"Thanks again for bringing him, Jo." Helen thanks me but doesn't actually look at me. She's too busy looking down at the little bundle in her arms to pay attention to me and I'm not in the least bit offended. Alex tends to have that effect on people. Whenever he's in the room, everyone's attention goes to him and that's just the way it is; that's why I'm not offended nor am I surprised that Helen's not making eye contact with me while she talks. "If it was up to Alex, I don't think we'd ever get the chance to see him in person. I was talking to him in the kitchen about it earlier and you know what he says, he sends pictures all the time. He doesn't get that pictures aren't the same." She lifts her arms up as she lowers her head down and puts her lips against his chubby little cheek. "It's much better to see him in person...and hold him...and kiss him. Give him grammy love..."

"I just think Alex has an issue with sharing him..I don't really think it's anything personal, Helen." I scrape up some baked beans from the helping on my plate with a spoon and put them in my mouth. I chew with my mouth closed and grab the can of Brisk Iced Tea that Alex got for me before he went down to help Amber take off the pool cover. "And I told him about that. When I tried to bring him last week, he told me that he just sent you guys pictures on Facebook. He really doesn't get that pictures aren't the same." I sigh and take a sip of my tea. I swallow and lick my lips. "He'd never admit it, but..." I crane my neck and look down over the hillside at the pool. Alex and Amber are laughing hysterically, enjoying each others' company as they splash one another with the rain water that collected on the pool cover. "I think he actually likes coming back to Kansas."

"You're probably right, Jo." She smiles and slips her finger into the palm of Alex's hand. Just like he does whenever I put my finger in his hand, he squeezes her finger and moves his tiny little sock-covered foot. "So tell me about him...since Alex has told me virtually nothing. What's he like so far? Good sleeper? Good eater? Is he fussy?"

"He's a good sleeper." I nod my head and reach down on the ground to grab his diaper bag. He hasn't been changed in a while and even if he's not wet, his gauze probably needs changed. "Like I said earlier, he sleeps through the night most of the time. And he's a good eater too. I'm still having a hard time getting him to latch when I try to nurse him but he takes it from a bottle with no problem, so I've been pumping an awful lot. He'll eat an entire eight ounces in one sitting so he's pretty good with eating." I grab a diaper from his bag, the travel-sized container of Vaseline I keep in there and a package of gauze. "And he's not fussy at all. He's pretty calm and not very temperamental. He only cries when he's hungry...or sometimes Alex will mess with him by taking his pacifier out of his mouth and that pisses him off. But other than that, we've got a pretty calm baby." I close his bag and put it back on the ground. "Can I see him to change him?" I hold my arms out.

She leans forward and hands him over to me. "He's such a precious angel." She's looking at him with adoration in her eyes and that makes me happy as well as it makes me sad. She absolutely adores him and after this weekend, she probably won't see him again for at least a month or two. That makes me so sad. She's his grandmother and she won't be able to see him as often as she deserves to. I think I'm going to try to make sure that me and Alex make the trip to Kansas at least once a month. One weekend out of every month won't hurt anything. "Did Alex tell you that I've got a great big bag of clothes upstairs for him?" I concentrate on squeezing my knees together to create a surface sturdy enough for Alex to lie on as I pull off his pants and undo his onesie. I shake my head to answer her. "Oh yeah...I've got a big bag of clothes upstairs for him. I went with Amber to the mall one day last week so she could buy an outfit for her college graduation and I had to stop in the Baby GAP store. I might've overdone it a little but anything for grammy's baby, right?"

"Helen..." I unstrap his diaper too and pull it down to look inside it before I completely change him. He's not wet and he's not poopy either, so I don't need wipes. I knew I wasn't going to need wipes, that's why I didn't bother to get them out of his bag. I've only been his mother for three weeks now but I'm pretty good with knowing his schedule. I've got his schedule pretty much down pact. I know when he's going to be poopy and I know when he's going to be wet. I'm surprising myself more and more every day with how good I've turned out to be at this whole "mommy" thing. "You really didn't have to do that. I...I don't really know what to say. Thank you so much. You really didn't have to do that for us. Especially with the way Alex treats you guys sometimes...you didn't have to go out and spend all that money on the baby." I take the cap off the Vaseline and rub my finger on the inside so I can gather up a bit of it.

