Sorry that it's a little late. Here ya go. Oh, yeah, for Stella's and Macy's outfits, I based them off the Lady Gaga costumes in the Theatricality episode of Glee (I absolutely died when I saw that episode. Died, I tell you), specifically, Quinn's dress (Stella) and Rachel's second dress for Macy (favorite outfit on the show EVER. It was fierce).

Enjoy. It is kinda long.

A lot can happen in five years. It's a long time to mull over something, a long time to see mistakes and change, a long time to miss somebody.

Funny thing is, five years seemed to fly by, compared to the three years now, which seems to be just crawling at a snail pace.

Kevin and Stella both said during the family Christmas party the year after it's because this time, unlike the last time, she actually left with us being in good (or fantastic, magical and beautiful, in Stella's words) terms, and this time, waiting would be even harder and more difficult, because, as Kevin put it, "you won't be able to hold your patience, because all you'll be doing is think of her and wonder what she's thinking and doing. You can't wait for the next time you'll see her."

Without it being mentioned, that conversation ended at the rest of the family laughing hysterically at him (I refuse to say me, because that's just not possible).

Another time, when it was just the four of us brothers, Joe and Frankie (who both have must had drank a considerably high amount of champagne, beer in my younger brother's part) agreed when saying it seemed longer than five years because my brain refuses to function correctly, and that probably came from the small accident I had onstage at the Tony Awards because I thought some girl I saw in the audience looked a lot like you know who, so I got a little distracted.

Needless to say, they both had to get some stitches and Joe had his arm bandaged up for a while, which was not my fault (he tripped on the stairs while trying to run away from me), though I take full responsibility for Tank's almost broken nose.

I can't lie. That was fun.

I don't know how I managed to survive without having her with me for more than a thousand days, because I sure as hell thought I was going to lose it just being at the airport after I gave her a short kiss and hug goodbye.

But I did.

We made sure that the other was updated on the other's life, because that is the natural thing to do. There was Twitter, which meant our little affectionate messages to each other were made public (even though no one really uses it anymore, so it's sort of a win-win), Facebook (even more of a win-win), texting, e-mailing, and long-distance calling, which had to be my favorite. Just listening to her voice brings me back to where I was actually, genuinely happy.

But I didn't get to see her. She never went home because of training, but she's assured me that there are no males around to distract the team, even though she didn't really need to. I trust her enough to just let her be. Even during the holidays, she was just cooped up in that little field. Her mom flew over every Thanksgiving, every birthday, and every Christmas, so she wouldn't miss anything. She's asked me each time if I would like to come along, and each time, I had to force myself to say no. I somehow think it wouldn't be very poetic if I just dropped in there.

Besides, I was told by her teammates that men are never allowed in training sessions. The coach says it ruins their rhythm. I guess they really need to go to the Olympics.

And each time her mother would show up at the airport, she'd ask me if I had provided her with the mysterious first-class ticket with which she flew with. I would always tell her that I had no idea what she was talking about.

I watched her get the gold for the country. They beat the Brazilian (yes, the Brazilians) team, where she had made two of the team's overall goals of four, and I remember the way she spun around in happiness when they finally put the medal around her neck. There was a cocktail of emotions going on in me when everyone else was cheering in their own weird ways. Stella proceeded to kiss Joe and pull him down to the couch, Kevin went on to lift Frankie straight off the ground, mom and dad just danced around to the imaginary song in their heads, and Adam was never really introduced formally to her, so he just sat there, eating his chocolate cake with Danielle wiping off the icing on his shirt.

But I was the odd man out, once again. I just sat there, and I tried to get a smile on my face, but it just wouldn't come. I was happy, most definitely, because she'd finally achieved what she had been training and dreaming for. She finally did what she said she was going to do. I was depressed, because I wasn't there to cheer her on, unlike the way she had always tried to go drop by concerts, even just at the last song, to give me a little kiss to say what a great job I did. I was angry, most probably for the same reason, plus maybe the fact some guy tried to kiss her cheek. I was amused at one point, because she kicks the guy, right in that area where men are clearly not supposed to be kicked in, and the crowd just cheers behind her. I could've sworn that when the team blew a kiss to the cameras (they tell me it's a sign of unity or something), she mouthed my name right after.

