Crazy Guy Crazy Girl Crazy Love

"I'm crazy. Compleately and utterly crazy. If you come with me I have no idea what will happen. Because I'm nuts." He explained to me, before leaving he turned around and added, "aren't you coming?" ************************************************************** Nina is bored. Bored of life, bored of school, bored of everything. Then she meets Daz, who is a self-admitted mad man who is anything but boring. What could possibly go wrong?


24. Chapter 24: Desmond

A/N: This is the final chapter in Crazy Guy, Crazy Girl, Crazy Love. I'm going to work really hard on it, please comment any ideas on how to improve it. I hope you enjoy it, and have enjoyed the whole story. Thanks for reading, read on...

I woke up reminiscing. This would be the last day I woke up with Daz beside me, us all alone. I turned on my side so I could gaze at his flawless face. I was going to make him very happy today, even if it made me feel hollow inside. I was like a child, who didn't want to share her favourite toy, but Daz was no toy, he was a person, and I wouldn't be selfish with him. He deserved to be happy, he deserved to find his brother.

"It's rude to stare, shadow." Daz woke up in a daze. I blushed, and turned on my back again. It was light outside, so soon we'd get up and start walking. Walking, for the last time. I unraveled myself from my sleeping bag and put my shoes on, leaving the tent to stretch my legs. Daz followed after me, we gazed up at the sunrise together, it was the moments like this I'd miss the most. Not the crazy spontaneous moments of dancing in the rain, not the fearful moments of tense meet-ups, not the lustful romantic talks we shared, the normal moments. Because a normal moment with Daz was a shooting star in a starless sky, rare, breathtaking and abnormal. Daz started to heat up some things for breakfast, I went to get changed. We sat eating in silence, but a calm silence, one that relieved us from talking, rather than preventing us from using our voices. 

"Time to go." Daz told me, once we were all packed up. I nodded, smiling at him sportively. 

"Let's go." I agreed, holding his hand as we left the clearing and headed down the cliff. 


"Let's play a game." Daz suggested, we'd been walking for a couple of hours now, chatting the minutes away. 

"Ok, which game, truth or dare? For old times sake." I agreed. 

"No." He declined, looking me in the eye, "a new game. A memory for a memory. You tell me one memory of yours, and I'll tell you a memory of mine." 

"Ok, you start." I urged him, intrigued to see where this was going.

"At my 13th birthday party, the DJ cancelled last minute. So my mum decided to put together a play-list on iTunes. I didn't realize until it began, that her idea of 'cool teen music' involved the macarena. Instead of arguing with her and ruining my party, I played it cool, and ended up having one of the best parties ever, with the conga, and the macarena, that weird zombie dance in thriller... It taught me that, sometimes, if you go with the flow, you can end up with a really good outcome." He started off the game, I listened intensively, enjoying his sudden need to open up to me.

"When I was six, my dad left me in the car when I was asleep outside the supermarket. He locked it though. I woke up suddenly, when I tried to open the door and realized it was locked I panicked. I started bashing at the windows and screaming his name, I was really scared. The car alarm started going off, passers by started to worry about me, the security team came. Then my dad came out, stopped the alarm, unlocked the car and explained everything. It taught me not to be too quick to assume." I told him, he laughed under his breath. I blushed, it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, even though I was only six. 

"At one of my parents evenings in year 8, my teacher was telling my dad that I needed to work on my art, because I couldn't draw in the style of some random french dude. I got really at the criticism he was giving me, and how he was filling my dads mind with these 'bad attitude' concerns. Every time I tried to get a word in, he hushed me, until I had enough. I got up and screamed 'Art is about drawing in your own style! What sort of artist does and exhibition in the style of someone else? I don't need to know how to draw like someone else, I need to know how to draw as myself. You absolute idiot!' I had to attend counselling sessions on anger management for the rest of the year, and I failed art." I was a fit of giggles, Daz called his teacher an idiot. I calmed myself, then tried to think of a story I could tell him that might beat that.

"I was preparing for a school bake sale in year seven. I was making this fairy cakes, dad laid out all the equipment for me, all I had to do was bake. I thought I'd done quite well, I'd measured out all the amount using these fancy spoony things from a professional retailer. When I came to take them out the oven, I got a big surprise, the whole tray was full of tall cupcake sponge. I'd measured out the baking powder in the larger spoon measure, and they'd risen too much. Me and my dad spent most of the evening trying to get the sponge off the sides of the oven. It was actually great fun, though I got told off for not bringing anything to the sale." Daz grinned at me, then told his next memory.

"I once was walking down a street. There was a man busking, playing his guitar, he had skills. I stood there listening him sing the blues, country, soul. He had so much emotion in his music. I didn't realize how much time I'd spent listening, but it might of been hours. When he was packing up, I saw a guy take a five pound note from his case. I followed him and beat him up, taking back the fiver and then returning to the same busker to give him the money back the next day. I used violence to fight wrong, it changed me a bit. You changed me back though." I was flattered, I didn't realize it was my turn to speak.

"I once saw a lady drop her purse. She got on her bicycle and started to peddle away, I chased after her for ages, when she eventually stopped she gave me twenty pounds for being so persistent and helpful. It made me see the selfish benefits of being selfless, and almost made me want to stop being so selfless." My story was weak, but Daz seemed to be staring off into the distance. It was a few more moments before he spoke.

"We're here." I stopped in my tracks to be faced with a tall semi-detached house. It loomed over and Daz, encasing us in shadows. I held out my hand, Daz took it. We paced up the front garden, up the steps, to the front door. I looked at Daz, he seemed pale, he looked back at me, swallowed, then rang the doorbell. 

It was a long few seconds before anyone answered. The door was opened by a man in his mid forties. Tall, pale, strong build. But what stroke me most about him was his resemblances with Daz. Although his hair was brown, it fell flat to the right, just like his. His skin was paler than white, and sort of shined in the sunlight. His eyes were grey and misty with a hypnotically dark pupil. His entire face seemed to be in a sort of diamond shape, and although aged, his featured were chiseled. He was, I realized, Daz's father. His face seemed shocked and confused, like he couldn't believe what was in front of him. His eyes wondered briefly over me, then stayed on Daz, as if he'd seen a ghost. Daz just stood their silently, waiting for his father to speak.

"Desmond?" His father asked.

"Hi dad." Daz replied. I wave of surprise nearly knocked me off my feet. How had I missed it? Daz's careful wording, the photo in the paper, the 'D' in the text message, his disturbed tone whenever he referred to Desmond... Daz was Desmond. Desmond was Daz. Daz hadn't been searching for his brother, he'd been searching for his dad. He'd run away after his mothers death, and spent most of his years on the run searching for his dad, so he could return home.

"Your Desmond?" I clarified, "but you have black hair, and the boy in the picture had freckles..." 

"Your not the only one who changed their appearance when they ran away, shadow." Daz interrupted me.

"Who is this?" Daz's father asked. Daz cleared his throat, before speaking on;

"Dad, this is Nina. She's a run-away girl from Bristol who I lured into my dark and dangerous world. She's insecure, impulsive, has some serious anger issues, and even talks in her sleep, which is really annoying by the way. She's got loads of flaws, and can annoy me to the end of the earth if she likes. But she also had good things too. She's optimistic, curious and beautiful, and I love her." Breath escaped my body. Daz said he loved me, he'd never said it before, I began to cry in happiness, he loved me back, he'd admitted it to me, and to himself.

"Daz..." I began, but he shushed me. He leaned it and concluded this perfect moment,

by kissing me.

My first kiss had, my soul-mate found, sanity settled on our crazy love.

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