"Don't worry about it, Jo. I don't have a problem with spending money on my grandbaby. I'm not spending money on Alex's ungrateful behind. I'm spending money so little Allie can have nice things. He deserves nice things." She stands up from her chair and starts to gather up all the trash. I start rubbing the Vaseline on his circumcision scab and examining it while I rub. Being a doctor has its perks sometimes, especially when you have a newborn. His scab looks like it's healing better today. "Aww...is it still bothering him? Alex told me last week that his incision wasn't doing so good..." She hovers over me and takes a look. "Did the doctors mess it up?"

"Yeah." I take a piece of gauze and wrap it around my baby's stuff, just to make sure the diaper doesn't rub against it and irritate it. "They took him away to circumcise him and I had to get some blood work done while he was away. I should've gotten the blood work done before they took him away because I guess he inherited something from me that gives him an intolerance to the numbing medicine they use to numb their little things. So when they went to give him the shot to numb him up, it didn't work and they didn't know. So when they started clamping and cutting, I guess he screamed bloody murder and started moving around, even though they strapped him down. All his squirming caused them to make the cut wrong." I strap a fresh diaper on him and button up his onesie. "He'll be okay. They corrected it, he can pee right and he's circumcised but it's healing pretty slowly."

"Awww, poor peanut." She bends down and kisses Alex's forehead.

"Yeah...He's tough though." I put my hands up underneath his armpits and pick him up. "You're tough, aren't you bubbles?" I kiss his cheek and force his head on my shoulder. He was six pounds even when he was born and now, three weeks later, he's eight pounds of pure cuteness. Eight pounds of chubby belly, chubby cheeks, silky brown hair and his dad's features. "I was crying about it more than he was." I rub his back in circles and rock with him. I rest my cheek against his silky hair and rub his butt too. All of a sudden, Alex and Amber come back on the patio, soaking wet from their little water fight.

"Gimme my baby?" Alex walks over to me and holds his arms out.

"Not while you're soaking wet like that. I don't want him to get sick. It's not all that warm out here." I kiss his cheek and move on from his butt and start stroking his hair. "And I'm trying to put him to sleep." I stroke his hair downwards. As soon as I say that, he coos ever so slightly in my ear and moves his head. "Alexxx..." I take him off my shoulder and lay him in my arms. "Alexxx..." I call his name again and his eyes are so heavy, he's barely keeping them open. "You're sleepy, aren't you peanut?"

"Give him here." Big Alex holds his arms out again. He took off his wet shirt and he's shirtless now. I ignore him and keep rocking the baby. "Jo, gimme my son. Come on, I missed him. I wanna hold him...give him here." I nod my head, give little Alex a kiss on his lips and hand him to his daddy. "Thanks." He mutters, holding the baby up in the air. "Hey buddy..." He kisses him directly on his lips and like a natural, he lies him on his chest and carries him over to the chair so he can sit down. "I know, these people are boring you to death. I'd want to go to sleep too...come on, let's go night-night." I sit back and watch the two of them interact. Big Alex is so good with little Alex, it's unreal. He lies him on his chest and rubs his back and my heart melts. "You want to hear a story? I'll tell you the one about how I met the love of my life, okay?" I crack a smile at that. Alex looks down at the baby and starts telling him the story. "So one day, this girl came into my dad's store...that's right, your grandpappy's store...and she wanted a job..."

Back when I was younger, a naive 23 year old that was infatuated with the idea of being in love with Michael Evans, I realize that I was just in love with the idea of...being in love, really. I thought that having Alex's baby would make me happy and realize what I wanted out of my life. It did, by the way. Having baby Alex made me realize that this is what I wanted out of life and I'm the happiest girl in the world right now. But really, having baby Alex made me realize just how much I really, really love big Alex.