And, like most people who have had the person they love the most leave them at their request for a dream they want to achieve, I am confused. But at the same time, I find myself falling even deeper in love with her, and wanting even more to see her.

But for now, I have to be content with these little messages, those short calls, the pictures sent through the internet, the other pictures , plus the food and other little trinkets she gave through her mom. They'll have to do.

I also realized, a little too late, I'm afraid, that I never got around to giving her my purity ring. When you've been wearing something for an unbelievably long time, you tend to forget you're wearing it. After she left, on the car ride home, only then did I notice that it was still there on my finger when my hand was on the wheel. Her mom would always ask me, right before she'd board the plane for Madrid, if I would want to give it to her. I know I should've said yes, but I don't know why I just turned her down. I know it really belongs to her, it always had been hers, and I know the real romantic thing to do was to give it to her, and let her wear it. But I couldn't just let it go. I always think of it as like bringing a little bit of her with me wherever I go.

Another funny thing is, she's never asked for it.

Most people think I'm overly-passionate (Joe and Frankie seem to believe it's called 'crazy'). They always ask why I'm never going out with anyone anymore, why I always seem to be alone. When I tell them that I already have a girlfriend, but she's not exactly living here at the moment, they ask me why I can't just move on, go find another girl, because there are sure as hell plenty of fish in the sea.

I always have the same answer. I tell them that once they meet her, they'll get it.

Another funny thing is, and I'm ashamed of this, is that I sometimes have to tell myself that every time I see Joe and Stella, Kevin and Danielle, even Frankie and whoever he was hanging out with. But I take comfort in the fact that there will never be another person like her, and that there can never be another first.

Oh, yeah. It's also because I love her.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, THREE YEARS LATER

"Nick! Where in God's name are my shades?"

Oh, jeez. Joe, shut up.

"Your costume will work fine without it," I tell him, walking into the master bathroom of his and Stella's grand mansion in L.A.

"Are you kidding?," he asks me incredulously, giving me a crazed look before turning back to his reflection in the mirror in front of him, "Horatio Caine is not Horatio Caine without the shades. You should know that-"

"Yeah, whatever," I tell him, looking at myself in the full length mirror as well, "why you and Stella chose a costume party as a theme for a baby shower, I'll never know-"

"Hey, man, I thought I told you before," he says, adjusting the belt of his all-black ensemble, "the baby's due on Halloween, so-"

"Yeah, yeah," I say, adjusting my bow tie. "You know, babies don't usually really come out on the due dates."

"Well, I learned to not care a long time ago. What are you even supposed to be?," he asks me, glancing at my tuxedo. Oh shit, it's really warm.

"James Bond," I tell him, trying to smooth down my curls, "that way I can still pass off as normal."

"A tux in August is supposed to be normal?," he asks me, cocking up an eyebrow.

"Well, Kevin managed to borrow an Iron Man costume from Marvel, and Frankie's spray-painted himself with glitter and put on an Edward wig, so I'm as normal as it gets today. Aside from you, unless you do those stupid one-liners," I tell him matter-of-factly.

"I could have borrowed?," he says in disbelief, "Damn."

"You're already over-the-top just as yourself, putting on a costume would have been overkill," I say, stepping back a little as he leans forward slightly to get a better look at himself.

"No one could ever get too much of Joe," he says, grinning at himself. Jesus Christ, I'm not related to him.

"Whatever, I'm gonna go help downstairs, don't even know why I came up here in the first place," I tell him, but, I bet he said this just to annoy me somehow, he calls out as I am already at the door, "you coordinated with Macy tonight?"

