Thanks to everyone who has been reading so loyally. I really, truly appreciate the praises I've received.

And thank you, for your patience.


Allison's day went with a breeze. She didn't remember the last time she had felt so happy about everything going on in her life. Despite Greg's muttering comments against her and Andy's relationship-wait. Could she call it a relationship? What do people do when they kiss and hold hands? Did they sit down and talk about it and decide? Allison was starting panic again as she made her way to her parents' house. She wasn't sure if she could even say she was in a relationship. Would Andy agree? They didn't exactly have a smooth transition since Monday. She was actually quite angry with him for most of the week. What was happening?

"Stop, Allison." Allison told herself, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly several times before she began walking again. It was nearly nine o'clock at night and it was cold. Allison wrapped her jacket tighter around herself as she walked, glad the house was only a few minutes away. Allison turned and stepped onto her parents' driveway. Their car wasn't parked in front of the house. She could only guess where they were, but she didn't care. They never told her where they spent their money. Allison shoved her key into the lock, half-expecting it not to work, but the lock turned and Allison made her way inside. It was dark but warm. She removed her hood and closed the door behind her. She felt her way and reached for a switch by the kitchen to turn it on.

It was so quiet inside. Allison reached for the fridge, and stared into it. She had finally purchased her own groceries and shoved them messily into the fridge. This might have bothered her parents, in fact, it probably did. Allison was somewhat surprised her food was still inside, that her mother hadn't thrown it out. Instead, someone had taken her things and placed them in a drawer at the bottom of the appliance. Allison reached down to pull out the drawer and stared at the processed cheese, ham, loaf of bread, mushrooms, carrots, and a small thing of milk. She pulled out the milk and bread, having decided on a grilled cheese.

She removed her jacket, feeling the heat and placed it on her kitchen table. She reached over the stove and began pulling out a frying pan and some oil. She began to cook. Allison's thoughts moved from homework she still needed to finish, whether Hashimoto called her house, which she told herself, he probably did, and back to Andy again. She wondered if he was in trouble, curious about how his talk went. Allison was finished cooking and turned off the stove. She pulled out a plate and turned the pan upside down. Her sandwich landed with a plop onto the plate and she threw the hot pan into the sink. She picked up her plate and the small jug of milk and placed them both on the dining table. She sat in front of her food and started chewing on her sandwich thoughtfully.

She looked around her, noticing the quiet and the dark house, suddenly realising how very lonely she was. She frowned and finished her sandwich and half the jug of milk. After she was done, she reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. She looked inside to make sure everything was correct and placed it on the kitchen counter so her parents' could see it. Allison washed her pan and her dish, replacing the milk before heading up the stairs and reaching for the cord to pull down the attic door. She moved to the side as the ladder fell and she climbed it, looking forward to staying in her bed.

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of loud laughter. Allison groaned and stretched, trying to focus her eyes. She turned her head and looked at the clock. It was seven in the morning. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She didn't sleep until 3 AM, her mind occupied on the mural she was trying to finish. She didn't make it very far, disappointed in most of her starts. She figured her mind was preoccupied, so she had given up and decided to fall asleep. Laughter again. It was high-pitched and annoying. Her mother. There was more laughter, barking this time. Not her father's, it sounded unfamiliar.

Allison sighed and knowing she couldn't go back to bed, she sat up rubbing her face. She made her way out of bed and shuffled toward her clean pile of clothes and dressed. Yawning, she opened her attic door and allowed the ladder to fall. She made her way down and felt her stomach rumble, making a face at the weird laughter coming from downstairs. Allison hesitated at the top of the stairs, not really looking forward to going to the ground floor. She sighed, feeling hungry and walked down, her mind focused on food.

"Oh, Allison, dear." Allison turned slowly to look at her mother, her eyebrows raised. Her mother had a mug of coffee in her hand and was sitting across a man she had never seen before. Her mother continued, her cheeks slightly red as she looked at the man then back at Allison, "This is Rey. Rey, this is my daughter, Allison."

Allison didn't say anything, curious as to why her mother was suddenly paying attention to her. She looked at her mother than this man, Rey. What a stupid name, Allison thought. She knew she was making them both uncomfortable but that was what she was best at and she enjoyed it.

"It's nice to meet you, Allison." Rey said, standing, a forced smile across his face.

She stared at him, then her mother with a raised eyebrow.