I pick my head up out of my legs and rest my chin against my knees, inhaling a deep breath through my nose and exhaling through my nose as well since my mouth is occupied. For a minute there, I was sure I died. I was so sure that I actually swallowed the pills, died and being back in Kansas with Alex, holding our baby was me drifting off into a peaceful slumber that I wouldn't wake up from; a slumber called heaven. Who was I kidding though? Even when I think I do, I don't have the balls to commit suicide. I'm not strong enough to do that. I'm so weak. I crack a smile and laugh, not because I'm happy but because I'm the biggest joke to ever exist. I turn my head to the side and spit my mouthful of water and pills out right onto the bathroom floor. The pills and water make noise as they hit the floor and now that I've officially chickened out of suicide for the third time in my life, I'm sitting here on my bathroom floor trying to make sense of my life. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and put my head back down. I can't stop laughing at myself. What a joke my life is. What a joke I am. I'm such a pathetic waste of life. Why was I ever even born? Seriously, if I can't do anything right, what is the point of my existence? I can't even kill myself right. I fail at everything, including suicide.

Still giggling at what a pathetic excuse for a human I am, I lift my head out of my knees again and rest it against the wall behind me. I push my hair back, away from my face and hold onto my ankles while I sit here in darkness, thinking about how piteous my life is. Even from the beginning, my life was so superfluous. Get left at a fire station when you're two weeks old...such a pathetic human being that not even your own mother could love you. Everything snowballs from there, I guess. I used to think that being unloved by your biological mother was as bad as it could get but I was wrong. There are worse things in the world. Like being bounced around from abusive foster home to abusive foster home, the first real people to ever love you dying before you turn twenty years old, your house burning down, losing the man you love...there totally are worse things in the world than being despised by your parents. I'm beginning to believe that I really am unlovable.

I've always kind of thought that maybe there was something wrong with me to make it so that it's literally impossible for people to love me but I'm really starting to believe it. Normal people don't have a life like mine. People aren't just kicked down time and time again like this for no reason, are they? My own mother didn't love me. She left me in a shoebox, at a fire station when I was two weeks old. The first foster home that I can remember, I got taken out of because those people were really abusing me. The only reason the cops found out about it is because we had school physicals in Kindergarten and the nurse saw that my tailbone was really misaligned and she reported it. I remember having to tell the police that my foster father kicked me down the steps once for spilling his beer and that's how I broke my tailbone. My last foster home was the one where those people burned me with cigarettes and locked me in the basement as a punishment. There were a bunch of crappy foster homes between the first one I remember and the last one but I made it a point in my life to forget about those. Then, I actually manage to get adopted by good people and they die on me, before I was done needing a mother and a father. I find a best friend in college and her boyfriend ends up raping me. Then I find a boyfriend of my own in college and the guy hits me for saying no to sex. Now, I meet Alex and whether I like it or not, I'll probably never see him again. There's a such thing as bad luck and a such thing as just having a shitty life. This many things don't go wrong in a person's life, do they? What's wrong with me? I'm unlovable.

By this time, I'm almost certain that my dreams of getting married and having babies to Alex is practically unattainable. I'm done being a dreamer and thinking that there's good in everybody. I'm done being a naive 23 year old that believes that it's possible for a person's every dream to come true as long as they work towards it. I just want to be realistic. And realistically, I probably shouldn't have turned down Trevor. He was a nice guy that showed interest in my miserable ass and I shut him down before I even thought about giving him a chance. Realistically, I'll never be with Alex again. I'll never marry him and have our freaking princess wedding and our baby Alex. I spend all my time dreaming about the relationship I used to have with him and the time I don't spend thinking about what we had, I spend dreaming about the life with him and our child that I won't have. I should just pull my head out of my butt and be realistic for a change.

Sighing, I let go of my ankles and prepare myself to stand up. I guess maybe the reason I keep reverting back to thinking about Alex and the time we spent together is that when I was with him...I was happy. For the first time since my mom and dad were alive, I was happy. I didn't have a single care in the world, I actually felt important and dammit, I felt loved. When I was in Alex's presence, I didn't feel like that crummy foster kid I grew up as. I didn't feel like I was drowning and suicidal. I felt like myself. I felt like Jo. I felt like it wasn't unimaginable that someone like him could find someone like me desirable. And for the first time in my life, the thought of me being unlovable was never in the back of my mind when he kissed me. I think that's why I keep reasoning about him, chasing after the things I had and the things I want back.

