He avoids her like the damn plague in the days to come. This attempt proves to be unsuccessful, as though she's a magnet to his presence.

Maybe we aren't meant to be apart, Gray thinks the next morning, kneeling down to tie the laces of his running shoes.

He recalls the sound of her sobbing in his dream.

He finishes knotting it angrily. No, we are.

While running, Gray mistakenly passes by the Goddess Pond, a spot where Claire's farm is evidently visible amidst the open space surrounding him. This routine has become such a habit for him, that he didn't even realize what he was doing. The sun is beating down and his sneakers are squeaking against the mossed, dewy fields. Sometimes she's awake by the time he's started his laps, and other times she isn't. Of course, today she is; he can see her absentmindedly bringing her new foal out to graze. She quickly catches Gray's figure darting across the meadow instantly, waving at him happily. Maggie barks beside her, running towards the direction that he's going in, while Claire darts after her.

From where he's positioned, Gray can still make out the brightness of Claire's golden hair. All that he's thinking, amidst his panic, is that there's no way her colour can even be remotely fake. Her locks are made up of way too many different shades of blonde, their natural highlights shining in the rising sunlight amplified against them.

Obviously she's a natural blonde. Didn't her naked figure in his dream reveal that?

Stop, he tells himself. Enough!

Why is he thinking about this of all things?! Gray keeps his head down, like he never saw her at all. He makes a direct beeline through the thicket of trees, leaving Claire and Maggie to stand in a shrouded state of perplexity on the edge of her farm property.


"I think that you need to get laid," Kai decides, after Gray is finished work the next day. Of course that's his solution. He tosses him a bottle of ketchup from across the Snack-Shack counter, but Gray doesn't even bother catching it. It hits his shoulder, landing quietly on its side. "That's why you can't get her off of your mind."

"I don't want to fuck her," Gray says. Kai keeps his focus on the barbecue in front of him, flipping the sizzling burger patty against the grill thoughtfully.

"Whatever," he replies, tossing the burger onto a wholegrain bun. "You can make love to her, or something."

Or something. "You don't get it," says Gray. "I don't want to. Even if I wanted to, we can't."

Kai looks dubious. He uses his spatula to slide the completed burger in Gray's empty plate in front of him. "You don't want to? You don't want to at all? Like, if she came in here and was all like, 'oh Gray, please take me,' you would say, 'nahhh?'"

Gray just blinks at his friend. "'Take me?' Really?"

"Whatever." Kai shrugs, waiting for an answer from Gray. But is there even a response suitable enough for this kind of question?

"Of course… I wouldn't… like, not want to. But she'd never do that," he says, his words feeling jumbled and thick in his mouth. How am I gonna explain this one? "Look, I actually don't care about... like, that shit isn't my main focus at all. Just help me to understand what the hell that dream was."

Kai is quiet for a moment. "I dunno."

"Yeah, fuck if I know either."

"You know, Popuri's first time was with me," Kai tells him. Gray stares at his hamburger, not bothering to pick it up. For once, he actually doesn't have an appetite. He just sits there, saying nothing, hoping for his friend to reveal an epiphany of sorts. "I felt bad at the beginning, thinking about her… in the way that I usually think about girls. It's probably 'cause she was so inexperienced, prayed a lot… you know." He chuckles. "I mean, she still uses 'pinky promises.' How the hell can you think about a girl in that way if they do innocent shit like that?"

Gray raises his left eyebrow, wincing at the pain. Damn piercing remains unhealed, like most other things in his life. "And?"

"That things never gonna stop hurting if you keep doing that."

"And what?"

"And nothing." Kai shrugs again. "She made the decision if she wanted to do it… when she wanted to do it. And because it was completely in her hands, I didn't have anything weighing down on me."

"This is all pointless. Claire has a friggin' doctor for a boyfriend. I'm can't do shit about that."

"I know how pissed you are seeing him... seeing him with her."

Gray pushes his untouched plate to the side, suddenly feeling his stomach sink. "I have to stay away from her," he says.

Kai shakes his head, like Gray is a foolish child. "Won't work."

"As if you know jack shit about relationships. This is your first one."

