"Dearest Sky,

I must admit that I find writing a letter instead of a Whatsapp message, somewhat of a challenge.

Not knowing what you think when you read this, having to wait for your response for days, weeks, instead of mere moments— Or am I assuming too much, thinking that you will even write me back?

You have no reason to do so. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me.

I wish you are alright, but I fear that you are suffering. I am tormented by the thought that you suffer and there is nothing I can do to help you. I can't come to you and take care of you, read to you, as you did when I was in pain. I can't offer you anything - and I can't stop thinking about how alone you must feel, how frightened.

I wonder how much I dare say. Ink on paper is eternal. What if this letter falls into the wrong hands? What if your father opens it and reads these words? Will I only cause you more problems?

I wonder if I dare to write about how much I miss you. How much I miss your smile. How much I miss feeling your lips against mine, your body on the bed in my arms when we are kissing. I cannot bear the thought that it might never happen again. I miss everything about you, your laughter, your voice, the color of your hair - my world is suddenly empty, so dark, now that you're not in it.

But I can only blame myself. I know this is my fault, and I am not afraid to write it, even if someone else might read these words. Why should I care what the rest of the world thinks, when your opinion of me is the only one that matters?

I can only hope you'll forgive me. I have so many regrets, but the biggest one is how I've treated you.

I wish we'd met under different circumstances. I cannot stop thinking about that night in my backyard, and by God, I wish I had never said or done the things that I did. I was selfish, and I was cruel and I know it. What you are going through now is my fault, and that thought pains me like nothing else.

I think about you all the time.

Are you thinking about me at all?

Please, if you can, write to me.

Yours,

Cody"

"That sounds like a love letter," said Luke, when Sky stopped reading and put down the sheet of paper filled with Cody's graceful, old-fashioned handwriting.

She lay on the bed on her back, whereas Luke sat on the floor, painting his toenails with a shocking shade of neon yellow that matched his hair. It was late already, past dinner time, and there were no more activities for the day, so they were hanging out in her room - a small and simple room, with pale green walls, a bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers for her clothes. There were no curtains, no paintings on the wall - but Sky had asked for a vase and picked some flowers from the garden to give the room some warmth. It did little good - this still didn't feel like home, but a hospital.

"Come on, he doesn't say the word love once," Sky sighed and glanced at Luke.

"No, but he says it in every other word I can imagine."

Sky bit her lip and frowned. The letter was no doubt emotional. Cody missed her, desperately, so it would seem. But she missed him too - and it didn't mean she was in love with him. She missed the connection they had, the passion, the way she felt alive when he touched her, like there was fire in her veins. She knew he shared that feeling, but love? He had never even hinted that he might feel that way about her, and she had always brushed it off as ridiculous, but now—

"What's with all the apologies?" Luke asked, bringing Sky's attention back to the moment. "What did he do?"

Sky made a face. "Sold me drugs. And mistook me for a prostitute."

"Seriously?" Luke glanced up from his toes, then shook his head making the bright yellow strands of his hair dance around his pale face. "Girl, what the fuck?"

"A long story," Sky replied. She didn't want to explain all about the rumor Hawk had started - about her fucking guys in the janitor's closet, and that making everyone think she was a whore. Cody probably never would have said what he had, had he not heard that stupid rumor - and it pained Sky to know he still felt bad about it.

Would it always be a stain in their relationship? Like a crack in marble, something that would slowly crumble the stone from the inside out and turn it into dust?

"Give me your toes, I'll do you next," Luke said and Sky sat up on her bed, throwing her legs over the edge.

"You got any other color?"

"I've got this green one. Looks like toxic waste," Luke grinned and produced a small bottle of shockingly bright green nail polish from the pocket of his pink sweats.

"Wow - that's… like a nuclear plant exploded. It's awesome," Sky replied. She never would have chosen that color for her nails, but here she couldn't afford to be too picky, could she?

