A/N Hey everyone! I know it's been a long time but I'm back and loaded with a fresh update. School starts in two weeks, and weirdly enough that should mean more updates. I just always seem to find more time to update when I have like ten essays to write. It's just a nice distraction ;-) Anyway I hope you'll like the, hopefully I'll see you soon.

Feedback love.

She stayed.

She stayed and I've never felt more relieved, more happy and overjoyed in my whole life. You have no idea how it feels to wake up and see her breath evenly, see her at full peace, feel her wrapped up in my embrace. She didn't wake up at the crack of dawn. She didn't quietly creep out the door like a thief in the middle of the night. She didn't leave me behind worrying about her and wondering what I'd done wrong to make her flee.

No, she stayed.

I was contemplating whether she ever had the chance to flee me. Maybe she just didn't get opportunity to leave before I woke up. Maybe she just slept through it and couldn't wake up. Maybe she started freaking out the moment she woke up and realized it was way past 10 and I had woken up before she did. Maybe she was planning to leave me again, but just missed her chance.

And oddly, the assumption doesn't make me mad nor sad. It relieves me. It relieves me because it would mean that she slept soundly through the night. It relieves because for a few hours, she was at total peace. She didn't need to worry about any pain, about any agony, any distress. For once she was lost in a land of dreams, not nightmares. And as she laid there beautifully undisturbed in my embrace, I knew she was relieved too.

When she walked into the kitchen hair all mussed, eyes sleepy, yawning and with a hint of a smile on her face I couldn't help but stare and foolishly grin. I couldn't help but beam and take in the view in front of me, trying to memorise as many details as possible. How a lock of hair fell in between both of her eyes, but not quite in the middle. How the left side of her tanktop had ridden up a bit, displaying a small unexplained scar right above her hipbone. Or how when she yawned, she'd immediately close her eyes and would leave them that away until after the yawn was finished for about 1.5 seconds.

And when we were at the table, kitchen filled only with the sounds of sterling teaspoons stirring in dark, sugary coffee and the plunking caused by the droplets of water dripping from the broken faucet that my dad has yet had the chance to fix, everything feels just right.

And when she suddenly out of nowhere, makes the goofiest face ever just when I was about to take a sip of my scorchingly hot drink, and I end up spraying it all over the table because I couldn't withhold my laughter, everything didn't feel right.

It simply was.

"Your mom is really nice."

Oh, yes. Alex met my mom today. For a second all that seemed perfect, seemed to evaporate into thin air. I almost had lost her again. The moment my mom unexpectedly walked into the kitchen, I felt her stiffen immediately. Gone were the pleasant silences and goofy grins. In were the awkward glances and painful stillnesses.
But one touch, one hand holding the other, one second of skin brushing skin in the secrecy beneath the table and all seemed well again.

Of course there still was the weird introduction. The shyness and the shame displayed on Alex's face, while ducking her head desperately trying to hide her appearance. The questioning eyes of my mother, wondering why this 'new friend' was acting so timid. The squeeze I gave her hand that encouraged her to look up. The shock that registered on my moms face when she saw her battered face. And then the automatic concern that filled my mothers voice when she rapidly asked what had happened.

You didn't have to be a doctor to see that the bruises were caused by a beating. But that's the thing, my mom is a doctor. Yet at that moment, the worry she was showing wasn't one of a doctor or maybe not entirely anyway. It was of one of motherly instinct. When my mom walked over to Alex sweetly asking her if she was okay, she was not Doctor Michalchuck who had to take care of a nameless patient. She was my mom, Lauren Michalchuck, fretting about her daughters friend. And when Alex didn't flinch at my mothers hand that rubbed her arm comfortingly, she wasn't just the friend of her daughter anymore. She was the equivalent of her daughter. For those few minutes, Alex was her daughter.

"She has her moments."

We are at the beach again. In her secret spot. We wanted to run away from everything and everyone for a little while. You know, just before we had to hit the madness of reality again. And this was the perfect place to momentarily hide from this world together. And as I'm sitting in between her legs, my back to her front and her arms draped around my waist I'm feeling the relief of her not leaving me. The giddiness of her appearance at the kitchen entrance. The contentedness of our coffee-drinking selves. The perfection of us being us.

"Thanks for covering up for me."

My mom fussing about Alex also had a bad side. There was the inevitable explanation she had to give. And as I saw her stuttering a string of words, desperately trying to form a coherent sentence but failing miserably, my heart broke a little. So I jumped in and gave an explanation of my own. One were Alex protected me from a harassing ass who wouldn't take no for answer. Things got out of hand and the guy and some of his friends started beating her up. In some ways it was true. Spinner was being a harassing ass and Alex did stood up for me but the latter part never happened of course. Although the emotional beating she got day in day out by the likes of Spinner probably hurt just as much as the physical ones. Maybe even more.

After we assured my mom that everything was cleared up at school and a trip to the principal's office wasn't needed, she dropped the subject. Not before suggesting medical help, which was refused by Alex immediately, and thanking Alex profusely but she still dropped it.

"Anytime."

"God I wish I could stay here forever." I add a few moments later while taking in the breathtaking view in front of me.

"You know, I used to think no matter how perfect this place was in my mind, that it still missed something. And I just couldn't put my finger on what, because I thought I had everything I needed right here. But now I'm sure."

"Sure about what?"

"That it did indeed miss something. Someone." She whispers in my ear.

And when the wind picks up, her grip tightens around my waist and her nose nuzzles the back of my ear and I'm not relieved. Nor do I feel giddy or content. At this doesn't feel right, or even is right.

Because all I feel is her. All I feel is us. All this feels is perfect.

All this is, is love.