Teal.

The trip back to his flat was agonizing. He lost count of how many times he dialed her phone; and the texts he sent. One thing he noticed was he wasn't sent straight to voicemail; it rang through every time. But Teal never answered. No matter how many deep breaths he took, the tightness in his chest wouldn’t go away. Something had happened; and Teal might not be there by the time he got back. Flowers; flowers had set her off. And as much as he hated to think about it, there was only one possible sender who could have that type of effect on the girl. All he had was speculation; but something told him his speculation was very much correct.

In his desperation, Julian dialed Marcus. It took three rings for him to answer. "You only call when you need something, Julian. I'm a bit busy so this better be important."

The deadpan tone his agent took would have left him shocked to a brief silence any other time, but not then.

"Do you have contact with any of the production staff who might be able to get in touch with Teal?"

"What, are you paranoid the tabloids are listening into your calls or something and need the assistance of some carrier pigeons to talk to you girlfriend without being caught, mate?" He scoffed through the phone.

"This isn't funny, Marcus. Something is wrong. She isn't answering her phone."

"Sounds like a personal issue to me."

"God dammit, Marcus, this is serious."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Just. Stay on the phone. I've got David on the other line. Let me see if he can get ahold of her."

Julian didn't have time to question that before he was put on hold. A few minutes later, though, Marcus's voice came through once more.

"He tried calling her from the office phone, and his personal. She usually picks up, begrudgingly, but not this time. Is something going on?"

That wasn't reassuring at all. Julian rubbed his forehead with his free hand, pushing his hair back.

"Something happened, I'm not sure what. I'll phone you when I find out more. On my way back to the flats now."

With that, he hung up.

A little while later their familiar building came into view. Julian threw a few bills at the driver found himself in the lift soon enough. He pressed for a floor above his for a change; and desperately hoped she would still be in her own residence.

He found her phone near the entry way, a small spot in the wall seemed to mark where it had impacted. The case, luckily, kept the phone itself unscathed. Carefully, he picked it up.

The floor beyond was strewn with shards of glass, flowers, and water; it looked like diamonds on the hardwood, crushed leaves, stems, and petals dotted among the shimmering pieces. It wasn't safe to walk without shoes, certainly. His grip on the phone tightened as he approached. She was there, in the midst of it all, arms tightly around her knees with her back to the island counter, silent and still; her eyes were almost hollow, a vacant stare fixed on her face as she looked out on the mess before her. Julian didn't need a second opinion to know that she hadn't even registered he was there.

Slowly, he knelt down in front of her and reached out, pushing a few of those loose curls back. In response, she blinked once, and twice. The blank expression didn't leave, though. Teal Emerson settled him with an empty gaze.

"I know you're not alright, so I won't even ask. But. I can't just leave you here like this. Would you like to come to my place? We can talk, or not, or you can sleep, or just not be here," He spoke softly, a gentle, and small smile on his face. The girl did not offer so much as a response, just maintained her steady, silent stare. The smile Julian had forced himself to wear faltered, he swallowed as he looked down. This wasn't what he was accustomed to. Teal was a talker; Teal was normally vibrant; the girl before him was anything but. "...It was him again, wasn't it?"

He almost hadn't expected a reaction, or a response. But at that, she seemed to focus in on him then, the look in her eyes a little less distant. It was fear that crept forward then, blank expression morphing just enough to prepare him for the girl to bolt. She didn't though, and his hands fell gently on her shoulders as instead, her breathing picked up, and Teal Emerson neared hyperventilation.

"He—the flowers—the note—" Her voice was frantic, cracked as she muttered, trying to shrink back from his touch. It was only then he noticed the piece of paper balled in her fist; that had to be it. Very carefully he shifted enough, gently trying to pry the note from her. At first there was a bit of resistance, and he eased off. But, slowly, he watched her grip lessen, and Julian removed the note from her hold. He gave her a small glance before he straightened it out, reading the words scrawled there as an iron ball seemed to take up residence in his gut.

It was more than half of my heart that loved you then, and still does.

Julian's teeth clenched as the words glared up at him; a scene from Teal's novel coming to mind immediately. Alex had admitted that half of his heart wanted to be with Elizabeth, but the other half kept him at bay; still torn over the breakup of a three-year relationship and the discovery his parents had been cheating on each other. It was during their final conversation, before Alex had vanished from Elizabeth's life at the end of the novel.

"You deserve more than half; we both do."

If what he had read, and what Teal had told him was true—and it seemed to be revealing itself to be so more and more as time went on—the indecisive lover who had crushed the girl had no intentions of leaving her alone or giving up, even with an ocean between them; even if his love was unwanted at that point.

"I started seeing a therapist after the novel was published." Her voice was quiet as she broke the heavy silence. Julian looked up. "We talked about my novel. About its basis. About my relationship with Christian. We talked about my fixation on him, how what I perceived as love, was more an obsession with an idea of a person, my idea of him. How. I was incapable of accepting the reality of what Christian Fitzroy and our 'relationship' really was. It. It took a while. A lot of sessions; a lot of introspection to realize how true that was; how unhealthy it was. It took me months of therapy to realize I needed to let him go, to accept the toxicity of what I felt for him and how..."

She released a trembling breath, shoving her hair away from her face. She wouldn't look at Julian then.

"I had romanticized my convenience for him. I was convenient in a time of need. And it got to a point where I could finally look back on all of our interactions, on the novel I had written about him—my idea of him—and feel ill at the realization of what had actually been between us. I accepted the truth of what we were, and what my fixation on him was. I finally accepted I was better off with a clean slate, moving on without thoughts of him, actually living for something other than just hoping he'd show up again. And then. The book signing happened."