Sitting on the floor, next to the bed, Luke took one of Sky's small feet into his hands. His fingers were thin and his touch was cold, but firm and a look of concentration settled on his delicate face as he started to work on her toenails.

The pile of letters - minus the one from Hawk - was on the bed next to Sky, and with a sigh, she turned her eyes back to them. She had only read one of Cody's letters to Luke - there were several more in that thick envelope. The other ones were less like love letters, though, and more like diary entries where he described happenings of his daily life with precise, descriptive language and sharp, sarcastic comments that formed an enjoyable read. Sky had read them all multiple times by now - it was three days since Dad had brought the letters. The parts where Cody talked about Leigh and David made her smile and the description of the neverending drama in the Drama Club as they tried to choose what their next play would be, made her laugh out loud. Cody had a talent with words - Sky made a mental note to tell him that the next time they saw.

He had also sent her a couple of cute postcards with the same grumpy-looking hedgehog that had been pictured in the apology card he had given her that day in the library - one that said "Get well soon " and another one with the text "I wish you were here." Sky was planning on putting them on the wall if only she remembered to ask for some blu-tack or tape from the office.

And last, but not least, there were the first three chapters of A Little Life, printed out and tied with a red, silk ribbon, with a post-it note on the cover saying "I didn't know if you had any books, so here's some reading for you."

He's really thinking about me, about what I need, about what would make me feel better. That thought felt warm in her chest, her heart swelled. Maybe— maybe he does have feelings for me?

"Let me hear about the other letters. You seem to have gotten many. " Luke said, and Sky turned to look at him. The nails of her right foot were already done, the neon green was so bright it made Sky's head hurt. She was hoping it would fade a bit as it dried.

"Not much to tell," Sky admitted with a shrug. "My friends send their love, but not much more - I mean, they don't really know what I'm going through, so what are they gonna say? They didn't even know that I was using."

"At least they write," noted Luke rather dryly. "No one bothers to write to me anymore. I mean— they did when I was here for the first time, but now—"

The end of that sentence turned into a shrug, and Sky felt his sadness in the air between them, even if he didn't say it out loud. He was sitting in front of her, crossed-leg on the floor, wearing a pair of pink sweats and a black tank top that revealed his incredibly thin arms. His forearms were striped with old and new scars, from wrist to elbow, the older ones were white and faded, the new ones still red, deep, and thick. The parts where the veins were close to the skin were covered with needle marks.

Sky swallowed and looked away. It hurt to look at Luke. She wondered if he had any friends left, other than addicts. That would happen to her too, she knew, if she didn't stop using. She would end up like Luke - coming back to rehab again and again and again until no one even cared if she lived or died.

That thought was suffocating, it made her stomach turn.

She wasn't dead yet. She still had friends - Moon and Sam had both written a long letter where they told they missed her and wished she would soon feel better. Sky suspected that Sam would want to have a strict talk with her about the pills and the lies when she got back home, but she was grateful Sam hadn't started to lecture her in the letter.

Demetri had sent her some Dungeon Lord comics and a Get Well Soon card which he had signed together with Yasmine. Even Miguel had sent a postcard - with the Eagle Fang logo (that name made Sky roll her eyes) and a promise that he'd drag her to work out with them when she got back home.

That thought felt good. Now that her mind was clearer, Sky couldn't wait to start training with Johnny again. If she could just stay away from drugs from now on, there was no reason why she couldn't try some light training. It would give her something else to think about.

Something else than Hawk.

That thought felt like a punch in the gut, as always. She glanced at her desk, at the drawer where the letter still was, and the feeling of dread was again on her as if she was being dragged under the surface of freezing water. She took a shaky inhale, then another, but it did no good - she knew she would feel like this as long as she kept thinking about him.

She wanted it to fucking end already.

"Luke, can you help me with something?" She asked when he finished applying the first layer of paint on her toenails.

He looked up at her and placed the bottle of nail polish on the floor next to him. "Sure, what is it?"

Sky didn't reply, just stood up, walked to her desk, and opened the drawer. There, under some papers and books, was the letter that held so much power over her, that she hadn't slept in three days.

