"Fitz," she whispered again, still not believing that he was there.

"May I come in," he coughed awkwardly.

She nodded, and her breath caught as he passed her.

"Why are you here," she spat out, and he spun around with a grimace.

"I don't know."

She looked at him questioningly.

"You know what, never mind, I shouldn't have come here," he said, and made a break towards the front door.

But Clare grabbed his wrist, "Wait! Don't go."

"Look, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Fitz sighed and sat down on her couch, ignoring the fact that he was soaking wet and now probably ruining the piece of furniture. Clare took a seat next to him.

"Are you afraid of me?" he said, staring into her eyes.

"No," Clare said. But the truth was, she was terrified. So, so terrified.

"You're lying," Fitz said, roughing grabbing her wrist. "You're lying!" he said again, louder this time.

Clare whimpered as his grip tightened.

"Oh," he looked down solemnly, as if noticing for the first time that he had actually grabbed her, and released her wrist, shoving his hand deep into his pocket. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," she said softly.

"My mum had been at class—she wants to become a nurse so she's been taking night classes—so she didn't have time to make dinner," Fitz said suddenly, and Clare turned to listen.

"So when my dad came home, he was expecting dinner to be ready and on the table. But it wasn't. This made him angry. He hit her, hard. And I was right there. I got up and stood between them, trying to protect her. "Not her," I had said, "Anyone but her." And he listened, he left her alone, but then he turned on me. My mum had screamed and screamed for him to stop beating me, but he didn't." Fitz turned towards Clare, "I'm so scared, Clare. I'm so scared for my mum. But I had to go, I just had to."

Clare comfortingly reached out to take his hand, and he instinctively pulled back, but once he looked into her eyes, he took it.

"Why did you come to me?" she asked.

"I had no one else to go to. And I figured you would be the most understanding."

"Do you have a place to stay? I assume you won't be going back to your house anytime soon…"

He shook his head, making Clare's heart break.

"You can stay here if you'd like. There's a guest bedroom upstairs."

"Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." She glanced at him and smiled at his wetness, "Let's get you some dry clothes. My dad might have some things your size."

Suddenly Clare's phone vibrated on the end table. The two looked up, but neither moved. Clare reached out and grabbed it. Looking at the caller ID, she sighed. Eli.

"Who is it?" Fitz asked. She gave him a look and he nodded knowingly.

"Oh, I see."

But surprisingly, Clare pressed INGNORE.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. From what he knew, she and her little Goth boyfriend Eli told each other everything.

"It's none of his business," she shrugged. "Let's go upstairs."

Fitz smirked as he stood up to follow her. Many girls had said those words to him before, but they had meant something entirely different. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that Clare Edwards would say that to him of all people, ignoring the meaning of course, he would have laughed in their face.

"Here's your room," she motioned to a door at the end of the hallway. "There's a bathroom in there, if you want to shower. When you're done with those," she looked at the wet clothes that had stuck awkwardly to his skin. "I'll wash them and throw them in the dryer. I'll bring in some dry clothes soon, so if I knock, please cover up." She smiled.

"Thanks again. Really, I mean it." Fitz said, as he walked into the room.

"Again, don't mention it." Clare said.

As she walked away, Fitz gave her a glance over his shoulder and smiled.