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MPOV

I awoke to a numbing pain. It felt as if I was a punching bag that Rocky Balboa had attacked and ripped to shreds. I stretched with a groan, attempting to loosen my stiff muscles. Expecting to touch empty air, you can guess how creeped out I was when my fingers and toes touched skin. Surprised, I squeaked and jumped out of the bed.

Spinning to face my attacker, I was shocked to see Fang groggily sit up and rub his eyes. Propped up on one elbow, with his black hair sticking out at odd angles, he looked cute. (Yes. I, the Great Maximum Ride, think someone is cute. Shoot me.) He was still wearing the form-fitting black t-shirt he had on last night and a nasty bruise was forming on his right cheek. Suddenly, the events of last night popped into my mind. Shit. Fang must think I'm such a wimp…

Thinking of Fang made me blurt out in a sudden realization, "Wait- why the fuck were we in the same bed?"

He smiled a breathtaking smile before saying, "You were wonderful last night."

Oh. My. God. No way! I would never do that! We couldn't have done that! Could we have? But I don't remember it… How- I was unconscious the whole goddamn night! What the fuck? Did he… rape me? No, no. Fang wouldn't do that. Would he? No, we did not do that!

Confusion and exhaustion made my mind a mess as I tried to piece together what had happened last night. Finally, Fang interrupted my thoughts by saying with a laugh, "I'm joking. We didn't do anything last night! I just wanted to mess with you." I scowled and punched him in the arm, wincing as my raw knuckles burned upon impact. Fang must be feeling the side effects of last night as well because he flinched. I rubbed the spot where my knuckles hurt and encountered a crude bandaging. Fang must have done it last night. How sweet.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around at the room. Shirts, pants and boxers littered any surface that was available. All of them were black. Posters were taped onto the wall from bands such as Avenged Sevenfold, Disturbed, Slipknot, Metallica, and so on. My favorite was the one for Reliant K.

"Welcome to my room." With a smile, he got up and stretched his muscles, as if used to waking up stiff. Before I could ask him why I was here, he continued, "I didn't want to take you home in your condition. What would your mother think? I was wondering if you could just call her sometime this morning and explain that you stayed over a friend's house. And if she asks, I'm a girl." He smiled and I returned it. Only Fang would be willing to say that he was a girl.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a whiney, high-pitched voice called out, "Shitface, I'm home! I brought your damn food so get the fuck over here and eat it!" My shock over the language must have been clear on my face because Fang gestured for me to be quiet as he walked to the door. Just as he was reaching for the handle, it swung open.

There in the hallway stood a petite woman about three-fourths of Fang's 5' 11". She had dark hair and dark eyes, and was a female version of Fang. She was also drop dead gorgeous. I could only assume this was his mother, and the one who said such horrible things to Fang. Maybe she's the reason why he hasn't told me much about his life…

When she caught me eye, her surprise lasted for only a moment before she scowled and turned to Fang. "So, you finally found a whore who would actually go with you? Congrats. I thought you would never grow any balls." She stared at him evenly in the eye as she crossed her arms over her chest. "So, where'd you get this bitch? From one of your fights?" She said the word 'fight' as if it was unimportant. Was this woman really his mother? She was horrible! I noticed Fang's body was drawn tight, fists clenching and unclenching, but when he spoke, he spoke coolly. "Mother, please do not insult my friend."

As he said that, I tried to ignore the stabbing feeling at my heart. His mother humph-ed and left his room. He quietly shut the door after her, and then turned to face me.

Fang smiled nervously. "Sorry 'bout that. I was hoping that she wouldn't be back until later in the day. But I guess not." He tried to hide how uncomfortable he was as he grabbed a shirt from his desk and turned his back on me. Wondering what he was doing, I was about to ask when he suddenly took his t-shirt off. His back muscles were lean and sculpted, and I fought the urge to ogle him.

The desire to touch him was almost unbearable at that moment, surprising me. Why would I want to touch him? Weird. I shook my head.

Too soon, he pulled the shirt over his head, cutting off my view. He turned back to me and I smiled at him.

I saw his unasked question in his eyes. Reclining against his headboard, I examined my nails as I said, "I'm not going to not be your friend just because your mom's a…"

"Bitch?" he supplied as he sighed with relief. His tense muscles relaxed and I realized something at that moment. (Kind of like an epiphany.)

