Dear Peter,

Today, I went on a date.

Actually, it was meant to be a date, but didn't go quite as planned. He did most of the talking, and I'm certain there won't be a second one.

His name is Travis, and oh, he's the sweetest thing. We work together and I  occasionally find him staring at me. One time, I walked past him and looked into his hazel eyes, offering a ghost of a smile, and I swear his fingers loosened and the papers he held fell out of his grasp, drifting to the floor. His cheeks turned furiously crimson as he nervously struggled to picked them up. 

We exchange smiles every now and then, and he goes out of his way to ask if I need anything. When he arrives at work with coffee for himself, he makes sure to bring a cup for me. Extra sugar, extra cream.

I don't know how to tell him I prefer tea.

Well, he finally found the courage to ask me out yesterday. He slipped into my office with a bouquet of flowers so foreign and bright and radiant grasped between his fidgeting fingers, his nerves managing to make his chin quiver the slightest bit.

It was cute. I had to give him a chance. I couldn't just shoot him down.

We just had dinner together. Travis loves to talk. He went on and on about how he got into writing as a career, how he'd traveled the world as a journalist, and how he was weak for the romantics. You and him are different in so many ways. Your dark eyes would clash with his hazel ones, which hold specks of gold just as rich as his heart. Your skin's a little lighter and tainted with bruises as his is dark and clean just like his past. Your demeanor is intimidating, and his so friendly, much like Charlie's.

Truth be told, Travis is just what I need, but he's not what I want.

I'm not sure what it is about me that entices him. Is it my tired eyes? The ones that lack the vivid colors that once resided within them, leaving behind dull, vacant clouds? Does he like the the way that a smile fights a daily battle with my lips, retreating in defeat almost regularly? Or is it the way that I move, lacking enthusiasm and purpose and life? 

Actually, now as I sit here outside this restaurant, writing this letter, there's a strange sense of Déjà vu conquering my mind, sending chills down my spine. 

He's me, Peter, and I'm you. 

He's who I was, maybe five years ago. Travis sees a fire within me that he feels he has a duty to ignite. He believes in me; he wants me to be capable of love. He thinks that everyone gets a once upon a time, followed by a happily ever after, and that love results in nothing but happiness.

He's wrong, but I sincerely hope that he never has that innocence taken away from him.

***

On the day before  Zoya's wedding, the two of us sat in our apartment, across from each other at the dining table. She was radiating, Peter. A blazing fire conquered every aspect of her. Her steps were a little lighter, her smile a little wider, and her voice a little higher. She was getting married to the love of her life. In that moment, she had everything that she ever wanted.

Her eyes were home to chaotic bliss, each speck of green shining almost as brightly as the individual stars that would scatter the night skies. She was restless, but in the best way.

"I never thought writing my vows would be so difficult," he sighed, throwing her pen down in defeat. We had been sitting there for two hours now, and Zoya, being the biggest procrastinator to ever exist, waited until the very last moment to write her vows.

"C'mon Lucy," her eyes pleaded as she jutted out her bottom lip, "you're good at this romantic stuff."

I sipped my tea, letting its warmth trickle down my throat and spread throughout the rest of my body before speaking.

"Hmm," I brought a hand to my chin, "What's your favorite thing about him?"

Without giving my question any thought, she nearly yelled, "Oh, the way he sometimes sings  horribly while making dinner. It's usually Elvis," she smiled at the thought, staring past me adoringly and at one of her memories.

I was surprised. I guess I didn't know David well enough.

"Write that down," I said, leaning forward, "What color suits him the most?"

She had to give some thought to this one. 

"Red," she finally decided, "There's this one red sweater that he wears and it's the cutest thing," and I told her to write that down as well.

"Lucy," she rolled her eyes, "how is this going to help me?"

I sighed dramatically and stood from my chair, "Fine, I guess I'll just go help someone else with their vows."

