okay so this is the fastest update i've EVER done. feel privileged. also, a bit of a change this chapter. Kind of filling the gaps, an insight into Naomi's soul, if you so wish it to be. May update later, if not tomorrow. Keep reviewing, i'll keep smiling!

Thank-You for reading,

LAVVV xxx

The Gaps: Freddie's POV:

Most people think I'm closed off, unfriendly. That I comfortable in my own skins, almost arrogant in my aloneness. They think I don't want friends, that I don't need friends. They're wrong. It's just; I've got everything I need.

Naomi and I could be more opposite: number one, she's a girl, I'm a boy (ignoring the fact that she's more man that I'll ever be). Her mum's never had enough money, but is the most selfless woman I'll ever meet; my dad's always had too much money, and never shares. But we also have one thing in common. We build walls. We build walls around our feelings, around our hearts and around our souls. Our life goal is not to get hurt. And as much as our hardened outer shell states otherwise, we need each other. It's that simple.

I met her when I was Four Years Old. Remember the snotty little kid in the playground who always looked slightly out of place, too thin, too uncoordinated, but at the same time always looked as if he was insignificant? That was me. Naomi was the most intelligent little girl with the blondest hair I'd ever seen. The only girl wearing boy's uniform, she always was stubborn. I don't know why, but I found myself drawn to her – she's always had it, whatever it is. I don't believe in fate, but luck must have been helping when we were sat next to each other. To this day I have no idea why the teacher thought it would be a good idea, but if I ever saw her again I'd thank her a thousand times over. I told Naomi my name and she rolled her eyes and looked away, but she had that power to make you love her without even realising – even then. She always introduced herself in the same way. 4 years old, and for the first of many times, she shocked the system:

"I'm Naomi, I hate injustice."

She tried her hardest not to make any friends, but I followed her around like a puppy dog, whining until she got so sick and tired of ignoring it, and agreed to come home with me for tea. My mum forgot to pick us up that day – I know now she was on a downer – and I ran away from school, from Naomi, as fast as I could, crying as hard as I could. She followed me, held me, and walked me back to school. She didn't let go of my hand until every last tear had dried on my face. She created the unbreakable bond

I watched her grow, saw the beautiful, fun and happy Naomi that she hides away, thrive. She was always my foundations, there to hold me when my mum died. I watched her the day her dad came crawling back into her life, saw her eyes fill with joy. I picked up the pieces of her shattered heart when he left again. I watched her put the last brick into her wall, build her defences and not let anyone in. I watched her close off from the world. I know that if I hadn't been so persistent at the tender age of 4 she would've never had the relationship she needed, and had with me, with anyone else.

We never talk about our feelings, not really. Superficially, I'll ask her how she is and inevitably the answer is almost always good. Not that that ever answers the question. But if she's crying, I'll comfort her. She knows I'll always be there, and vice versa. She's my rock.

I knew she loved me but she never showed it, for fear that I or anyone else would break her heart. I was the brother she needed, my dad the father she never had. Even now, when my dad and I have drifted apart, she still visits him. And in turn, Naomi gave me the support I needed, and her mum's house became my hiding place, the friendly place in an unfriendly world.

But out of everything I knew about Naomi, nothing prepared me for the broken voice I heard earlier:

"Freds? I need you."

Her voice, faltering over the plea for help, punched through that wall. I didn't ask why, the unwritten rule of our friendship is unconditional support, no questions asked. I knew she'd tell me when she could.

I didn't question her at all. Never needed to. It's all about trust. I'd give my life for her, 100 times over, if I thought it would make her happy. And I knew at this moment, exactly what she wanted me to do.

I grabbed my jumper, and stuffed it into a bag, adding a bottle of vodka, my remaining weed and some pills to the clothes – just in case. I picked up my skateboard and nicked the bank card out of my dad's wallet. Then I left the house, with only a note to show for where I was going:

'Naomi needs me, I've gone to London'

It had only been two days since she'd left. And she was already broken.