I stand up from my spot on the bathroom floor and even though it's dark in here, I still know where the puddle of my spit, water and pills is at. I sidestep the puddle and flick on the bathroom light. When I look up, I'm unfortunately met with an image of my pathetic self. I'm wearing his dirty, raggedy wrestling t-shirt and a pair of plaid shorts. My hair is curly but limp and lifeless, matching the way I feel on the inside. My eyes feel heavy and they look horrible. They're red around the rims and hollowed out like I haven't slept in a month. I look away from myself in the mirror because honestly, I'm ashamed of what I see. I don't ever recall a time when I was truly happy with what I saw in the mirror but I can't say that I've ever been ashamed like I am right now. I'm ashamed of myself for a lot of reasons. One because I seriously haven't showered in days since all I ever think about doing is sleeping. But for the most part, I'm ashamed of myself because I actually failed at suicide once again.

I turn around and walk two steps to my shower. I sit down on the edge and start the water. I put my hand underneath the stream to test the temperature and once I'm sure that it's just the right mixture of hot and cold, I pull the lever that turns on the shower spray and shut the curtain. I take the smelly wrestling shirt off and drop it on the floor. I pull down my shorts and my panties and drop them on the floor as well. I go over to my cupboard and grab a towel, a washcloth and a bottle of body wash. I put everything down on the counter next to my sink and go back to grab the shampoo and conditioner. A chill shoots up my spine and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a tear trickling down my cheek tickles me. I didn't even realize I was crying. I don't even bother wiping the tear away though.

I grab the washcloth I got from the cupboard, the body wash, the shampoo, conditioner and step into the shower. I put my head down and let the water hit my back. I grab the shampoo and pop the cap off. Without my hair even being wet, I squeeze a boatload of shampoo into it and start scrubbing my head. I tilt my head back to get my hair wet so I can get my hair sudsier and scratch through my scalp to really make sure my hair is clean. I scrub the ends of my hair too and once I'm sure it's clean enough for me, I tilt my head back and rinse the suds out. I grab the conditioner and dump some of that in my hair as well. I massage the conditioner into my hair, getting the roots and the tip and let it sit while I start to wash my body. I really let myself go within the last couple weeks...I should be ashamed of myself for that. Once my body is clean, I hang my washcloth up on the rack inside the shower and pick up the shaving cream and the razor I stuck in the shower when I first moved into my apartment but haven't used since. I start out by shaving my armpits since they're the easiest. I move on to my legs when I'm done, making sure I shave my kneecaps too since they get hairy as well. I clean the razor off and squirt some more shaving cream into my hand. I rub it on my crotch and start shaving that too. Since I've finally found it within myself to bathe, I might as well shave my vagina too, right? I put my leg up on the edge of the shower to make sure I get my bikini lines really good and shave in the area leading up to my butt as well. I clean the razor off again, put it back next to the shaving cream and start rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.

I lean forward and shut off the shower water. I pull the curtain back, step out and wrap my towel around my body. I grab another towel for my hair and stand in front of my sink. Dreaming about Alex and our fictitious baby helped me out for tonight, it seems. Tonight, it helped. It was enough to keep me from swallowing those pills tonight. I don't know what's going to help me stay alive for the rest of the times when I contemplate suicide but for tonight, it was just thinking about how much Alex loved me and the fact that I could've been happy with him if we had a baby. I fling on the faucet to my sink and grab my toothbrush. I wet the toothbrush, put some toothpaste on it, wet it again and start brushing my teeth. When I'm done, I put my toothbrush back and take off my hair towel. I rub the towel along my hair to dry it to a damp extent. I toss the towel on top of my hamper and grab my brush. I brush my hair back into a sloppy bun, tie it up with two ponytail holders so it'll stay and open up my medicine cabinet again. Instead of picking up the Acetaminophen like I did before, I pick up the Tylenol PM and unscrew the cap. I take three pills to sleep for the night, swallow them with a little water from the faucet and close the medicine cabinet again.

