"Allison Reynolds?"

I looked up from my sketchpad, annoyed that I had been interrupted in my drawing and scowled at the receptionist. I didn't know why I had to continue these appointments, all things considered.

"Allison? Dr. Corden is ready to see you." The receptionist said, gesturing to the door.

I sighed and gathered my things, standing up. "Tell him I'm not feeling too well." And with that, I stormed out.

When the cold April air hit my face, I felt relieved. The waiting room to the psychiatrist's office had been stuffy, and I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun. I hated it.

My parents always dropped me off here, every Friday, and never stayed to talk to the doctor. This time hadn't been any different, and the moment I had stepped into the doors of the office, my anxiety had flared, burning to the tips of my fingers like wildfire. I knew I needed to get out of there, but my body had automatically made its way to the seat I regularly sat in, and I hated that too.

I opened my sketchpad, landing on the page where I had been drawing a butterfly, soft and fragile. I felt like a paper butterfly sometimes, fragile and graceful. Maybe that's why I drew them so much.

I walked down the sidewalk, my hair whipping against my face, the wind biting my cheeks. Andrew's house was only a block away, and I knew he'd be home since practice was over at five.

Andrew and I have been going steady for nearly three weeks now, and surprisingly, there hasn't been much backlash since our relationship was revealed at school that Monday after detention. I had expected to be shunned, maybe even ridiculed, but none of that happened. It seemed that no one had known who I was before I started dating Andrew, which I felt relieved and somewhat saddened by. I knew that I was nobody, and everyone's reactions had proved it.

The white paint and blue door of Andrew's house stood before me, and I knocked twice before Andrew's father, Joseph, answered, a beer in his hand.

"Allison?" Joseph said, a puzzled look on his face

I adjusted the strap of my bag and smiled. "I know Andrew might be tired, but-"

"No, no! Come in, he's downstairs in the basement." Joseph stepped aside and let me in, and I nodded and thanked him.

The person I'd been worried most about was Joseph, hoping he wasn't biased and would demand that Andrew stop seeing me, but to my surprise, he had been the most supportive. He liked my spunky personality, my quirkiness, and I felt him to be the father I wish I had. I enjoyed being at the Clark's; it felt like a second home.

When I passed the kitchen, I saw Andrew's mom, Andrea, putting frosting on a cake.

"Allison, it's nice to see you!" Andrea said, stopping to walk over and pull me into a quick hug. "How've you been?"

"Um," I felt my face warming. I wasn't used to being hugged by anyone other than Andrew, and needless to say, the contact with Andrea had put me off. "I'm good, I guess? I just came by to see Andrew."

Andrea smiled and continued slathering the cake. "I see. Well, go on, I think he's downstairs."

I nodded, and made my way to the basement door, opening it and shutting it closed quietly behind me, before walking down the stairs.

I'd been in the basement before, and I knew it was where Andrew went to find peace and quiet, and to wind down after practice. I heard the faint sounds of the T.V., some sort of jingle about a brand of pop you'd find at the dollar store.

When I hit the bottom step, I was engulfed by a pair of strong but soft arms and lifted into the air, and twirled around until I squealed loudly.

"Andrew!" I playfully swatted at his shoulders until he put me down, pulling me close into a hug.

"Alli, I missed you." Andrew said, kissing my forehead. I made another squealing sound and he let go of me, holding my hands. "Where'd you go during history?"

I swallowed. "I had another appointment."

Andrew nodded. "Did you stay this time?"

I didn't answer, but extricated myself from his arms and sat on the couch in the corner, pulling out my sketchbook. I continued shading one of the butterflies when Andrew cleared his throat.

"You didn't, did you?" There it was, the disappointment, the stress in his voice. I knew that I put so much stress on him and our relationship, but I wanted to be… normal. I didn't want the pills, didn't want the doctor's appointments. I just wanted to feel like a normal high school senior, even though I loved my quirks.

I sighed and put my pencil down, looking at Andrew. "No. I didn't."

Andrew frowned. "Allison, you know you have to-"

"I know!" I snapped, breathing heavily.

Andrew looked hurt at my outburst, which cut my heart into two. I took two deep breaths and grabbed his hand, looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

Andrew nodded and held my hand tighter, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it gently. "It's okay. I know it's stressful." He pulled me close, stroking my hair. "I know it's hard. I'm just looking out for you."

