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Apologies were something Joshua hated. Not because he hated giving them, or receiving them, the reason he hated them had more to do with the fact that they barely seemed genuine. A quick 'sorry' when you hit someone by accident as you pass them, that was fine. But whenever Joshua received one – from Brianna, Emilia, his family, or Charlotte even – they always seemed either implied and therefore unnecessary or forced.

'Sorry, I just need to be with my Fated One.'

'Sorry, Josh, you just aren't my type.'

'Sorry, son, you should've just done better.'

'Sorry, I just can't reject him.'

The only time he'd ever believed an apology was genuine was when Amelia said it, or at that moment as he sat opposite Christian in his home-world.

"Man, I'm sorry, you don't deserve this shit," Christian said in between bites of his full English.

Joshua snorted and drank his coffee before replying, "Yeah, I just... things were working out and then this happened. I'm just hoping the Declaration tonight or this stupid sacrifice worked."

Christian nodded as he finished his mouthful of beans. "Honestly, the more I looked into it, the more I think it will. High success rate, highly spoken about on the dark web. I think because people have found it works, it's not really spoken about because it worked."

Joshua nodded. "I hope you're right."

"So, if I remember rightly, you thought your Fated One's fiancé was faking his Knot, right?" Christian asked him. "What happened with that?"

"I haven't had the full story, but she did confront him. All I know is that he did fake his Knot. I Changed before she could tell me the whole thing. But she's now in possession of her real card with my name on it, the watermark and everything. It was meant to be me and her all along, and somehow, he faked it. They were childhood sweethearts, so I assume his heart was in the right place. But I met him, and he seems like a bit of a knob," Joshua answered.

Christian chuckled. "It sounds like that's the case. From what I hear that kind of thing is common in that field of romance. It sounds romantic, right? You fake your Knot so you can stay together forever, but what they never realise is the ramifications. He's screwed himself, but not only that, he's endangered the four people involved. Assuming he has an original Fated Person."

"I don't know that bit yet either. I'm worried about her; he seems intense," Joshua admitted.

"I met Josh, your counterpart. Though he's a bit... different to you, he seems like he would look out for her. Look, I'm pretty damn certain one of these ideas will work; my bet is the sacrifice thing will work more than the timing. But either way, I'm excited for you both," Christian said. He finished his breakfast and put his cutlery together before he finished his coffee.

"I hope it does."

"You're pretty far gone, right? In love with this Fated One," Christian observed.

Joshua smiled at the thought of her. The way she had passion about everything, from hate to love. The way she wore her hair, how she'd begun to trust him with every fibre she had, and how he could feel that.

"Yeah, pretty hard," Joshua admitted. "I'm just... is it the Knot or am I genuinely having feelings?"

"I mean, I can't answer that for you, but in ninety-nine per cent of cases, it's probably both. Does it even matter?"

Joshua finished his drink before nodding. "That's a fair point."

Christian stood from the table. "I need to go, man, but I'm fairly certain I won't be seeing you again. So, I'm just gonna say this now: good luck, man. Enjoy your non-Drifting life. You both deserve it."

Both men shook hands, and Joshua smiled at his friend. "Thanks, man. You've literally... I don't know what I would've done without your help recently."

"Don't thank me. Or at least, if you want to, what you can do is enjoy your life and get the girl."

Joshua chuckled before they hugged and parted ways.

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He lay in bed that night. He'd done everything in his power: sacrificed what was important to him and Declared it. He'd Declared at the right time. As he stared at the stupid popcorn ceiling above him in the dark, he tried to memorise the look of the place. He tried to count the vein-like lines that popped out of the white paint above him. He stared and thought about how veins gave life in a way: without them, he realised that blood wouldn't travel the body. If that didn't happen, the body would be starved of oxygen and the person would die.

He wondered if it was the same with love. If love travelled the body without having its craving fulfilled, would it starve and wither away like withdrawal from drugs or alcohol? Would it act like a flower without water? He loved Amelia, and if he didn't find a way to make the Declaration work, would he just wither and die, becoming nothing but a pile of bones in the end?

It felt like it, he realised.

He felt it, then. The warm, soothing effect of her touching her Knot. Instantly, he returned the favour, so they at least felt each other if they didn't get to see each other.

He hoped to everything anyone ever believed in that it would work. It'd been two days; he wasn't sure if he could take another one apart from her. His chest physically pained; his heart felt like it had been pierced. He couldn't deal with any more pain, and more than that, he needed to know that she was safe and okay after what happened with Owen.

If there was a time that he wished he could Change and Drift, that was the moment.

Despite the magic that surrounded his heart as they shared the connection, he couldn't feel settled. He was anxious about where he was going to wake up.

He hoped he'd see Amelia, hold her, feel her in his head, but he knew it was highly unlikely. He'd come to realise that when he wanted something, it usually meant it wouldn't happen; luck was never on his side.