I go over to my hamper and pick up the small broom and dustpan I bought the other day when I went down to the bookstore. I kneel down and start sweeping up the wet pills that I spit out earlier. I toss the pills in the trash, grab my hair towel and wipe up the water and spit. Once my bathroom is clean, I turn off the light and go back into my bedroom. I take my towel off and hang it up on my doorknob. I grab a pair of panties out of my dresser and put them on. I pick out an unpadded sports bra and put that on too because I'll probably end up crying myself to sleep tonight like I do every night and when I cry as hard as I usually do, my boobs tend to jiggle from my hysterical hiccups and I hate that. I roll some deodorant underneath my armpits and put on a pair of shorts to sleep in. I grab a pink tank top and put that on too. I shut off my bedroom light and stalk over to my bed. I put my phone on the charger, don't bother looking at the time and climb right into my bed for the night.

I made it through another day without him. I barely made it, but I made it. And I don't know what I'm going to do to get through tomorrow.


Alex's Point of View.

I count the ways I let you down on my fingers and toes but I'm running out... Clever words can't help me now. I grip you tight but you're slipping out... and I remember your eyes were so bright. When I first met you, so in love that night and now I'm kissing your tears goodnight. And I can't take it, you're even perfect when you cry... Beautiful goodbye. It's dripping from your eyes, your beautiful goodbye...It's dripping from your eyes. I adjust my positioning in the seat I'm currently sitting in and rest my head against the window, finding eminent solace in the way the ride is bumpy as the bus driver is hitting each and every pothole on the road without a care. For some odd reason, I find it comforting how the roads here aren't all that smooth as compared to the roads in Torrence. I fix my headphones on my ears and stare out the window while I listen to the song. I had never even heard of Maroon 5 until Jo introduced them to me. She said that I was living under a rock because I literally had no idea who Maroon 5 was. I haven't been living under a rock...I just prefer the old stuff, you know? The Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, Styx, ACDC and the Stones are more my cup of tea. Maybe because I grew up listening to the stuff with Pop but I'm a little bit biased to the old stuff and I don't listen to the new stuff, which is why I didn't know who Maroon 5 was. She made me listen to a few of their songs and they're not so bad. My favorite is the one I'm listening to, "Beautiful Goodbye". I think I like it because for one, it's the first song of theirs that Jo made me listen to because it's her favorite song by them too. And two, I like it because it reminds me of Jo. Then again, a lot of songs remind me of Jo these days.

She never did text me or call me back. I'm guessing she's asleep which isn't that much of a stretch considering that it's now currently 6:48 in the morning. It was so weird when I got off of the plane earlier. I was listening to music my entire flight so I had my phone out the whole time, obviously. But anyway, I have my phone programmed to tell time based on my location so when I got off the plane, I literally watched my phone go from 3:20 in the morning to 6:20 in the morning to catch up with the time difference. That was probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. I also didn't realize how crazy I probably look. It's nearly 7:00 in the morning and I'm sitting on a bus that's driving through Cambridge, on my way to Boston to see Jo. I didn't sleep at all tonight. Instead, I spent the night flying on a plane and taking a bus across the country to see my girlfriend. I didn't even sleep on the plane.

While I was on the plane, I got excited about the fact that I was going to see Jo in a few hours. But I also started thinking about how much of a jerk I was towards her for calling her while I was drunk. Then I thought about how we missed each others calls more than we actually talked. And I remembered that she got an offer to go out on a date with someone. And it started to hurt so bad. I tried so hard to forget about what I had in my pocket but the pain of thinking about Jo dating someone that isn't me took over. And though I didn't make time to pack my bags for this trip, I somehow found the time to fill up my flask and stick it in my pocket. So I pulled out my flask on the plane and forgot all about the possibility of Jo dating. Just as the drunkenness was wearing off, I dusted off an entire 16 ounces of vodka in my flask and well...I'm too drunk to drive or properly sit up, hence the reason I'm taking a bus to Jo's apartment instead of a cab. I can function pretty well, of course. But there's no denying that I'm extremely intoxicated.