"Allison. It's rude if you don't say 'hello', back."

She sighed, looking at her mother, "Why should I care who you sleep with? Mother?"

"Uh-" Rey started, looking quite embarrassed.

"Allison!" her mother said angrily, "Apologise, right now!"

Allison crossed her arms and glared at her mother's furious face before turning back to Rey, "No."

"Allison!" her mother practically screeched as her daughter walked away from them, heading for the kitchen, "How dare you-"

"By the way, mother," Allison called over her shoulder, "the rent money is on the counter. Did you see it? It should be the right amount."

There was an awkward silence as Allison reached for her cereal in the cabinets. She could hear some rapid talking and whispering and the sliding of a glass door. She could hear her mother's footsteps heading in her direction, but Allison didn't care. What was her mother going to do, yell at her? That would be a first. Ignore her? Nothing would have changed.

"I've never been so embarrassed in my life." was her mother's hissy response. Not getting the response she wanted, Allison's mother continued, "Do you know who that was? What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

Allison swallowed the last bit of food, placing her empty bowl and spoon in the sink. She walked past her mother, not bothering to look at her. She felt a hand on her arm and moved away as if the touch stung. She never felt so angry. She hated anyone touching her, especially her mother.

"Don't touch me!" Allison yelled, her face livid, "Don't ever touch me!"

Her mother was looking back at her daughter with surprise and possible fright. Her mouth was moving as if she was trying to talk or perhaps cry, Allison didn't care. She glared at her mother and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs toward her room. She reached for her bag and reached for her sketchbooks and pencils to stuff them inside. She ran out of her room and rushed down the stairs. Her mother was still in the kitchen, a hand on her mouth, looking at the floor.

"Don't change the locks, either." Allison said stopping for just a moment. Her mother looked up, tears in her eyes. Allison ignored this and walked out the front door, talking over her shoulder, "I don't mind breaking a window."


Andy drove for a long time. A very long time. He wasn't going in any particular direction either. If he felt like making a left, he turned, if he wanted to go on a highway and head west for awhile, he did. There was so much going on in his head. He had never walked out on his father like that before, never ignored him.

And he was so fucking scared.

He had already been driving for two hours and his car was getting low on gas. Andy looked for signs on the highway and got off the nearest exit, a Shell just off the turn. He followed the off ramp until he saw the gas station just off to his left. He turned into it and found an empty pump. He turned off his car and stepped out, looking around. He had never been here before. It was practically empty except for a gas station and few restaurants pick-pocketing the area. He closed the door of his car and pulled open one of the gas station double doors to hobble inside. He looked around, heading for one the aisles and reaching for a bag of crisps. He really needed to snack on something. He hadn't eaten since he got home and it was usually dinner. He walked to the fridges in the back and also picked up a can of soda. He turned and headed back toward the cashier to pay for his items and the gas.

"This and pump 5. Here's a 10.00."

"Andy? Andy Clark?"

He looked up at the sound of his name and stared at the cashier. He looked older than him by a few years, long hair around his face. He looked as if he hadn't bathed in days.

"Yo, Andy! Don't you recognise me? It's Gene! Gene Parisi!"

"Gene..." Andy thought, feeling confused. Then he remembered and exclaimed, giving Parisi a five, "Parisi! Whoa, how are you, man? What're you doin' here?"

"Just working here, man." Parisi said, taking Andy's soda and crisps and ringing them against the cash register, "doing what I can to get out of this shithole."

"Everyone on the team thought you left for college on scholarship." Andy said, looking at him surprised, "What happened there?"

"Aw, man, didn't work out. Too hard what with parties and classes and shit." Parisi said, bagging Andy's things, "So, this with gas, it comes to $13.50."

"So...you came back here." Andy said, staring at him and handing over the money.

"Yeah, had to, man." Parisi said, counting out the money and dropping it into the register, "before the old man kicked me out. Hey, it's all good. I'm making it. Got my own trailer and everything."

Andy stared at him then finally nodded getting back his change and grabbing the bag Parisi handed him.

"So, hey," Parisi started, "maybe we can hang or something. Get the rest of the team together."

"Uh, sure," Andy said, backing out of the store and gave him a final wave, "I'll tell them I saw you."