I turn around to get a good look at him, and reply, "she might not even be coming-"

"But you said she was arriving home today-"

"But she might not come," I emphasize, "you can't expect her to come straight here right after a flight-"

"But I already had a speech in mind-"

"What speech?"

"That you two were gonna be next in line-"

Oh, to hell with you, Joseph.

"Joe, now's not really the best time-"

"But I thought you were gonna, you know-"

"You know what, fine, here are your stupid, crappy shades," I cut him off in an attempt to leave the subject behind, taking out a pair of gold-rimmed aviators from my pocket and throwing it out to him.

He catches it effortlessly, but he looks at me furiously, saying, "I've been looking for these for hours, why didn't you-"

"Go get ready," I tell him, losing my interest, "don't even think of doing any of the lines."

"But-"

Too late. I'm already running down the stairs, trying to get as far away as quickly as possible.

One of these days, these people will stop getting me to plan these kinds of events that are just depressing, at least in my point of view.

A LITTLE LATER ON

This party isn't even thirty minutes in, and I already find myself shouting at everyone to behave, or put down whatever piece of very expensive crap they're holding. Apparently, Joe and Stella have a lot of it.

"Frank, stop harassing the kids, and don't get their candy," I tell my younger brother from across the room, who was apparently hanging out with the little children, playing charades or something, "kids, don't fall for it-"

"It's not like I wasn't gonna get anything from them-"

"Whatever, Frank, remember your sugar," I call back, already moving. This party had more people around than the wedding. And there are children everywhere.

I'm going to die.

"Stella, honey, I know you're pregnant, but you're gonna have to stay away from the baby cake until everyone's here," I tell the lady of the hour, already seven months in, a considerably large bump as a stomach, and reaching for the cake (sculpted like a baby dressed as a tiger, apparently Joe's idea of fun) in front of her.

"Oh, come on, it looks so cute," she said, smoothing out the few wrinkles that there are in her huge, pink, dress with multiple weird, large rings all around it, and she grabs a large, metal star from the table beside her chair.

"What are you even dressed as?," I ask her, helping her stand up from her seat, "Saturn?"

"No," she says, raising an eyebrow at me as we walk, looking for her husband, "for your information, I am sporting one of Lady Gaga's many iconic looks-"

"What's the point of calling it iconic when she dresses up like that all the time?," I tell her, wincing slightly as she clings on tightly to my arm.

"Don't sass me, Lucas," she says, cocking her eyebrows and blinking her 2-inch long, pink and purple-colored eyelashes at me. "She revolutionized the way people look at the Solar System."

"Right, I'm thrilled that people dress like the planets now," I say, patting her hand lightly.

She gives me a knowing look, I think it was my fidgeting that gave it away, and she asks me, "you know, if I had known you were Bond, I would've asked Macy to dress up as Tracy Draco or something."

"Tracy Draco?," I give her a little glare of skepticism.

"Oh, you know," she says, giggling at her own supposed genius, "the only real Bond girl-"

"I know who she is," I tell her, waving her off with my hand, "it's just that, I don't even think she'll even make it-"

"Why wouldn't she?," she says, propping a hand on her hip in an attempt to look serious, but with a bump like that, it looks a little strange. "I mean, she would do anything just to see you, and I doubt she'd miss my first baby shower-"

"The plane isn't even supposed to make it until midnight, and that's just an estimation," I tell her, but I somehow seem to be trying to convince myself instead. "I mean, you can't just expect her to come here right after."

She looks at me again with the annoyingly knowing, stupid look, and she just says, "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"What am I supposed to be nervous-oh," I say, realizing what this all must be about, "Kevin told you."

"He went overload on the champagne again," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. Typical Kev. "Nick, that's a really big thing you're about to do."

"I'm a little tired of doing this all the time," I tell her; there's no point in trying to do otherwise, now that I know Kevin, Joe, Stella, and probably my parents, and Frankie maybe bribed it out of one of the kids, "figured it was time to just stop."