Kai looks Gray dead in the eyes. "And this is the only one I want. Pope makes me want to stay in this sleepy town year-round. You have to find someone who gets you to feel that way."

"I don't have that."

"You do," Kai says, craning his neck to peer out the front-door window. "And here she comes."

Like some sort of a goddamn cue, Claire strolls into the Snack-Shack, smiling and giving a five-finger wave to Kai. Gray's stomach further lurches. He keeps his head down, pulling his hat over his eyes to shield his vision of her.

"Do you have what I ordered?" Claire asks Kai.

Gray hears the sound of Kai opening up the shop's freezer. "Here's some, uh, non-artificially flavoured shaved ice."

"Thanks!" She grips the bag, and then curiously walks over to Gray, shaking the ice next to his head. It makes a loud crushing sound, condensation brushing up against his ear. He jerks back like a reflex.

"Umm, hi, Gray," says Claire peculiarly. Kai peers at the two of them, like he's watching an HBO special to see what's about to transpire next.

So much for my plan.

"Hello," he mutters, his gaze fixed on his lap. Can't she just leave him alone? Does she always have to be such a pain in the ass?

She gives him a smirk. "Why'd you run away from my farm yesterday morning? Maggie was seriously bummed." She's dressed in a pair of loose-fitting Levi's shorts, and a tank top that hug her curves. The cross that Gray had made for her is pinned to the corner of her top. With her hair all pulled back like this using pink and purple butterfly clips, he can see the amount of makeup that she's applied. On route to Trent, no doubt.

"Sorry," he mutters, walking out of the Snack-Shack silently. He pushes the door open with his shoulder, shoving his hands in his pocket. Even though he's wearing a t-shirt, it's sweltering outside. The sun greets him as he walks past the boardwalk of the beach.

Immediately, Claire darts after him, the sand under her feet kicking out as she steps. "What's with you?" she asks, having caught up to Gray. "Since when do you leave food on your plate?"

When he merely stares down at a spot in the ground next to her, refusing to answer, Claire pipes up again. Concern blooms across her pretty face. "It feels like you're avoiding me, Gray. Did I do something?"

He sighs, still denying himself eye contact with her. "No." Of course not. This is all on me.

When she reaches for him, the bag of colourful shaved ice in her hand brushes up against his forearm. "Tell me!"

"Look, I'm just not feeling well."

Claire pauses, releasing his arm. It drops to his side. "Okay, well if that's the case, then just hear me out."

"No."

"If you go to the clinic-"

"Jesus Christ."

"Gray, you really don't look so good. You're all pale!" Claire takes a step forward again, pressing her palm under the front of his cap, against his forehead. Her chest brushes up against his own when she does this, and he just pales some more. She then holds her palm to her own forehead in confusion. "It's Trent's day off," she clarifies. "But I'm sure that he wouldn't mind-"

He jerks himself away from her. His heart is racing. "I mind."

"Gray-"

"Does your boyfriend know that you still talk to me, Blondie?" He narrows his eyes at her. "Because I get the feeling that he doesn't like me being around you at all."

She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh, 'cause you just adore him so much, right?"

Gray ignores this snide response, because he knows that for every comeback that he has, Claire will have about a dozen more. He's willingly fallen for a girl that insufferably busts his chops. "So he was totally cool with me –with all of us– coming over two nights ago? That was fine?"

"I-I didn't ask his permission... and I haven't seen him yet to let him know, if that's what you're wondering."

"But you won't let him know, will you?"

"I'm not afraid to open up to people like you, Gray," says Claire, sharply. What a bad liar.

She seems afraid of Trent, though, like she's constantly walking on eggshells around him. Afraid to anger him, afraid that her actions might upset him, afraid that he'll wake up one morning and call it quits. It's like she tries to be on her best behaviour around him. Not to mention, Trent doesn't seem to like the fact that she has a life and a mind for herself... or friends of the opposite gender.

Claire around Gray is another story, though. For starters, she definitely isn't afraid to piss him off, given at how often she does it.

"Right," he says heatedly. He doesn't mean to get angry with her. She's not the one that he's angry with. "Have you even told him yet about your 'situation?'"

Claire squints at him, like she's seeing Gray with a new set of eyes for the first time. "Oh, I have a 'situation?'"

