A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm sorry I took away the happy times and replaced it with this, but what good is a story with out conflict that makes the characters grow and gives them the chance to have even more happy times? And speaking of unhappy times, I promise to get Side Effects updated soon! Promise!

To the girl who left the review about the last chapter hitting really close to home, I am so, so sorry that you are in the situation that you are, and as cheesy as it sounds, it will get better! I promise it will. High school is such a small part of your life in the grand scheme of things, and you're only going to learn from all the experiences you're having and be a better person, and eventually happy. I hope I can take this story in a way that will give you hope for the future, but if you ever want to come off anon and shoot me a PM, feel free to! :)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and review!

Sara's POV

I feel sick to my stomach waiting for Tegan to get to her locker. Almost twenty minutes have passed since I slumped to the floor, leaning against the clanky metal door. My knees press against my chest and my cheek rests on top of the bony cartilage, facing towards the entrance of the school, my eyes open wide in concentration instead of threatening to droop shut like usual so early in the morning. I trail the pad of my pointer finger over the small patch of rough scabs on my cheek.

Tegan hasn't talked to me since texting me soon after I, literally, got thrown out of her house. I have no idea what happened after I left, if she's okay, or if I will ever see her again.

The five minute warning bell goes off and I get to my feet, dusting the back of my jeans off and straightening my backpack, taking one last hopeful look at the doors. I see a short ponytail bobbing up and down come through the door and cross my fingers, praying that it's Tegan.

The crowd clears a little and I see her, head hung low, dazed out and staring at her shuffling feet. She gets to me, in front of her locker, and reaches out, still lost in her head and looking down. She pokes me in the stomach, blocking her combination, and looks up, confused.

Her rugged gaze meets mine and her face goes ghost white. She scans my face with her sunken eyes, flitting them everywhere and stopping on my cheek. She lifts her hand and trails her fingers over the marks. "Oh Sara," she whispers, her features screwing up in pain and the tears start streaming down her face instantly.

I frown, pulling her in close, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other resting on the nape of her neck, playing with soft baby hairs that were too short to make it in her pony. She relaxes slightly from the touch and latches onto me, crying into my shoulder.

Other students passing by try not to stare and if they do, I shoot them a hostile glare. I turn Tegan's body away and shush her, trying to console her as best I can. I kiss the top of her head repeatedly and tell her it's going to be okay. She moves her head side to side against my shoulder, wiping her running tears and nose on my shirt telling me no, it's not okay.

The one minute warning bell rings and Tegan abruptly pulls away, avoiding my gaze and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "I have to go," she mutters hurriedly, abandoning whatever she needed in her locker and turning, briskly ushering away, leaving me, stunned and speechless.

I trudge off to first period, never taking my eyes off the clock during each class until it's lunch time and I push my way through the bustling sea of students, trying to make it to the cafeteria before Tegan does so I can get her talk to me and tell me what happened. It appears she read my mind as I see her briskly walking towards the exit in the cafeteria, showing her student ID with the special sticker to the lunch aide that lets her leave campus for lunch. I slow my pace to a stop, watching her retreating figure helplessly because my poor grades never allowed me that privilege.

I walk up to my old table and plop down next to Stacy, ignoring her probing glances as I silently eat my lunch. Lunch ends and I repeat my actions of burning holes into the clock until the final bell rings and I try yet again, to reach Tegan.

I push my way through the double doors and to the parking lot, where a row of students already sit in their cars, waiting for the traffic to clear out. I see Tegan's green truck and run, pulling on the passenger door handle as she stares straight ahead. I tug a few more times and knock harshly on the window, yelling her name. I see her swallow and tighten her jaw. She turns her head, flashing me her moist eyes, letting one tear fall before putting her truck in drive and waiting for me to step away so she can drive off.

Being the stubborn person I am, I stand my ground, laying my hand flat on the window and pleading that she let me in, but the cars behind her honking their horns impatiently force me to back away. I turn around, defeated, and drag my feet to the opposite end of the school where the bike racks are, and head home.

This process repeats for the rest of the week, and Tegan is a pro by Friday, not once making eye contact with me. I don't know how she managed to do it but it's too much to bare. I never thought heart break would be this excruciating.

