"Oh," Claire says, as soon as she answers the door. "Hi." The face on the other end looks surprised to see her so jolted and awake.

"This is yours," Gray mumbles, without looking at her. His vacant eyes stay glued to the floor as he hands over her shawl that she left at the inn. He must be able to feel her staring at him, though, because he brings his hat over his face with shaky hands.

Claire nods, throwing the wooly fabric over her bare shoulders. "Thank you."

He teeters on the spot, holding on to the edge of her doorframe. His knuckles have been squeezed to a bone white as the visible portion of his face flushes crimson. "Don't… sweat it."

"Are you okay?"

"Ah-huh."

Claire doesn't know if she really believes this, and worriedly gestures for him to come inside. The one shot that they did together made her slightly buzzed, but she feels totally fine now. How much alcohol does it take someone like him to get this tipsy? Although, at least he looks better than he did a couple of hours ago - way more alert. And if he's alert, then he can answer this: "Can I ask you something?"

Gray closes the door behind him, rubbing at his bleary eyes with balled up fists. She hasn't bothered to turn on a light, and he hasn't bothered to come up with a smart-aleck reply. "What?"

Drunk people always tell the truth, right? "Do you think that I was like, temperamental today?"

Maggie scampers over to Gray's feet, whimpering and rolling over on her back. He simply sits on the cold floor, petting her tummy lazily. "No, you just kept crying… over nothing. But you weren't…" It's like he's forgotten that he's in the middle of a sentence. He lays on his back to lift Maggie over his chest.

"Erratic?" she finishes.

"Yeah," he agrees.

Claire bites the inside of her cheek. "Well, you're brutally honest and rude, so-"

"Thanks."

"Ugh, do you think I look super bloated in this dress? Like, is it noticeable?"

Gray raises his head to stare at her figure in the moonlight. He smells like a million different alcohols, from the fruity Pornstars that she tried with him, to the bitter fermentation of whiskey that he requested. "Where's this coming from?"

Claire sits down on the floor across from him, motioning for Maggie to come closer. But, as usual, her dog would much rather cling to Gray like a… well, like a lost puppy. "Look, I've never liked my stomach. Just tell me."

"No." With great force, he hoists himself up on his elbows, lifting his hat so that he can finally meet her eyes. "You didn't. You looked like you always do." He pauses, as if contemplating his next words. "You know… b-"

Claire's attention immediately shifts to the persistent knocking at her door. Her heart skips as she rises to her feet quickly, unable to mask her worried expression.

"Hope that i'nt your boyfriend," says Gray.

Claire glares at him, even though for both of their sakes, she hopes not either. Trent's way too jealous to understand that this is just how they hangout. On the floor of her house, in the dark, while he's drunk and she's just trying to make sense of everything... yeah, this one would be sort of hard to explain. She swings the door open as Kai rapidly barges in, Popuri silently trudging along behind him.

They both look far worse than she's ever seen them. Frazzled, restless, and maybe even a little bit… ashamed? Compared to them, Gray's sobered up big time; these two are intoxicated goners.

"Doug told me you'd be here," Kai says to Gray, jamming his hands into his pockets. He's changed into a pair of purple pajamas, while Popuri wears what looks to be Kai's sweat-top and track pants. They look so oversized on her, as if she's drowning in them.

He slowly takes Maggie off of his lap, standing sloppily. Claire can't help but wonder why Doug even knew at all.

"What's wrong?" Gray asks.

Popuri starts to silently cry, her back slumped against the closed door, hand hovering over her mouth in order to muffle the whimpering sound. Claire anxiously takes her friend's hand, guiding her to the couch. "Popuri, what is it?"

She sluggishly fixes her gaze on an embarrassed Kai, who still stands next to Gray by the doorway. "Why don't you *hic* tell them, Kai?"

"PLEASE tell me... tell me you got Plan B on you," he pleads with Gray.

Plan B...?

Popuri's sobbing gets louder when she sees Gray shake his head no (it gets even worse when Gray rudely asks why he would even be the one to own any). Claire, confused as ever, places her hand on Popuri's shoulder in attempt to comfort her. Kai rushes over to try and do the same.