"Well, I'm not so sure about it, but you can take comfort in the fact that we will always be here for you, whether you like it or not," she tells me, giving me a warm smile as she rubs her stomach with one hand, and patting my shoulder with the other. "I only wish you the best."

Since when have these people been this deep? "Parenthood will do you well," I tell her, smiling slightly, "I don't know about Joe, though-"

"What about me?," Joe suddenly chimes in, gliding beside me smoothly, his shades in his hands, and a stupid, cat-eye like look on his face.

"Your costume," she swoops in, grasping on to her husband's outstretched hand, "mine reminds him of astronomy, which he did really well in, and yours just annoys him because Miami is his least favorite edition of CSI-"

"Well, annoying Nick is just a small price," he said, putting on his shades in a slow-motion manner, reminiscent of David Caruso's performance, only, more infuriating, "to look good-"

"What did I tell you about the one-liners?," I tell him stoically, but still attempting to stay calm.

"But without the one-liners, I'm just some other dude in black," he whines, pouting at me, and I'm pretty convinced that behind those aviators, he has the matching sad look to go with it, "and what the hell, this is my party-"

"Which I planned," informing him of the many sleepless nights I spent arranging this thing, "I pulled out of doing SNL because of this-"

"Okay, okay," he says, waving his hand at me, "fine, but one of these days, Nicholas, you will see the error of your ways-"

"What error?"

"Look, you know what, Joe, baby's getting pretty restless, and I'm getting pretty hungry, so let's just go, okay?," Stella jumps in to save me again, hitting him to catch his attention, "can you get me something to eat?"

"What do you want?," he says to her, his expression going from hostile and pissed to sweet and perfect, "you want the pacifier-shaped burgers, maybe share a mobile marshmallow and hotdog platter, or get a slice of that baby cake," he says a little coldly, looking over at me.

"Oh, burn," I mock him, my eyes narrowing slightly, "at least I was a cute kid then, hope I could've said the same thing about you-"

"I want the pacifier thing," Stella declares, grabbing on to his arm and pulling him away, but it doesn't stop him from glaring back at me, shooting daggers.

"Congratulations! You'll make great parents!," I call out to them, the rest of the guests watch me as I chuckle quietly to myself. Making fun of me isn't going to get you anything, except probably humiliation. Or tears, take your pick.

I turn around, with the full intention of leaving the place and wait for Macy at the terminal (nevermind if that's going to take around four hours or more), but, because God is looking to make my world a little more colorful, I instead bump into Iron Man. That's just great.

"Oh, hey Nick," he pulls back the helmet, and I see Kevin's face greet me with a grin. I'd prefer to have the mask on. "Great party you got around going, huh?"

"I guess," I say, digging my hands into my pockets. I scan him, looking at his attire, which was completely made out of metal painted red and gold, complete with the little screws and laser weapon crap, and it looks almost functional. I still can't believe these people are my brothers.

"Oh, like the costume?," he says, beaming widely and giving me a salute, "I pulled some strings, called Robert Downey Jr., he talked to the studio and they let me borrow it. Turns out he wants to work with me, can you believe that?," he stops, laughing even louder this time around. He tries to thump my arm, but the joints in the suit don't allow him to, so his arm is stuck mid-air. "Can you-"

"Yep," I reply, taking hold of his wrist and, with plenty of effort, I manage to push it down to his side. "How do you walk in this thing?"

"I have wheels on the bottom," he tells me, lifting his foot and showing me the wheel on the sole of his 'boot'. "It's like metal skates, except a whole lot more complicated, and heavy."

"It looks fun," I tell him, though I'm not really caring.

"Not really," he says, but he's still smiling strangely enough. "But hey, better than Joe's Men in Black get-up right?"

I'm about to correct him, my mouth already a little open, but I stop myself instead and say, "yeah, I guess it is."

