A/N: Yes, it's late, I know. There's a 90 chance there won't be a new one before Thanksgiving. This weekend at the earliest. I'm gonna be in NYC, so no writing for me. Um... next chapter will have more flashbacks about Elle/Spencer as well as a meeting with Luke and a talk with Clay.

Continuity Error: I noticed that I said Elle and Glen got married 2 years ago, which would make them 19 and 20. I thought that was a little young, so we're changing that to 2 months ago, okay? Okay.

Ashley and I pull into Clay and Chelsea's driveway around nine that night. We hope that they're expecting us this late night, because with all of the drama, I didn't think to call. I'd been caught up in my memories since Ashley and I had our talk.

"Is this it?" she asks me energetically. We stopped a little after I told her about Elle, and she loaded up on coffee to keep her awake for the last thirty minutes. Unfortunately, she had a little too much and probably wouldn't end up sleeping more than a few hours that night.

I squint at the address I'd written down a couple of days earlier in the dim light of the street lamps, barely flickering. "Yeah. It's this one."

"Thank god!" Ashley screams really loudly and then starts laughing like a maniac. I stare at her, but don't brood on it. She gets this way when she has too much coffee.

I reach over and kill the engine. She gives me a funny glare before unbuckling herself and hopping out of the car.

The door swings open and Chelsea's standing there, acting very confused. She spots us and laughs. "I thought I heard some screaming out here."

I run over to her and give her a hug. And then immediately start to cry. I can be such a wuss sometimes. But not this time, because Chelsea's crying too.

I hear two slams of car doors followed by footsteps on the gravel, signaling that Ashley is coming over, probably with our stuff. I step away from Chelsea.

"Chelsea, this is my best friend, Ashley. Ashley, this is Chelsea," I introduce. They shake hands politely and Chelsea gives a me a look. I just roll my eyes. I know she thinks that Ashley is my girlfriend. Which she isn't.

Ashley looks at us for a moment. "Um, Chelsea, what should I do with these suitcases?" She's obviously getting a little uncomfortable with Chelsea and my looks, and she's absolutely adorable. But she's not my girlfriend.

"My darling husband will come take them," she shouts jokingly into the house. Clay runs out in his signature baby blue pajamas and matching bathrobe- good to know some things haven't changed. Clay's pajamas have always been that color, ever since I can remember.

He comes out of the house looking slightly confused, like he didn't expect me to be there. He stares for a moment, but then realization dawns on his face. A smile cracks his confusion.

And all of a sudden, I'm running over there, running across the driveway, across the sidewalk, right into his arms. The ones that have always been open for me- angry, confused, wasted, depressed, gay. Whatever I was, there he was, not caring who I was, knowing that underneath whatever I was displaying, I was still me. Spencer. Just Spencer.

He pulls me close to him and I remember why he's my favorite brother. I remember what he did for me. And I cry. I cry buckets all over him, and he does the same. His tears land on my shoulder, and again, I remember.

I hadn't spoken to anyone in my family other than Clay for the last few weeks, ever since I was outed to my family. I lost Elle, the one person I thought would stand by me if my family found out, and Clay was all I had. Well, I had Luke, too, but he was banned from my house and I was banned from leaving it.

It was the middle of July when I started wondering if I could live out my senior year like this, cooped up and talking to ex-gay ministers every day. I didn't know how much more I could take. I knew that I couldn't just run away. I was desperate, but I wasn't stupid. And just as I sat pondering this, Clay knocked on my door.

"Come on in." Clay still loved me, and still lived in this house. So I could talk to him. I could tell him. I could cry to him.

He stepped in, looking rather sheepish. "Spencer. We need to talk."

For a heart-pulling, gut-wrenching moment as he shut the door, I began to think that maybe he would tell me he changed his mind. That he hated me and thought I was something inherently evil.

"I want to offer you a home," he stated bluntly.

I was confused. "I have a home."

He scoffed. "You have a house. This, this is not a home." I looked down at my hands and said nothing. Because I knew he was right.

"How?"

"I'm going away for college next year."

I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah. You're going to Stanford."

Clay shook his head with a little smirk and then looked at me, dead serious. "Not if you don't want me to."

