Beautiful ➳ Neil Perry.

vingt-trois

"Smile for me, won't you?"

Neil lifted the polaroid to eye-level, peering through the view finder.

Alice prepared her biggest smile for the camera, her smile suddenly dropping when she felt the wet of a snowflake fly directly into her eye. She gasped loudly, wiping at her eye immediately and blinking until her vision was clear as day again. Satisfied, she lifted her head again to see Neil roaring in laughter, clutching his little camera to his chest.

Blocking the brightness of the sun with her arm, Alice raised a brow.

"What is it?"

"You gotta see how this one turned out."

Walking to Neil, Alice braced herself for the worst. The photo obviously didn't turn out the way she'd expected, all thanks to the blinding snow. Neil just chuckled, passing Alice the polaroid to give her a better view of the shot. The top of her head was blurry from the movement, her eyes were closed yet her smile was still there.

"God, we have to retake that one," Alice groaned, tucking the polaroid into her pocket.

"Wait, no," Neil said, his hand out to Alice, "Can I keep that one?"

"No way, let's just take another one. My eyes were closed and everything, I look hideous too," Alice exclaimed, gently hitting him on the chest as she laughed along with him.

"Lie to me again, I dare you," he challenged, swiftly sneaking his hand to slip the polaroid out from Alice's pocket, "You're not hideous. In fact, I think you look rather cute."

The smile that overtook Alice's face resembled the one of the polaroid, only more sincere.

"You're unreal, Neil Perry," she replied, her cheeks brighter from the embarrassment, "Let me at least take one of you this time."

That was the photograph of Neil that Alice kept with her always. The only photo she'd ever have of him— the piece of him she had been holding onto every night she thought of him. It broke her heart thinking this polaroid alone was the only proof that Neil Perry had once been hers.

The photo was slightly folded in its centre, however still contained that same happiness the day it was taken. It was like his bright smile was calling out to her and Alice could only find herself helplessly smiling back at the memory. Even on print, he'd manage to make her smile somehow.

It was a shame none of the stories ever told her love could feel like this.

It had been days since Neil's passing, and Alice hasn't slept a wink. It wasn't possible for her to do that anytime soon. Not when all she saw every time she closed her eyes was his face. The pain in her chest was too much— it was agonising, tightening every passing second until she couldn't breathe.

She missed days of school. Unanswered phone calls from both the school and her friends. Chris had tried to come by a few times, but each visit has been unsuccessful since then.

Elsbeth and Stephen eventually returned from their trip, disheartened to find Alice sleeplessly starving herself in her bedroom. But despite their protests and countless attempts to talk to her, she'd only push them away or keep her silence. At some point, they'd decided leaving her some food and space was all they could do for the time being. Their daughter was inconsolable.

It was on the seventh day when Alice woke up one morning, the same throbbing headache interrupting her thoughts. She'd wondered how the others were doing, how they were coping. They all must be as hurt as her, suffering from the same pain.

Alice never intended to make her parents worry about her, but it just couldn't be helped this time. As much as she'd try to tell herself to be stronger one moment, she'd find herself crumbling down the next. It was too much to take at once— the thought of Neil leaving needed a lot of time of getting used to.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, the same place she'd find herself preparing for the many dates she'd had with Neil. Her heart ached at the sight of herself— her disheveled bed hair and dry tears almost leaving her unrecognisable.

"You need to understand that we're here for you always, Alice," Elsbeth's words echoed in her head, "We can't force you to get right up straight away, but we can talk about this."

Closing her eyes shut, Alice took a deep breath. She wasn't alone in this; there was no need to suffer alone. There had been others suffering the same pain— pushing them away was doing her no good. No matter how much it pained her to accept this, it was better than lying to herself. Neil wasn't coming back. Neil's memory deserved better than this.

* * *

"I'm glad you could finally join us at the table," Stephen said stiffly, his focus remaining on the dinner in front of him.

Elsbeth had excused herself for a while, giving Alice and her father the privacy to talk. Alice nodded her head, her fork playing with the chicken on her plate. The room was silent again, neither of them adding to the conversation. Alice felt her father staring at her for the longest time as though he'd been waiting for her to say something in return.

"Thank you," she managed to say, her eyes still astray from his.

Stephen hummed in satisfaction, cutting a piece of vegetable with his knife and fork. To Alice's surprise, he suddenly placed his utensils down as he let out a heavy sigh. With both of his hands on his knees, he looked up at his daughter who only stared back at him with a slightly puzzled expression.

"You know," he said in a voice much softer than usual, "Your mother . . . I know we never talk about her much at all. And perhaps we should, but there is quite a lot you don't know."

Alice nodded her head, unsure of where her father was going with their conversation. It was true, they never spoke about her mom. And as much as Alice had wanted to bring her up, she knew this would only upset her father. After all, it was he who hid away all her belongings and pictures away.

"When we lost your mother, we were all very upset about it. You wouldn't have remembered all the details, you were quite young then . . . But I couldn't sleep for months. And the tears never stopped. I couldn't handle myself any better than that, so I took away anything that reminded me of her."

Everything was starting to make more sense.

"Like art, for instance."

Alice softly smiled, looking down. She'd never quite understood why her father and Elsbeth were so against it in the first place until now.

It just didn't work anyway, did it?

"Which had to be one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made," he added, straightening up in his chair, "Alice, my point to you is . . . When we're hurting, we often wish to hide things and push others away. But I don't want you making that same mistake. No matter what you do, you won't forget it this way. It'll only make the journey more difficult— you'll never find a way to accept it."

Alice nodded her head, standing up to throw her arms around her father. He was right. Crying and hiding away wasn't going to bring Neil back. It was time she did the right thing by him— checking up on the people he'd cared about. Kissing her father on her cheek, Alice rushed upstairs to grab her coat.

Perhaps it was still too soon to talk to the others, but it was better sooner than later. They had each other, and there was no point crying alone. Taking the next turn down the street, Alice suddenly jumped back, almost walking into the stranger who'd been standing by the corner.

"God, I'm so sorry . . . I should've been looking where I was—"

"Alice."

Alice looked up, eyes widening as she recognised the man standing opposite her.