A/N: Just to clear this up with people who are wondering and DON'T read the authors notes, you've already read Jude's journal. It was the entire first part of the story. Please please please read the authors notes. And I guess if you don't read them, you really won't be reading me begging you to read them right now, but oh well, I'll take a shot. They're so important for you to read, and they really will help you understand the story better. I'm not the worlds greatest writer, but I'm working on it, and I'm working on how to just be able to explain everything in the story without being like "Oh yeah, so this is Jude Harrison (my) journal in case you didn't know." Which actually the one you're reading right now is Tommy's, not Jude's.
That's my goal in case you didn't know, to be able to explain everything in the story. I'm really working on it, and I'll start it next time I start a new fanfic. But for now, enough of my rambling, onto the story, which will be finished in a little while just so you know. I give you the next chapter:
With Katy by my side, I was definitely going to try and shape up. I was staying at her place now, and she was purely amazing. She was quite possibly one of the best friends I had ever had, and we're still friends today. I'm glad I met her, because otherwise I would have never worked up the nerve to take a shower, shave, and drive to where you were.
The drive over there, I was glancing at myself in the rear-view mirror, telling myself how strong I was for coming to see you. And I was so, so proud of myself. And then the nerve all went away when I actually got to the place.
It's quite intimidating there, let me tell you. I can understand why you hated it so much.
The grey concrete walls and guards standing by the door weren't exactly a welcoming site, but still, I got out of the car. And I took some steps to the door, where a huge man the size of my Great Aunt Gertrude was standing. (Okay, so my great aunts name is Becky, but that doesn't sound as good.)
I raised my hand to knock, and received a flutter in my stomach, so I lowered my hand and patted my abdomen, as if that would help. It was only awarded by a questioning glance from the guard.
I placed my hand on the door, and then turned away. I turned back, and then away again. Then I walked up to my car, got in, and drove back to where I had come from. Which I don't even remember where it was, or what the address is, because I was most likely drunk when I moved in and Katy told me the address and whatnot.
I did that a couple of times a week, and every time I chickened out. You have no idea how badly I wanted you to just come bursting through the door, yelling for me to come inside and visit you. If you had pushed me to that limit, I wouldn't have been afraid anymore. But you didn't come out, I didn't even know what direction you would be coming from if you had, because I didn't know where your room was. So I just stood there once or twice a week, with my hand raised, getting suspicious glances from the guard. The guard must have recognized me after the second or third time I came, because he just rolled his eyes when he saw me.
I wanted to come in so badly. I wanted to see you, and explain to you why I left, why I was scared of the feelings I felt for you. But I was afraid of your response. I was afraid you would be disappointed in me.
But most of all, I was afraid you wouldn't accept me anymore.