She laughed and crumpled up a piece of paper before throwing it at me, which flew right past my head.

"You have terrible aim," I grinned and sat back down, "write that down, too."

She looked at me incredulously, as if asking, 'really?'

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded vigorously, "More than I trust myself."

We went back and forth this way until finally, she she had everything she needed. 

Mentally drained, she set aside her journal and pen and pile of failed vows.

"Have you heard from Charlie recently?" she asked, her words laced with concern. I narrowed my eyes in thought. I hadn't thought much of it, but no, I hadn't heard from him. I was curious to know why she was so concerned about him, but hesitated to ask. I guess he had grown on both of us.

"No," I shook my head, "Maybe he's spending the day with Peter today."

I was right.

Zoya decided to spend the rest of the day at home. She wanted some time alone, so I slipped out of the apartment and headed to the one place that always called my name: the arena.

When I stood in front of the building, it suddenly seemed more intimidating. It's weird how an item or place or person becomes associated with a memory permanently. We listen to a song, and are taken back to a specific time in our lives. We taste a certain flavor of ice cream and are reminded of time spent with someone special. We stand facing arenas and are reminded of the time that we feared for our lives.

Or maybe that last one was just me.

I could feel how his violating arms felt on me, his voice penetrating my thoughts, and his breath too close to my face, but I shook it off. Breathing deeply, I stepped into the building. My feet had memorized the path up the stairs and towards the ring. When I finally walked through the double doors that separated me from you, I smiled at the sight in front of me.

You and Charlie were sitting in the seats, cans of soda in your hands, your laughter booming throughout the building. It was a rather beautiful sight. And foreign. I didn't want to ruin it, but the sound of a giggle betraying my lips did the job.

I slapped my hand over my mouth, eyes widening. Charlie turned around and smiled widely, beckoning me with his arm to come over.

"Look who it is," he said, ruffling my hair with his hand, earning himself a glare, which I'm sure was no where near intimidating. 

You stood, too, offering me a soft smile, but not saying anything. You walked away, around the ring, and into a room that I hadn't noticed existed. I guess I didn't focus on much besides you whenever I was there.

"So," I punched Charlie's arm lightly, "Where did you disappear to?" 

He chuckled, revealing his perfect set of teeth, "I'm a very wanted man, Lucy," he winked, "I have places to be every now and then."

I decided not to pry and sat down in one of the hundreds of seats.

Charlie followed suit, his expression hardening once a thought crossed his mind. He shifted his jaw and turned to me, his features more serious than I'd ever seen.

"Peter told me about what happened," he said, his words dripping with annoyance and a sense of anger that didn't suit him, "Are you okay?"

His gaze fell down to my arms, his frown deepening every time he noticed a bruise.

"Contrary to popular belief," I said, crossing my arms over my chest conscientiously. "I'm not that easy to break."

His smile returned, and all was right in the world again.

"Well then," he stood up, took my hand, and led me onto the ring, "today's gonna be fun for you."

I tilted my head in confusion, but before I could question his words, I saw you step into the ring, a shiny new pair of gloves tucked under your arm and a pair of punching pads under the other. You tossed those to Charlie, and the gloves towards me. I managed to catch them, despite being caught off-guard. The leather was smooth and they were heavier than I expected them to be.

Upon seeing my puzzled expression, the two of you exchanged an amused look, followed by laughter.

"Are you two going to explain, or...?" I looked down at the gloves and back at them.

"You're stubborn, Lucy," you finally noted, pacing in front of me, your eyes locked onto mine, "What if I were to say that we don't want to put you in danger? That you shouldn't be associated with us, so you should abandon this whole project of yours?"

I stood a little taller, lifting my chin up, "I would say ... not a chance."

Charlie laughed, finishing strapping the pads onto his hands. "That's why we made preparations." 

"You need to learn to defend yourself," you stated as you began approaching me. You took one glove out from under your arm, asking me to hold out my hand. I hesitantly complied and watched your eyebrows furrow in concentration. 