I just couldn't stop myself from thinking about her being on a date with someone. She told me she said no but what if she changed her mind? I couldn't stop imagining her smiling and laughing with someone else. The way her eyes squint when she's smiling and her boisterous, recognizable laugh, laughing at someone that's not me. Then her kissing someone goodnight with those lips that belong to me. Those soft, kissable lips. And what if that kiss led to something else? That ran through my mind too. Just thinking about somebody else being in between her thighs sickens me. Her doing that sexy little eye-roll when he kisses her neck. Or the way her fingertips would curl through his hair when he'd go deep. His lips would be on that beauty mark that only I know about...the one on the inside of her right thigh. And to top it all off, she'd be moaning his name. Man, I wish I had more booze.

I can't even think about Jo batting an eyelash at another man without feeling the anger pulsing through my body like it replaced my blood. When I first read that text message, I was on my laptop looking up flower companies in Boston that took orders over the computer because I was going to send her something, just so she knew I was thinking about her. I went to Walmart yesterday and I saw a bin of those giant, oversized stuffed animals. I was going to send her one along with the flowers, and send her a note that told her to cuddle with the bear when she was missing me. Then I read that text message and I don't remember how, but somehow, my MacBook got broken. I think my fist might've went through the screen but I'm not completely sure. I haven't been that angry in a very long time. Anger isn't even the word for what I was feeling..it was something totally different. It was fury...rage, even. I settled myself down by drinking, of course...and then I started thinking rational with the booze in my system. It dawned on me that my Jo is not that kind of girl. She would never sleep with another man so quickly and she would never start dating so soon. Ever. Jo's not like that and I had no real reason to worry.

The bus slows down to a stop and the driver opens up the door. I gather up my phone and the cord to my headphones and make my way to the front of the bus. "Thanks." I mumble to the older man and climb down the steps. Conveniently enough, the bus let me off right in front of Jo's apartment building. It's very, very quiet on these streets; as it should be for 7:00 in the morning. The sun hasn't even risen yet and the morning air is quite brisk. I climb up the small flight of bricked steps and pull the door open to the main lobby of the apartment complex. I hold onto the railing and climb up the steps since Jo's apartment is on the second floor. I stumble a little bit in my drunken stupor but end up making it to her apartment. I don't know what to think about the fact that I'm actually standing here, in front of the door to her apartment. I have a feeling that I'd have a lot to think about and a lot to feel if I wasn't drunk off my ass like this. I'm so drunk though...my feelings are numb. The only feeling I have is excitement and anticipation to see her and that's it.

I rest my finger against her doorbell and push hard. I'm not sure when her first class of the day is but I'm pretty sure that it's not at 7:00 in the morning. She should be answering any minute now. Any minute now...

Any minute...


Jo's Point of View.

I pick my head up off my drool-stained pillow and have an instant headache. I can already tell that this is going to be a bad day. I just woke up in the worst mood. I'm probably in a bad mood because of course, the night I choose to actually have a decent night's sleep, SOMEBODY has to freaking wake me up. I was sleeping so good though... I feel my bottom lip slide out from underneath my top lip and my eyes start to sting as if I'm about to start crying. I just want to sleep. Why would someone wake me up? I wasn't even dreaming about Alex. I don't know what the hell I was dreaming about but it wasn't about Alex, for once in my life. And now I'm being woken up? I sigh and rub my eyes. To add insult to injury, whoever it is that's waking me up won't stop ringing my freaking doorbell. Maybe if I ignore it long enough, they'll go away... I rub my eyes again and yawn. When I open my eyes, I immediately look over at the clock and am instantly irritated when it boasts a very early, "7:05". It's seven in the morning, WHO is ringing my goddamn doorbell at seven in the morning?! Suddenly, added to the doorbell ringing is intense knocking. Whoever it is really wants me to wake up. I sigh and pull my covers back. I was sleeping so peacefully...

I run my hand through my still damp-from-my-shower hair and snatch up the ponytail holders lying in my bed. I must've truly been sleeping hard for my hair to fall out of my bun. I fell asleep at 12:30 last night. For the first time in FOREVER, I actually fell asleep before 1 a.m.. I'm so irritated that I'm being woken up. I slip the ponytail holders on my wrist and irritably rip open my door and stomp through my apartment, picking my underwear out of my butt. I really might get evicted today because I'm 90% sure that this is my landlord waking me up and if it is, I'm going to curse him out. He's been bugging me lately about getting the duplicate key to my apartment back. I'm not supposed to keep the duplicate key; I was supposed to have given it back already. I snatch the damn duplicate key up from my TV stand where it's been since I moved in here and rub my eyes again. The knocking is so intense and the doorbell ringing is annoying me to no extent. I don't even bother looking through my peephole, unlock my latch-lock and my door lock and fling my door wide open, preparing to scream at the stupid fucker that thought it was okay to come knocking on my door at SEVEN IN THE MORNING.