"I know." I curled into his body, hugging him tightly. "You make it easier."

I felt him chuckle, a low rumbling sound in his chest. "Do I?"

"Mhm." I moved my head until my face was inches from Andrew's, before I leaned forward and locked my lips with his, his mouth soft and yielding against mine.

We kissed for what felt like forever before Andrew pulled away, smiling, his eyes closed.

"That was nice," he said softly, before kissing my nose and leaning back against the arm of the couch, pulling me with him.

I relaxed and positioned myself so that I was leaning against him comfortably, kicking off my shoes and opening my sketchbook, settling it on my legs and continuing to shade the paper butterfly.

"What's that?" Andrew asked, craning his neck to see my creation.

"A butterfly. A paper one."

"It's beautiful."

"Mm."

"Why butterflies?"

"I like them. They're small and fragile. Like me."

"They're also beautiful, like you."

I blushed, stopping in my shading. "You're just saying that."

I felt Andrew sit up quickly, pulling me against him, my back to his front, his breath in my ear.

"No. I mean it. You are beautiful, inside and out." His words tickled my ear, and I giggled involuntarily. "See? I knew that'd make you smile."

"Pfft." I turned my body slightly to look at him. "I giggled 'cause you tickled me."

"Oh, my heart, it's broken." Andrew faked a hurt expression and I playfully punched his shoulder.

"Oh shush."

"Make me."

"I'd rather draw butterflies."

"Ouch." Andrew smiled but went silent, resting his chin on my shoulder as he watched me begin to draw another butterfly.

A comfortable silence settled over us as I sketched out one wing, adding a bit of a tail to the end of it, before starting in on the pattern.

"I love watching you draw. The way your hands move, it's beautiful."

I snorted.

"What? It's the truth." Andrew said, his hold around my waist tightening. "You draw better than anyone I know."

"How many people do you know that draw?"

"Um… none come to mind."

"Ha!"

"Shhh, you'll make Mom come down here."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah, because I'd like to spend time alone with my girlfriend if it's all the same to you."

"Pfft I find your mom to be joyful."

"You only love her for her baking."

"No- okay, yeah, yeah I do."

"Knew it!"

The phone rang and Andrew untangled himself, getting up to answer it.

"Hello? Oh, hey Claire." Andrew turned around and leaned against the wall, smiling at me. "No, it's just me and Allison, why what's up?" Andrew's face turned stony, and I got up quickly, standing next to the receiver, listening.

"-Dad just left Mom and I can't get a hold of John and I don't know what to do so can I please come over?" I heard Claire cry into the phone, and I grabbed it, speaking quickly.

"Come over, Claire. It's okay." I looked at Andrew, who nodded.

"O-okay thank you. I'll be o-over shortly." There was a click and Claire hung up.

I hung up the phone and turned to Andrew, who's face was still sad. "Poor Claire…" I said softly, trailing off.

"Yeah. Poor Claire." Andrew lamented, rubbing his temples. "You'd think they would've waited till graduation."

"Parents are shitty like that. I would know."

Andrew only nodded and sat back on the couch, I joined him. I couldn't bring myself to draw, my only thought being Claire, how easily her world had been torn apart.

I realized that life in general was just like that: easily shattered, ripped at the seams. Life was like paper butterflies in that sense, and I was only just beginning to understand how fragile it could be.

Claire showed up twenty minutes later, her makeup smeared and her face almost as red as her hair.

She could barely talk, she was sobbing so hard. I hugged her tightly and led her to the couch, holding her.

Even though I didn't like being touched or held by other people, I didn't mind initiating it. If it meant it would calm Claire down, I would do it.

"H-he just l-left. D-didn't even say goodbye and M-mom started freaking..." Claire sobbed, crying into my black shirt, and I was thankful I hadn't decided to dress the way she had dressed me three weeks ago for this exact reason.

"Parents are shit, Claire. They hurt you." I muttered, rubbing her back. Andrew raised an eyebrow, and I looked at him expectantly, mouthing 'Help'.

He didn't expect me to do this on my own, did he?

"Um, yeah, parents are shitty," Andrew said, and I rolled my eyes, exasperated at his pathetic attempt.

"What Andrew is trying to say-" A loud thunk against the other basement door leading to the backyard interrupted me, and Andrew's face scrunched in confusion as he went to open it.

"No one else knows about this door. What the hell?!" Andrew opened the door and John Bender fell through, his eyes glazed and a grin on his face.

