(A year later, a couple weeks after Mr. Lee is released, and six months after Poppy is released from the psychiatric hospital.)

"Stop it, Donnie," Vera mumbled, a giggle escaping her lips as Donnie kissed her neck.

I awkwardly looked down at my lap, my notepad in my hands, my fingers brushing back and fourth against the front page. I still had the same one from school.

"We should give them some space," Daniel said. "Let's go sit at a different table."

Quickly nodding, I followed the black haired boy to another table in the crowded coffee shop. I met Daniel at the psychiatric hospital, who was in for attempted suicide. He didn't know much about my past, and I didn't know much about his. It seemed to be better that way.

His skin was milky pale, his eyes forest green, and his lips, big and full and he'd always lick them, which I found to be so adorable.

Although he was very attractive and slightly frail, like me, I couldn't seem to look at him romantically. I wasn't sure if he looked at me that way, either. We were friends, sort of.

When I had to attend group counseling once a day in the hospital, Daniel was there, and we'd write to each other in the corner of the room with markers and a white slate. The guidance counselor let us simply because we both were far too shy to talk in the group with everybody else.

Because of that, we grew closer. I was able to talk to him, of course, not from anything that had to do with the psychiatric hospital. I still sometimes felt uncomfortable around him, though, like I did with mostly everybody else. My anxiety still lingered, floating out of my throat like a fog and consuming me. It hasn't stopped. I could talk more, but I still couldn't suppress the simple fear of socialization that I dreaded.

I was able to talk from a certain someone. A someone who just the thought of still made my heart twist, ache, and pull in the depths of my chest.

Swallowing the lump of anxiety, I took a deep breath while looking down at my notepad. "Could you walk with me to buy a new notepad?" I asked Daniel quietly, my voice wavering.

"Of course."

Gathering our belongings, we headed for the door.

We'll be back, I wrote. Tapping Vera's shoulder, I showed her my message.

"Alrighty," she said, returning her attention back on Donnie.

We slid into the outside world, the door chiming from behind us.

Daniel and I walked in silence, the wind blowing my hair around annoyingly. I tightened the scarf around my neck and zippered my jacket.

When we reached the little book shop, I scrolled through the aisles, coming across a shelf full of different colored notebooks, some with flowers, others with different designs.

One had a hard cover with orange flowers, the background white, the pages dainty and pale with the same orange flower in the right corner of every notebook page. Instantly growing fond of the notebook, I grabbed the item and turned around, walking straight into Daniel.

"I'm sorry," we both said in unison, a slight awkwardness lingering.

My hands began to shake. I opened my mouth, forcing my voice to cooperate. "C-could you maybe buy this for me? I don't like talking to the cashier," I mumbled questionably, glancing up at him with pleading eyes.

"Sure thing," he said, smiling understandably. At least he understood why I was like this, for the most part. He didn't seem to label me as weird or a freak either, which was exhilarating considering the fact that it didn't take a genius to know that people in school probably thought I was.

After I handed him my money and he payed, handing me the bag, we walked out together when across the street, a man caught my eye. It wasn't just a man. It was a curly haired man, with a long, button down jacket and familiar glasses. He had a bag in his hand, with what I didn't know, and he walked into the bar across the street.

"S-s-shit!" I muttered, accidentally dropping my bag, my eyes growing wide in disbelief. Quickly picking it back up, I glanced anxiously across the street, my heart thumping, my breathing growing unsteady with-excitement? Fear? I couldn't tell.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asked worriedly. He looked across the street. "Someone you know?"

"I-uh, yeah," I blurted out. Should I go in? Should I walk away? Would it be bad to walk away?

"Let's just go," I said. "Now."

Without questioning, we both continued to walk back to the coffee shop, my heart pounding so vigorously in my chest that I could feel it. I attempted to shoo the thought away, but it grabbed a chair and plopped itself down.

A war was going on in my head, and my options were outweighing and weighing back and fourth. I couldn't go- I shouldn't associate with him anymore. Maybe it wasn't even him. Perhaps it was my imagination. Yeah, that had to be it. My chest felt hollow, my eyes growing watery.

I looked down at my converse as we walked. Step. Don't think about him. Step. Forget him. Step. He's nothing.

"Poppy?" Daniel said, interrupting my jumbled thoughts. "Go."

"What?" I asked breathlessly.

"Go to him. It's the first time I've seen that much emotion in your eyes. I don't know who it is, but you need to go before you miss your chance."

It was as if I somehow needed the approval to go, because after he said that, I gave the biggest smile I could muster, and all but sprinted across the street, my legs carrying me, reminding me of cross country, to the bar.

As a rain drop splattered on my head, and another, and then another, the streets were coated in a sheet of rain. Tucking the bag with my new notebook into my jacket, I continued to run as if my life depended on it.

When I reached the bar, I pressed my small hands against the glass window and peered in, my breath leaving a fog against the glass.

Rain was dripping and slithering down my cheeks and my hair was soaked, but I couldn't care less about my drenched form.

It was raining too hard to see inside, so I counted to ten in my head, and opened the door and walked inside, my converse squishing from the wetness against the dark hardwood floor.

And there he was. His perfect, angled face. Those beautiful hands gripping the glass of liquor with ice. His eyes were trained on a novel in front of him. He flipped the page, so delicately, so beautifully.

He looked stressed. His hair was shorter now, but still curly like it always was. His jaw was scruffy and full of more facial hair than I'd seen on him, which was extremely sexy. I could see the length of his long eyelashes from here. I could see the delicate slope of his nose. I wanted, more like needed, to see those blue eyes.

I licked my lips, breathed in and out. Tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Fiddled with the sleeve of my jacket.

I felt people staring at me. I felt a perverted man's gaze trailing all over my body, but he was the least of my worries. He was irrelevant. I couldn't possibly feel anything else right now besides these emotions that only blanketed me with the presence of Mr. Lee.

And then I spoke to him for the first time since we've last talked, over a year ago.

"Mr. Lee." I said boldly, tilting my chin up, waiting.

He turned his head, those familiar, scorching dark blue eyes, landed on my face, drinking in the details.

"Poppy." He responded deeply and strangely, as if in shock. His fingers tightened around the glass, and with his other hand, he did what I was so used to seeing him do- shoved a hand through his hair.

I waited a year for this. Walking towards him, dropping my bag in the process, my hands connected with each side of his jaw.

Tilting his face up to meet mine, I closed my eyes and brought my lips to his, in which they connected instantaneously. I felt sparks erupt in my chest. Felt my cheeks heat up, my heart burst with emotion.

And I moved closer to him, climbing on the same bar seat he was on, my legs on each side of his sitting form, and I kissed him while tears erupted out of my eyes, and I felt a teardrop drip out of his.

I didn't know what was going to happen next. I didn't know if kissing him was the right thing to do. I didn't know if this was even allowed.

But what I did know was that if jail couldn't stop my love for him, I didn't know what would.