Is this what you call family?

- Unknown

Harley's P.O.V

"Stupid Dad. Stupid Mom. Why can't they just leave me alone?" I mumbled running my fingers through my bangs and rifling through my bag. I checked to make sure I had everything packed for tonight.

Bag. Check.

Spraypaint in various colours. Check.

Stencils. Check.

Gloves. Check.

Mask. Check.

10:42 PM I was set. I tugged on my black hoodie, tied my laces on my Chucks and slung my bag on my back. I poked my head out of my room door and listened quietly to everyone downstairs. Laughter and jokes echoed up the stairwell and that meant I was ready to go.

I closed my door quietly and turned the lock until I heard it click and walked over to my window. Flinging it open I stuck my head out and closed my eyes momentarily, letting the cool night breeze wash over my face. I drew my face back in and clambered up onto the ledge before tugging my bag off my back and throwing it out of window. It hit the ground with a thud. I slung my legs over the window and pulled my body out. I stood precariously, my back flat against the window, my left hand clinging to some ivy that grew up the house and my right hand holding a brick that jutted out slightly. Slowly I slid along the ledge, my palms groping for anything available to cling onto. Eventually I found what I was looking for, the pipes. I breathed out a sigh of relief and threw my fist in the air triumphantly before grabbing the pipe with both hands, twisting my body and shimming down the pipe. I feet hit the ground softly and I let go of the pipe, wincing as it creaked.

"Damn." I breathed.

I turned quickly, pulled my hood up and grabbed my bag off the ground and broke out into a sprint. I had stuff to do.

"Two minutes Harley. Just two more minutes." I hissed between gritted teeth and forced myself to run quicker, letting the muscles in my sides and legs burn and ache.

I slowed slightly when I saw the sign that I needed to see come into view and grinned, my vampire teeth dug into my lower lip, but I didn't care. I had what I needed. I dropped the bag off my back and rifled through it, pulling out my mask and tugging it down over my nose and mouth. I yanked my hood over my pigtails again and pulled out my stencils and cans of paint.
I approached the wall slowly and smirked.

"This will be fun." I whispered, smirking underneath my mask and began my masterpiece, the hiss of the can and my shallow breathing was music to my ears.

A little over forty minutes later, I was done. I tugged my mask off, rubbed my paint coated gloves together and smirked. I was quite proud of this one and it should be plastered all over the news by tomorrow.

"Not a bad job. Not bad at all." I mumbled and kicked an empty can of paint into the park. I tugged off the gloves and stuffed them into my pocket hastily. If I was caught, I didn't want to be wearing these. Then my entire mini Banksy façade would be over and I would most definitely be grounded for the remaining years of my life by my dad.

Dad.

I groaned at the thought of him. He didn't understand me. He didn't understand why I'm the way I am and he didn't get that I'm not his little girl. What I didn't get was why he reacted so badly to me not being the perfect daughter.

Was I really that bad?

I sighed and kicked another can across the park, watching it clink against some small stones littered across the damp grass.

"Family sucks." I mumbled, walking over to the swingset and plonking myself down on a seat, not caring if it was wet or not.

"Not my fault I can't live up to their expectations. Not my fault that David is the epitome of a fucking perfect son and Shiloh a fucking perfect daughter. Not my fault I was born. It's not my fault that I'm not normal." I felt a lump rise in my throat and heard my voice cracking. I shook my head violently as my vision blurred. My fingers gripped the cool, metal chains tightly.

"Can't cry Harley. Not allowed to cry. Mom would disown you and Dad would laugh and then they'd have a perfect fucking family. And then they'd be happy." I choked out quietly and stuffed my thumb into my mouth to stop tears from falling down my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut and one hand clenched the swings chain tighter.

"Crying for weaklings." I whispered and bit down as hard as I possibly could onto my thumb.

Creeeeeaaaaaaakkkkkk.

"Crying's not for weaklings."

My head shot up instantly and I glared at the person who dared interrupted me. A tall, dark haired, tan boy say on the other swing seat and was rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"What?" I spat at the boy.

"I said cryings not for weaklings. It means you've been strong for far too long." The boy said quietly, flipping his bangs out of his face.

"No. Crying means you're weak. Simple as that." I said, monotonously, looking down at my lap.

"Matter of opinion really. So, my names Kyler and what are you doing here at half eleven at night?"

I shrugged and looked up.

"Could ask you the same question." I mumbled.

"I asked first."

"But I asked you second."

"Can you at least tell me your name?" He whined.

I gave a small chuckle.

"Fine. My name is Oliver. Harley Oliver."

His eyes bugged out slightly.

"As in daughter of Beck and Jade Oliver?"

I sighed.

"Unfortunately."

"Damn.." He said.

"Indeed." I sighed and kicked the ground, my soles making a scraping noise as they hit the gravel. We sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't awkward, more comfortable really and I felt myself loosening up a little.

"What's in your bag?"

My head shot up and my fingers went instinctively to my bag.

"Nothing!" I spat.

He raised his hands in the universal 'Woah Nelly' gesture.

"Okay, okay woman. I was just asking!" He joked and went silent again. I glanced at him. He seemed...odd. Not weird. Just odd. He tossed his bangs out of his eyes again and twiddled his thumbs and yawned.

"Well, you know me. So what about you? What are you doing here?" I asked quietly.

He glanced up and looked shocked, as if he had forgotten I was there, but he quickly regained composure and smiled.