Charlie began speaking and I truly had no idea what he was saying, because I was so focused on you. You took my hand, which was much smaller than your own, and stared at it for a few seconds before curling my fingers into a fist and opening them again.

"Make a fist, as tightly as you can," you said, taking a step back. I complied, watching my knuckles turn white only slightly. Humor danced across your features and you shook your head, taking my hand again. You carefully helped me insert it into the glove, positioning my thumb so that it was in the designated compartment, and did the same with my other hand.

I tried to ignore the way that my stomach churned and the way that my heart sped up and how my thoughts were a jumbled mess. Your touch was delicate, yet firm. Contradictory, much like yourself.

You reached up to take the daisy out of my hair, your fingers gently untangling the stem from where it seemed to be stuck.

"You won't be needing this," you whispered, studying the flower before tucking it into to your pocket.

My hands felt strange inside the gloves, as if they weren't made for them. I once again felt out of place, the gloves not at all suitable for me.

You stepped back, proud of your work.

"Never thought I'd see such a sight," you noted, crossing your arms over your chest and shaking your head. Charlie nodded in agreement.  

Finally realizing what you wanted me to do, my eyes widened. I contemplated taking the gloves off, but realized that'd be hard considering I didn't have a third hand.

"You want me to fight?" I asked.

"No," Charlie shook his head, "We want you to be able to defend yourself."

Your expressions were identical. It had always been obvious that Charlie was a caring person, but you? I'd never seen so much sincerity etched across your features before.

I sighed heavily, cupping my face with my gloves. It didn't look like you two were in the mood to argue. Besides, it was a fight I knew I'd lose.

"Teach away," I smiled feebly.

***

In front of me stood Charlie, punching pads held out in front of his chest. It was a comical sight. Behind the contraptions that were supposed to be used for fighting stood the most  harmless person I knew, his wide smile being bright enough to light up the entire arena. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to be as intimidating as possible as I held the gloves out in front of me.

"Hey Peter," he looked over at you, "are you sure you don't wanna switch with me? I'm kind of scared," he joked, feigning concern.

You chuckled in response, obviously amused. You now had your own pair of black gloves on and stood in front of a punching bag. See, it seemed so natural for you. The stance, the environment--everything.

"Okay," you breathed deeply closing your eyes for a few seconds. You turned towards us and began pacing, deep in thought.

"Charlie," you nodded, sending him a silent signal.

He nodded back. "Push me," he said, ever so nonchalantly.

"Huh?" 

"Push." He stepped closer, his curly hair bouncing with the movement and his eyes challenging me, "Me."

I felt nervous that you were watching me. It was almost like answering a question in class and being afraid of disappointing the teacher.

I held out my gloves, gulping, and complied. I folded my arms up and kept my elbows close to my body, which was at the moment very self-conscious under your judgment. I took a step back, digging my heels into the ground, and applied as much force as I could to Charlie's arms.

He didn't budge.

Instead, his serious expression faltered and he stumbled backwards, bent over in laughter. I looked at you, redness conquering my cheeks, and saw a similar sight. You bit your lip in efforts to hold back your laughter, but it managed to bubble out of your mouth and you walked over to Charlie, putting an arm on his shoulder for support.

"I'm not doing this," I said, trying to refrain from laughing myself and struggled to pry the gloves off of my hands, which only made you two laugh harder. Finally, you caught your breath. 

"Let's try something different," you stated and returned to your position next to me. "Punch him repeatedly. As hard as you can."

You stood so close to me that I could feel your breath fan my ear, but I tried not to think about it. Charlie regained his composure and held the pads out again. 

"Try not to hurt me, okay?" He pleaded. He was enjoying this way too much.

"No promises," I smiled and started punching his outstretched hands as hard as I could. I went on for a few seconds and when I saw that he wasn't moving an inch, my hands began feeling tired. I stepped back in defeat.