Joshua had to admit to himself that his real reason for being so panicky about returning home was the slight, ever so slight worry that Amelia would hate him again. The last few times he'd gone through the Change and Drift through the worlds, he arrived back to find that she found a new thing on the ever-growing list of reasons she hated him.

Though he knew this was different. She knew the truth and they'd been standing on the edge of the river of something romantic. He knew she loved him, and she knew he loved her back. There were too many variables to worry about, but he was on the hope that she either loved him the same, or more when he arrived back. The sooner, the better.

He stared again at the veins on the ceiling wall and gave up counting them after he got to five. He wondered how many veins you could collapse in the human body before someone died.

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The moment he stirred he could smell coffee. It acted like a wasp: invaded the area, disturbed him, and forced him to lie rigid in the bed, unsure what was happening.

And then he opened his eyes.

"Fuck."

He threw himself out of bed, still in the joggers and t-shirt he was in the night before. He didn't care about that as he took in his surroundings. The sun hit a little brighter through the curtains, the spring weather made it warm in the bedroom.

He followed the scent of coffee, down the stairs. Music filled the atmosphere; soft as he started to hear it, but he soon heard the tunes of soft pop-rock as he got closer to the kitchen.

And then it hit him like a bullet train.

Her brown hair was in a plait down her back, messy from sleep. Her voice was a little higher than he remembered, but she was singing along to the song, her hips were shaking a little as he watched her pour a cup of coffee.

He leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen and grinned.

If veins provided blood and by proxy, oxygen needed to give life, then as he stared at Amelia, in the world where he belonged, he realised that was his life-giver. She gave him the oxygen he needed, she gave him blood, the meaning of life.

She didn't turn around as he made a point of adjusting to his surroundings. He focused, and after a moment, he felt her peace mixed with a little anxiety. But she was enjoying the song.

He touched his Knot, mainly to brush where the little D shaped mark was. She stopped singing, and he could feel her inner peace wash through them both.

She realised.

He couldn't feel the mark, but it didn't register where he was touching because she turned around and set her coffee-coloured eyes on him.

"I..." Her voice stopped. She approached him, her face smoothing out. He could feel her relief as it set in like a slow tide lapping at the shore.

"Hey, Amelia," Joshua greeted. He kept his voice low as she stood in front of him.

She didn't say anything, her eyes met his. Her hand reached up and she swept her fingers over his forehead, his nose, his chin. She left tingles across his body wherever she touched. Pixie dust, fairy dust, special red glitter that left him desperate for more.

Her fingers travelled across his t-shirt until they crept under the fabric, leaving hot magical zaps across his skin. He could have easily removed his clothes, removed her low-cut top and pyjama bottoms and they could have had a reunion upstairs, or even on the kitchen side. Instead, he relished the way her touch made him feel at home rather than his elevating arousal. He deduced this was a time for romance and not lust.

Her finger moved to his lips. Her index finger traced their outline, and he savoured every second of the contact.

He silently pressed a tiny kiss into her finger as it traced the middle of his lips.

"It's you," she whispered.

He nodded. "I came home."

"Did it work?"

As an answer to her question, he showed her his left wrist. Both their eyes travelled down to his Knot Art. He zoned in on the place where the mark should show.

"Can I?" she asked.

When he nodded, her finger – the same one she explored him with – traced his tattoo. It sent shivers down his back, his mind melted and filled up with comfort, love, and pure need.

Her hand whispered over the part of the skin where the mark was.

Except it was smooth.

"No way!" Amelia gasped after she spoke. He glanced down. The D shape was gone.

"It worked."

"You're here for good... it worked," Amelia exclaimed. The excitement was as palpable as they were in that moment: he could feel it, see it, taste it, hear it, smell it.

It was magic.

"It worked."

"It worked."

He lifted her, spun her around twice before he set her down on the floor. She got on her toes, her laugh filling the air against the music to create a sound that Joshua never wanted to forget.

"I love you," she whispered.

He kissed her, not wasting another second. He didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss with his tongue before it had started. He hadn't even responded to her, but he knew she felt his love back. He knew she could sense it in their kiss, let alone through their connection.

"I'm home," he whispered the moment he let her go. "And I love you too. More than you could ever know."

She laughed and wiped a stray tear that had escaped her eye. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he whispered. "But I'm back. For good. You are my home; I would never leave you for too long."

She kissed his lips once more before laughing. "I hate you. Go back."

He chuckled and lifted her again. "I hate you too, my bratty Amelia."

It settled in his mind then; blood and oxygen may have been two of the most important things that made him human, and alive, but he'd realised that he may have been alive for the past twenty-six years, but now he was ageing again, he found one thing that was more important to him. Amelia. Love.

Amelia was love to him. She drove him completely insane, he hated her in ways, but he loved her more than anything. Though blood and oxygen kept him breathing, Amelia kept him living. And he never felt more alive than the moment they kissed again. He'd never get bored of it.

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