Julian hadn't moved, eyes on her as she'd spoken. He was almost afraid any movement, any word, would scare her back into silence, into reserve. He was almost afraid to breathe. He remembered reading about the signing. But hearing this from her personally, was more than he could have ever asked.

"I hadn't seen him in years. But the minute our eyes met; the second I heard his voice, all I could register was panic. I didn't want to see him, didn't want to face him ever again. It was over. It was supposed to be in the past. But I wrote that book, I put it out there with hopes of him reading it, with hopes of him coming back. And there he was, book in hand, looking at me the way I had always hoped he would. He." She took another deep breath. "He told me he loved me and I lost it."

Teal closed her eyes. And silence held the room in it's arms for a few minutes. Julian didn't need to be told that what she told him then was private, confidential between just the two of them. It was unspoken. Carefully, he maneuvered to sit beside her, eyes out at the canvas of glass, flowers, and splattered water before them.

"He never sent flowers, but he did send a few emails. And then a letter. The day I received that, I knew I couldn't stay there anymore. I moved to a new apartment an hour away temporarily, and after a few months in hiding, one of my remaining friends convinced me to take a trip with her for two weeks, 'across the pond,' as she put it." She looked over at him, then. "From there, you know what happened."

"Of course I do; you crashed into my life like a bloody hurricane, Teal Emerson." He looked back at her.

"I didn't actually intend to turn your life upside down. Just. Um. Just so we're clear." There was a pause.

"Not at first glance, anyways."

Julian quirked an eyebrow. Teal, in turn, avoided looking back at him.

"I saw someone who I wanted to save. I didn't know you. But I. I knew what was coming, you know that now. And I couldn't bear the thought of someone else not at least hearing the words I wished someone had said to me. I warned you, as poorly presented and vague as it was, because no one had done the same for me. I warned you and the entire rest of my trip I hope it helped." She let out a deep breath, pulling her knees back up once more. Julian found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her, from the raw earnestness of her words. "I put a book out that romanticized a one-sided love, pining after someone who doesn't feel the same, and just not letting go. I planted that idea in so many heads, that it was okay. I just... I had to do the opposite for at least one person, to help them. It in no way makes up for the idea the story romanticizes, but. It's... it's a start. Isn't it?"

He had known there were layers to Teal, but as she poured out more and more of her truths, her realities, he realized he hadn't even fathomed how deep the damage was, or the guilt. But, god, he wanted to help her.

There was a moment's hesitation before he reached over, once more brushing a few strands of hair back with a light touch. Those faded green eyes slid in his direction and Julian smiled.

"I would have answered her calls, you know, if this one little American bird's words hadn't played over and over in my head every time I checked the caller ID." He didn't look away. "You helped me, and now I want to help you. I made a promise I'd be there whenever you needed me, and I'm here. Now, what can I do?"

"It. It's not that simple, Julian, I." For a moment, he thought she was going to recoil, and for a moment, so did she. But the girl didn't move. "You can't make this go away. This is... my problem. I created it. I have to deal with it. I made a mistake—and he knows where I am, it might be best if I ju--"

"If you're about to say what I think you are, don't you dare." The tone Julian took then was one almost exclusively reserved for Marcus; completely no nonsense, and cutting. But it quieted her, and now, he had her full attention. "You can't let him control your life, because even if you say you're not, he is. Every time you run, you give him the satisfaction of the truth that he's still got you; he's still got some control. You can't give him that that power. You are giving him what he wants; your isolation from the rest of the world, you, all alone. You cannot keep running from this, leaving plum colored rooms and other people's feelings for you in your wake with no regard, you can't just--"

Julian stopped himself then; hand rubbing at his mouth as he stifled the end of his sentence.

You can't just leave me here.

"I can't just what, Julian? I can't leave you in the wreckage of my mess? Leave you to face a role in a movie you probably hate at my hands?" There was no uncertainty in her tone, and Julian looked at her once more. "I can take that all back, I can ask them to find someone else--"

Julian moved then, cupping her face to assure she wouldn't look away as he spoke. "Teal Emerson, I want you to listen, and listen well. I would gladly take this bloody role if it meant keeping you around."

The silence that lapsed over the room briefly seemed to last no time. Teal did something then neither of them anticipated; she leaned in and kissed Julian Giles with all of her might.

The actor was stunned—only briefly—before he kissed her back. It felt as though he had waited eons for that, the knot in his stomach exploding in the heat of the moment; and as much as he hated to admit it, his sister had been right. He had fancied the girl who was then shifting her way onto his lap as she kissed him with a neediness he couldn't have possibly anticipated. His hand found the small of her back as though it was the most natural thing in the world, pulling the girl closer to him.

It was only the scraping of a shard of the shattered glass vase beneath his heel that pulled them out of their embrace; their noses barely brushing as they tried to catch their breath.

"Stay with me, as long as you need," his voice was a low murmur in those moments, gently brushing his lips against hers. "Please don't run, Teal. Not from this. Let me help you."

The writer offered no response as she kept her eyes locked steadily on his; quietly contemplating the conflict that was boiling over inside of her. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "...I've got to clean up this mess."

One of his hands made its way into her hair, stroking the chaotic curls gently as his other softly rubbed her back. "When you're ready, I'll get the broom and we'll do it together, yeah?"

Her arms tightened around his torso just a bit as she buried her face in his shoulder; something that sounded akin to a small laugh leaving her. For the first time in years, she didn't fight against an offer for help.

That evening, Teal Emerson moved a portion of her clothes and personal effects into Julian Giles's flat.