"What the hell did you do?" he mutters to Kai.

"What do you think?!" Popuri screams, jerking herself away from Kai. As she shoots up from the couch unstably, Gray tries to support her with his own unsteady arms. She just buries her face in his suit jacket, sobbing.

"I'm sorry, you guys," says Gray softly, his hand gently on Popuri's back. He glares at Kai. "I don't got."

Kai lets out an exasperated breath, turning to Claire with desperate eyes. "Claire, I know... I know that this is a long shot, but do you have any Plan B?"

She frowns. "I... I don't know what that is, but I don't think so-"

"Why would she *hic* have it?" Popuri asks harshly, whirling around to face Kai. "She'd never need it, because her boyfriend wouldn't just forget to use protection!"

Yikes.

"You guys had unprotected sex?" Claire widens her eyes, as if this is a crazy, unheard of notion. But for two almost nineteen-year-olds that should know better... it feels like it kind of is.

Jeez, I sound like such a prude. She grimaces at her choice of wording.

"Jesus, Blondie," mutters Gray, affirming her thoughts.

Popuri chokes out another strangled sob. "I *hic* can't believe you, Kai!"

Kai buries his head in his hands, rubbing his face painfully. "Christ, Popuri, don't you know how awful I feel?"

"I *hic* didn't realize that you didn't have a condom."

"Popuri, we both didn't realize. We were friggin' wasted. We're still wasted! I knew that I was forgetting… something-"

"But you *hic* never carry your own. You always… freakin' rely on Gray, because you're just so *hic* immature-"

"You're calling me immature? Do you know what kinda hypocrite you sound like?"

"Kai, just shut up! You know *hic* what? Maybe my brother... was right about you all along."

"Oh great, here we friggin' go."

Claire rises from the couch to stand next to Gray, watching as the couple continues their screaming match. The two are going back and forth, like a Ping-Pong tournament, in a slippery slope that is leading to nowhere. It's a little scary to see someone as playful and sweet as Popuri scream at the top of her lungs, but it's even scarier to watch her shoot daggers through her eyeballs at Kai when she's always gazed at him so lovingly.

"So, does Plan B just like... stop a pregnancy before it happens?" Claire whispers to Gray.

He gives her the side-eye. "Did you not learn about contraception in high school?"

"We barely learned about conception." Hello? Catholic school. The only way that she got taught to prevent a pregnancy was through abstinence.

"There's only... like a three day window to take it, but the sooner you do, the more effective it is," says Gray.

Kai lightly steadies Popuri's arms, but she only reacts by sobbing into his shoulder as he holds her. She looks scared. No,terrified.

If Rick ever finds out, he's going to kill Kai, and then her.

"I'll go to Trent, then," Claire says. "He's bound to have… that."

"You don't even know what 'that' is," he says tiredly.

"I'm guessing it's a medication? Like a pill?"

Gray sighs, like he'd rather be having any other conversation right now. "Just stay here with them. It's dark; I'll go."

"I'll come with you."

He scowls at her. "You really think that's a good idea?"

She stops, then shrinks back. "Um, I guess not."


Gray makes sure that his knock on the clinic doors is extra rude and abrupt. If Trent's asleep, then he hopes that the sound scares him awake. The world isn't dizzy anymore, but he still feels wobbly.

... And there's no answer.

He drums his knuckles against the door again. Mineral Town is eerily quiet at 1:30 in the morning, so he can easily hear the sounds of rustling and shimmying coming from inside the clinic. What the hell is going on?

He bangs his fist against the door one last time, knowing damn well that the doctor is in there. Trent finally answers, disheveled, out of breath, and wearing only a pair of shorts. Amidst his drunken thoughts, it makes Gray pretty happy to see how much muscle the guy's lacking in comparison to him, even if this does sound chauvinistic.

"What do you want?" Trent snaps, but it comes out more like "whaddyawant," followed by heavy breathing to follow.