Before Parisi could answer, Andy had already made his way out of the store and walking swiftly to his car. He opened his car door and dropped his purchased items inside. He walked to the side of his car and opened the lid of his gas tank. He reached for the pump and and pulled it off, flipping the switch. He shoved it into his gas tank and leaned against his car.

Andy turned his head to look back into the store and shook his head. Parisi was staring at a magazine and looking incredibly bored. Andy had a sudden terrified thought. Was he going to end up like Parisi? Gene was the talk of the school during his four years in high school, he had even won national championships across the states. He was the star. How the hell did he end up at a gas station in some hick end of town. It was surreal. Andy did not want to end up that way. He didn't want to stay in Illinois, he wanted to leave the state and move somewhere else, away from this life his father had set up for him. But he didn't want to be like Parisi.

There was a click and Andy stood straight to pull the pump away from his tank. He replaced the pump and closed the lid of his gas tank. He reached for his door and stepped in, taking one last look in the store as he turned on his ignition. Parisi looked up then and gave Andy a small wave. Andy stepped on the gas and drove away from Shell.

Andy turned his car back onto the highway and headed for home. He was ready to talk to his father. He doubted he would regret it, but he felt terrified. He knew his father was going to be angry and his temper was going to rise, but Andy didn't want to end up in a gas station, replying on his parents. He did want to go to college. No, his grades were excellent, but they weren't bad. If he got into school with a scholarship, that's great, but wrestling or any sport for that matter wasn't going to dictate his life.

He realised he was a lot closer to home than he thought, but it still seemed to take forever because he was already second-guessing himself as he got closer home. It was too late to turn back now and he needed to get through this. Andy finally saw his house and turned into the driveway. It was dark outside as Andy turned off his car. And quiet. Andy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a familiar technique he used before every match. Breath and count to ten, simultaneously. It helped calm his nerves and forced him to focus. He opened his door and stepped out onto the driveway. His keys in his hands, he walked to the front door and placed his keys inside the lock.

"Andrew."

Andy turned his head when he walked in. His mother was sitting on the edge of the couch, her eyes red but dry. His father was beside her. He did not look happy at all and was glaring at his son. It looked as if his parents had been arguing all the way until they heard the door unlock.

"Where the hell have you been?" Andy's father said angrily, looking at him.

"Driving-" Andy started.

"'Driving'?" His father interrupted, standing now, "What the hell kind of answer is that?"

"George-" Andy's mother started, placing a hand on her husband's arm.

Andy's father pulled away and walked around the coffee table, toward his son, "Who the hell do you think you are, Andrew? Did you forget about the meet tomorrow?"

"No, I didn't." Andy said, between his teeth.

"Don't take that tone with me." Andy's father said, his finger pointing in Andy's direction, "What in the world did you think you're doing?"

Andy didn't say anything, his jaw set.

"Answer me, Andrew."

"I don't want to wrestle, anymore." Andy finally said, not really looking at his father.

There was a tense silence.

"Excuse me?" his father practically whispered out of anger.

"I don't," Andy swallowed and then looked at his father in the eye, "I don't want to wrestle, anymore."

"What do you mean you don't want to wrestle anymore?" His father asked slowly.

Andy sighed, trying to put the words together, "I want to wrestle because I choose to, not because you force me to."

"What? I've never forced you-"

"That's ALL you've done!" Andy yelled, his temper taken over his head.

His father blinked at Andy's shouts. He was speechless. Andy wasn't done, his anger spilling out of his mouth, "'FIGHT, ANDY'! 'WIN'! 'BE A WINNER, ANDY, NEVER A LOSER'! 'WIN'! 'WIN'! 'WIN'!"

Fresh tears were falling down his mother's face, her hands around her head. His father was opening his mouth and closing it, not sure what to say. He had lowered his finger and he no longer looked angry. He was staring at his son as if realising who he was for the first time.

"That's ALL you cared about! Winning!" Andy yelled, all fear gone. Angry tears were welling in his eyes, his heart pumping in his ears, "Just you and reliving your goddamned glory days! You tried it through Jeff and you failed, he moved away and has a life of his own. You won't even talk to him anymore. You've always done it through me! And Ryan...Ryan will never have to deal with you."

At the sound of his little brother's name, his father blinked and stared at Andy as if he just punched him in the face.

"I wish my foot was broken." Andy conintued, "I wish you'd just forget all about me...I...I fucking...hate you."

