Previously:

Krayonder, after almost failing Mechanics several times, had been assigned a tutor in the form of a bespectacled, curly haired nerd by the name of Specs. Over the next year, the two become best friends, developing feelings neither are prepared to act upon. Until two weeks before their graduation when invitations come out for the Senior Prom and Krayonder mucks up big time. In an attempt to fix his relationship with Specs, he invites her to prom. She merely responds with "Midnight. I'll be the one in green." This is what happens after.

Krayonder glanced at his watch for the fifth time that evening. 11:02pm. 58 more minutes. Fifty eight. He could do it.

Lifting a plastic cup to his lips, he sipped at the punch and grimaced. For the only drink the Academy had provided for the dance – it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted.

Sighing, he placed the plastic up in the bin beside the table and took a walk around the perimeter – a word he'd learnt from Specs – of the gymnasium. Something he'd been doing every half an hour since 9:00. Every half an hour. He now knew the gym even better than before, much better than he wanted to know it anyways.

He glanced around at the door for a glimpse of Specs, but she still wasn't there. He didn't know what he was going to say to her, when she came – if she even came at all. He had no plan, no strategy for what the words that would spill out from his mouth would be. Knowing his luck, the stupid part of his brain would take over and make a complete fool of himself.

Reaching the drinks table once more, he took his place at the end of the table once again. Glancing at his watch again, he bit his lip. 11:17pm. 43 more minutes. Forty three more freaking minutes.

"Hey Kray," A voice drawled from behind him. He wiped his head around, and found himself face-to-face with Ashley Webster, popular-slut extraordinaire.

"I've told you – it's Krayonder." He replied exasperated, "'Kray' sounds like one of those weird nick names you girls give each other." He tried to take a step back, but found the back of his legs hitting the edge of the table. The girl in front of him reeked of far too much perfume – something that he had never seen, or smelt, Specs wearing. It repulsed him, "What do you want Ashley? I thought I was 'unworthy' of your attention, considering the fact that I-"

"Hang about with that nerdy, potato-face loser?" Ashley interjected, "But she's not here, is she? In fact, I haven't seen you with her for the past… what, week? Week and a half? So as you're clearly not hanging around with her anymore, I no longer have to treat you differently." She took a step closer, the scent of her perfume wafting over Krayonder, making him want to be sick.

"Actually, she's coming here tonight, so if you don't mind I-"

Ashley scoffed, "Wait, you're telling me you actually asked that freak show to prom?" She folded her arms, sneering, "Who would have thought you could sink low enough to ask a nerd to prom."

Krayonder shifted uncomfortably, "She's not a -"

"Not a nerd? Ha!" Ashley took another step forward, "Then what is she? 'Different'?" She smirked, "Oh I've heard that one before – oh yes we're all so different. Face it Krayonder," her face hardened, "she's a loser and you know it. Quit defending her. She's nothing."

"That's it!" Krayonder snapped, "I've had enough. I don't want – or need – to listen to you talk trash anymore. Specs is the single, most amazing girl I've ever met. She's kind, and caring and considerate, and no matter how much she tries not to she has the capacity to love so much more than cold, stuck up, horrible people like you." He took a step back, lifting his chin, "Now – if you don't mind, I'm going to go. I'm not really interested in listening to you bitch about the people I care about."

As he began to walk away from the now fuming Ashley, he felt himself being pulled back towards her and a pair of very unwanted lips crushed against his, Ashleys hands gripping his arms, holding him there. Now, the Krayonder from one year ago would have jumped at the chance to kiss Ashley Webster, however, this was the not Krayonder from one year ago that was currently kissing Ashley Webster. The current Krayonder that was being assaulted by a pair of bright red lips wanted nothing more than to sprint away from the situation and rinse his mouth out with as much soap as possible, which he would have been doing – if it weren't for the deceptively strong hands holding him in place. The message was clear.

He wasn't getting away from her that easy.

If Krayonder had looked at his watch at that exact moment, he would have seen that it was now exactly 12:00. If he had turned around, he would have seen the doors being gently opened by, in his eyes, the most beautiful girl in the galaxy. He would also have seen said beautiful girl's reaction to seeing him.

But he didn't.

And Ashley did.

Pulling away, Ashley smirked at the gobsmacked boy in front of her, then turned her gaze towards the girl behind them. Krayonder followed her gaze and turned to meet Specs's gaze briefly before she tore her eyes away to turn and run back out the door.

"Specs!" He cried out, trying to run after her (damn Ashley and her deceptive strength and painfully sharp nails), "Specs – no wait, it wasn't like that!"

The doors slammed shut.

By now, the whole senior class was watching them. Krayonder turned back to the smirking blonde, anger brewing behind his eyes. With strength he didn't really know he possessed, he wrenched his arm out of her grasp and, in turn, grabbed her shoulder, "Don't ever come near me again." He said in a dangerously low tone, "I don't ever want to see your face again. Ever." And with that, he turned and left the gym, following the path of the runaway girl.

He knew his true feelings for her now. Well, he probably had for a while, he only seemed to have the balls to do something now. Why it took so long he would never know, and it was this conundrum he would beat himself up about for years to come.

He also knew exactly where she would go. Not the library, or the tech lab, or even the artificial garden on the fourth floor. Reaching her door, he pounded on it, out of breath from running, "Specs!" He called.

Silence.

He knocked again, but got no answer. Desperate now, he lifted a finger and punched in her door combination.

The light flashed red.

Letting out a growl of frustration, he pressed the numbers again. And again. And again.

As he pressed the combination for the fifth time, he began to feel tears make their way down his cheeks. His fingers slipped from the combination pad as he slid down to the floor.

"Specs," he choked out, pressing a hand to the door, "Julia, please. Please…"

The door remained closed. Silent tears still streaming down his face, he sat there, one hand still pressed against the door, the other in his lap, defeated.

He stayed there all night, eventually falling asleep on the floor outside. Specs had to creep around him the next morning to make it to mission assignment. Not before placing something in his outstretched palm, wrapping his fingers around it to make sure he didn't drop it in his sleep. She hoped to Dead God they weren't placed on the same ship. She needed to get away. To run. To hide.

She knew it wasn't goodbye for them. Not yet at least. She knew that he would find her. He always did. One day, maybe when the time was right, they would meet again. One day.

Ten minutes later, Krayonder would wake up, curled up on the floor, with terrible back pains and something curled tightly in his fist. He would find a silver necklace curled in his palm, with a circular diamond charm hanging from it, and a note. The note itself was so Specs, it almost made him start crying all over again. Short and to the point. The words were oh so familiar, something she had said to him one year ago, when they first met. It rang true, a metaphor for their entire situation.

Bit of a one sided deal, don't you think?

Then beneath it,

Give it some time. You'll always find me, one day.

Krayonder would come back to her room everyday for the next year in a desperate hope that she would be there. But she never was.

And she never would be.

It wasn't until, nearly eight years later, Krayonder would receive a mission, to go fly on a starship to an uncharted alien planet and prep it for human colonisation.

The mission seemed ordinary. Nothing unusual. Very common.

What he didn't know was that, halfway across the galaxy, Specs received the exact same mission.

Fate, it seemed, had intervened once more.

That moment in the hallway outside her room wasn't goodbye.

Merely,

Farewell.

Betcha didn't think this would ever happen, huh?