Can you use the right terminology for once, you idiot?

He stares at Claire in her cuffed, baggy blue shorts; she's wearing regular summertime apparel, but he wonders if Trent is going to take advantage of this attire tonight. If he's going to try and pry her legs open... if he's going to convince her to go against her promise.

That isn't your concern, says one side of his conscience.

But she's seventeen! the other side argues.

"No, you don't," Gray stammers, unsure of how to get himself out of this one. "I mean, he'll see it as a situation, but-"

"My gosh, Gray, give it a rest!" Claire exclaims, putting her hand on her hip while shaking her head at him. Like he's a hopeless case.

Because he is.

"Fine." Gray nods, storming away.


"Can you stop effing things up?" Ann asks from behind the bar the next day. She runs a few shot glasses under a stream of water from the bar sink, polishing them individually with her apron. She glares at Gray in irritation.

"I told you already, I'm incapable," he mumbles, pressing his face against the tiled countertop. It's cold against his skin, but it feels kind of soothing in a way. He eyeballs a shot glass in her hands. Ann catches his look, sighing. She pours a string of vodka in one, handing it to Gray reluctantly. He lifts his head up to down it back, his body scorching up all over again. Claire won't come to the bar, right? He's not going to have to risk the pain of seeing her again, correct?!

"You look better already," she remarks.

"Woohoo." The miniscule amount of vodka may have been enough to burn Gray's throat, but it hardly gives him a buzz. He's not even of age (as if that shit matters here), but he'd like more. More would be good.

Ann looks thoughtful for a moment. "Your dream wasn't bad."

"It was awful."

"Well, so many girls' first times are like that. I cried."

Gray puts his cheek back against the frigid countertop, giving Ann a once over. "You did not."

"I did!" she exclaims. "Not 'cause I was emotional or anything, but because it friggin' hurt. You've only seen girls enjoying themselves 'cause it wasn't their first time." She pauses. "I mean, I hope that they enjoyed themselves with you."

He ignores her comedic jab, because it isn't funny. "So you didn't enjoy your first time?"

"I didn't come, if that's what you're wondering. But the guy did, in record timing." Gray lifts his head, rotating the shot glass in his hand. He can't help but chuckle. She just rolls her eyes. "Did you enjoy your first time?"

"I did," he answers. The shot glass clinks against the countertop as he places it down.

"The whole three minutes of it?"

"Shut up."

Ann frowns. "What're you gonna do, Gray?"

"I'm going to avoid her." Or at least, he's going to keep trying to.

"Don't you dare," she snaps.

"Too late."

"You're dreaming about her 'cause you want her. And you dreamt about sex 'cause you miss having it," Ann deduces. A real Sherlock Holmes, this one is. "Duh."

"Gray, are you not getting any lately?" Doug strolls in from the back kitchen, holding a pot in his hand and wearing a smile on his face. He places the cooking vessel down, keenly waiting for a response.

It feels like the breath has been forcibly removed from Gray's lungs, though.

Ann turns to her father, horrified. "Dad!" she screams, embarassed.

Gray puts his head right back down on the counter, wishing that he could die in this very moment. He doesn't care if it'll be from a heart attack, or if the Grim Reaper himself wants to come down and remove him from this earth. Deathcan get creative with how he goes.

"Ann, this isn't something that a young woman should hear. Give us some privacy! This is a man to man, heart to heart that I have to have with Gray." Doug tries shooing her away, but she stands her ground.

Have to have? Like this has gotta happen?

"Daddy, leave!" Ann cries, widening her eyes. She pushes on his chest to make him go back to the kitchen, but her father is a burly man who doesn't even budge from this action. She laughs in fearful exasperation, throwing in the towel.

"Sweetie, I don't have a son," Doug explains, like she's completely unaware to this statement. He rubs his ginger handlebar moustache attentively. "And I'm sure that Gray doesn't get to have these kinds of talks with his grandfather."

"GET" to have these talks? Like it's a goddamn privilege?!

Doug puts his hand on Gray's shoulder, guiding him away from the bar, since Ann refuses to leave. He leads him to a spot beside the inn's coat check closet, and just like that, a memory flashes before Gray's eyes. But this is a good one, though; one that makes him happy. One that he wishes he didn't take for granted when it happened.