Andy's vision was clouded with anger and tears and despair. He could hear soft cries from his mother and could see the outline of his father standing in front of him. He turned away and roughly wiped the tears that had fallen on his face with a hand. Silently, he walked toward the stairs and made his way into his room.


Claire was making her way down the large stairs of the police station and headed for her car. She turned her head to say something to John, but he wasn't there. She stopped walking halfway down the steps and turned to see John still standing by the double doors of the police house. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking down, his eyes hidden under his hair.

"John?" Claire called to him. When he didn't answer her, she walked up the steps again and stood beside him, "John, what's wrong?"

"Nothin'." He finally said and exhaled. He walked past her and down the steps, "I need to go."

"Go?" Claire asked his retreating back. She followed him quickly behind, "Go where?"

"Away." Was John's short answer as he stepped on the sidewalk and walked away from the police station and her car.

"Where Mark is?" Claire asked him. John didn't reply and walked faster, Claire keeping up, "That officer in there told you that was bad idea. John!"

"I have no other choice! Don't follow me!" John replied.

"Yes, you do! I'm offering you a place to stay!" Claire walked in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't touch me." John said, but he stopped walking.

Claire removed her hand but stood her ground, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

John turned his head slowly to look at her. His glare frightened her, he was very intimidating when he wanted to be. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled to calm her nerves.

"I'm offering you a place to stay. Why won't you take it?"

"I don't want your charity, princess." John replied simply.

"Charity?" Claire repeated then she narrowed her eyes, "This isn't about charity! You need a place to stay and I'm giving it to you. If you go back there, you're going to get arrested again and who knows if that officer in there will be able to help you next time? Apparently, you have quite the record! How is being in there going to help Mark, anyway? Huh? Can you answer that?"

John looked away, not saying anything.

"You are so fucking stubborn!" Claire said, frustratingly, "What are you afraid of?"

"Hey!" John said, rounding on her, "I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Yes, you are!" Claire retorted, staring back at John, "You're afraid of a lot and you can't admit to it because you don't want to be seen as weak. Well, guess what? I saw everything in that police station, Bender. I'm not about to forget it."

Claire watched John's face turn from angry to frustrated than finally defeat. No, Claire didn't know the whole story. She didn't know who Mark was or what was going on. She could figure out that this Mark person was probably very important to John that he would get himself arrested. Twice. She wasn't going to ask, though. It was not the right time. It might never be the right time. She had seen John Bender had his most vulnerable and he was probably hating himself for that. No way was Claire going to ask him any questions about his personal life. She also realised, this had to be his decision.

"I'm going to my car and I'll wait for awhile." Claire told him, reaching into her purse to pull our her keys, "I hope you come."

John wasn't really looking at her. She turned around and started to walk. She wanted to look back and see if he was following, but he might leave if she did. Or maybe he already left. She didn't know. Her heart was pounding in her chest but she wasn't going to allow it to take over, which surprised her slightly. It was interesting how much she had changed in just a matter of a week, had turned a new leaf. Claire decided she liked herself more.

Claire reached her car and placed her keys into the lock. Without looking, she slipped inside and closed the door. She sighed, wondering how much she should wait. She looked at her watch. It was almost nine. She'll wait ten minutes, that should be good enough. She sighed again and placed her arm back by her side, very tempted to look for John. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes-

Claire jumped at the sound of a knock on her passenger window. John. She looked at him for a moment before reaching over and opening the lock for him. John opened the door and climbed in, slamming the door beside him. He didn't say anything as he worked his jaw and frustratingly moved his hair away from his face. Claire allowed herself a small smile before turning on the ignition.

A half hour later, Claire was pulling up into her parents' driveway and parked her car behind her mother's again. She turned off her ignition and looked at John. His eyes were wide as he stared through the windshield at her house. Claire opened her door and stepped out, hearing John do the same.

"Holy shit, princess." John said, his eyes looking at the large cars in the driveway, the outline of the large house, the massive lawn that leads toward the front door, "I didn't know you were this filthy rich."

Claire chose to ignore this and led the way into house, past the small greenhouse and toward the front door. She placed her key into the lock and opened the door before stepping inside. She held the door open for John's heavy boots to make their way into her foyer, his eyes working every inch of the house. Claire continued, walking toward the kitchen where her father might be.

"Daddy?" Claire called.

"Sweetheart, is that you?" Her father was in the kitchen.