"Look-" I begin my yelling spiel but as soon as I get a good look at the person standing in my doorway, I shut my mouth. Now I'm not so sure if I was really woken up from my sleep. I think I'm still sleeping. I think I'm dreaming. My hand falls down from the grip on the doorknob I had and my mouth falls open. He's standing in front of me. Red-eyed, hair tousled and looking so lost. Wearing a gray t-shirt and black jeans...looking just like he looked in my dreams. I'm still dreaming. I have to be. There's no way. "...Alex?" Saying his name is so surreal. Feeling the syllables roll off my tongue while I'm actually calling his name makes my knees feel weak. I'm dreaming. I'm so dreaming. And if I really am dreaming, this is so cruel. If I'm dreaming, someone wake me up. I don't want to have this sweet dream and fall into the depths of depression when I have to wake up. We're standing no more than two feet in front of each other and I can't even move any bone in my body. Please wake me up before I reach out to touch him while he turns into a puff of dream-induced smoke.

He breaks the stillness. He's the one that reaches out and wraps one hand around my waist, pulling me close to his body. I can actually feel him...his hand is on my hip and he's not turning to dust. "I told you I was coming home." He whispers to me before his lips come crashing down, meeting mine and we share the very kiss I longed for. He's here? He's real? I feel him. And this just in, I taste him. His breath tastes like hard liquor and I just know that he's been drinking. But he's here. If I can feel him, hear him and taste him, he has to be here, doesn't he? He smashes his lips against mine harder and that's when I just...lose my mind. He's not a dream.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him towards me, into a kiss far deeper than the kiss he was just giving me. My heart...oh god, my heart. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I pull out of the kiss and put my hands against his cheeks so I can get a good look at him. Is it really him? Please god, don't tell me that I'm hallucinating. His stubble is just the way I remember it, so I stroke my hands along his prickly chin. Those eyes...equally brown and green, like I remember them. That fluffy brown hair. I reach my hand up and touch his hair. I bring my hands down and examine his muscles. I really think it's him. "Alex." I bury my face in his chest and squeeze my arms around his waist. Please hug me back...if it's really you, you would- Interrupting my thoughts, he combs his fingers through my hair, rests his hands in the middle of my back and starts stroking me with the tips of his fingers. It's HIM! It's my Alex. He just did it! He just did it! "Alex..." All I can say is his name before I'm overcome with joy. I squeeze him tighter and uncontrollably, inconsolably, sob. Loud, too.

He moves his hands down to the backs of my legs and I take his hint. I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist as he holds me up. I bury my face in his neck, wrap my arms around him and squeeze again. "I missed you so much, girl." I nod my head and grip onto his hair while I squeeze my arms around him. "I love you...don't forget that. You're my heart, Jo..." I think he's crying too. His voice is cracking and even though he's drunk, not even the liquor would make his voice crack like that. Only tears would. "I dunno what I am without you...you know that?" He's definitely crying. "My everything... I told you I was coming home." He's here. He's right here...I'm holding him. He's right here. He's here. I can't stop crying. I can't even speak. I've never been this happy in my entire life. I feel like... I feel like I just got my life back. He's here... "I'm right here, Jo." As if he read my thoughts, he whispers that directly in my ear and kisses the top of my head. His speech is heavily slurred and he's struggling to stand upright so I know that he's really, really drunk right now but I don't care. He's here. "I missed you." He whispers. I squeeze him even tighter and my shoulders hunch up as another round of sobs rock my body. "I told you I was coming home."

"This...isn't your home." I shake my head and manage to choke out through my uncontrollable sobs.

"It is." He tightens his grip around my waist and puts his lips to my ear. "Wherever you are, Jo...wherever you are is my home. Got that?"

I just nod my head.


A/N: Time jump coming pretty soon, guys! :D