It's the moment when he gave Claire her first kiss in that very closet. When she asked him to press his lips to hers. When he did, and it felt electric. When he held her so close, that he could feel her racing heartbeat against his own. When he had yet to mess things up for himself the day after.

"Well, you've done it before, haven't you, son?" Doug asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Does he come across as a miserable virgin? "…Yes," Gray reluctantly replies. He really, truly, honest to God does not want to entertain this bullshit.

But Doug's treated him like family since he got to Mineral Town. Perhaps it was because he had trouble connecting with his own daughter, or because the presence of Gray's father was severely lacking. He's a kind old soul, who experienced the loss of his wife nearly two decades prior. He understands this kind of pain.

He's also a big, bulky man, compared to his skinny-as-a-rail daughter. If he wanted to, he could surely kill Gray. He should kill Gray.

He'd have every right to.

Doug looks proud. He really wouldn't be so proud if he knew of half the shit that Gray and Ann did in this very structure, but hey.

"When's the last time you, how the kids say, scored a homerun?" asks Doug.

Gray keeps his head down, because he knows that even though they've moved away, Ann is still listening to every word of this dreadful conversation. He can hear her nervous snickers from behind the bar. "Hasn't been that long," he answers, recalling the night that they all got completely hammered, and she surprised him in his room.

"Put yourself out there again! Whoever you did it with last, call her up again!"

"We're finished," he interrupts apprehensively. Ann ducks behind the counter, and he wonders if she's laughing at his expense, or having a panic attack. Gray himself is doing a bit of both right now.

Why is this conversation even going on?!

"Was it that cute farmer?"

Gray drops his head against the wall. It's an act of desperation, really. Maybe if I get a concussion, I'll either experience memory loss, or die on the spot right now.

"Daddy!" Ann shouts from across the bar, mortified. She doesn't even bother pretending like she isn't eavesdropping on the conversation anymore.

"Sorry for prying, Gray!" he barks, throwing his arm over his shoulder. He lumbers back to the bar with him, chuckling as Gray's head hangs low. "But you should really get yourself back out there!" Doug's cheerful expression suddenly turns very serious. "When you do, though, make sure you go to confession. You wouldn't wanna be a bad Christian."

This is a stupid ideology, in Gray's opinion. Shouldn't it be a "you do or you don't" kind of thing? What's the point of confessing that you've sinned by having sex before marriage, if it's likely going to keep happening? It's like saying to God, "hey, sorry I had sex, it was great and I'm gonna continue doing it, but I'll let you know when it happens another time so that I can come back, say four Hail Mary's, throw in an Apostle's Creed, and then be sorry all over again." Maybe he's got it all wrong, but yikes is all that he's thinking.

Then again, Gray hasn't been to confession since... jeez, probably since before junior high. He remembers being seven and asking for penance when he broke his father's favourite mug without telling him. He instantly felt good as new after the priest listened and made him say a few prayers. He never ended up telling his dad, but he recalls feeling a lot better that at least someone as important as God knew of his secret.

"You think that I should?" Gray asks. Could a simple confession make him less guilty for all that he's been feeling lately? Could I possibly feel better?

Ann's eyes brighten instantly. "Go now! Carter will take you no problem."

Gray pauses. If he leaves, that'll mean no more questions from Doug. No more having to pretend like he and Ann didn't do it in this very inn. No more contrition, right?

Maybe.

"Good plan. I'm dippin'," he calls, darting out of the inn doors to hastily leave.

"There's a mass going on right now, Ann," Doug remarks, watching as Gray exits their establishment. "Why'd you send him there?"

Ann imagines Claire sitting in the front pew, waiting patiently for church to begin. "So that he can make up with said cute farmer," she replies, pouring a shot of vodka for herself. She could really use one right about now.


Immediately as he walks in, Gray realizes that he's been set up. Mass is literally starting.

He's going to kill Ann.

Because, of course, of course Claire is there, sitting in one of the front pews.

She cranes her neck when she hears the church doors open, offering Gray a small smile, motioning him over. She doesn't look mad at all. In fact, she looks glad to see him.

