Author's Note: This is a story I plan on updating often. This is a story I am putting my all into. This is also a story I am glad that you guys are seriously loving it so far (and it's only been one chapter thus far). The reception for this has been well and I am glad. I just wish to thank specifically Guest, xSamiliciousx, and callmeoctopus for your reviews for as always they touch my hearts and are greatly appreciate it. They fuel me to write and satisfy you guys - my readers all the more. Also to those who favourited and followed. Honestly am surprised how well the first chapter did. Enough of the small talk, here is Chapter 2 of these souls that are bound to each other inexplicably by the red string of fate. Please do review your thoughts for they are much appreciated.

II: Wounds & Peaches.

Jonathan couldn't understand exactly what was the deal with the girl he knew for being not only the most 'popular' from their High School due to her being born with a silver-spoon in her mouth at keeping him in her domains. Well, he kept himself there due to her permission. He couldn't quite grasp as to why she was so charitable regardless of her having a so called charitable heart. His eyes snapped open as he woke up from the ferocious dreams he seemingly enough went through every regrettable night of his life; the hounds of hell endlessly pursuing him. He groaned, as pain only echoed through every vertebrae, muscle and bone through his body. The stitches felt as though they had a heart beat of its own.

He almost fell on his side, he woke up right where he fell asleep and he could still hear the echoes of the rain in the silence of this rather empty home. He sucked his teeth as with much hesitation he lifted himself up from the ground with shaky knees. Standing up and glancing down to his side, he realized there was a blanket by side him, and even a plate of breakfast. When was the last time he ever woke up to the smell of bacon, sunnyside up eggs, toast with butter, a glass of orange juice with medication on the side? Never. He never did. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, a knot formed in his throat, the screech once more crept its way into his life.

He kneeled over, picking up both the blanket and the plate - and slowly worked his way downstair. The rain was ferocious as ever - probably all the more worst than yesterday. He remembered glancing into her room and seeing she didn't stand there any longer. She wasn't here, he was alone and only had the food her small hands (he noticed she had rather petite hands, strong, yet petite) worked to make for him, and even a post it note.

I am at school. Those pills are pain killers, and the breakfast should do you justice. Make yourself at home. There's already lunch for you in the fridge. Bored? Go into my room theres books and even a gameboy. That's all up to you. I'll be back home as soon as I am done with class. - Rove.

Rove - her signature was formed with strokes of pure grace and confidence. Jonathan didn't know how to handle all that was going on - but something within him couldn't deny the fact that this is the first time in years he's felt some sort of tranquility. For once the world was quiet even if his mind and body quivered in explosive agony. He sucked his teeth, reaching into the pockets of the pants he was wearing and took hold of his wallet, where he placed the note inside - carefully folded and preserved. A monument to concern. Then quickly indulged into the food - the most delightful plate of food he's ever had. Better than even his own mother. And he never thought he'll find anything that can defeat the horrible cook that is her mother.

Jonathan was defeated, grateful, and all the more deceived. For the entirety of his almost eighteen years of life he was brought up and brought himself up to believe that there weren't any good people within this world. That the only thing that ever took him in with loving arms was after school when he'll go to the gym and rested his eyes on the wrestling ring inside of it. But now, this woman whose name slips his mind and all he has is her last name to remember her at the moment - Rove - has managed to bring him somewhere else. Maybe he could find some sort of fulfilment regarding peace? Who knows.

Charlotte in the last class of the day - English - found herself rather estranged and dulled. Her eyes only rested on the outside world as she payed attention to how the rain would rapture the leaves of the trees and the petals of the lilies. The wind would crash against the windows causing the tremble to echo with the rather disinterested voice of the teacher who continued to ramble about Saul Bellow's Something to Remember me by. Senioritis was evident within the classroom as barely anyone payed much attention to what he was saying. Charlotte read the short story countless of times on her own spare time - she could care less about the probably censored perspective Mr. Rothstein was delivering and feeding to the rest of the students.

She felt a tap on her toes - causing her to snap from her trance and stared up at a boy who never brought a smile to her face. Not a man, a boy. A little boy who can't properly even use his dick for the sake of pleasure. He grinned as he would pass by a small note on a yellow post it. The post-it only reminded her of the one she left by side Jonathan whom she found resting soundly by her door.

She remembered how his shaggy hair covered his eyes, and for once how his breathing was at ease. Something was reassuring about waking up and finding him there. And then she began to think to herself as she read Hayden's note (After this I'll drop you off at home. Your folks ain't around so we could have some, alone time.) as to why she's keeping someone she could deem a complete stranger regardless of spending four years within the same hell-hole as him. Charitable nature is at fault, but undeniably it was the curiosity with the unknown. The hunger for the forbidden fruit and to lavish its juices on her aching tongue.