"My name is Kyler Seth Daniels. Son of Ryder Daniels and Trina Vega and I'm here for a reason." He proclaimed but his smile dropped as he got towards the end of his sentence. I watched carefully as he zoned out again.

"Alright, what's buggin' you?" I questioned.

"Well, what's buggin' you?" He shot back.

"Stuff." I replied simply.

"Well stuffs buggin' me too!"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I could feel my temples throbbing and what I desperately wanted to do was set something alight so I could stop this irritating twitch in my fingers.

"Okay, since we're getting nowhere how about we both say what's annoying us on three?" He asked "but you can't lie."

I looked at him incredulously.

"Me?! Lie?! Why I could never do that!" I said sarcastically in a southern belle accent.

"Pinkie promise." He said holding out his pinkie finger.

"Are you serious?" I deadpanned.

He nodded, tossing his dark hair in every direction. I sighed and ran a hand through my light brown hair, which was coming loose from its pigtails, I noticed.

"Fine." I muttered and interlocked my pinkie finger with his. I almost recoiled back at the heat his hand was emitting. It was almost like being burned in comparison to the temperature of my icy cold fingers.

"On three." He said "1...2..."

"It's just, my dad doesn't understand." We both blurted out at the same time. I let go of his pinkie and sat back on the swingseat.

"You too?" He asked softly, his hand still in the air and his pinkie still outstretched.

I nodded.

"But you're-"

"My dad's embarrassment. A mistake. Someone who he wishes never existed." I interrupted and rubbed my hand across my throat in a pitiful attempt to force the lump back down my throat. I realised my backside was beginning to get pretty numb and the breeze was stronger now, sending leaves scattering in every direction. I shivered slightly and tugged the sleeved of my hoodie over my hands and hoisted my bag higher on my back.

"What about you? Why doesn't your dad understand?" I mumbled, not holding eye contact with him. I could feel him staring at me disbelieving of what I had just said.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted on the swing seat.

"Well, to put it simply...I'm bisexual." He mumbled, looking down and twiddling his thumbs.

I glanced up at him, surprised. I expected him to yell joke afterwards, but his face burned tomato red and he couldn't hold eye contact with me.

"Serious?" I asked, shock written over my face.

He nodded and if it were possible, his face got even redder.

"Dad says I'm a disgrace to the Daniels name. That I shouldn't be like this. That I'm not...right."

"Your dad's an ass." I said and rested a hand on his shoulder awkwardly, trying to comfort him as he was almost in tears "No offence."

"None taken." He joked and rubbed his sleeves against his cheeks.

"What about your mom?" I asked.

"Mom. She's cool with it I guess. She seems freaked out that I like guys sometimes and sometimes I like girls but she took it a lot better than dad."

"How'd your dad take it?"

"Threw stuff across the room. Yelled at me. Threatened to disown me. You know, the ususal." He responded and zipped up his hoodie.

I raised my eyebrows slightly

"Only kid?" I asked.

He stood up, stretched out and nodded.

"At least you're not compared to how amazing and wonderful and perfect your siblings are then while you sit there being accused of being the demon child." I said.

He glanced down at me incredulously.

"Serious?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Demon child. How'd you manage to get that."

"Long story. Lots of bad memories. You don't need to know." I mumbled, watching a group of druggies on the street corner.

"Why?"

"You just don't." I replied.

"You'll tell me one day."

"No."

"Trust me, you will."

"Trust me, I won't."

"Stubborn aren't you?"

"I prefer 'I take too much after my mother'."

He paused and looked down at me and grabbed my sleeve. I yanked it back violently.

"NEVER touch me." I hissed and stood up, then realised he was a good seven inches taller than me.

"You've got nice eyes." He stated.

"Cool story, changed my life." I spat, pissed off at the fact that he had touched me.

He looked at me a little longer and I glared back, refusing to back down before he looked at his watch.

"I've gotta go, can we keep in touch?"

"No." I retaliated.

He sighed and pulled a pen and a torn piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly scrawled something down then pressed a ball of paper into my hand before walking off and leaving me there, alone in the park.

I watched him walk away, confused until he called back "A pleasure meeting you, Miss Oliver."

I shook my head and unscrewed the ball of paper in my hand.

If you ever need to talk to someone. Let me know Miss Oliver. We all need to vent sometimes.

555-237-900

Call me if you think that crying is for weaklings.

Kyler A.K.A Your new (gay, kind of) best friend :)

I smirked slightly and shook my head but stuffed the messily written note into my jeans pocket before walking upto my latest piece of artwork sprayed onto the walls of the park.

"Needs one last thing." I said quietly and pulled my last can of black spraypaint out of my bag and quickly spraypainted underneath my latest masterpiece the words 'HAPPY FAMILIES'. I chuckled mirthlessly at the irony of it all before stuffing the can back into my bag and beginning the quiet run home at midnight.

If I was lucky, I would be able to sneak back in without anyone noticing.

Alright guys,so here's chapter two, in Harley's P.O.V. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Sorry for not updating for a long time, school had exams and stuff and let's just say, it wasn't pretty...

Alight, so tell me who's point of view you want the story in next and I will try my hardest to make it in that characters. Oh and don't forget, hit that magical review button at the bottom. It makes the world go round.

Special thanks to Where Butterflies Never Die, Sshaw101, Kperry1234 and Kanoni122 for reviewing the last chapter. It means a lot.

So, hit that review button if you like, hate or want to toast marshmallows over this fic!