Gray makes a face at him. He reeks of alcohol, even worse than himself. He doesn't even remember Trent drinking that much at the inn. "Do you have any Plan B?" he asks begrudgingly, almost forgetting that this isn't just any kind of request; it's one that makes him feel stupid and embarrassed.

Trent smirks as he catches his breath. What kind of freaking porn was this guy watching? "You... you mean, Lev... Levonorgestrel?"

Has Gray ever mentioned that he hates this piece of shit? Because he really, really does.

"Screw off," he snaps. "It's not for me."

"Well, of course not. It would be for a female-"

"I mean, I'm getting it for a friend."

"Classic excuse."

"I dunno why you wanna think that it's for me."

Something shifts inside of Trent's eyes, like a flicker of anger. He slams the door behind him. "What the hell did you do to my girlfriend?!" he spits at him.

Gray likes to think that there's different classifications of people who get drunk. For example, he, his father, and Kai are fun drunks. The liquor makes them the life of the party, something that Gray is not always used to being. Then, there's the gloomy drunks, people like Rick, or even his own mom, who avoid alcohol like the plague because it only evokes sadness. And finally, there's the angry drunks.

Exhibit A right in front of him.

Gray staggers, but regains his posture. He stares at him incredulously. "Are you dense? Nothing! Jesus, it isn't for her or me!" He shakes his head. "You think so goddamn little of her."

Trent fumes, like he's internally questioning how he could have ever thought that Claire would do such a thing. "I only care about her."

"Put some of that 'care' into yourself, 'cause you got issues."

"I don't have what you're looking for." Trent frowns, rubbing his bare arm contritely in an attempt to calm down. "Wish I did."

"Thought this was a clinic."

"It ain't a pharmacy, though. Shipment comes… Tuesday morning? Of course, emergency contraceptive's only effective for the first seventy-two hours... so it really looks like you're SOL."

First of all, this guy is slurring the hell outta his words, so he one hundred percent drank more when he got home.

Second, who actually says the acronym letters for shit outta luck?

Third, I really hate this douche.

Gray takes a step forward, but Trent keeps his hand on the doorknob, as if he's preparing a flight response at any minute. "What're you hiding?"

"Nothing," says Trent, way too defensively. "I have nothing to hide, and I sure... sure as hell don't have to answer to a smart-mouthed... little punk."

"You have a pack, don't you?" Gray's bullshit detector is going off. "You got it and you aren't giving it to me."

Trent blinks, his tone faltering. "No."

"I know you're lyin'."

"I-I wish I could help," Trent says, actually sounding very guilty. But Gray was made aware that psychopaths like this don't have feelings. "All I wanna do is help people, but-"

Gray just scoffs.

"I don't have an extra one." And with that, Trent clasps the doorknob, staggering inside. He slams the door behind him, leaving Gray to return back confused, irate, and empty-handed.


When he opens the door to Claire's house, he sees Popuri sprawled out on the couch, the tears that have streamed down her cheeks all dried up in the glare of the moonlight. Claire sits next to Popuri, absentmindedly biting her nails while still wearing that damn yellow dress. How could she have even asked him earlier if she looked bad in it? She's always so beautiful, and he was drunk enough to almost reveal this to her.

"What'd he say?" Claire asks, rising from her seat to rush over to him.

"Your boyfriend doesn't have one to spare." Gray looks around the room. "Apparently."

She narrows her eyes. "Gray, don't be like that. This isn't Trent's fault."

He ignores this, because arguing with her is just asking for a goddamn headache on top of the one that he already has. "Where's Kai?"

Claire crosses her arms over her chest, kicking her foot out. "Throwing up."

He emerges from the bathroom, swaying. He looks over at them hopefully, but Gray just shakes his head, leading Kai to let out a string of curse words.

"You need to take Pope home," Gray says to him. "I'm goin' to Forget-Me-Not Valley. It's only forty-five minutes away. Zack should be back from bringin' Rick and Karen to the Sunshine Islands."

He stares. "I'm coming."

"You already did."