Within a second, you were by my side again. You unexpectedly took my arm and bent it so that my elbows were pointing outwards at an angle, and you did the same with the other one. Charlie backed away, and took his position in front of me.

You weren't wearing protective gear or those pads on your hands. 

"Try again," you said softly, your shoulders relaxed and your eyes beckoning me.

I shook my head, "I don't want to hurt you."

You chuckled, "You can never hurt me."

You were wrong.

I took a deep breath and kept my arms at the angles you'd propped them up in. I punched you repeatedly in your chest and stomach, putting every ounce of energy I had into my fists. My light hazel eyes bore into your dark ones, and my heart fluttered at the way that you refused tear your gaze from mine.

Finally, you stumbled back, smiling with pride. 

"Keep going," you said, and I did. I kept punching you, even though I was exhausted. My arms began feeling weak and I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"This is your first resort," Charlie said from where he watched us, "Scream, thrash, just keep hitting. Aim for the face and neck."

You saw my conflicted expression and nodded, urging me to listen to him. I squeezed my eyes shut before swinging my arm towards your neck, which you effectively dodged with your arm. 

"Good, Lucy, keep going!" Charlie said from beside us, his anxious eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

I did. It was strange seeing you this way. Every other time, I'd seen you on offense. I saw you fighting your matches, but now, I was on the other side. I watched you defend. I got to see the way that you maneuvered your arms and how you trusted your body to be in complete control of itself. 

Finally burnt out, I stepped back, breathing heavily in exhaustion. 

"Not done yet," you smirked and went to stand beside the punching bag. I wanted to tie my long, light brown hair up even higher, but it was impossible to do with these gloves on. Feeling adrenaline pump through my blood, I followed you, standing in front of it the punching bag.

Charlie gripped the bag firmly, one hand on each side. 

"Pretend like that's the attacker," You ordered from beside me, nodding toward the bag,"You want to kick him in the groin, grab his neck for support if you need to."

"You can do this," you whispered into my ear. A strand of hair had fallen out of my ponytail and in front of my face. You reached up, tucking it behind my ear, your fingers brushing my skin.

I hoped you didn't notice the goosebumps invading my arm.

You positioned my arms behind the bag and put your hands on my waist to drag me back a little. At first, I had been worried about this session, but now, I didn't mind it. I had a feeling that you didn't mind it either.

***

It was just the two of us. We sat at one corner of the ring, water bottles in our hands. Charlie had long since left. Zoya needed a ride to the wedding venue to make some changes, and Charlie insisted that I stay here and train, so he went instead.

"That was exhausting," I breathed, my arm brushing against yours as I put the water bottle to the side. 

You nodded, "Tell me about it."

It was comfortable. The first time I'd met you, the air was tense, like everything around us stood still and if one of us made a move, it would all come crashing down, like glass that could shatter with the most delicate touch.

Now? Now, it seemed natural for us to be together. It seemed as natural as birds singing melodies in the mornings and leaves falling in Autumn. I guess things change.

Still, there was a side of you that was sheltered, buried deep inside in fear of being in pain. I had made progress, but I had a long way to go.

"Do you have any questions for me today?" you asked, head turned slightly toward me. Your dark hair, still long, was swept to the side of your forehead. Your thick eyebrows were raised quizzically, and those eyes of yours gleamed with something indistinguishable. 

I had learned a lot from you already from the way that you taught me and your actions from that terrifying night in the alley. Sometimes, Peter, our actions speak a different language than our words. I didn't need to ask you questions to learn what I needed to know.

"Yeah," I smiled, "Do you have a blue tie?"

***

(A/N) Thanks so much for reading, as always! Next update will be Zoya's wedding, which should be quite interesting ;)

Dedicated to ice-breaker

for being an awesome person and amazing writer. Her stories are some of the best I've read, so make sure take a look! 

Loooveee xxx