Here you go, second chapter. Sorry it took so long, just been having a lot of problems lately. This chapter is a bit angst-y and depressing but it adds a lot to the story. PM, review and enjoy!

Three o'clock. Finally.

"Do you need to get anything from your house before you come over?"

"Uh, just a couple of things."

"Like what?"

"Just like, things, can't I just call them things?"

He was fidgeting and covering up his arms, rolling down the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt over his wrists.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be, I've just been in a pretty shit state of mind lately. I don't wanna go into it."

I grabbed my bag and followed him out of the classroom. He stopped half-way to talk to one of his friends and told me to go on ahead. Even if I had stayed there, I wouldn't have understood any thing he said.

He was speaking Polish. It just sounds like a load of v's and y's to me. I walked out of the school, leant against the wall by the door, grabbed my iPhone and turned on some music to make the wait a little shorter. He came out a few minutes later and tapped me on the shoulder to get me out of my trance.

I got my iPhone and just as I was about to turn off the music playing, Ricky stopped me.

"Is that Eiffel 65 I can see in your playlist?"

"Yeah, they're sort of my guilty pleasure in music."

"Well, they're my favourite band."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know all the words to pretty much all their songs. We're closer than I thought."

"Closer what?"

"Uh, f-friends, yeah, closer friends than I thought."

He cursed under his breath and gripped his arm tightly.

"You okay, Ricky?"

"Yeah, just feeling a little anxious to get to your house."

He quickened his pace but I didn't say anything. I just sped up and walked by his side. We got to his house and he quickly opened the door. I followed him in as he ran up the stairs to his room. He pushed open the door which had a sign on it saying "Wpisz na własne ryzyko".

His room was, to put it gently, depressing. It was dark and sad. I felt suicidal just being in there for a few seconds.

"What do you need to get?"

"Things, like I said."

He suddenly turned around as he heard someone stamping up the stairs. He leapt up, slammed his door shut and locked it.

"What are you doing?"

"It's my dad." He said, sounding terrified as he pressed his back into the door.

"What about him?"

"He just argues with me constantly. He's always calling me a disgrace, saying he never wanted me, telling me Ruta is the better child, all that shit."

He sighed and sat down next to me. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and crossed his arms.

"Why is your dad like that to you?"

He didn't say anything but I could see a tear dripping down his cheek. I put my arm around his shoulder as he took a deep breath and lowered his head.

"I don't know why he hates me. I don't do anything to annoy him. When I was younger, I did everything to get his approval. But when I hit 13, I gave up. He just see's me as like, a fucking disappointment. I just hate it, I fucking hate it!"

He stood up and punched his fist into the wall. I didn't react but I seethed as he pulled his hand away. It had cuts all over and he had left a crumbling hole in the wall.

"I just don't fucking get it. I do well in school, I don't get into trouble, what the fuck did I do to make him hate me?"

I sighed and instead of giving an answer, I offered him an alternative to facing his father.

"Do you want to stay over at my house tonight? Just so you can cool off and get away from all this."

"Anythings better than staying here. Thanks, Clyde." He grabbed a duffle bag from under his bed and unzipped it. It was already full of clothes.

"Why have you got a bag full of clothes under your bed?"

"I packed it because I was going to run away but I couldn't do it. I thought of how sad it would make my mom and Ruta so I just decided against it."

He reached into it and pulled out two small knives.

"Woah, why have you got knives in there?"

"Really? Can't piece it together? I'm depressed, my dad hates me, I need a release and this is the only way I can do it."

"Self-harm? I wouldn't have thought someone like you could do that."

"Well, I don't cut my wrists. I've got a weird phobia of cuts on my veins so I just cut the thick part of my fore arm. I don't do it too often though. I haven't done it for like, a month. I really think I'm getting better. I just prefer pain as pleasure."

"Can I... see some of your scars?"

"Sure."

He put the knives in a drawer next to him and stood up. He rolled up his sleeves and I could see a few light coloured marks.

"That one there is the worst." He said, pointing towards a dark red line.

Without even thinking about it, I grabbed his arm, bent my head down and licked it. I was screaming inside, telling myself to stop but it was too late. I had just licked him. I slowly lifted my head and with guilty eyes, looked at Ricky.

"Uh, okay..." He said, trying to make light of the situation.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, Ricky."

"Don't be. It was just a little odd. Give me a warning before you do that again."

My face was bright red. He shook it off amazingly. He picked up his duffle bag and zipped it closed.

"Okay, let's go." He said, with a gentle inflection in his voice.

Despite his outer appearance, which I found incredibly attractive, he was a very comforting person. He unlocked his door and quickly ran down the stairs. I found it hard to catch up to him.

He is shockingly fast. I had snuck a few looks at him during PE. He could run like an Olympic athlete and he was astonishingly fit. Not muscely, but toned. He was slim but not an unhealthy thin. He was slender.

We walked down the road to my house. My mind was going through what had just happened.

If he was that okay with it, maybe he likes me the way I like him.

There's only one way to find out. Tonight, I have to kiss him.