Kai scowls, apparently not finding this very funny. "Don't be an jackass," he slurs. "This exact same… bullshit happened to you lotsa times."

Gray scowls back at him. "It happened once."

"Ah-huh."

"Let's not forget that you pulled out on a textbook because you didn't have a rubber," he snaps. "Start bein' responsible for yourself. I'm not the goddamn condom fairy."

"It isn't like you been using your stash. You don't get any, lately," Kai retorts.

Like this is a competition.

Claire grabs Gray's arm in an attempt to prevent him from hurtling out any other insults. "Kai, you can't even walk in a straight line," she murmurs. "I don't think that it's safe for you to go."

"Claire's right. Bring Popuri home, stay with her, I don't care. You're just very friggin' lucky that Rick's on his honeymoon."

"This is my problem. I'm goin' with you," says Kai, stumbling over his own two feet. He slumps over on the floor, groaning.

"You can barely stand," says Gray, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He kneels down to help him up, teetering, but regaining his composure like he's done all night. "Get home and get lost."

He sighs deeply, leaning against Claire's wall for support. "You're... right. I'm about to be more KO'd than... than Pope."

Seeing as though he can't even hold his liquor, much less, hold a person, Gray is the one to carry Popuri home, while Claire helps Kai to walk somewhat properly without falling. They go through the back window, the way that Karen snuck in the fateful night of the coat check closet, when she was dared to panty-raid Rick's house. Claire unclasps the lock for Kai to step inside, as Gray gently hands Popuri over to him. The window stays slightly ajar for when they return.

"Let me walk you home," says Gray, turning to her.

Claire furrows her thin brows. "Ummm, I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are."

"Gray!" she exclaims. "You can fake it, but you're not exactly sober, either. Someone needs to make sure that you'll be alright."

He rubs his temples. "You need to go home. This i'nt up for debate." He removes his suit jacket, slinging it around his shoulder as he shakes his head at her.

"I'm way more persistent than Kai, and I'm not letting you go alone!"

Persistent is really just another word for a pain in his ass.

"Jesus Christ, Blondie. Forget-Me-Not Valley isn't safe at night. They don't have anyone like Harris there. It's fine during the day, but it's messed upwhen it gets dark."

Claire blinks, as if she hasn't heard him. She starts walking to the direction of the docks, shawl wrapped tightly around her body. "Gray, we need to help our friends, and you can't do it alone. Plus, what if something happens to you?" She whirls around dramatically to look at him, locks of her hair colliding with his face. She smells so sweet, like vanilla and buttercream and maybe even... maple syrup? "I'd cry."

"You'd do that anyway."

"I'm coming with you."

And he realizes that this really isn't up for debate.


"Good," says Gray as they get closer to the beach pier. "Zack's boat is still out on the water."

"You think he'll have no problem taking us?" Claire asks, the sound of waves crashing against the shore drumming in her ear. She's never been to the beach at night, but it somehow feels more calm; more serene. The damp saltiness of the ocean hits her nostrils powerfully.

Gray nods, knocking on the door to Won's place, much to Claire's confusion. Why are we getting Won involved in this? The seller answers in a silk bathrobe, looking like an entirely different person without his tinted shades or hat on.

"Uh oh," he says. "This is not a good sign."

"Is Zack up?" Gray asks impatiently. "We need him to take us to Forget-Me-Not Valley."

Claire feels confused. Does Zack live here? She's never really given much thought as to where her shipment deliverer resides.

"Do you know what time it is, pal?" Zack asks, emerging from the shadows, behind Won. He wears his usual attire, a grey tank with some blue shorts. He doesn't look ready for bed at all.

"Look, we really need to pick something up there from Hardy."

Zack squints at him, like he knows exactly what he's talking about. Gray's face flushes. "I'm real tired, man. I just got back from Karen talking my goddamn ear off."

"Zack, please!" Claire cries, grabbing his abnormally large bicep. He stares down at her small hand over his muscle. "We truly need your help." She lowers her voice. "It's for… Lillia's daughter."

