Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi, or these characters, or this old abandoned warehouse.

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfic, and I just want to say I'll leave it up to you to figure out who this lovely story is about. And PLEASE, review. Be as harsh as can be, be brutally honest, tell me how much it sucks (or, y'know, how much you loved it). Just let me know your opinions on it, please. Anddd, here it is!

He See's Everything

I'm perfect. I'm flawless. I'm good, I'm pure. I'm the all around girl next door. I don't fuck up, I don't let down. My smile never falters and I never frown. If only that were true.

I never was perfect, no matter what people think. Sure, I used to be a little more ambiguous, a little more strong willed, and a little less empty. But even back then I had my fair share of screw ups, which is probably why I can't account for a one certain time and date for when I finally changed for the worse.

I put up this fascade, and no one questions it. I'm a hypocrite, a bitch. I use people and discard them, and I get away with it. I'm always only looking out for number one, and I don't care if I stomp all over someone to get what I want. I crave attention. I'm doing all the things I used to fight against. But no one stands up to me, no ones shoves all my bullshit and lies in my face. No one except him.

My boyfriend treats me like I'm breakable, because of all I've gone through over the past years. He treats me like the crazy bitch that I am, he see's the real me. My boyfriend says he loves me, that there's no other girl in the world anywhere near as perfect as me, my boyfriend makes passionate love to me. He hates me as I hate him, he knows I'm not perfect and he see's nothing wrong in pointing out my faults, he fucks me angrily.

It makes you wonder why I keep going back to him, every single night. Thats the type of questions that creep into my head late into dark, after I've snuck back into my bedroom through the basement window, his scent fresh on my skin. Like soap and leather. I don't love him, and he doesn't love me. On good days we say nothing at all to eachother, because when we do its usually just to toss insults back and fourth at one another. But then when I'm lying in bed, thinking about the things I had been doing just twenty or so minutes before, the boy that I had been with, its like all those questions evaporate into thin air. And the questions of my actions are replaced with thoughts of him, and then I picture his face in my head.

I slip out of my bed, an hour or so after I've 'gone to sleep'. My ripped jeans and pink top I wore to school earlier that day are still on, so I just pull on my matching hot pink flats and slink out the window. I only have to walk a couple blocks to our meeting place, so that I won't have to walk far in the dark. Thats about as far as his consideration of my well being goes. And only that because without me he'd have to find a new fuck buddy.

I walk into the abandoned warehouse, which to the unseeing eye hasn't been occupied for years. When in reality its my favorite place to be. Here I can be whoever I want to be. I can be evil and seductive, I can be bitchy and complaining. Because he knows thats who I am inside, he see's me. We never meet at houses, we never speak outside, that would make things too personal. This is simply us satisfying our needs.

I see him spread out on the old patchwork blanket. At first I had grown used to the cold concrete floor beneath my back, until he showed up one night with that hideous blanket. He said it was because he was tired of the concrete scratching up his ass, but I knew he had brought it for me.

"Finally." He practically spat out as he stood, and I notice right off that he's upset. I can sense the tense airwaves eluminating off his skin.

I don't bother to give him a snarky reply, but instead make my way over to him in that seductive manner I had perfected. His grimace dissappears seconds later and is replaced with his trademark cocky grin. I slide my hands up his chest, the heat of his body overwhelming even through his cotton shirt. Sliding my hands over his shoulders I push off his jacket, right as he grazes his hands over my hips, pulling me closer to his body so that the gap between us is no more. Burying his head into the nape of my neck, nibbling and biting just the way I like, he has to go and ruin the moment by doing what he always does; opening his mouth.

"So what took you so long, anyways?" He whispers in my ear, as he undoes the buttons on my jeans.

I've always been a great multi tasker, so as I kick off my shoes and work his jeans off his hips, I give him my overused reply, "Thats veering off into the personal zone." He lets me go of me for a second, matching my chocolate eyes with his sky blue ones. These moments with him are the ones I cherish and despise, want to keep in my memory forever and want to forget. Then he lets a small grunt escape his lips, in annoyance or anger or just plain discomfort. We're molded together again in seconds, a mass of limbs and ripped off clothings. In what will seem like just a few fleeting minutes, this will be over and I'll be lying awake in bed, wanting his touch, his presence. I won't be able to remember every minimal detail of this fuck, and it will kill me.

As soon as it starts, its over. We're both out of breath, laying in a tangle on top of the blanket. I listen as his breathing evens out, slows. His backs to me, he's turned away as he always is; closing out the many problems that consist of me. I presume his eyes are closed, like I always do, as I quickly slip on my clothes that were scattered across the floor due to our frisky escapades. I slip my clothes on one at a time; ripped jeans, pink top, bright pink flats. I know I'm just prolonging the unavoidable, and in turn making it that much more unbearable, but I really don't care. I just don't want to leave this safe haven, I don't want to have to face the world outside.

Suddenly a strong breeze comes through the building, and I shiver involuntarily. I watch as he rolls over, his hair dishelved and his eyes squinty, but what he does next surprises me. Holding out his warn in jacket, he offers, "Its cold outside. Take it." I knew it wasn't an offer so much as a demand, so I did what he said, for once not complaining about things getting too personal. Besides, a part of me is happy to know that I'll get to take a part of him home with me. But only a small part.

So as I slip on the two sizes too big jacket, and I make my way out into the chilly night, I don't look back. If I do I'm not so sure I'd be able to handle that sparkling, know all look in his eyes. Or the small smirk thats always playing on his pouty lips. I'm not so sure I'd be able to hide my longing behind my emotionless fascade. He see's everything.