Claire walked in and stopped when she saw him, "Hi, daddy."

"Hey, sweetheart." Her father looked up from the paper and smiled, but it turned quickly into a frown when he saw John standing behind her, "Uh, Claire, who is this?"

"He's a good friend of mine." Claire said to him, taking a step forward, "and he needs a place to stay."

"Excuse me?" Her father said, raising his eyebrows, a glass of red wine in his hand. He looked at Claire then looked at John, "I'm-I'm sorry, who are you? Have we-have we met, before?"

John was exploring the kitchen now, opening cabinets and cupboards and reaching in to look through them. He turned his head to look at Claire's father and gave him a wide grin before before holding out his hand, "John. I made out with your daughter on the hood of your car on Saturday after detention."

"John..." Claire said softly at the same time her father sputtered into his wine.

"What? No, no, I'm sorry, Claire." Her father said standing and looking at John then at Claire, "No, he can't stay here. He's-he's a hoodlum-"

"Oh, let her have her fun, Edward." Claire turned her head to see her mother coming into the kitchen a bottle in hand and a large wine glass in the other. She was wobbling forward, a drunk grin on her face. She looked at John, looked him up and down a minute and laughed as she walked past him, "He's handsome, Claire."

Claire placed a hand to her forehead and sighed. She could feel her cheeks burning and a headache coming on.

"You put her up to this, didn't you, Belinda?" Claire's father started, now standing beside his wife as she found her bottle and slammed the door of the fridge shut, "I say no! I'm the man of this house-"

"Oh, shut up, Eddy." Claire's mother said, looking at him and slamming the bottle on the counter, "You haven't been 'man of this house' since your last girlfriend realised you couldn't bring it up anymore."

"Belinda!" Her father stuttered, "How-how dare you-"

Claire felt a presence beside her and she looked to see John, watching his parents, a small smirk on his face. She sighed softly, ignoring the shouts and reached for his hand, pulling him toward the back of the house, past the living room, the sitting room, the large dining room and toward the back garden. She opened the doors and stepped out onto the deck where the large near olympic-sized pool was located. She heard John whistle at the sight. Claire let go of John's hand and inhaled deeply before she screamed.

Silence.

"Feel better, princess?"

"Just a bit." Claire said with a sigh. She pointed over a fair distance away from the pool where a small attachment to the main house was sitting, "That's the pool house. It's a comfortable room. I used to stay in there when I needed to get away." I still do, she thought, "It's open."

"Don't you want to show me?" John asked her.

Claire looked at him then shrugged. She walked past the pool and led John toward the pool house. She reached for the handle and twisted it open. With her left hand she felt for the light switch on the wall and flipped it on. She moved to the side to allow John to walk through. She stared at his face and smiled. There really was quite a bit of pink inside the room. Her mother decorated it, but Claire had admit, she did like the colour. Maybe not so much anymore. She watched as John made his way around, fingering things, his eyes wandering. He finally settled on the edge of the bed his hands between his legs and sighed.

"I'll take it."

"Good." Claire nodded her head and pointed, "There's the bathroom, right through that door. I'll see you tomorrow, John."

"Ahh, princess." John started, looking at her, "I've got detention with Dick."

Claire giggled, "That's right. How many is that?"

"Seven...eight..." John started then shrugged. Claire gave him a smile and turned, then, "What, no kiss goodnight?"

Claire looked at him and shook her head, "Nope."

She was just about to leave when he called out to her, "So, what's this?"

"Uhm, be careful with that." Claire said quickly, walking into the room and taking an instrument case away from John who was holding it his hands, "please."

"What is it?" John asked again, looking at her, then the case.

Claire paused before answering, not really looking at him, "My violin."

"Violin?" John asked, disbelievingly.

Claire frowned, feeling defensive, "What?"

"A violin."

"Yes, a violin." Claire replied, her eyebrow furrowed, "What? You have a problem with me knowing how to play the violin?"

"I'm just...surprised. It's pretentious and fitting." John said, leaning back and smirking at her, "Play it."

"No." Claire said after a moment. She placed the violin back down on the floor, into a corner of the room, "Not now."

"Why not?"

Claire stared at him, frowning. She didn't quite know why she was becoming so angry with him, but she was. She turned and walked out of the room and said before closing the door behind her, "Just leave it alone, Bender. Good night."