The three tall men gawk at her stupidly.

"So what?" Zack asks.

Claire deadpans. "I just thought that… you and Lillia… well, I, um... you know…" Is she missing something? Doesn't Zack have a huge crush on Lillia, but their love is totally forbidden because Lillia's long-lost husband and Zack are buddies?

Or, did I make all of that up?

Won arches his brow at her.

"Just… just disregard that," says Gray, facepalming. "Can you take us?"

"Please," Claire adds, nudging him with her elbow.

"Yeah, yeah. Please?"

"You're a real pain in the ass, eh, Gray?" Zack says with a sigh. "No wonder your grandfather doesn't let you go to the horse races."

Won disappears in the shadows of the house to retrieve the boat keys, tossing them over to Zack. As Claire and Gray walk over to the docks, they hear a sound, turning their heads to see Won kissing the seller goodbye, much to her own surprise.

"I-I had no idea," Claire mumbles, unable to contain the shock from her voice.

Gray smirks. "That I'm not allowed to go to the horse races? Well, believe it, Blondie."

Yeah, that's what I was referring to, Gray.


"Why do ya look so surprised, Claire?" asks Zack, quickly peering at her before directing his attention back to the water. He has to yell his question over the noisy sound of his boat driving through the waves. He looks off into the distance, directing his boat toward the direction of wherever this Forget-Me-Not Valley is. He quickly turns to her again, staring at the little Catholic cross pin on her dress. "Is there a problem?"

Claire looks down at where his eyes are fixated on, vigorously shaking her head. "Oh my gosh, no! Of course not! I just… I had no idea, that's all. I thought you were… you know, into Lillia."

Zack pauses. "I suppose that's just a cover," he replies absently, turning around once again to direct the boat. "None of the town gossips, or the elderly folks know, so I'd appreciate you keeping my relationship on the DL."

"Why aren't you asking me to keep it 'on the DL?'" asks Gray, already knowing the answer.

"All you kids already know," says Zack. "Plus, you're antisocial as hell, and no one talks to you."

Yup, there it is.

"He's got a point," says Claire. He rolls his eyes at her.

"It's time for the quiet game," he says. His head is splitting; the loud sounds of everything and everyone around him feeling heightened.

"How long have you two been dating?" Claire decides to ask, ignoring his request of silence. The breeze picks up along the hemline of her dress, but she fastens it down with her hands quickly.

"Aren't you tired?" mutters Gray.

"Ten years," Zack tells her, staring off into the boat's water. "Well, it's ten years tomorrow."

"That's so sweet." She smiles. "Happy almost anniversary!"

Gray had no idea that Zack and Won have been together for an entire decade. "That's a long time," he says apprehensively.

Zack shrugs. "Doesn't feel long. Feels like you've known that person your whole life."

"Rick and Karen literally have!" exclaims Claire, a dreamy look in her eyes. Gray wasn't too big on their ceremonial shit, but he liked the fact those two booked an open bar for their wedding. Because open bars make everything much more tolerable.

"They're a good match," says Zack. "I mean, I've known those two since they were kids, and I think that they really balance each other out."

"Do you and Won?"

"I'd say so." Zack drives the boat toward the ratty old dock of Forget-Me-Not-Valley. This pier isn't located where the beach is, but rather, on the side of the mountains near some crazy lady named Vesta's vegetable farm. His cousin Flora used to tell him all about that. "That's the most important thing, isn't it?"

Claire nods enthusiastically in agreement, with Gray wondering what kind of a balance there is in her relationship with Trent.

Power imbalance, sure.

But even just looking at her with alcohol-hazed eyes, Gray would like to believe that Claire is the one who balances himout.

Every. Damn. Time.


The trip proves to be successful, and not a total waste of time and energy. Hardy is wide-awake, just like Gray predicted he'd be. He's like some sort of cyborg that doesn't require sleep, in the literal and figurative sense of the word. No, really; he's got this robotic eye that looks like it's been sewn in. After he introduces Claire and explains the ordeal, Hardy hands over a package of Plan B to her.