Her stomach went tight with anxiety as she picked it up and held it in her hands. Her name was written on the envelope with Hawk's handwriting, and everything about it was so painfully familiar to Sky that her chest ached.

"That's the letter from your ex?" Luke asked softly when Sky turned to face him.

Sky swallowed. There was a lump in her throat. "Yeah."

"You want me to read it for you?"

"No, I—" she stopped mid-sentence as the words failed her. More than anything she wanted to read the letter, to breathe into the fragile hope that there was something beautiful, something real in there, but—

I can't keep clinging to him. It's over, it's been over for a long time. I have to let him go, or I will die.

"I have to destroy it," Sky breathed. "But I can't do it alone."

The look on Luke's face turned gentle. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Sky said - and as the word left her lips, Sky realized it was true. "It's like you said - What's he gonna say that would change what he did? Even if he said he was sorry - how could I trust him? If I forgave him— he would just hurt me again. And I can't— I can't take that risk."

She thought about the colors of the rainbow in the wings of the hummingbird, the scent of freshly ground coffee with cardamom, she thought about Dad reading a newspaper at the breakfast table, she thought about the new dojo and the anticipation she felt about it, she thought about her friends— she had so many things worth living for if only she could move on and let go of this love, this hurt, this stupid, stupid longing she still carried within her heart.

Luke held out his hand and hesitating only for a heartbeat, Sky passed the letter to him.

"Burn it, rip it, flush it down the toilet—" Sky said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't care. Just— take it away from me, please."

Luke took the letter, folded it in two, and stuffed it into the pocket of his pants. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. And by the way, I think that was the right decision."

Sky walked back to her bed and took a seat. Suddenly she felt strengthless, short of breath.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I mean— these past couple of days, since you got that letter, you just haven't been yourself. I could tell it was dragging you down. And—"

He hesitated for a moment, then picked up the nail polish bottle, opened it, and signaled Sky that he would continue applying another coat of paint on her toenails.

"And what?"

He took her foot in his long fingers, turned his eyes to her toes, and started painting with slow, precise moves. "And— I am rooting for you. I know everyone thinks I'm a lost cause - I keep coming back here over and over again. But you're not like me. There's life in you. You can get better. And it would suck if you threw that away because of some asshole ex."

"Don't say that about yourself—" Sky sighed. "You can get better too. I know you can."

Luke let out a small laugh, the corner of his mouth turned into a crooked grin. "Yeah, who knows? Maybe the tea will save me."

"Jesus - if I'll have to drink one more cup of that herbal stuff, I'll puke in the fruit bowl. I swear, I will. I'd give an arm for some coffee. Or tequila. Oh Lord what I would give to have weed," Sky groaned. "Or even a fucking cigarette. And I don't even smoke."

"You know, Nurse Rivera keeps a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of her jacket. She leaves the jacket in her office, and that door is often unlocked—"

Sky couldn't help a grin - trust Luke to know every secret there was to know about this place. But just as she was about to ask if he really meant they should go and steal the cigarettes, there was a knock on the door, and only a heartbeat later the door opened.

Surprised, Sky looked up, and her heart plummeted to the floor as she recognized Nurse Rivera, whom they had just been discussing. Jesus Christ - She hadn't heard, had she—?

"Good, you're here!" The nurse said with a kind smile that eased Sky's worries. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor?" Sky frowned. It was already 8 pm and Dad had visited at lunchtime - surely he wouldn't come twice during the same day - unless something bad had happened—

The nurse replied with a smile. "I know, I know, it's past the visiting hours. But it's your brother and he asked so nicely."

My brother?

Luke glanced at Sky, his brows forming two high arcs on his forehead. He was very much aware that Sky did not, in fact, have a brother.

"Ummm, sure—" Sky managed. "I mean, that's great—"

"Hey, sis," said the boy who appeared in the doorway next to Nurse Rivera, a bright smile on his beautiful face. "Can I— Can I come in?"

It was Cody.