John stared after Claire's retreating back and watched her close the door, confused. He turned his head to look at the violin case in the corner of the room. He was tempted to look at it but he changed his mind. He stood up and pulled off his coats, throwing them on the bed. Then he kicked off his shoes and placed them by the door. He took another look at the room, frowning, letting out a small chuckle at the amount of shit that was in the room and so much fucking furniture. It was amazing anyone could navigate. It was a fire hazard.

John walked over to the bathroom door and opened it up. He was impressed. A large tub with a shower attached was in the middle of the room, a toilet and one of those things where the water shot up. John made a face, thinking about it. He stepped inside and reached for the shower knobs. He cocked his head trying to figure out how to use it. He reached for the largest one and turned it. It seemed to have started the tub tap. He looked up to the shower head and reached for another knob. Water spilled and jumped back in surprise, cold water on his face. He sighed, feeling agitated then reached and turned yet another knob. He placed his hand under the water and felt it growing warmer.

When John was finally finished with the bathroom he replaced his clothes and fell on the bed, landing on something lumpy. He sat up and reached behind him. Clothing; sweatpants and a t-shirt. They weren't there before. Claire must have walked in while he was bathing and left. John frowned, placing the clothes on the edge and falling back down, an arm behind his head. She was avoiding him. Probably, his fault; he was good at that. He shouldn't even feel bothered Claire was avoiding him, but he did and he found this incredibly annoying. He frowned at the ceiling, forcing himself to think about something else.

His stomach turned as he thought about Mark. He had never been so scared in his life. He truly thought his brother was hurt, badly, fatally. He wouldn't put it past his father. He also wish he had cigarettes. Was he going to be allowed back home? He was 17, not quite 18; he was still under his parents' care. John allowed a humourless chuckle under his breath. Care? His parents never cared about him. He didn't know how he survived his own fucking childhood. He didn't have anyone growing up, just drugs and abusive parents. Mark had him. He needed to make sure of it.

He sat up, unable to sleep. He let out a frustrated grunt and stood, feeling his stomach growl. He sighed then crossed the room, opening the door to the room. He felt the cool air against his skin, but ignored it as he stepped out. He could hear the water in pool hitting softly against the tiled walls. There were lights at its bottom, reflecting off the water. John walked past the pool and reached the glass doors that led back inside the main house. He paused, wondering if Claire's parents were still inside. He felt weird. It was funny when her parents argued, but weird.

"John."

He turned around quickly and saw no one. He furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn't crazy. He heard a giggle and looked up. There was Claire sitting on the roof of her house. She was watching him from the edge of the tiles. He backed up a bit on the pool deck to see her properly. She gave him a small wave and smile.

"Hi." she said.

"Peepin' on me, Princess?" John asked, unable to stop himself, "Is that how you get your kicks?"

Claire rolled her eyes, "No."

"What are you doin' up there?"

"I sit here a lot. It's peaceful. You can see the whole city."

John looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the city lights. He looked back up at Claire, who was staring out, "How'd you get up there?"

"My room." Claire said, pointing to a window right above her, "I took the screen out so I can leave whenever I want."

"Never thought you had it in you." John replied after a moment, drinking her in. He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking himself out of it.

"You don't know me that well, Bender." Claire said to him.

John wanted to, though. Fuck, he thought, angrily to himself. He looked back up at Claire who was no longer visible. Did she leave? He frowned, taking another step back to see and suddenly realised there was nothing there. He fell back landed in the water. He sputtered and coughed as his head found the surface again, and he reached for the edge of the pool. He could hear Claire laughing above him, but he ignored it, pulling himself out. He shuddered, it was fucking cold.

"You okay?" Claire called.

"No." John replied irritably, sitting on the side and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

"I'll be down in a second."

John sighed, his teeth chattering. He stood up and wrapped his arms around himself, heading for the pool house. He opened the door and stepped in, the warmth already washing over him, but it was still cold. He made his way to the bathroom and pulled the towel off the rack after stripping his clothes off. He towelled himself off and wrapped it around himself. He stepped out and reached for the clothes on the bed.

There was a knock on the door, "John? You okay?"

"Yeah." John answered, pulling the trousers on. They fit rather well, although he felt like an idiot. He pulled the shirt over his head before walking to the door and opened it.

Claire was standing there, another set of towels and clothes in her hands. She was smiling because she heard his stomach growl, "Hungry?"