"Be careful next time, Grayson," Hardy warns, adjusting his metallic eye like he's focusing the lens of a camera. "What do the youngsters say? Wrap it before you…"

Gray groans. "It isn't mine and you know it."

Hardy chuckles, though it sounds both mechanical and forced. "Aha, ha. Tell those two that this is no laughing matter, although I do hope that it all works out for the best. Be sure that Popuri takes it immediately in order to increase its effectiveness."

Claire kicks at a rock on the road after they've left. "Do you think that it's both of their fault, Gray?"

"Honestly… I dunno," he says with a sigh. "Kai's a moron because Pope's right, he never comes prepared. But they were both fried, caught up in the moment, and when that happens, you forget shit." Gray shrugs. "They just both didn't realize that they were missing... well, something."

"Kai said that this happened to you."

"Kai's an idiot."

"So it didn't?"

"It did," he mumbles, his cheeks feeling hot. "I told you, I almost got my girl pregnant around the time my mom started having her headaches."

"Did the condom, um... did it break?"

"I wasn't even wearing one. We were both stupid and wanted to try without one, 'cause it feels better. Low and behold: I'm a huge dumbfuck and thought I could, uh, pull... pull out in time."

"Jeez."

"I felt like such a piece of shit, and she was royally pissed at me, even though we both made that dumb decision together. I went out and bought the morning after pill for her right away, and it made her feel really sick." He grimaces. "She didn't get pregnant, but we broke up regardless."

"How much ice cream did it take to get over her?" Claire asks.

He rolls his eyes. "I wasn't in love or anything, so it wasn't hard."

"Ah-huh."

"Just needed three pints of Ben and Jerry's 'From Russia with Buzz' to help me out."

She laughs, playfully pushing him as they walk. "Yikes!"

He gestures toward the Plan B in her hands. "Was this night too much for someone as religious as you?"

Claire scoffs. "Just 'cause I go to church, doesn't mean I'm homophobic, or anti… birth control, or anything like that."

"What about your boyfriend? Is he gonna be mad about our little endeavor tonight?"

Claire looks up at him, stopping in her tracks. Her face is painted with visible worry. "No," she lies.

"Bull." Gray takes a step closer to her, even though this is dangerous territory on a night like this. She just looks so pretty, cast under the soft light of the moon. Claire's hair tumbles like a waterfall around her, curls blowing in the gentle wind as her full lips stay dauntingly parted.

"My goodness," says a voice, standing near some planted stalks of corn by Vesta's farm. "What a beautiful darling. An absolute maiden."

The two stop dead in their tracks to stare. The voice belongs to a guy, a pretty boy with long, silvery hair, a leopard-print shirt, and purple slacks. He's older than them, but not by much. When he moves closer toward Claire, she remains frozen in fear.

"Um," she stammers worriedly.

Gray scowls. "Leave her alone."

"Well, you are a maiden." He takes another step closer, to which Claire moves back hurriedly. "Aren't you?"

"I-"

"Don't answer this shithead."

The guy frowns at the box clutched in Claire's hands. "Oh, dear. I suppose you aren't a maiden, then." He raises his aqua-coloured eyes to her. "But I suppose that I don't mind. I can make an exception, you know, just this once-"

Gray throws his arm over a nervous Claire, blocking and leading her away. "You touch her and that'll be the last thing you friggin' do," he warns. What the actual hell is wrong with people?

"I'm sorry, are you threatening Skye, a Prince of the Stars?" The guy smirks, following them.

"I'm threatenin' a dumb cock," Gray snaps, clenching his fist next to him. Only he uses a different c word instead though. His mom used to hate when he used that kind of language, but she isn't here right now, and plus, it seems fitting, given how much this guy's got Claire reeling. He flips him off and guides her away. Skye or Star-Prince or whatever the hell his name is tsks as he turns to leave.

"What a freak," says Claire, her voice warbling. She's pretending to play it cool, even though she looks beyond afraid and panicky right now. Neither of them look back. Gray loosens his arm around her, dropping it to his side quickly, like he wasn't just holding her close.