He smiles again, even letting out a small chuckle, and says to me, "so, Mr. Bond, were you just about to leave?"

"Yeah- I mean, no," I say, shaking my head at my mistake, "no, I'm not. As much as I don't like this little get-together, I can't leave. This is their first kid, after all. And I'm gunning for godfather-"

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, laughing at me, attempting to shake his finger at me, but to no avail. "I'm oldest, and I'm more responsible."

"Since when?," I say, questioning him, "even during the JONAS days, the last time we left you alone with the guitars, they ended up becoming firewood-"

"In my defense, I didn't know how to use the heater yet," he says, moving his head slightly. Apparently, he can't move his head in the helmet either. "And you do realize that we went almost nine years without mentioning that-"

"Oh, I can't believe we wasted that much time not talking about this," I say, laughing to myself while ignoring the deadly glare he's giving me. "But no joke, those were really expensive-"

"I bought them, I should know," he says, raising his arm high enough to hit me squarely at the rib. Metal does not do the bones any good. "And when were you the most responsible?"

"Okay, where should I begin?," I say, leaning forward, as if I were threatening him, "do you want from when we were little kids, or should I just skip to the JONAS era-"

"Not my point, little bro," he says, laughing in an attempt to shut me up, "at least I'm actually a real dad, and the closest you've gotten to having a kid was with Macy three years ago-"

"That was a false alarm-"

"I know, genius-"

"And I haven't seen her since then-"

"I know that too, genius-"

"You brought it up-"

"Whatever, dear Nicholas," he says, but the mask falls and hits him squarely on the face. "Point is, I would make a better godfather, because I have more experience from running around all the time, and this is my first nephew, or niece, whatever-"

"You're being surprisingly immature about this-"

"Oh, come on, Nicky," he says, whining a little, "Since you and Frankie haven't exactly given me a lot of hope, Joe is the last resort, and I mean, I made you godfather to Laurie-"

"Which reminds me, Kevin," Danielle interrupts, a teary little baby girl dressed as a fairy weeping in her arms, "why don't you take care of her first?"

"Why don't you ask the godfather first?," he says, pointing over to me.

"No, why don't you show him how mature and dependable you really are?," she says sweetly, lifting their daughter a little, "besides, my kimono's literally just squeezing me half to death, and I really hate this make-up," she states, gesturing to the red, black and white robe she was wearing (tightened with a very stiff-looking obi belt), and the pale white face paint and ruby red lipstick on her face.

"I don't know, you make a pretty good geisha," I say absent-mindedly, gaining a beam from her, and another death glare from my older brother.

"At least someone appreciates the costume," she says, huffing slightly at Kevin as she adjusts my niece in her arms.

"I never said I didn't like it, hun," he says, trying to move, but the suit fails him yet again, "dammit-"

"No swearing in front of our little girl," she said, using one hand to cover the exposed ear of her weeping child, "and can you please take her, I need to go to the bathroom-"

"Can't you ask Adam?," he says, pouting at her.

"He's busy flirting with the other guests, with Frankie," she replies, almost in a bored tone, "besides, you know how weak that little boy is; he can't even carry his own school bag."

"Ironic that he's dressed as the Hulk," I note, looking over to the crowd, and spotting an eight year old decked out in fake green muscles, standing beside a sparkled up Frank.

"Yes, it is," Kevin agrees, even though I know he doesn't really care, and he turns back his attention to his wife, "well, it's not like I can really carry her or anything in this suit," he points out, referring to his outfit.

"What do you suppose I do, then?," she asks him, her hold on the tiny girl getting tighter, "I mean, I don't know most of the people here-"

"You know what, Dani, I'll take her for you," I say, offering my hands to her, waiting to receive my goddaughter. She is the most adorable little fourteen months old ever, with her warm brown eyes and curly, doll-like hair. It helps that she's also dressed in pink, complete with a tiara and wings.

