Caution! There is extremely mild sexual content in this chapter, nothing that would scar and not smut, just putting it out there for any younger peoples who may be reading this, and just so I am not disappointing you guys, it isn't between Matthew and Gilbert, seriously, it is like the mildest thing ever.

Also! There will be texting in this chapter and so not all of the texts will be grammatically correct (on purpose) so please excuse them as intentional -.-

I considered this a lucky night, I was very lucky indeed. I came in the door to find my pills sitting on the cluttered counter, white, round and innocent. I gulped them down and sighed as the burning in my stomach and throat subsided.

The house was silent and dreary; I had to avoid heaps of disordered rubbish and different things that had accumulated over time. The carpet was stained with alcohol and sometimes blood, only I would know it was blood though as it had turned brown with age.

I could remember every place she made me bleed, it was something of a reminder to me, to never pain anyone else as I had pained her.

I fell onto the couch, narrowly avoiding a crushed beer can and old newspapers that were crumpled beyond legibility, and pulled out my phone. It was cheap, extremely so, and I was surprised that Gilbert had the same phone; it was something that nagged at me.

I knew absolutely nothing about Gilbert. Was it something I had considered before? No, so why now was I expressing interest in Gilbert's life? Was it because of the look in his eyes, which had practically screamed 'trust me.' I had seen such eyes be cruel, cold and malicious, and now I was wondering what had made them that way. Where had that look of such tender care come from? Where did this cense of faith come from?

I stared at the new number next to the only other number in the contacts list. 'GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT' typed in bold block letters. 'I will see you soon.' He said, how soon did he mean? What about the other looks in his eyes that I had seen, the cunning mischief that had sparkled, the gleeful look that had crossed his face when he looked at where my room was. What did it all mean?

I got up carefully from the couch, cradling my stomach, which was still bruised pretty badly. My legs were practically torn to pieces but because of the pills I was thankfully pretty numb.

I walked to the staircase, avoiding the pieces shattered alcohol bottles of every kind and colour, and grabbing my school bag. I practically dragged myself up the many stairs. I hated that we had a multi-level home most of the time; it was such a bother.

The door to my bedroom was white, but stained and dirty, like most of the rest of the house but I kept my bedroom as clean as possible. There was little clutter, everything I owned was in it's right place, mostly because Mother didn't come in here, I gave up on wondering why.

I gave up trying to understand her reasoning long ago, though she was painfully right sometimes. Painfully.

I pulled my homework from my bag and let it float onto the bed with a papery flop as it came to a rest. I took my stolen pencil and the extra out and let it also fall onto the bed, before letting my body follow suit. I refused to grimace as my stomach hit the hard mattress.

School always came easily to me, it was a way to escape into the subject, much like writing and reading, it was something to do when there was nothing else in your life to focus on. Imagine my surprise when I was distracted in the middle of my language arts essay. By a one and only Gilbert Beilschmidt.

It was annoying and persistent, but every time I shoved thoughts about the white haired boy out of my head they sidled back as casually as if they had never left. I huffed in baffled confusion after stopping myself from wondering what Gilbert would have put for question number seventeen. It was obvious nothing was going to deter the thoughts from entering my brain, and I pushed the homework in front of me away, taking to letting my head fall into my folded arms and just let everything wash into my head.

The first thing I focused on was the images of him, the looks he had presented to me today that I had never seen before. I was so focused on avoiding him and hating the fact that he was so cruel that I forgot that there was always a reason for someone's cruelty, there was always a reason why. I had almost forgotten that Gilbert was a human being; he was simply something I had to deal with. I didn't know that Gilbert had a life outside of school, I didn't know what he talked about, I didn't know who he interacted with.

Well- that wasn't true. I knew he hung out with Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Carrido, but what did that mean? I didn't know who they were either. I felt my cheeks heat up in shame. I was ignorant to so many things when I had been avoiding interaction with them; I had come to hate them without knowing them. Hadn't Antonio tried to help me? Hadn't he understood?

He knew what I was going trough he had known and tried to help, it wasn't his fault that he forgot, everyone forgot at some point. The real thing to focus on was that he tried to help in the first place.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the new entry again, before clicking on it and making a new message: Gilbert?

I held my breath and within seconds a reply made my phone vibrate in my hand. I felt excitement bubble inside me and catch my breath as I opened the text.

Hey! whats up?

I bit my lower lip, trying to come up with a way to answer. It was so weird talking in this way to someone.

How did you answer number seventeen for our language homework? I typed in, because the question was really something I would like to know. I sent it with a small smile.

srysly? um..let me check

I waited almost impatiently for Gilbert's text. The question was somewhat personal but for some reason I didn't think he would mind. Was I putting too much trust in him? I had only really known that he had another caring part of him for a small amount of time.