But he wants to leave. He wants nothing more than to leave. He has to leave. Being around her is the very opposite of what he's been trying to accomplish.

As he's readying his great escape, Carter waltzes in behind him. "Grayson, what a surprise!" The pastor smiles at Gray, the lines around his eyes crinkling in gratification. "It's so nice of you to join us. Please." He motions for him to sit beside Claire, who is still turned around peering at him.

And he's really got no other goddamn choice.

"Why are you here?" she whispers to him, once he's seated in her pew. Carter readies himself at the front, flipping through a copy of the Bible as he rapidly searches for today's reading.

"To be washed free of sin," he mutters. She laughs, even though he isn't kidding. At all. "What's your reason?"

Dumbass, stop conversing with her!

Almost immediately, Claire toys with her hair, tossing it over her neck so that Gray can't stare at the damned trail of hickeys along her pulse. "To be with God," she finally answers, clasping her hands in her lap.

Bullshit. She's got some guilt in her, too. What did she do last night with Dr. Nimrod?

That isn't your business! maintains his least favourite side of his conscience.

An overwhelming, searing urge to protect her washes over him nonetheless. How can he rid himself from it? How can he stop worrying about her and just move on? She'll never want him the way that he's wanted her, and he's got to learn to accept that.

But this isn't even about leading her away from Trent so that Gray can have her. He ultimately just doesn't want her to get hurt by this creep.

This is not your concern anymore.

The bell at the front of the altar chimes, thankfully interrupting his fretful worries. Several residents of Mineral Town rise from their seats. Claire does the same, and Gray hurriedly follows her motions. He sits through the mass, listening to Pastor Carter's soothing verses.

And even though he isn't totally at peace, it's almost as though he's getting there.

She carefully listens to Carter's every word. Gray registers that she looks totally messy today. Her overalls are dusty, she has bunch of grass blades stuck in her hair, and there's dirt caked underneath her fingernails. Polar opposite to how she looked yesterday. She works on a farm, after all. He was no cleaner when he finished his own shifts. But something about this image of her is so refreshing to him.

No it's not. It's not because you're through daydreaming about her.

Gray then realizes that she still has on the cross pin that he made her. She really does always wear it, huh?

When he shakes Claire's hand for "peace," he instantly recalls his father leaning over to kiss his mother's cheek as a sign of "peace" when they used to all attend mass.

The day that I do that crap.

Her hand is smooth against his own. "Peace, Gray," she says, gifting him with another smile.

"Peace be with you, Claire," he says, and for some reason, this feels like the closure that he needs. He doesn't know why it does, but it does. He can still be her friend or whatever, but it's like he's saying goodbye to loving her in a way. Relief washes over him when he releases her hand. Maybe going to church isn't so bad after all.

They rise to receive host, and Gray even says his own prayer at the end of it all. The second that mass ends, he tells Claire an excuse about having to go to bed early, much to her puzzlement. He quickly leaves, convincing himself that he's in the clear.

This is Gray's send-off; his farewell to chasing after a fantasy that he'll never achieve. He doesn't have to agonize over Claire anymore, because she won't be occupying his thoughts at all. This is his final goodbye without actually saying the words "goodbye." Not as painful, but just as effective.

He wonders if he really is at peace, or just numb from all of the days prior.

"Go to bed," Saibara says, the second that Gray walks in to Mineral Blacksmith. He frowns. How did his grandfather know of the excuse that he'd given to Claire minutes before? And just because he made up that excuse, doesn't mean that he'd have to abide by it.

He hangs up his signature hat. "What're you talking about, Gramps? It's still pretty early." He intended on having a quick bowl of cereal, then calling up Kai to see if he wanted to come over and play some video games.

"Yeah, but we gotta be up before the crack of dawn," Saibara replies. "Apparently, Sasha wants us to whip up a quick pin for her to wear to her daughter's wedding tomorrow."

The wedding; Rick and Karen's wedding!

HOW COULD YOU FORGET?

How could he forget that he's partnered up with Claire for it? How did this notion escape his mind? He'll be walking down the aisle with her, sitting with her, spending the entire night by her side. He pales at the whole thought of it all.

For fuck's sake.