This was a request from my wonderful friend Scarlett-Clarke :)

Song-fic based off 'Girls' by The 1975. Enjoy!

Alistair watched as the 17 year old (or 17 and a HALF year old, as she often corrected him) before him bit her lip, staring down at her homework. It confused him. Why was he here, helping her as she struggled with her coursework. He was almost 20, yet here he was. Messing about with this beauty, this wonder.

They were locked up in his bedroom, hoping to god that his brother didn't find them- God, Alistair could practically smell the sarcasm and cynicism dripping off of Arthur's voice if he saw the two together. Then again, she'd probably laugh it off. Did she not understand the idea of rules? Did she not see any fun in just keeping it normal? Doing what you're told? She just enjoyed the fun of their relationship. The danger.

She looked up, grinning and trying to act coy, as he felt her hand snake up his leg.

'Here we go again...'

"Je, please... You know I'm not this amazing, young guy, I'm not average. Yes, we've had some awesome nights, and you're looking for a fun time because I'm older, but I'm not going to keep you happy..."

Once again, an attempt to leave had left him straddled on the ground, with her lips locked on his.

'God Help me now...'

He had tried to convince himself that it was just the way girls were, eyes bright, uptight, just girls. There was always a part of himself telling him that she couldn't be all that he needed, that she was too young, but something always brought him back...

They walked along the frozen streets of Edinburgh, hands clasped tightly together as the girl shivered uncontrollably. Well, she had been born and bred in Southern France, you couldn't blame her for feeling the cold which Alistair was so very used to after all these years.

As they made their way to his flat, he couldn't help but remember the first time they met.

It was snowing, he'd always remember that. It would be a winter wonderland if he wasn't so numb to it nowadays. He was ageing too quickly, getting too cynical and pedantic. He felt he needed a new lease of life. He stepped through the doors of Starbucks to find it already packed. Typical. He made his way to the counter and purchased the hot coffee he so very much needed, and turned to quickly find an empty table. He was most certainly not going out in the snow again in a hurry. Looking around, the only free seat was on a sofa, next to what looked like a bundle of jumpers. As he made his way closer towards it, the Scotsman began to notice the labels. A designer bundle of jumpers. Moving to sit down, he noticed the bundle shift slightly to the side, and as he looked up, he felt his jaw drop.

She couldn't have been more than 17. She smelt of honey and chocolate. Fragrant shampoo. Expensive perfume. She smiled, her nose tinged red from the cold. Must have not been used to it yet. Before her was a laptop, and Alistair could only remember in the blur of his memories that she looked like she was in the middle of an essay. Was it a college project? He never found out.

'B-Bonjour~' French. A foreign exchange student, maybe? An immigrant? He nearly forgot to answer. 'Hey, there'

Maybe it was just Alistair's memory, or maybe it was just the nature of it all, but from the rest of their time together he could just barely remember taking her home. He had found out her name. Jeanne. She had decided to move here after deciding to study in a more relaxed environment, as there were problems at home with her parents in France. They were getting a divorce and she was finding it hard to study, as she couldn't find a room in their town house where they wouldn't bring her into an argument over who got what, and which parent got the Range Rover and who got to have the maid and what not. 'Talk about trouble in paradise...' Looking back, he felt he remembered more about the conversations they had in that crowded little café than he did about their time that night.

Now, all that mattered was the fact that one minute, he had been tearing off her blouse, the next, she was moving into his dinky little flat that he could hardly fit two sofas in. And there was Alistair wondering how their relationship got to be anything more than 'messing around'.

They stepped through the door, and she was on him like a shot. He knew how much she wanted him. He could sense the desire, but he knew it couldn't go on.

"Come on... You know I can't keep you here forever... My brother's going to come home one day and find you here... If you honestly think that sitting around in this dingy old flat with me, doing your homework, is living the life then you've got it all wrong... Why don't you just find someone your own age?" It was the right thing to do, he told himself. That evening told him that he couldn't lie to himself. He needed to stop making a habit of make-up sex. As he watched the girl next to him breathe softly in slumber, he felt himself smile slightly.

He had always figured it wouldn't last, their relationship. He repeatedly told her it would be hard to keep it up, and that one day he'd break her heart. He never thought it would be the other way around. He always assumed she's be the one running back to him after they argued, but no. It was him. It was always him. Every time they argued, he'd find himself back in the arms of this quirky, beautiful, charming girl, even if he thought he'd shattered her heart into a million pieces. Even when he thought he'd won the fight.

She was always there, eyes bright, uptight. But he loved that. And he always felt like she knew. Like she knew that she could always find the best way.

The best way to break his heart.