A/N: Update! It's a smaller one then usual, but I'm sure you'll appreciate anything at this point ;-) Enjoy the read and don't forget to review afterwards. Reviews keeps me updating :p

Hope you'll like it, and see you back next time for more Palex-goodness!

She left directly. I didn't even got the chance to glance at her. Let alone talk to her. The only thing I found, when I entered the solitude of my room was a crinkled piece of paper on top of my pillow.

Had to go.

Alex

Nothing more. Nothing less. Enough to let the message seep through, insufficient to let me in. Again. I was holding the fumbled sheet tightly to my chest, while I desperately tried to catch some sleep. Actually, the piece of paper pretty much became my object of obsession that day. I must've traced her name a million times, hoping that like a genie would pop out of his bottle, Alex would suddenly appear in front of me if I just traced it long and carefully enough. It didn't work.

I brought the note to my lips and softly kissed it, before spraying it on my bedside table. It was close to midnight, and though it wasn't a school night, I knew that I needed my sleep. I attempted to forget the days event and cleared my mind from a certain dark haired mystery.

Eventually, sleep won over and I slowly but surely drifted off.

Tick.

I stirred lightly.

Tick.

I sluggishly opened my eyes, realizing that the sound wasn't produced in my dreams but very much in my own room.

Tick.

I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and tried to anticipate from where the faint noise came.

Tick.

My eyes shot up towards the opposite wall of my room. My window.

I cautiously got up and strolled over to the glass.

Tick.

I carefully opened the blinds, half-expecting a murder with an axe, ready to go all Hitchcock on me. I peeked out once the blinds were half-up and squinted my hazy eyes to view through the obscurity of the night.

There she was. Pebbles in one hand and the other worriedly scrambling through her tousled tresses. We locked eyes for a moment, before I hurriedly headed down stairs. I opened the front door and faced an inhibited Alex, hands in pockets and eyes locked to the ground beneath her feet.

"I didn't want to go home." She let out hesitantly, still fixated on her shoes.

"I didn't knew where else to go." She continued as she brought up her gaze.

I didn't answer her. Well, not with words anyway. I took hold of her wrist, griping it out of her pocket and eventually laced fingers with hers. I drew her inside and quietly closed the door behind us. Still in the silence of the night, I lead her up the stairs and ultimately into my room. We let go of each others hands as we both soundlessly sat on the edge of my bed.

Minutes of deafening silence went by before she finally spoke up.

"I guess if I bargain in here at 3AM, I might as well explain why." She said, heaving a sigh.

"You don't have too." I said as I briefly touched her hand.

"Yes I do." She countered sternly.

I knew that I couldn't change her mind. And I wasn't about to.

"My … I …" she sighed unable, to find the right words to start the conversation.

"Look why don't we just lay down now, and you talk when you feel like it. No pressure." I assured her.

She nodded and we simultaneously got off the bed. I undraped the bed as she got in first, not bothering to change her attire. I quickly walked over to the window and lowered the blinds, before entering the bed myself. We faced each other, looking intently into each others eyes through the dim lit room. I saw her opening her mouth, before quickly shutting it again. She was still uncomfortable and I decided to help ease her mind. I shifted more closely to her and warily lifted my hand to caress her cheek. To my own surprise, she didn't flinch. Her breathing evened as she attempted to talk again.

"My step-dad hits me. Hits us. Badly." She heaved nervously.

A silence followed while I gently continued to stroke her face.

"It's a not daily thing, but it happens frequent enough. And when it happens, it can get messy. It used to be worse … but that's another story." She whispered shakily. I had moved even closer in the meantime and the space between us was now practically inexistent. She still didn't baulk.

"I had a pretty normal childhood until I was 8. Then everything changed for the worse." She let out sadly.

My hand was now draped around her waist and rubbing the small of her back soothingly. Assuring her to continue.

"I loved my dad. I really did. He wasn't perfect and he wasn't always there for me, but he loved me. And I loved him, and that was enough." She spoke quietly but firmly.

Silence.

"He died. Got hit by a car, the driver had drunken a little too much. He was waiting for the bus after work, and he gets hit out of the blue. He died almost immediately." She said emotionless.

A beat.

"Ironically, my mom started drinking after his death. You'd think she'd learn from other people's mistakes." She laughed bitterly.

"A series of scumbag boyfriends followed and me and my brother found comfort in each other." She carried on, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. As if that once she'd talked about it, all would be resolved.

I stopped the stroking after her last sentence. I didn't knew Alex had a brother? Sure, I didn't knew a lot of things about her, but a brother I would've at least heard off.

"My mom was never the same. Our relationship just wasn't there anymore. But Esteban and me really grew to each other very closely and he practically took over the father-role. He meant everything to me. He was all I needed. But then he left me too."

My heart instantly started aching, as I braced myself for the rest. I suddenly understood why I hadn't noticed of heard off him and I immediately felt sickened.

Two beats.

"I was fourteen at that time. There was this gang-war going on around my neighbourhood. The Latinos were slowly grasping the power in the dealing area and the Blacks, the former leading drug-gang, wouldn't take it. Tension rose and Esteban was at the wrong place on the wrong time." She continued bravely.

Three beats.

"The thing is, my brother was a rolemodel in our area. He had more then decent grades, never ever got into any trouble and he was this aspiring musician." She laughed softly.

"I mean he wasn't the next Bob Dylan, but he had his share of dreams. He was content just strumming his guitar in a train station, pleasing the passer-by's. Never selfish, always caring. Perfect. And look where it got him." She snapped harshly.

"I lost it all Paige. Everything. Everything I loved, I lost." She said choked up.

It finally dawned to me. John Keats. Alex was John Keats.

"Keats was like this genius English lyrical poet. You know, he was the archetype of the English Romantic movement. He had like the most amazing works, but nobody appreciated it. He was constantly criticized for no apparent reason. Everything that meant something in his life, was brutally destroyed. His dad died in an accident when he was like eight, his mom died of tuberculoses when he was 14, and he spend like a huge chunk of his life taking caring of his brother who also had tuberculoses before he finally died too.

The sudden death of her father. The loss off a brother who she was attached too. A mother who didn't die yet, but could very soon leave her too due to her alcoholic state and crazy beatings she had to endure. An underappreciated and overly-criticized genius.

… He was madly in love with a girl who he knew he would never get.

Was I that girl?

I lifted my hand to remove the tresses of her eyes, before I appealingly stroked the locks behind her ear.

"You haven't lost me." I whispered.

I took her hand to my lips and kissed each of her knuckles, lovingly.

"You won't lose me." I promised.