"Heeeeey, Sportoooo!" John reached for a hand up, but Andrew smacked it away, disgust on his face.

"How the fuck- no, you know what? I'm not even gonna ask. Instead of laying on the floor, why don't you go comfort your girlfriend, yeah?" Andrew spat, pointing to where Claire and I were on the couch, and John got up off the floor and stumbled to the couch, plopping harshly down beside Claire, who threw herself into his arms, much to his surprise and slight disgust.

Andrew jerked his head toward the stairs, and I nodded, quietly grabbing my pencil and pad and Andrew and I tiptoed up stairs, leaving the couple alone.

Thankfully, Andrea and Joseph had gone out to see a movie, citing that a date night had been long overdue. In actuality, we both knew it was because they didn't want to hear Claire's gross sobbing.

We made our way upstairs to Andrew's room, closing the door and plopping on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, hearing Claire's crying float two floors up, and we both groaned.

"How do you think he's handling it?" I said, and Andrew snickered, turning over and pulling me close.

"As well as Claire handles criticism, I'd imagine."

I laughed, and Andrew smiled, his thumb tracing my lips, his eyes scouring every inch of my face. I felt exposed, like a butterfly without its wings, and very vulnerable.

Andrew always seemed to have this effect on me, and I had a love/hate relationship with it.

"You make me feel vulnerable." I said quickly, and he stopped moving his thumb, his eyes meeting mine.

"I do?" His brow furrowed as he searched my face. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Both. I hate it and love it."

He laughed. "Do you know how you make me feel?"

I arched one eyebrow. "How?"

"Like I can't breathe. Like I can't even function. Every waking moment, I think of you. I feel vulnerable too. I love and hate it at the same time, but I wouldn't trade it for the world." He smiled, waiting for me to say something.

I couldn't help it. I started crying. And that scared Andrew.

"Whoa, whoa, why are you crying?" He held me and pet my hair, and I tried pulling away.

It was all too much at once. I knew what he meant by that. I knew what it was that he was feeling, because I felt it too.

It was love, and it was too soon. He couldn't love me, not this soon.

"Andrew, please, let me go!" I cried out, my heart pounding and Andrew flinched away from me, as though he'd been stung.

"Allison, what's wrong?!" He said, and I just shook my head, getting off the bed and opening the bedroom door, sprinting down the stairs and out the front door, and I didn't stop until I got to my house.

I had left without my shoes and sweater, and I didn't realize it had been raining until I stopped, shivering.

My father's car wasn't in the driveway, which meant it was another late night at the office. I opened the front door and slammed it, hoping to at least elicit attention from my mother, but to no avail.

I found her sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the T.V., a glass of what I knew to be merlot perched on the arm of her recliner.

"Mom." I said, and she didn't even flinch, or bother to look at me. "Mom, I'm in love with someone."

Not even a simple 'oh?'.

I could feel the anger burning it my gut, and I ran to my room, slamming the door. Too much, too much emotion, too much anger, I could feel it boiling over.

It finally blew and I broke down, my eye streaming with tears, struggling to breathe as I felt that dark creep up on me again.

I must've passed out, because when I woke up, moonlight poured in through the window, and I checked the time on my alarm clock.

Ten-thirty.

I stretched and immediately felt my wet clothes rubbing harshly against my skin. My entire bed was wet, soaked by my clothes, and I growled in disgust. Standing up, I stripped off my clothes quickly and changed into my old clothes, the ones I wore three Saturdays ago. They had been buried below the clothes Claire had bought for me (with my guidance, of course), and I had let them sit there, like a memory. They felt almost like a second skin, one I missed dearly.

Like an old friend.

I went to turn on the light and once the room illuminated I caught sight of someone in my mirror.

I screamed. "Bender, what the fuck?!"

"Shhh! Do you want your parents to come up here?!" John whispered harshly, covering my mouth. "I came here to check that you were okay."

I glared at him and ripped his hand off my mouth. "I'm fine."

John crossed his arms and in the pale light I could make out a skeptical expression on his face. "If you're so fine, why did you run five blocks in the rain without any shoes or a jacket?"

I swallowed thickly and turned on my bedside lamp. "It was nothing. Just a basket case moment." I sat on the bed and leaned back, wincing as my head and neck touched the wet spot. "Shouldn't you be in Claire's room by now?"