Charlotte simply replied Yes to one half of the question - she didn't mind for her sake using Hayden, her rather revolting boyfriend of three years for the sake of being dropped off at home. Hayden was her boyfriend due to the unsettled consequences of life. Her parents and his parents are close friends - almost like 'family' and introduced the two - and ever since being a sophomore she found herself in a relationship she knew she had the option of saying no to but forced herself into it for the sake of company and of course to abide by her parents sick wishes. Sex was an empty process she found herself forced into against her will. Raped spiritually as physically she allowed it to happen. For the sake of others rather than herself. A martyr for innocence, a lamb dissected by the devil himself.

"Alright class for Monday please be sure to bring in your copy of the short story once more. We will finish covering the story before moving on to Roth's Call it Sleep. Ms. Rove if you can I'll like to have a word with you before your departure."

That snapped her attention as Hayden eyed her with curiosity as he slung his bookbag over one shoulder and waited by the exit of the classroom. Rothstein would bitterly eye Hayden before returning his attention back to Charlotte. "I am just simply wondering since I heard from the Principal about one of our classmates, Jonathan Good being hospitalized. I was told to let you know about any of the assignments that is required from him but regardless the kid never does any of the work in this damn class." Charlotte swallowed, she hated the perverse look on his eyes and let alone the way she spoke about someone he know so little about their living condition.

"Isn't it in your right to believe instead of doubt?" Rothstein sucked his teeth at her question.

"He has nothing going on for himself. His life is nothing. He's nothing but the kid who's known for having a mother who would blow you for-"

Charlotte didn't finish hearing the rather repulsive commentary from her English teacher as she simply hanged onto her rather large purse and walked out of the classroom. She shook her head trying to pry out the words that even one of the figures within this crazed Educational system spewed her way. It made her sick to her stomach, nausea washing over as she noted Hayden eyeing her with 'satiable curiosity.

"What is the deal with that Good kid? I wonder what happened to him... Probably almost got the shit beaten out of him by some goons who probably got blown by his mother and gave them some shit."

Charlotte shook her head, trying to block the words Hayden restate. Everyone in the school knows everything - depending especially how one stands within the social hierarchy. Charlotte was safe, she was deceptively loved and although envied no-one dared speak ill of her. After all they had nothing to truly endanger her life with. But when it came to Jonathan Good - everyone knew everything there is to know except him on a personal level. His mother is a prostitute that is always doped up and drunk at home. His father is locked up for dealing drugs and Jonathan is known for getting into fights and apparently possessing some sort of substance abuse himself - who wears the same clothes, has a shitty red pick-up truck, and lacks a place to stay. An idiot, vagrant, nobody, a piece of shit. These are things they'll label him with.

Nobody knew him. They knew him like she did - for the mud-coated boots but she noted his voice above all else every single time she was in class. His quiet, crazed - domineering presence. It was fascinating, how silence would prevail. Or how he'll even go ape shit (since she remembered in freshman year) against students or even teachers to the point he was almost always expelled. But suspension was always their solution.

It was as though the school dealt with the troubled Jonathan for the sake of having something to entertain them within the same dull circle of students.

Charlotte sighed as she never carried umbrellas with her and regardless of Hayden knowing how much she hated being covered by one - he opened his and covered the possibility the tears of life coating her flesh. He wanted to keep her pretty, intact, no smeared mascara for he believes he was going to stick his dick in her. Which was far from her agenda of today. She had to be home. The cleaning lady was there. And the stray dog she found was waiting as well. After all she had to clean his wounds to avoid infection.

Getting into their car, Charlotte was no fool in recognizing the unfamiliar female scent within the passenger seat. She didn't care - she knew Hayden. He didn't love her, she was just a possession - a trophy of the sorts. She didn't care. That's all she could say, she didn't care.

The engine roared as then the empty beer cans rattled. Charlotte didn't dare glance at Hayden as she flinched with the boom of the lightning, and the rain only reminded her of the tears that didn't dare slip out of her own eyes. She felt Hayden's hand on her thigh. The stockings didn't allow her to numb the cold feeling of his hands.

"What do you mean you don't want me to come inside? I thought you agreed to what I said in class today!" He screeched and Charlotte could careless.

From the window in the living room, Jonathan spotted her outside with someone whom was awfully familiar - and the anger that sprouted within him was evident. However his body only grew all the more agitated as he felt the stitches pulse once more. He gritted his teeth as he only stared at how he would place his hands onto her shoulders. Ferociously shaking her as though she was some rag doll.