R u sure u really wanna kno? The text was hesitant and I was immediately self conscious. I shouldn't have asked him, it was too personal, something I should hae asked him later when we knew each other better.

My parents died when I was young, we live with our grandfather but he is sick, my home life isn't that great. But I am not going to answer that way of course.

I stared at the text, not only did it not have any mistakes, it was so revealing. I never would have guessed that Gilbert didn't have parents, and he had said we. What did that mean? Did he have siblings?

We?

.

I waited.

I have a little brother, he starts high school next year.

.

A little brother? I tried to imagine a smaller version of Gilbert and just couldn't, maybe the albinism didn't appear with his brother?

Is he albino too?

.

Haha, no. I am the only one. He is blonde.

.

What is his name?

.

Ludwig

.

What is he like?

.

Way too mature for his age, you would probably get along with him if you met him. Maybe you can come over and see him sometime

.

I would like

My head whipped up at the sound of the door slamming and a loud thud reverberating through the house. Loud moans followed the thud and I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated when Mother brought home men; it was disgusting.

I heard their raucous giggling as they stumbled up the stairs, at one time I had thought it was nice to hear my mother laughing. Now it sickened me.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I ignored it, trying to block out the thuds that drew closer to my mother's bedroom. I just hoped they made it there.

My phone buzzed again and I ignored it, now wasn't the time to text Gilbert. I didn't want to tarnish the memory of speaking with him with such activities going on. The phone buzzed and buzzed until after a few minutes it remained silent.

I cracked an eye open, looking at the phone in dismay. I really didn't want Gilbert to stop texting me, it was kind of comforting knowing he cared enough to keep trying even though I wasn't responding.

I picked up the phone and opened it, scrolling to where I stopped responding without reading the other texts.

Matthew?

.

Sorry, you don't have to come over if you don't want to

.

Hello?

.

Matthew?

.

Seriously I am worried

.

Respond please

.

What happened?

.

I am coming over if you don't respond

.

Matthew this isn't funny

.

I am coming over

.

My heart raced, the fevered moans had become louder. If Gilbert came he would be able to hear them. What if he rang the doorbell? That would be horrific. I would never survive if such a thing happened.

I looked at the time he had sent the last text, to find it was six minutes ago, plenty of time for him to make it to my house. So why hadn't I heard anything yet?

I looked over the texts again, my once racing heart growing heavy as I re-read the texts. He even said he was outright worried. Was he coming? Did I want him to come?

A light tapping sound came from my window and I could feel my eyes widen. I looked at the wall that separated my mother and my room, hoping to god she wouldn't hear me moving around.

I almost crawled to the window, where the tapping had begun again and pulled back the curtain, and almost leapt back when I saw Gilbert's worried face peering in. He startled backwards as well and looked me up and down hastily.

I opened the window and he leaned in, allowing me to see just how he was able to reach my window.

He had climbed the tree, one of the most preposterous, cheesy, crazy ways to ever come to check if I was okay. And my heart was racing again. Or was it fluttering?

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, trying to make my voice sound disapproving but I was really really happy.

"Are you okay?" He asked, ignoring my question once again letting his eyes roam my body -looking for injuries- so why were my cheeks heating up?

A particularly loud moan floated from my mother's room and Gilbert's eyes drifted from me to the wall that the moan had come from.

His eyes snapped back to me and he smiled a wide teeth filled smile, catching me off guard and taking my breath away. "Come out." He said and I blanked.

"What?"

"Come out! Come outside with me." He insisted and let one hand slip away from the tree, pushing the window open more. "You can do it." He whispered.

I wanted to, go I ached to go outside with him. The wide smile that simply invited me to join him was almost too good to resist but I knew what would happen if I went outside. It would show on my face, she would know. I was about to decline, tell Gilbert to go home when he said the most beautiful words I had ever heard.

"I won't let her hurt you." He whispered.

.~.~

Woo I am on a plane right now. I haven't really been able to do a lot of writing currently because I was on family vacation which was actually okay, but the long ass plane rides and two layovers was not fun. Goodbye Colorado! If you guys haven't yet, please check out my two other stories He Paints The Color Red, and my new story The Assignment. Both are PruCan.

I would just like to say HAPPY CANADA DAY MOTHERFUCKERS! I love you all I hope you review because it is inspiring and really helps me with life and ….ya favorite if you haven't already, tell me what you think, email me with the email I put in the last chapter. Also, I just checked (off the plane now heh) and I have 100 followers! Yay Thanks!

Coolio byebye. –Serenity Ma Sogni