Niq had given her his hoodie after he stood up to lead her into town. The Spring breeze wasn't cold enough for it, but she'd lifted the hood over her eyes anyways.

Folks around here weren't her biggest fans.

They walked side by side, the sun resting behind intimidating buildings and tranquil hills. Iris noticed this, and realized how long she'd spent in the field of flowers, away from the rest of the world.

Step, step, step. She watched as her feet went back and forth, carrying her forward, avoiding the eyes of others around her.

Niq had his hand resting beside hers, but it wasn't touching. Around here, people would do more than just glare if they saw what they thought was two men showing romantic affection.

Iris gritted her teeth, squinted her eyes shut. "I'm a girl," she whispered, and Niq looked over, his golden eyes revealing the emotion that his face wouldn't. He didn't speak.

They turned a corner down a musty alley; a sideroad, away from the hustle and bustle of ignorance and… others.

Iris and Niq were only 17 years old; not old enough to leave the grips of their small town, or Iris’ father. Even once they turned 18, college was no longer an option for them: Iris was no longer attending school, and Niquise refused to leave without her at his side.

Iris stopped, and sank down against the dirty wall, surrounded by the dank trash of the alleyway. Niq turned around, puzzled, “What’s wrong, Iris?” He asked, crouching down to her side, “Listen, if we don’t get moving soon, someone could see us, or,” he paused, “they could see you.”

But she didn't answer; she didn't move, she didn't blink, she didn't breathe. To escape, she had to be still. To be still, she had to escape.

After a few moments, she finally exhaled. Inhale, pause. Exhale. Close, pause. Open. Blink. 

She stood up, brushed the grime off the best she could, and held out a hand to her best friend (her life support) and smiled.

It was fake, but so was she. She could live with that, so long as she survived another day with him.

Niq smiled as well, but it didn't reflect in his dark eyes. She knew he felt the same. She knew it was time to go.

"Niquise," she began, cheerful and airy, "how would you feel about leaving, and never coming back?"

The light finally shone in his eyes as he replied, "I believe that would be wonderful, my dear Iris."