A/N: Hey guys, this is my first story ever, so please give me advice. I hope it's good, and I'm thinking about adding another chapter that is the story of Jasper's constellation tale. Review!

Summary: Jasper went to war when he was a teen and is now depressed after having all his friends ripped away from him, and is a cutter and is suicidal (also looks a bit emo). Bella is a popular, pretty girl that is depressed because of her dad's impending death. She turned to pills for suicide, and is out for a night at her friends house, where her friends brother, Jasper, happens to be. Jasper takes her outside for a chat and they get to know each other.

"Can I talk to you outside?" I asked her. I leaned over to speak quietly in her ear. I could almost feel her shiver when my breath touched her neck. Even after all this time, I still wasn't too comfortable with people hearing me talk. The army had taken quite a hit on my self-esteem.

She looked up in shock. I think that she could not believe that someone like me—a "nobody", stupid, delinquent, almost emo person like me—would ever talk to her. She was everything my father had ever wanted me to be. She was smart, popular, comfortable in her own shoes, good-looking and all over perfect. She slowly nodded, still confused, and we snuck out the door. I was surprised that hardly anybody glanced up as we left. I guess I had that effect on people; I was invisible. However, she was not, and I was curious as to why none of her 'friends' followed us.

We walked onto the porch. The moonlight was shining perfectly, so that the shadows of the trees on the ground made a peaceful looking atmosphere. I stared into the night sky. There must have been hundreds of stars. I could even see some of the constellations that we would share stories about in the military units. There was Marcus, the fallen soldier, and his brother, Dyrecius next to him, holding his dead son. This story had been my favorite as a lad, but now it just made me want to vomit.

I didn't realize that we had been standing there in silence for about a minute (her glancing between me, the sky, and her feet, and me again) until she cleared her throat. "What did you want to talk to me for?" she asked, obviously not satisfied with my bringing her outside for no apparent reason. A breeze swept over the porch as I turned to look at her, blowing her hair in front of her face and neck.

My hand reached out of its own accord, brushing the hair away from her creamy neck and running my thumb over her throat. I could not believe that only days ago the medicine of death was sliding down that same pipe. "Why did you do it?" I asked. I merely wanted to know if I was the only one that wanted out of this world for no reason.

"Why the fuck do you care?" she asked, obviously offended. "Why should a freak like you give a shit about my life? You don't fucking know what it's like to want to die. It's none of your fucking business."

I slowly turned my wrist upward, and showed her something I never showed anybody. Even my father, who I was very close to, did not get to see them often. I slowly pulled back my black sweatshirt sleeve to reveal the jagged crisscross pattern that covered my inner arm, and the four deep, straight lines that ran from the crease of my elbow to the very start of my hand. "I do fucking know what it's like. I just thought you might want some company in it all. Just take my advice; don't listen to one word of the shitty advice the doctors will feed you. Don't let them convince you that there's something wrong with you. Don't let them make you lie to yourself that you need 'professional, experienced help'. Don't let them convince you that they know more about your mind and feelings than you. Remember that you make the decisions regarding your life, and doctors and counselors that have never thought about suicide once will never understand that sometimes people just want a break from this world. They're all shitheads—don't let them convince you otherwise."

She stared at me in shock. Those were the most—the only words she had ever heard me say, and quite frankly that might have been the only time I delivered that long of a speech to anyone but my father or my trainer in the army. I looked down at my feet, scared of what she might say to me. I never really liked to talk to people, but I wanted to check in on this one girl. I wanted to make sure she was okay and shit, and honestly, I needed some reassurance that I was not the only one wanting the eave this world behind.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts, I must not have seen her coming, but the next thing I knew, she had lain her head upon my chest. Her small arms just barely made it around my frame. I stiffened. I did not like being touched, but I felt as though I had to return the gesture. I slowly slid my own scarred, mutilated, ugly arms around her small frame. We were hugging. The only woman I had ever held like this was my mom when we met each other after long journeys, and even then, it never lasted more than a minute. I did not realize that she was crying until I felt a damp spot on my shirt right over my heart. I tightened my arms. In all honesty, I did not know what else to do.

I lowered us to the ground, and placed her next to me. We both sat on the cold, grey concrete of the walkway to the house; her with her head on my chest, her arms around my middle, and me resting my head on top of hers with my arms around her shoulders. After about ½ hour, she looked up at me. I could see the tears in her eyes, the way they glistened in the moonlight.

"Why did you do it?" she asked me, looking for comfort.

"I just wanted out. I hate this place."

"My dad is dying," she whispered to me. After that, my reason sounded pretty lame. I would not know what to do if my dad died. I would probably run rampant and kill the entire US in one day. He was the only stable in my life; he was the only person that I could always rely on. She on the other hand, she sacrificed herself to save others from suffering from her insanity.

"It's a pain in the ass, isn't it," I said.

"What is?"

"When the doctors stop you. When you wake up, they're always like, 'ooh, I'm so glad you're okay,' and then you feel like screaming in their face, 'well I wish I were dead, so fuck off', but you know you can't because they'll just medicate you more?" It always ticked me off when they did this. Like, seriously. If I committed suicide, why would they expect me to be happy when I found out I was alive?

"Well, I don't really know if I should've downed those pills. I mean, I don't want to be here right now, but I should've waited until my dad was gone, at least."

I heard the door creak open, and her best friend stuck their head around the corner. "Hey guys, the Head says it's time to come in now." She looked between us, looking quite confused. I could see why. I, the bullied freak of the school was holding hands with the popular, pretty-faced 'plastic' girl, playing with her fingers as she leaned against my shoulder.

"We'll be in in a second," my new non-enemy-almost-friend answered for me. The door closed. I looked back up at the stars. More had come out, as it was probably almost midnight. My favorite childhood constellation had a few more of its stars now, even though the only time you could see the whole thing was on a completely cloudless night where no light pollution existed. This would be my hometown, Middle of Nowhere. I was just starting to remember when my friend and I had first discovered this formation of stars 3 days before he was shot and killed, when she interrupted my thoughts.

"We should go in now," she whispered, gazing into the sky. I could tell that she was trying to find out what the heck I kept staring at.

"You go in. I'll be in in a minute," I murmered back, never breaking my gaze from the stars. Right before she stood up, I planted a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Remember my advice. Don't let them get to you." She was stunned for a second as my breath blew across her face and my lips brushed her skin. She blushed and stood.

"Don't be too long," she said as she opened the door. I looked back into the sky, and forced the memories of my childhood in the army back. 'Soon', I thought to myself. 'You can think about that soon'. I knew I would not go back into that house where I did not belong tonight. It was filled with laughter and cheeriness, and I was filled with tears and longing.

I stood and jumped the fence in the backyard. No, I would not turn back. I would find my way home like a real soldier. To my real home, not to the shabby house where I lived with my dad, but real home.