"This is why I didn't want you to come here. I told you, there's friggin' freaks at night." He glances to the other side of him, over the direction where his cousin lives, in that stupid little tent with her strange boss. "Like, some of the people here are fine. But it's motherfuckers like that who-"

He hears a stifled noise behind him, near the mountain path. Gray turns around, not realizing that he's walked way ahead.

And Claire is nowhere to be seen.

Jesus Christ. "Claire?!"


The guy has his hand clamped over Claire's mouth, pinning her against a rough indent of the mountain. She screams, the sound muffled by his palm. He isn't even that much taller than her, but his grip is firm. "I've stolen you away, it seems."

Claire is screaming, but it only comes out like a low, strangled noise given the constraint. The guy smells like cigarettes and curry powder. He's gazing at the pin on her shirt with those frightful green eyes, like some kind of an evil cat. "You know, I am a self-proclaimed thief," he says. She squirms to try and break free, but he's got such a tight grasp on her. "And also a lady-killer."

IS THAT LITERAL?!

She feels like a helpless butterfly caught under the dissection board of a mad scientist. Her heart fearfully thumps hard, so much so that she wonders if it's going to crawl its way up her throat, or pound right out of her chest. As quick as a magician, the guy releases his hand over her mouth, grabbing both of her arms and bringing them over her head. The Plan B that she's holding drops to the ground with a tiny thud. He secures her like this with one of her hands, as the other unclasps the pin over Claire's chest. She cries out, her voice finally freed, as he takes the time to squeeze both of her breasts individually, much to her repulsion.

"Let go of me! STOP!" she shrieks. "GET OFF!"

The guy (what was his name again? Skye?) smiles at her insincerely. Unable to fight back, she spits in his face, to which he recoils disgustingly. She angrily juts her head away as a fist that doesn't belong to her quickly collides with the his jaw.

Skye's head thrashes around from the punch, hard like whiplash. Claire has collapsed against the mountain, on her knees and panting. He scowls at Gray, whose knuckles are twitching from the blow he just delivered. Skye lunges at him with a shout, clobbering his jaw. He flinches slightly, but quickly grabs the thief's fist, twisting it around to shove him to the ground.

"I told you," he says, his teeth clenched and stuck together, as if they've been glued down. "NOT TO FUCKING TOUCH HER."

Skye rises, reaching for his mouth, gasping when his hand comes back with blood. Claire watches in terror. "She was practically begging for me," he retorts, swinging to hit Gray back.

But Gray dodges it, tackling his fist into the thief's pretty face. Skye's got all the features of a model: the high cheekbones, the silky hair, the almond eyes, but such a slime-ball personality. "Try saying that again," Gray snaps.

Skye looks dazed, like even the moonlight is too bright for the concussion that he's developing. He tries to tackle him, but it's done in vain; Gray is much taller, and far bigger.

"It isn't my fault that your girlfriend wanted-"

Gray doesn't let him finish. He pummels his fist into Skye, knocking him to the ground. Towering over him, he delivers another punch, and Claire watches a tooth sail across the dirt. She hasn't ever witnessed a real fight, not like this. These two stupid football jocks in high school brawled over who was the better linebacker, but one of them just kicked the other in the stomach and got his hair pulled back for it. Her school held this huge assembly a day later on why violence is not recognized in the Catholic religion, even though the Bible's chock full of it.

This feels worse, though. Way worse. It feels like something that she's not supposed to see; like taboo. Skye groans as Gray lifts him up by his collar, to his feet. His eyes are no longer foggy, or glassy, or vacant. They're ice cold, yet blazing with rage at the same time.

"Don't you EVER lay your filthy fucking hands on her again, you sick shit."

Skye groans, blood pooling along his mouth. His right eye is swollen shut. Gray pulls his arm back like he's about to hit him again, but stops when he catches Claire's horrified expression. He lowers his fist uncomfortably, throwing the thief back and letting him go. Skye teeters, before running away while howling bloody murder. She can see the tooth, an incisor or a canine or something, in a spitted, bloody mess on the floor.