"Clay, I don't want to-"

"Listen. There's college right by here, only about a half hour away. Denison University. It has a pretty good Black Studies program that I could take for a year," he explained slowly. "I applied there just in case something terrible happened- like someone got sick or shot or injured or some other type of crisis. I applied there so I wouldn't have to leave Harbor Hills. Just in case."

"I still don't get it."

"I'm going to rent an apartment or maybe a row house. I could really use a roommate." Clay smiled at me. "What do you say?"

I stared right at him and knew he wasn't kidding. Clay wanted to save me from the hell that had become my family. He would willingly give up a year at Stanford for me. I never thought that I'd have someone in my life who would love me enough to do that.

"Clay..."

"Just say yes."

I couldn't even choke out that single word as I teared up. I just hugged him. And he hugged me back.

Clay takes a step back, but still holds onto me. "I missed you," he states plainly, almost sternly.

"Me too," I laugh. "But I'm back now. I'm home."

"Yeah, I guess you are." He ropes me in for another hug. I'm lost in the feeling that I've been missing for the past five years. It's such a different feeling that I can't find anywhere else; brotherly hugs are like nothing else in this world.

I hear Ashley and Chelsea walk by with the suitcases, but I don't open my eyes. I'm too busy involved in this peaceful sensation. I'm too busy meeting my brother for the first time in five years. And I feel it again. I feel the Ohio innocence return, if only for a second.

Clay and I finally break apart with nothing but sad smiles on our faces. "I know that you don't want to talk now." He pauses and gives me a little chuckle. "But tomorrow I expect a long discussion about your activities in LA."

I nod and follow him into the house, silently dreading the talk. That would mean I would have to tell him about all the guys I dated to prove something to myself- something that wasn't true, something he'd given up his first year of college to protect. Maybe I'm overreacting; somehow I think I am, because Clay understands.

He leads me to the top of the stairs and points down the hall. "Chris is sleeping next door to you and Ashley. Your room is on the end of the hall. Very last door."

"Thanks," I mutter, and then scoop him into another hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

In our room, Ashley is already there. She's started to unpack, and has laid some clothes in the drawers. She's busy, and doesn't really notice me come in.

I shut the door and allow myself to process my feelings. Ashley seems to sense that I need a moment to myself, and doesn't say anything.

It's good to see Clay again; it really is. The feeling of seeing him, still loving me, after five years is... indescribable. It's a feeling I didn't even know existed, it feels that good. Love is a powerful thing, whether it be in the family or in a romantic relationship. It still brings out the best in me, brings out the hidden and buried parts.

But though Clay is great and I can't wait to meet my nephew tomorrow, I can't help but think that sooner or later I'm going to run into someone from my past. Not Luke; I'm actually going to call him sometime soon. But my family or Elle or pretty much anyone else in town. They all know my story, and I don't want to go through all the hate again. Not again.

"You doing okay?" Ashley puts her hand gently on my shoulder, startling me slightly.

I turn to face her, my eyes dry this time, but my weak smile somber. "I think so."

"Good." She gives me a once-over and adds, "But you could probably use a hug." She doesn't even wait for an answer; she wraps her arms around my waist, and I naturally place mine around her neck. It's so comfortable; so unlike my hug with Clay. With her, it's peaceful and natural and there's something inside of me yelling, "This is so right!" And suddenly, I'm not ready for that yet.

I pull back slightly. Her face is puzzled, but she doesn't question my move. We silently get into our pajamas and brush our teeth. I think about what I feel around her, what she makes my head, my heart, my everything do. I don't know how I can not want that. But I can't. I'm not ready yet. I want to be, but I'm not.

We go to our beds. Our separate beds. This is the first time in three days that we've slept apart. Normally, I would be over there already, snuggled up close to Ashley, but tonight I'm not, even though she's purposefully moved over to the left half of her bed to make sure that there's room for me. Because we are in Ohio now. And there are so many things that I can only feel in this state, in this town, that I can't feel anywhere else. Scary things. Hurtful things. Mind-numbingly terrifying things.

And so I roll over on my side on my empty bed. I try to get comfortable, but all my emotions swell up to a feeling of unforgiving emptiness.