mom said it was love, I'm starting to think it is... I mean it doesn't do it for Jake or Danny, my two best friends, it doesn't happen around the girls either or any of his friends. Jennifer; My best friend, said I was going mad, crazy even.

Who gets drumming noises in their heads whenever their around a guy. That's just insane.

That's what I thought at first but it's getting stronger, everyday, and louder every time were laughing together. Like the other day, it was my fifteenth birthday, so he insisted on taking me out to a restaurant, as my parents weren't here to celebrate the day with me, and we were talking about anything that crossed our minds, and when it went quiet between us, I couldn't help but stare at him, listening to the drumming sound in my head, in a really good beat, I noticed, it was in rhythm with his breathing, so to confirm that the sound was shot towards him, I stupidly blurted out something you should never say whilst in a restaurant with a guy who is way older than you and a band who likes to stop at any given moment in night, and make your voice stand out from the crowd as it was loud. Very loud.

Stop breathing.

The looks I got at that moment forced me to shrink in my seat with a hooded look on my face, feeling the blood rush and run all over my cheeks to be known under my dark complexion. He Smiled, and let out a roar of laughter. I couldn't believe it. He was laughing at me. and there before my very own eyes, he sat up, taking a big breath and held it, I screamed, It was really painful. The noise. My heart, My hearts beating was irregular, It felt like I had just been stabbed a thousand times over, and the noise in my head got more fierce, like an angry noise, the banging thumped panicked, I held my head and shut my eyes, I felt myself falling and before I knew what had happened, I hit the floor. I clutched at my chest in immense pain, when all of a sudden it was gone, and He was right by my side, scooping me up in his arms, the look of worry and concern in his eyes. He held me tight to his chest, letting out a shaky breath, I smiled at the sound of his heart, It was thumping madly, He was stocking my raven locks out of my face, kissing my forehead, demanding to me not to do that ever again.

From that moment; I knew it was love, basically, I answered my own question; How do you know your in love? Well I found that if he died, so would I, The pain I went through that night was unbearable, and now, he's not letting me out of his sights. He would sleep on the ouch in my room, he would sit in the corner of the room when I was being home schooled, He even said that if I wanted to see my friends, they had to come over to see me, Or he had to come with me. The only occasion he would let me have time to myself was when I was showering and getting dressed, or on the toilet.

I knew I had to tell him. But at this moment in time, he was acting strange. He would start talking to me and we'd be OK, then he'd go quiet, and stare at me, with a look in eyes as if to say;

I'm so sorry.

I had no idea what he was going through. He wasn't himself, I mean he even stopped coming round, and staying the night at his own will, He stopped doing what ever he pleased, he started knocking on the door; not using the front door key my mom gave him when he turned fourteen. He started to scare me, he was not him. I didn't like it one bit. One night, around four in the morning, I woke with a start, not bothering to change or anything, I made my way out of my room, down the spiral stair case, and out the front door, On my way to his house.

I knocked three times, I was going to just get the key I picked up from the table at the bottom of the stairs at my house out of my pyjama pocket, but instead I played his game on him. To see what he would do. He answered. He looked like he hadn't slept in years. His hair greasy and unkempt, he had black eyes, the blue in his eyes now argy. He had cuts. on his arms, his hands, his knuckles. He had been beating himself up. Literally . He stood and stared at me. Not moving a muscle, I saw the door. It was coming towards me, in a closing manner, no. He was not doing this to me. my hands shot out in front of me and pushed the door open, and the gap that I managed to make, I slid through and claimed him. My small arms going around his waist, my head going to his chest. His was heaving. Heaving with air, his body shuddering, my hair getting showered with salt water.

He was crying.

Looking up, I saw him break. he broke before me, his knees buckling, sending us both tot he ground, me landing on top of him. He was clinging to me as if I was going to vanish into thin air if he let go. He started whispering to me,

I shouldn't be doing this. I can't do this. But I can't help it. I love you,

Shocked would be an understatement to what I felt. He loved me. Like I Loved him. I drew in a shaky breath, I had to tell him. He had a right to know. He wasn't alone. He wasn't mad. I loved him too. He had to know.

I Love you too. We can do this. We can and we will.

I told him in the firmest voice I could muster with tear rolling down my face, the jerks of my chest hindering me to get the words out. He hold tightened. I saw him, he had his eyes closed, as if peaceful at his final rest place. I couldn't help it but the muscles in my body took over my brain, they told me to lean up. So I did, My lips coming in contact with his chin, the four day stubble prickling at my red plump lips, every nerve working overtime. I reached up even more, my lips hitting his firm ones. I couldn't feel anything but his hands on my back, and his lips on mine, every thought I had running a marathon in my mind was now resting and catching their breath.

From that moment. I knew. I knew that we would last. The eight years making no appearance, it was just me and him. Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton. In love. Forever