Gray just swallows, staring at his fist. In the moonlight, it doesn't look like his calloused hands are cracked and caked with blood at all. It looks as though they could be covered in anything, for those who don't know what just happened. Like he's merely spilt ink on them.

But the two of them know what just happened. She saw it all.

"Are you okay?" he manages out, in a voice that doesn't sound like him at all. It sounds older, angrier, more tired than she's ever heard him. Claire can't see his face, and he doesn't dare turn to her.

She bites back a whimper, nodding slowly as she picks up her cross pin and the Plan B laying on the ground beneath her. Gray extends his bloody hand to help her up, but she still can't make out his face; it's hidden and dark beneath his hat. He bends down by a small pond near them, noiselessly rinsing the thick redness off of his hands.


Their walk back to the boat is silent. Claire wraps her shawl tightly around her, as if she's a mummy, listening to the distant sound of waves colliding against the shore. This isn't Mineral Town. Nothing is nicely paved, there's no flowers planted or blooming around their paths, and even the moon feels different now; as if it's been dimmed.

"Thank you," she whispers. Claire tries keeping up with him, but he's pacing so fast. She wonders if he even realizes it. Her heart is racing, crashing against her ribcage in humongous leaps.

"This is what I didn't want," Gray finally says.

She blinks the moisture back from her eyes, hating the fury in his voice. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He finally looks her in the eyes guiltily. They're almost by the dock, where Zack is patiently waiting. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I just thought-"

He curses under his breath as he wipes a smear of blood along his jawline. Skye must have caught Gray's skin with the multitude of rings on his finger when he punched him. "Claire, you are not invincible."

"Neither are you!" she exclaims, pain edged in her voice. She's come to know that whenever he says her real name, it's not a good sign. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to get caught by him, I just-"

"Why are you apologizing?" Gray stares at her incredulously. To her surprise, he pulls her close and hugs her, his arms wound tightly around her, like he's trying to get a grip on reality. She looks up at him with tear-filled eyes, burying her face in the fabric of his chest. "Don't you dare blame yourself… I'm just so friggin' sorry I let that happen."

This isn't even his fault.

"I've never seen you so angry."

Gray sighs deeply. "I try not to let it get that bad."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Fuck's sake, Claire. No. Of course not. Why would I ever-"

"I was so afraid, Gray," she sobs out, the noise muffled by the cotton material of his dress shirt. He has his hand on her back, dissimilar to the way that Trent traced her scars a mere few hours ago. This isn't suggestive; Gray just does this as an attempt to get her body to stop tremoring so much. He pulls her shoulders back to face him, expression twisted in drunken distress.

"Claire, no one should be touching you against your goddamn will." And, as if he thinks that this attempt to hold her fits into this category, he shamefully brings his hands to his side. "No one should be touching you like that. I don't give a shit who it is. You're friggin' seventeen-years-old."

She nods like she gets it, though she doesn't dare allow herself to compare Trent in this way. He's her boyfriend… he never touches her in an attempt to hurt her, not like Skye did tonight. This is totally different.

But, why do Gray's words resonate with her so much?

Because he's right. Claire really doesn't want anyone to feel her up like that, doesn't matter who it is in question. As much as she hates to admit it, she isn't an adult yet. There's so much that she's still naïve and oblivious to, but she knows for certain that she definitely doesn't want that.

Claire's still shaking by the time that they get back on Zack's boat. She tries to clamp her mouth shut to keep her teeth from chattering. She's wavering, as if someone is violently taking her and shaking her body like a tremor, like a damn earthquake. Zack stares at the two of them as they clamor into his boat, wordlessly shrugging as he turns the key in its ignition, beginning their ride back home.

Gray collapses, slumping himself against the seat rest near the back with a moan. Claire just gently places his head on her lap mutely, watching as his eyes shut. She blinks back tears as the three ride home quietly, clutching the box in one hand, the pin clasped tightly in the other, pricking her palm and drawing blood.