She smiles at me warmly, glowering at him a second later, and carefully handed over her daughter over to me. Once she's in my arms, the little, fragile baby quiets down, almost immediately, and stares at me with her small doe eyes, and goes on to poke at my nose with her miniature hand, giggling repeatedly.

Most people think I wouldn't be good with kids. I would beg to differ.

"Thanks, Nick. You're a lifesaver," she says, giving me one last grin, and one last angry, haughty look at Kev, before strutting off in tiny steps (most probably because of her wooden slippers. Kevin insisted on accuracy).

"So you're just going to take my wife and daughter away?," he jokes with me, but it doesn't seem very obvious.

"Of course not, but because you don't have the ability to move freely, I'll have to take care of little Lauren here, and it just happens that my niece seems to like Agent 007 more than she likes Tony Stark, right, Laurie?," I say, moving her a little so I could see her better, and she answers with giggles and more poking, with me making a little fish face. "Don't worry, Kev, you're still the daddy, after all."

"Stupid suit," he says, looking down at his get-up, "and I need to go to the bathroom all of a sudden."

"Can't you just go in there," I ask, blowing playfully at her face, and she just laughs even louder. "I mean, that's what he did in the sequel, right? You could even drink that water-"

"You do realize that this is just a costume, right? That sort of technology isn't even made up yet," he tells me.

"Uh-huh, but I guess that just leaves me more time with Lauren, right? Daddy looks uncomfortable, yep?," I reply, holding her tiny hand up in the air.

"You like her more than you like me, that's just great," he mutters, noticing that I'm not even giving him a second glance.

"I've had twenty-eight years of trying to like you, time I give someone else a chance," I say, bouncing around as she giggles again.

"I'm hurt."

"Laurie's sorry for being more adorable than you," I say, showing off the little toddler to him, whose wide eyes switch from me to him, looking confused.

"Aww, well, papa can't be mad at you," he says, tapping her nose very lightly, making sure his costume doesn't do any sort of damage on her. "You're not so lucky, though, Nick."

"Fair enough," I say, just as she lets out a little yawn. "Oh, getting tired? Wanna sit down?"

For some strange reason, while she shakes her head, Kevin just watches me intently as I shush her quietly as she dozes off. "You want one, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?," I ask him, cradling her in my arms.

"For all it's worth Nick, you would make a great dad. Not as good as me, but still," he says, flattering himself. "It's nice seeing you actually be loose with someone, other than Macy, of course."

"Having to run around after kids does sound like fun," I say, smiling at the prospect. "But I don't think that's going to happen for a long time-"

"Why not? Got pretty close to it-"

"Kev-"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, waving me off, "you look pretty relaxed there, li'l bro. It looks a lot more natural than I thought it would be."

I catch a glimpse of the snoozing child, and I say, just out of the blue, "can I keep her?"

"No," he says, laughing, "but now that I'm reminded of it, what are you going to do with Macy?"

"Yep, now that I'm reminded of it too, you should really stay away from any alcohol-"

"It was that one time," he chuckles again, "but all kidding aside, Nick, that's a big deal, that thing you're about to do. Why don't you give her some time to adjust, then maybe when you give her the news, maybe she won't be as shocked-"

"Kev, this is Macy, she's going to be shocked anyhow," I tell him, shaking my head. "And don't you think I would know when the right time is? I'm pretty sure she's getting pretty tired of this too-"

"But, this is different," he says urgently, but in the thing he's wearing, I can't really take him all that seriously. "I mean, how long have you been together, quote unquote?"

"Ten years, four months-"

"I'm good with ten years," he cuts in, stopping me, "that's a long time, do you realize that?"

"Well aware of it."

"Are you just going to throw that away? There's never going to be a guarantee that this is going to work for either of you-"

"Well, technically, I'm not throwing it away, maybe letting it go and switching it for something else, but not really," I tell him, "and it's not going to change anything. At least, I hope so, I mean, I guess that she would want to take a-"

"But-"

"Look, Kev, can you just be the supportive brother here?," I say, hearing the little girl's quiet snores, "maybe a change of topics would be nice?"

