Dear Life.

Nothing was predictable in life. Even the things that seemed to last forever, like the evergreen pine trees, meet their end sooner or later. Whether it be being cut down for wood or being taken away by the force of water, the fate is unpredictable.

Like when Jane's and Matty's father had died, they didn't know it was going to happen this soon. Only the previous day the reports had come confirming his illness, the last stage of Lymphoma, and the very next day, he paved way for the inevitable death to take him.

Jane hadn't predicted that it would happen. Sure he had gone from being a healthy man to someone whose body was only supporting skin and bones; no muscle, no fat. All of it: the development of the illness, his deteriorating health, his death; everything had happened in a span of just a few months. Too fast for their liking, too slow for his health. But it had happened, and they could do nothing to stop it.

The sadness, the guilt, the remorse of his death still lingered in the air somewhere, but he was gone. He couldn't be brought back. And that was what made Jane going. Because she knew that he wouldn't have wanted her rock to be crushed in fine pieces, blown away by the wind like the golden grains of sand, bearing no importance.

It had been a month since the wedding. Needless to say, she was quite happy seeing her brother in a happy and contented marriage. It was a little over a week since they had returned from their honeymoon and much to her amusement, they were putting the fighting like old, married couple theory to test quite a lot lately. Most of the time, it was mindless banter between the two, and the other times they fought like siblings would. And their colourful language was just like a pleasant music, except it left Jane's ears bleeding to death.

Like before, when they were making the plans for going outside, the both were compromising about where to go.

Matt had told her that it would be a few of their close friends, but what she didn't know was what a few and close meant.

Because right when she stepped in to his household, she wanted to cower away just seeing the amount of people in his home.

In Matt's and Des' words, it was supposed to be a small get together. But from where she stood, she saw numerous kegs of beer, bottles of vodka, red solo cups and drunk and wild human beings littering every corner of the house. She stood in the middle of a mess where heavy music pounded through the huge speakers and people danced as if they wanted to leave their bodies on the floor.

Matty had truly found his perfect match, she idly thought.

"Hey! You came."

A very, very drunk Des supported by an equally drunk but somewhat sane Matt greeted Jane as she lounged by the kitchen counter. Des was giggling and hiccuping ever so often while Matt was desperately trying to balance her on one arm while the other was holding his liquor. The sight made her smile.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She lightly chuckled as Des shrugged. "Don't know. But like Matt use to say: You are Jane."

A hearty laugh fell from her lips. She shook her head, "Whatever you say."

They soon left and Jane found herself occupying the corner of the couch in the main room. She examined her hands out of pure boredom. Parties weren't just her cup of tea. Sighing, she examined her surroundings and before long, her eyes fell on a tall figure standing with his back to the wall. His wild hair were concealed by a bandanna tonight. His eyes roamed around like hers and soon, they fell on her. An indescribable look crossed his face as he watched her.

Jane was the first to break the eye contact.

And when she looked up again, he was gone.

☆

Nights always were the best time of the day, as Jane thought. The quiet that could lull you to sleep, the infinite stars lining the sky, the musical chirping of night creatures and the dark was what she liked. Nights also provided her with opportunities to think; an action she seemed to do more than usual.

She had decided to walk home from Matt's and Des'. The party was still in full force. But she was bored, and tired. And here she was, sat on a broken wooden bench in a park long forgotten, gazing at the little bright twinkling dots in the sky.

The wind was gentle and cool as it moved. For a minute, she closed her eyes. Only to be opened again.

"I didn't picture you as a night type."

Her eyes snapped open out of surprise as the voice spoke than anything else. She craned her neck to the side, and there he stood. With his hands in his pockets and the hair now out of the bandanna, he didn't cease to make her heart skip a beat.

She sighed, "What did you picture me as, then?"

He shrugged as he came closer, too close for both of their comfort. But he needed to have control, and that was it.

"Like a bubbly, care-free, wanna-be kind girl."

He whispered, but each and every syllable was heard clearly by Jane. Anger bubbled up inside her as she looked up at him.

"Well appearances can be deceptive. You, out of all people, must know that."

It was low, too low for her to stoop. But she had, and there was no getting up.

His brows furrowed as he took a step closer, "What do you mean?"

"Your harsh exterior, for once." She shrugged and craned her neck higher. "You appear as this tough guy that doesn't give a flying fuck but you've also got these cracks that somehow widen, showing the real you. Someone, who isn't afraid to show that he cares for the people he loves."

By the end of her little rant, she was panting. Half of her was fuming with anger, while the other half was moved by the struggle he put himself through.

"Look," his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back from saying, rather doing, something either of them would regret. "You don't know what you're talking about, Jeanette. You don't know me-"

"Wait, what did you just call me?"

She stood up on her feet. It was comical on one level, seeing how they went from arguing to this.

He was confused at her abrupt outburst. "Jeanette. Isn't that your name?"

By the look on his face, he clearly knew what was her real name. And she knew it too.

"Well, Henry, you need to work on your memory, along with your people judging skills."

That had him somehow amused, but the other part of the statement stung. He didn't know why.

"Jeanne," A smirk crossed over his features, "For a girl who thinks that love is a beautiful thing and all that shit, you are quiet dumb."

Her mouth fell open in shock at his words. He just smirked in return and walked away, leaving her, for a lack of better word, flabbergasted.

"Oh, and,"

He turned around halfway, then fully. He was now moving towards her. When he was near enough, he tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. She watched him, captivated by his scent, his eyes, everything.

"I'll let you know that I'm quite good at remembering names, Jane."

He leaned in, softly, abruptly pecking her cheek and leaving immediately after. She watched him walking away, feeling the burning on her skin. It continued to consume her and at last, vanished like he had. The place holding a slight tingle reminding her forever where his lips had been a mere moment ago.

Notes