John sighed, plopping down beside me and laying next to me, drumming his thumbs against his chest. "Claire isn't up for anyone to be with her at the moment."

"How unfortunate for you."

"Very."

It was silent until I suddenly leaned over and pressed my lips to John's, who started flailing in surprise.

I pulled off and sighed. "Just as I thought. Nothing."

John wiped his mouth and looked at me like I was crazy. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I needed to see if I was actually in love with Andrew."

"And?"

"I am."

"Oh good. Because you scared the shit out of me." John sat up and pulled a cigarette from his jacket, going to light it up before stopping to look at me. "Can I…?"

"Go for it. They don't come in here anyhow." I scowled, and John shrugged and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing it out, offering it to me.

I stare at it. "Fuck it." I grab it and take a puff, exhaling the smoke.

We lay there in silence for a bit before John speaks.

"You freaked out Mr. Sportsman, by the way. He practically ran after you, but you were somehow, by some freakish law of nature, faster than him." John paused, taking another drag before handing it to me. "He gave up because he doesn't know where you live."

"No one knows where I live." I muttered, flicking the ash on the floor, rubbing it out with my foot. "It's better that way."

"I know where you live, because unlike him, I'm observant." John took the cigarette back and took one last drag, before getting up to flick it out the window. "Amazing what you'll find out just by following muddy footprints."

"How long have you been in here?" I asked, and John laughed.

"Afraid that I saw more than I should? I'm kidding!" He saw my expression and laughed. "I came in shortly after you put on your shirt. Through the window, I might add."

I laughed. "You're quieter than me."

"Nah, just really good at sneaking around." He coughed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "You should give Andrew a call. He's been worried."

"You should go to Claire, no matter what she says." I retorted, and John smiled, starting to climb out the window.

"Will do." He paused, one leg halfway out the window, one in my room. "Also, Allison?"

"Yeah?"

"I think Andrew loves you too."

And with that, he left.

I stared after him for a few minutes before turning to the phone on my bedside table. I bit my lip, before picking up the receiver and dialing Andrew's number. It rings a couple times before a sleepy voice answers.

"'Ello?" Andrew answers, his voice thick and heavy, like the sweaters you wear during the winter.

"Andrew?" I murmur, trying to restrain myself from hanging up.

"Allison? Are you okay? I was worried… I didn't know if I had done someth-"

"Do you love me?" I interrupted him. I needed to know. If he didn't, I was safe.

If he did, I was fucked.

There was silence and then a breathy reply.

"Yes. Yes, I love you. I love you, Allison Reynolds."

My face felt wet and I realized I was crying. "I have to go."

"Wai-" I hung up on him, my hand covering my mouth.

He loved me. Andrew loved me and I felt so scared.

And I had hung up on him after he had declared his love for me.

Panicking, I quickly put my old ratty shoes on and climb out my window, because, fuck it, all in the name of love, right?

My heart began pounding as soon as my feet touched the muddy grass, my shoes squelching as I began to run, run towards Andrew's house, running to tell him that I loved him too.

Each time my feet pounded against the pavement, the faster my heart raced. The faster my heart raced, the more I realized how much I actually loved Andrew. I loved the way he smiled, the way he laughed. I loved the way he sometimes trailed off in his sentences. I loved the way he bit his lip when he was thinking, or how he chewed pencils in Calculus. I loved the way that he made time for me even when he was completely tired after practice. I loved the way he looked at me. I loved the way he talked to me. I loved the way he listened, the way I always seem to be on his mind.

I loved Andrew Clark for all these reasons, and he loved me for many more.

I arrived at his house, finding the nearest pebble and chucking it at his window, waiting with bated breath as his light turned on. The window opened, revealing a shirtless Andrew, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes wide as they finally rested on me.

"Allison? What are you doing here?"

"Come down here!" I exclaimed, whimpering when he disappeared from the window, only to hear loud exclamations from Joseph as Andrew (presumably) ran down the stairs like a bat out of hell.

Finally, he opened the front door and ran out onto the lawn, grabbing me close to him and began apologizing.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you and if you don't love me too I'll under-"

"Andrew!"

He stopped talking as I pressed my lips to his, running my fingers in his hair. I kissed him like I had never kissed him before, with a hunger that even scared me.

I finally pulled away and rested my forehead against his, gasping for air. After a moment, I smiled.

"I love you too, silly boy."