John didn't answer her but she turned and started walking back into the house. He was hungry. He was always hungry. He hadn't eaten since...he just hadn't eaten. He sighed softly to himself before following Claire inside. She closed the doors behind him and started walking toward the kitchen, past all the different room inside the house. John had never seen a place so big. It reminded him of a mall. A big one, where you can find anything you wanted and everything was set up just so. Delicately and precisely, everything on display. Honestly, he just wanted to run a bat through the place. Not out of malice, but because it sounded like fun.

"I'm not much of a cook." Claire said to him apologetically, before opening the fridge, "but I can make a decent sandwich."

John felt uncomfortable as he watched Claire pull out bread, lettuce, cheeses, different meats, and other things he couldn't name. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he was jumpy and everything felt strange to him. Almost as if something was out to get him if he were to eat anything he was given. Was it guilt? What was he worried about, beside Mark? This wasn't a worry-about-Mark feeling. This was something else and he had no idea how to describe it.

"John." Claire was calling to him. He looked at her. She gave him a weird smile, "Make a sandwich. I'm going to make my own."

John did and it was a little overwhelming to him how much food there was and he tried to put a little bit of everything, hoping to save some for his baby brother. Claire had laughed a bit at his mess, but he didn't care. He picked up his plate carefully and placed it on the kitchen counter across from Claire. He pulled out a stool and sat in front of his food. He wasn't entirely sure how to eat it.

He heard a metal clink and saw Claire placing a fork and knife in front of him. He made a face and picked up the sandwich and with great difficult took a massive bite, but most of the contents had fallen out and he just had a mouthful of bread. Claire let out a chuckle, but he ignored her as he began placing his sandwich's fallen contents back inside between the bread. He picked it up and tried again.

"Made it that time." Claire said, sitting on her own stool and placing two mugs between them. She had a bottle of red win in her hands and was prying the cork open. She poured the wine into the mugs before placing the bottle back on the table.

"Isn't that your mother's?" John asked, sniffing the wine and making a face.

"Believe me, she won't notice." Claire replied, taking a sip from her own mug.

John continued to eat, drinking the wine only hesitantly at first, not liking the sweet taste, but it was alcohol. Pretty soon, the two of them had finished and were rather drunk as they laughed together about absolutely nothing.

Claire was laughing harder now, her head on her arm against the counter. It was awhile before she was able to stop and John was feeling incredibly comfortable and calm. He watched Claire, a small smile on his face. Maybe it was the booze, John didn't know, but he honestly didn't want to be anywhere else. It was difficult for John to admit it. Even now, he just couldn't allow himself to admit anything about her.

"I'm falling asleep, Bender." Claire said, standing slowly. She held onto the counter for support before steadying herself. She slowly reached for their plates and mugs, dropping them into the sink.

John was standing already, unable to control himself. He had made his way to Claire and was standing beside her. She turned her head to see John and gave him a small smile. John pulled her close and placed his mouth on hers. He heard a small moan and this made him happy. He pulled her in tighter.

They stood there for a moment before Claire pulled away from him, shaking her head, "No, no, no…"

John sighed, looking at her. She was making this extremely difficult.

Claire looked at him for a moment, biting her lower lip. Fuck, John thought, why does she do that? He felt her hand pat him lightly on the chest before she said a small "good night" and left.


Brian was outside. His parents and Mary were out somewhere and Allison had given him a call. She sounded very upset and she had asked if he could hang. Of course, he obliged and walked out of his house, straight away. He made his way hurriedly walking past his neighbourhood and toward the main roads. Allison said they should meet at a local coffee shop. She wasn't very far from him, he knew her neighbourhood. He had ridden his bike around there a few times.

When Brian spotted it across the street, he looked both ways before quickly jogging, fast-walking toward it. He pulled the door open, heard the slight jingle of bells above the door. He looked around, not seeing Allison right away. He walked over to the counter and sat at one of the stools.

"Can I get you anything, honey?" Brian looked up to see a rather portly older woman smiling at him, her name tag reading Bev.

"Uh, milk. Chocolate milk. Hot chocolate milk...please.." Brian said, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

"Sure thing." Bev replied, giving him another smile and turning away.

There was a jingle of bells behind him.