After I watch her drive out of the parking lot, I bike home as fast as I can, trying not to cry over everything falling apart and skid into the front lawn. I drop my bike and race up the stairs to my room, finding the clear case housing the guitar picks Tegan gave me for my birthday, pulling out the one with the lyrics on it and bound back downstairs, finding my dad in the living room.

"Hey, Dad?" I lean over the back of the couch, interrupting him from his nose buried deep in the newspaper.

"Yeah, Bear?" He shakes the paper noisily, folding it back up and turning towards me, he smiles.

"Can you help me drill a hole in something?" I ask, fidgeting with the small piece of plastic.

"Sure thing." He beams, ruffling my hair and leading me out into the garage, where his small collection of power tools sit, unused and coated with dust. He digs through a pile, untangling electric cords and plugs a tiny drill into the power outlet. He clicks it on and off a few times, making sure that it works. "Do you want to do it?" He asks, holding it out to me.

I hesitantly take it, and hand the pick to him. He smiles sympathetically at me, knowing every detail, well, minus the more intimate ones, of what is going on with Tegan. There was no avoiding telling both my parents when I came home from her house that dreaded night, bawling with a bloody cheek and hands. He sets it on the edge of the work bench, keeping it tightly in place as I drill the hole into the top, and set it back on the counter when I'm finished, blowing the residue off the pick. I unclasp my necklace and slide it on, letting it dangle next to the golden cross. My souvenirs from those I loved most.

It seemed silly. I was certain Tegan had never actually physically touched the item, but it helped alleviate the anxiety; knowing that a part of her would now be with me always, if I couldn't have her physically near me.

"Thanks," I mutter as I'm pulled into a big bear hug, my face squishing against my dad's chest. I grumble and try to pull away from the embrace, even though I'm grateful for it and find it comforting.

He pecks the crown of my head and smoothes my hair down. "If there's anything you need Bear, your mother and I are here for you. Just keep your chin up and things will work themselves out. I love you, kiddo."

"Love you too Dad." I sniffle, wiping the spilling tears onto his shirt.

Tegan's POV

I hold myself together long enough to rush through the front door and into my room, changing into a pair of black athletic shorts and matching sports bra. I grab the mixed CD from Sara and head downstairs to the basement, avoiding my parents judging stare from their spots in the living room so they can't see the tears threatening to spill.

I pop the CD into the stereo and turn it up as loud as possible, drowning out my thoughts and shove my hands into the worn boxing gloves sitting on the floor near the punching bag. I shake my limbs out and bounce from foot to foot, releasing all of my pain and frustration into each powerful swing. I let out a feral grunt with each punch, losing myself in the movements.

I don't hear the door open and shut, signaling my dad's entrance until the music is gone. I look up, and he's walking over to me, steadying the punching bag and looking at me with a stern stare. "There's no reason you need to be playing that music so loud, and work on your posture. You won't see a hit coming if you don't keep your chin up."

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and nod, waiting for him to leave before I whip the boxing gloves off and steady the bag between my hands, bringing my knee quickly into it with a sob.

Sara's POV

I hold out as I long as I can. Only hours have passed since I added the new accessory to my necklace, and already the comforting effects have worn off. I dig through my recycle and find a a flat piece of cardboard about the size of a cereal box and grab a sharpie, quickly writing on it before shoving it into my backpack and heading out.

I let my bike fall to the grass with a small crash and dig my hand into the pile of pebbles surrounding the small growing tree in Tegan's front yard, pulling up a handful. They make a quiet tink in concessionagainst Tegan's window as I throw them, one after the other. It takes three handfuls before she pulls the curtain back and squints her eyes, reading the black writing on the piece of cardboard in my grip.

Tegan's POV

5 Minutes? Please?

The sign reads in Sara's messy, all capitalized handwriting. I try to focus on her face, hidden in the darkness and shadows but it puts too much strain on my eyes, and I give up. I'm sure it's too painful to look at anyway.