She was in trouble. Yet he was in no condition to help and that angered him all the more. Jonathan bit his lip. Trying to fight himself back. And he would only watch how she would be soaked to the bone by the rain and how he would watch her face turn as his hand collided against her face. He yelled, all by himself within her home like a rabid dog as then he watched the boy known as Hayden plop himself into his ridiculous porsche and drove away and how Rove would collapse on her knees by the entrance of her home.

Jonathan regardless of knowing the consequences of wounds and rain would run outside of her home - to the porch where he's sure they met last night. And stood by side her - the temptation to cry out in pain would only will be succumbed to nothing as his concern was to get her inside. He took her by the arm and mustered the strength to bring her back up to her feet and stared at her knees - torn stockings and bloody knees.

Charlotte stared up at Jonathan, surprised by his sudden action as she found herself slowly walking back inside her home as then the rabid dog was the one now tending to her rather numb state. She remembered the grip he maintained on her arm and found herself wondering how could it be that his touch is ardent. She plopped herself onto the couch and by side her was Jonathan who simply took hold of her legs and propped them onto his own.

She found herself sighing in relief, and surprised as she then realized what he was doing - as to why her knees felt so relieved from the ache they possessed seconds ago. Jonathan used his tongue to clean her wounds. Like a dog would when its owner is hurt. She stared at him with wide eyes, and he simply looked up at her. Every flick of his tongue set her body on fire and when he pulled away, the cool wind of her home sanitize her wounds.

He then sat by side her and stuck his arms towards her direction. "You started this - might as well finish it. They've been hurting all day."

Charlotte for once felt useful as she stared down at her now clean, glistening with the saliva of Jonathan's mouth knees and only nodded her head before she stood up and so did he.

"Was the food good?" They were in the lower-floor bathroom as she pulled out the first aid kit and pulled out rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages to wrap. Jonathan didn't wait to ask for anything before he would lick his lips, she noticed a faded red dancing on them.

"I think I am going to stay here because of it. Clearly your cooking is much sweeter than you are." She shook her head.

"You always know what to say don't you?" She slowly removed the white shirt he wore. He smelled fresh - clearly must've gotten the chance to clean up before she got home. He wore the clothes she bought at Goodwill for herself. She often found comfort with wearing baggy clothing.

"You're making anything tonight?"

"I think I am ordering take-out. Not exactly in the mood to fuck around within the kitchen." She dabbed the cotton balls that were soaked with the alcohol onto his flesh. Delicately. She heard him quietly groan at the touch.

"Oh ho~! Don't you have a mouth on you?" Charlotte shook her head, she wanted to laugh but couldn't. "Doesn't even sound like you when you drop the f-bomb."

"You don't know me to know what I sound like." She whispered as she finished the cleaning process of his stitches and began to wrap them once more. Jonathan eyed her, she was focused with what she was doing. It was as though she wasn't even recognizing the fact that he is still here. He remained quiet - as her touch didn't pain him one bit. Even when she tightened the bandages to make sure they don't fall out of place - it didn't hurt.

"We read Bellow today - for English. Something to Remember me by. Class was quiet without you."

"I talk a lot of shit don't I?"

"You always know exactly what to say in the class. The only insightful 'shit' spoken in that class is yours."

"So you listen to me talk eh?"

"And watch you go ape-shit on everyone in class. Yeah. I pay attention."

Jonathan remain quiet. Unsure what to say. "Come on, you're all set. The cleaning lady is coming over anytime soon to clean up the house so when she comes we'll hide out upstairs until she's done."

Jonathan again remained quiet, as he only nodded his head and walked right behind her. The taste of her blood, like iron and peaches danced on his tongue. He touched his lips, remember the scent of her flesh just from her knees as he only remembered peaches and cream. That was it. He made sure to keep a distance between the two. Regardless of it all, it felt little to none, his attempts to make her feel better.

At the upstairs corridor as soon as she placed her hand on the knob of her door Jonathan only cleared his throat. "Fuck that guy." Jonathan only remembered time moving slowly, as she turned around and cracked the smile that he knew will haunt his nightmares. Her teeth bright as fresh snow and a sole tear cascaded down her cheek.

He wished the pad of his thumb felt the texture of her tear. Was it like the rain?

"Thank you." Was all she said, happily. She didn't sound as numb as then.

That night, and for the rest of the following nights he slept by her door entrance. As the storm remained as perilous as ever and thunder shook her every nerve - he heard her sobs and rested. And woke up to breakfast in the morning. And the afternoons will be in silence, as the two would read and eat take out.

Jonathan felt like it was home. But he knew it wasn't.