Our friendship was sacred to both of us. If we ever got into a fight, or one of us moved away, we would die (figuratively speaking). How cool is that? But, what happens when we go to college? Maybe he could go to mine, or I could go to his (it depends on where we each are going, I guess). And just think- we met at a gym when I scared his weenie friends! I guess you find best friends in the strangest of places…

Suddenly, a question that I had been meaning to ask since last night popped into my mind. "Fang?"

"Hm?" he asked as he attempted to clean up his room.

"Who did you kill?"

He froze mid-cleaning and stared at me. From his horrified expression, I could tell that he must not have been expecting that question. He quickly smoothed his expression over before I could examine it closely. He remained silent and looked intently at the floor.

Not wanting to wait for him to explain, I said, almost reassuringly, "I'm not going to tell anyone." No response. "You can trust me." No response. "I'll still be your friend." His head snapped up in surprise.

"Even after you find out how I killed someone, you'll still be my friend? Ha! Good one." He paused. "Do you really want to know?" I nodded, shocked by the crazed sound in his voice. A wild glint that I hadn't noticed before sparkled in his eyes, and the force of it made me sit up straight. "I killed a man with my fists, Max. With my bare hands, I took the life of another human." He shivered and wrapped his arms over his chest, hugging himself. "He probably had friends and family. He had thoughts and feelings, likes and dislikes. He probably had secret crushes and hopes and dreams. He was a human being that still had a life to live ahead of him and I snapped his neck without thinking about that. Do you realize how traumatizing that is? I'm a heartless murderer! He was simply following orders to hurt me and I killed him." The crazy expression in his eyes dissipated and left a dead sadness in its wake. He frowned as a small tear trickled down his face.

As gently as I could, I got up and wrapped my arms around his waist. He buried his head into my shoulder, but he did not cry. Never before had I seen Fang so vulnerable, so weak. Gently, I led him to the bed and sat down on the edge with him beside me. "You aren't a heartless murderer." I murmured as I ran my fingers through his wonderfully thick hair. The action seemed to sooth him and he relaxed in my embrace. "If you were really a heartless murderer, you wouldn't be feeling guilty right now. You would be normal and probably be laughing about it. You're not a heartless murderer. You killed out of self-defense! There's nothing wrong with that." I gently kissed the top of his head. Instead of stiffening as I had expected him to, he seemed to relax even more.

I heard him mumble something into my shoulder. "What?" I asked, pressing my ear closer.

"I said, is this what it's like to have a mother? Someone who will always make you feel better?" He slid out of my embrace and looked at me right in the eye. Behind the layers of grief, he was like a little kid all over again. It tore my heart apart just thinking about what his life must have been like.

"Yes, I think so. But I wouldn't know for sure. Anne expected me to be pretty much completely independent as I was growing up so that she could work." I smiled at him and he weakly returned it.

I don't know why, but at that moment, I realized that I was wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. Ew. "Fang? Can I borrow some clothes? Mine are dirty." I smiled and gestured to the blood and dirt stains. Surprisingly, he laughed. Hard.

When he could manage to talk, he said, "Only you would be worried about your clothes after I confessed to murder." Chuckling, he grabbed a shirt and some pants off of his desk and chucked them at me. I caught them with a grin. "I'll wait outside. Open the door when you're done." And with that, he left.

After the door was safely shut, I examine the clothes he gave me. The shirt was a t-shirt for the band Rise Against (one of the best bands ever), and the pants went down to the floor and were extremely baggy. The shirt was a couple sizes too big, though I assumed it fit Fang perfectly, and I had to roll the pant legs up multiple times so that I could see my feet. When I was done, I checked myself in the mirror.

The outfit looked fine, but what worried me was that I had several bandages on my arms and legs. Some of them were stained with blood while other had only a faint shade of pink to them. My hair looked like a bird mauled my head and tried to kill me, and there were big bags under my eyes. Basically, I looked like hell.

With a sigh, I fingered my hair as I let Fang in, not expecting to come face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see at that moment.

Jeb, with his eyes blazing and a frown tugging at his lips.

I was screwed.

Dun dun duuuuuh! Wat will happen 2 our heroine as she encounters the Jeb-o-nator! Lol u likey the name I made up? (it was on the spot) :) please review! ? :)