Brian turned his head and saw Allison making his way to sit beside him, her breath heavy as if she had been running. She looked nervous and angry and scared almost. Brian had never seen her this way. He kept his mouth shut as he watched her nervously place her bag on the counter, then back on her lap, then back on her counter. She took off her jacket and placed that across her lap. She wasn't looking at him, as she placed her hands on the counter.

Brian swallowed and asked while Bev placed his chocolate milk on the table, "Allison? You okay?"

Allison was staring at her fingers and looked at him but didn't say anything.

"Want anything, honey?" Bev asked Allison. She merely stared at the waitress until Bev just shrugged her shoulders and walked away to deal with other patrons.

"Alli-" Brian started.

"I made my mother cry." Allison whispered softly.

Brian blinked, confused, but he kept his mouth shut and waited, his hands around his chocolate milk.

"I don't remember ever seeing her cry before." Allison continued softly, "We never talked long enough."

Brian watched her for a moment, then he pushed his chocolate milk toward her. He could understand her frustration and surprise. Allison looked at the milk, then at Brian. She seemed a bit calmer and gave him a small smile before reaching for the hot beverage and taking a sip.

"I'm sorry." Brian said, looking at her.

Allison shrugged slightly, "Isn't your problem. I doubt things will change."

Brian nodded his head, not knowing what else he should do.

"So." Allison started taking another sip, "How have you been?"

Brian shrugged, "Okay. Mom raggin' on me all the time. All the news I've got."

"That's pretty boring, Brian." Allison said, smiling at him.

Brian nodded his head then, "Allison, I was, well, Claire was too, I mean, me at first, but you know, she did, too. Anyway, where have you been? You kinda disappeared."

"Sorry." Allison said, not looking at him. She shrugged, "Went into hiding. Won't happen again."

"Okay." Brian said, wishing she gave him an explanation. He looked at his watch and wondered whether is parents were back yet. He felt a chill across his chest but chose to ignore it, "Any plans for today?"

Allison shook her head, "Stay away from home for as long as possible. You know, every time I leave, I always think they're going to just pack my things and sell them on the front lawn as a yard sale. They've already changed the locks three times on me."

Brian paused, "Maybe they're just really distracted?"

Allison looked at him, realised he was joking and gave him a smile, "Plans?"

"Yeah, right." Brian said, looking at her, "My mother is still pissed about me getting detention and doesn't let me out of her sight."

"How are you here?"

"Snuck out. Parents are out." Brian said reaching for his wallet and pulling out some cash, "Speaking of which, I need to go."

"Don't let her get you down." Allison said, as Brian turned ad gave her a wave before heading back home.

Brian ran this time. He ran across the street, down the sidewalk and turned into his neighbourhood. Brian was not an athlete, he never was, but he ran as fast as he could, adrenaline pumping through him. He knew his parents were going to be in the driveway when he arrived, he knew the sort of hell he was going to receive when he walked in through the door. He knew his mother was going to scream at him, his father was going to stay silent, and his sister staring. He always felt shy and embarrassed. He had all this knowledge in his head and yet he was never able to tell people how he felt. He wasn't very confrontational, guess he probably got that from his father.

Was he destined for the life his father had? Married to a bitter woman, dominated by her force of nature and being disappointed by the family that he raised? Maybe, but he didn't want that to happen. Honestly, wasn't it his choice? Do the things he wanted? Ideally, sure, yeah, that would be the way to go. Brian had figured out the other day that he had the ability to make a decision. A big one. One that would probably change his life, hopefully, for the better.

Brian had an average 4.0, he was competing with Deb to become Valedictorian. Scholarships were easy for him and he was looking at schools that as far as away from Illinois as possible. He had even tempted to look at school outside the United States of America. He made the decision to leave. Thinking back, the very idea would have caused him a panic attack, but recently, things have changed and he has to assume for the better. Who knew detention was going to teach him a lesson?

Brian did receive the tongue-lashing, his father and sister followed the same pattern. He heard his mother berating him all through dinner all the way until he crawled into bed. And yet, he could hardly remember anything she said. She was like a broken record and he had finally found the volume switch, his next goal was the power switch. He wondered what would happen if he argued with his mother. Yelled back at her, explained the choice he's made. Wait. Would he tell her? Why would he tell the person he was trying to stay away from, exactly where he was going? She'd never leave him alone. Ever.

No, it'll be a secret.


Ahh, the sound of growing up...

Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are greatly appreciated!