"Are you even prepped for this?," he pushes on, the look on his face getting earnest, "I mean, when do you plan on telling her?"

"On the car ride home after I pick her up," I answer casually, my hold on the sleeping baby getting tighter.

"Isn't that a little too soon? I mean, can't you wait a little, she just got here-"

"Not really," I say, deadpanning him completely.

"Isn't it going to awkward, even just a little bit?"

He's persistent.

"We're kinda past those awkward moments, and I just figured I'll get it over with quickly, isn't that going to be better for both of us," I tell him indifferently, "wait, so you don't want me to do this?"

"I do, dear lord, I do, but are you even sure?," he asks me directly, "she just came off a plane, is it even the right time?"

"I'm exhausted, Kev," I say, literally and emotionally, "I just want to move on with my life."

"I'm pretty sure that she'd like to move with you," he said a little stiffly.

"We'll see about that," I say, and the fairy in my arms is really out of it now, as her snoring has grown even louder. "Can you hold her for a bit, I just wanna get a drink-"

"Have you been paying any sort of attention?," he says, a little outraged, and going on to try to lift his arms, which ends up hanging in mid-air.

"Fine, can you get it then?," I say, letting the child's small head rest on my shoulder.

"How do I-"

"You have wheels, go use them," I say to him, with him giving me a glare.

"Fine, mimosas good?," he asked, propping up the wheels on his shoes.

"Champagne is your thing, not mine," I tell him.

"Mimosas it is, then," he says, and before I can retort, he rolls off, a little clunkily, and leaves me alone with his little girl.

"Your dad is pretty outlandish," I murmur quietly, but not getting a response from Lauren. "But he is a lot smarter than we all give him credit for. Sometimes."

She just continues to doze. Ahh, adorable.

I actually do want to be a dad. But I can only do it with one person, funnily enough.

Try guessing who that is.

I turn around, with me having the initial plan of bringing her to the nursery Joe and Stella had built for their own child, but, because God still thinks my world isn't colorful enough, I walk into someone, a girl, presumably, almost pushing her straight to the floor.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," I mumble as she composes herself.

"No, I'm totally fine," she says in a sweet voice, shaking her head. Huh, she sounds familiar. "Sorry, I wasn't looking."

When she walks away, I can't help but look at her back. She was wearing black and silver shades, and didn't leave me enough time to see her face, but from what I can see, she was another reincarnation of Lady Gaga, but this time, it was different, as in, unique. It reminds me of that one disco ball outfit, but instead of broken mirror bits, it was black fabric. There were still the crazy shapes and all, the wide hip figure, the little silver and black triangular piece in the middle of her chest, the sweetheart neckline on the strapless dress, lace, the black stockings and long, black gloves.

Wait. Why would I note that down? It's not like I know this girl after all.

Or do I?

I mean, she did tell me that her hair went back to its natural color, and this person's hair does remind me of the color of her locks from when we were first dating, but then again, she didn't tell me she got a haircut, and this girl's hair is really short, like, it's an angled sort of bob cut, but she has the same exact bangs that I would sweep off of her face or behind her ears.

Is this her?

But how?

What am I supposed to do?

"Macy?"

She, to my surprise, looks over her shoulder, and removes the shades from her face, and for the first time in three years, I see her face to face. She's still as gorgeous as ever, but the first thing that draws my attention was her eyes. Still twinkling the same way after all this time. Oh, and her lips. I'm wondering if she still has any of that Pina Colada lip gloss that I love so much. I'm also wondering if they still feel the same way they do.

"Hi, Nick."

Okay, decided to split it into two separate chapters. I went overboard again. Am planning a two-shot after this, will be a Nacy again, but it's a lot more depressing. Just thinking of the idea bummed me out.

Don't wait up. And review. I will be mad if there are no reviews (no I won't, but still).