I let the curtain go, pacing around the room, trying to figure out if it's worth getting caught to go talk to her. She deserves for me to, especially after how I ignored her all week at school. It wasn't fair, and downright bitchy that I did, but the thought of confronting her, after I broke down in her arms in front of my locker with out an explanation, was enough to send me into cardiac arrest. I didn't want to break up with her, I couldn't break up with her, not with how in love with her I am. Even repeating her name in my head was enough to put the silliest grin on my face. I was head over heels, over the moon in love with her.

It was necessary for me to apologize, and explain the situation to her. I grab a pair of socks and slip them on, tip toeing through the hall and down the stairs out the back door, hoping Sara's still waiting for me. I spot her leaning against the garage, head hung low and bending the cardboard in half over and over again.

I clear my throat, letting her know I'm here, but she doesn't look up. I can't blame her. I nudge her bare toes, with my socked ones and whisper remorsefully, "I'm sorry."

She gives an acknowledgeable nod and peaks up at me through her bangs, her eyes void of any emotion. She licks her lips and asks quietly, her voice unsteady, "Can you tell me what's going on?"

I exhale, the breath quivering and run my parted fingers through my hair. I think of all the things that have gone on in the last week, most notably having to talk to Father Jared about my 'condition' and what can be done about it, to my parents watching my every move. I find it best to spare her the details. "I'm not allowed to see or speak to you. They took away my phone, computer, iPod, privacy, freedom, everything."

Sara nods again, and lifts her head fully, crossing her arms. Up close, I can see her face in detail. Undeniably she's still the same beautiful Sara, but she looks rough. Her eyes are sunken in, accompanied by dark circles from lack of sleep. Visible above the neck line of her v-neck sits the golden cross necklace I'm used to seeing, but next to it hangs something new. I reach forward and finger the white guitar pick, etched with silver writing, a little hole drilled to the top to dangle next to the charm dearest to the one person she would ever care more about than me. My eyes well with tears and I look away, trying to keep myself together. If only my parents could understand how this isn't wrong, and how perfect Sara is.

She curls her fingers around my wrist, gently pulling it away, and ducking her head to look me in the eye, needing more answers. "So is that it? We aren't together now?"

"We don't have a choice Sara, my parents..." I shrug, now being the one to not want eye contact, and look up to the stars, barely visible within the city. "They are hellbent on keeping us apart, and making sure that all of this was a very short lived phase."

Her hand comes up to grip my chin, and she forces me to look at her. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and attempts a smile. "Tegan, you're an adult, you don't have to do what they say anymore."

I scoff, shaking my head. "It's not that simple. They're my parents, I love them, Sara, I can't help it. Not to mention they're the ones that provide me with everything that I need right now; a roof over my head, a bed, food, money. I need them."

She drops her hand and crosses both her arms over her chest, leaning back against the wall, deflated. Emotionlessly, she mumbles, "But you don't need me."

"That's not what I said. I love you and I need you, too." I say quickly, cursing myself for not being gifted with an elegance for words. I reach out for her, craving contact to prove that I do love her.

She turns away from my touch, and sniffles, understanding that maybe love isn't enough right now. "But?"

"But I'm not like you Sara. I'm not strong like you are. You're not afraid of anything and you don't care what anyone thinks of you. I do." I say weakly. If I didn't know it from all the collisions I had been in, in hockey I'd demand an x-ray be taken to reassure myself that I did, in fact, have a backbone.

"You must become a lion hearted girl." Sara says, staring off into the driveway. I stifle a chuckle, unable to find her use of the Rabbit Heart song lyrics not cheesy. She tries to hide the smile pulling at her lips and looks at me, her expression turning serious again. "Don't laugh, I'm serious. Do you ever think why that song is your favorite? It was written for you, Tee. If you can't leave, you have to make them understand that this is who you are, it's not going to change, and that you love another woman, you love me. You gotta be brave, and be ready for a fight. Okay?"

I shudder at the thought of confronting my parents. Even if I did it in the most mature manner as possible, they would flip out, and send me to a convent for sure, but Sara was right. If she was truly what I wanted, I had to fight for her, and take whatever is thrown at me with my head held high. I nod, agreeing, and she finally smiles a glimmer of the genuine smile I love and snakes her arms around my waist, pulling me in close. "Now c'mere. I'll die if I go another minute without your lips on mine."