This is one of the longer chapters (the next one is wicked short), and it alternates perspectives from Craig to Ellie. You're smart enough to figure that much out, though. I think I'm over-excited about having a multi-chapter fic nearly finished for once that I'm getting ahead of myself and posting a little too soon, but I can't help it!

Enjoy! :D

24 September 2010

Craig woke up one morning (though he refused to acknowledge it as such as the sun had yet to rise) to the loud clattering of kitchenware. He groggily made his way through the dark hallway until he reached the kitchen and flicked the light on to find Ellie slouched face down over the kitchen table, the pots and pans that had been left out now on the ground near her feet. She buried her face into the back of her hand and groaned at the sensation of the light.

"Turn it offffff," she whined.

"Jesus," Craig said, registering the scene before him, "are you fucking drunk? Who the fuck let you drink?

"I let me drink," her voice was muffled and indifferent. "I am the boss of me."

Craig sighed heavily and crossed the room to help his friend. Slowly, he slid off her sweater, leaving her pale shoulders exposed, contrasting with her bright red hair and the black tank top she had on.

"We're going to talk about this in the morning, El," he warned, knowing very well of the redhead's tendency to avoid talking about topics that so obviously needed to be addressed.

"We can talk about this now for all I care!" she shouted, a few octaves to high.

He shushed her and led her to her room, where he began to peel the sheets off of her bed for her, waiting for her to talk. Or rather, waiting to see if she'd actually talk.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, visibly struggling with finding the words she wanted to say. In the end, she settled for dropping the subject all together. "I changed – I-I don't… want to talk about it." Surprise, surprise.

-x-

Craig stepped aside as she hastily threw her shoes across the floor and walked past him to get to her bed. He pointed at her threateningly.

"Morning," he reminded her, "we're going to have a talk."

She scowled at him as if to say "bite me" and immediately hunched over a moment later, shoulders heaving as if she were about to vomit. Craig instinctively reached for her waste bin and rushed over to her side, brushing her hair back with his free hand just in time.

"You're not so threatening when you're puking, you know," Craig teased with a sigh.

Ellie wiped her chin on the back of her wrist and pushed the waste bin aside as she slid off her bed and dragged her feet to the bathroom. Around anyone else, she supposed she'd probably feel embarrassed and try to compose herself more, but this was Craig. Craig had seen her in a lot more compromising positions. Hell, she'd seen him in more compromising positions; she'd literally been there at the lowest point in his life, right there in the midst of it, and she was still there now, living with him. No matter how much their lives seemed to change, their ability to get past each other's fuck ups remained a constant factor.

It was pretty funny, really, that the glue that kept them together as a unit was the shit that, individually, tore them apart. It summed up their relationship perfectly. They were soul mates. Not because they were right for each other, or even good for each other, but because they understood without speaking, they saw without seeing, loved without knowing.

Ellie stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall ten minutes later in nothing but her sheer black tights and bra, figuring Craig had already gone to bed anyway. She was surprised to see that he was still in her bedroom, changing her bed sheets, as some vomit had gotten on the previous ones. On any other night, she would have been covered up with a towel or robe and would still feel self-conscious if Craig had seen her in such a state, but tonight she was too drunk and tired to care. He averted his attention as he usually would have anyway.

"Alright," he spoke, clearing his throat. "Try to get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." He avoided eye contact as he moved passed her and paused at the door, his back to her. "You gonna be okay?"

With a heavy sigh and an audible "no," she tossed herself on to her bed and wished him a good night. He hesitated before leaving to go back to bed. Ellie liked to be alone in times like these – she had never been a sociable drunk even when she wasn't drinking to escape or be numb – but she knew very well Craig wasn't stupid. He knew deep down that solitude was the last thing she needed or even wanted, for that matter. Conflicted, he went against his better judgment and gave her the space they both thought she wanted.

Sleep didn't come easy.

The next day was stupidly bright. Fucking California. Ellie sat at their tiny kitchen table and recounted her previous night to Craig.

"So the date is going so well, right? And my mom calls me right in the middle of it and, like… Fuck, I got so angry with her and it's not even her fault. And she said my dad's not…" Ellie paused and stared down at her now-room temperature cup of coffee. "My dad's not getting any better," she continued. "They don't know what else to do and… I feel guilty. For leaving. I should have stayed. I mean, things seemed like they were going to change, but- God, I'm just so stupid. And awful. I'm the worst daughter ever."

Craig's eyes never left her face as she explained to him the events that lead up to her resorting to alcohol the previous night. His hands reached over the table and covered hers, his eyebrows creased with concern.

"You're not," he said. She looked away. "You're not," he spoke again, his tone insistent now. "Hey, I laughed at my dad's funeral, remember? And then punched my other dad in the face? If anyone is the worst son ever, it's me."

Ellie couldn't help but smile at his reference to Joey; she never met Craig's real father, but always loved Joey and always respected him for taking Craig in and treating him as he would his own biological son. The thought went as quickly as it came and her glum expression returned. "But I said worst daughter ever, so that just means we're both equally crappy kids. It's a tie."

A small laugh escaped him, though his expression was still serious. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She removed her hands from under his and rubbed her eyes to prevent herself from crying again.

"It isn't your fault for leaving, El. It wouldn't have been fair to let you pass up an opportunity to write, to get away for awhile and be able to do what you love. Your mother and father understand that and they're both really proud of you, you know that. No one's judging you."

"I'm judging me." She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

Craig made a face. "Ehhhh, I wouldn't trust your judgment so much, you know. You being "the boss of you" and all last night… obviously didn't work out so well."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "What kind of best friend are you? Tell me I suck and that I'm going to hell."

"You're probably going to hell, but it's on account of actually living and working in L.A. requires you to sell your soul. Not because of this. And don't worry, I'll be right there with you," he joked again.

"And how is that supposed to alleviate any of my worries?" she teased back and although the mood was still morose and dark, they both took this as a good sign.

They decided she would take some personal time off work, using family emergency as the excuse, and catch the next red eye back to Toronto for a few days to spend time with her father. There wasn't much she could do, but she needed to see him. For so many years, she had gotten along just fine without her parents, and now she actually found herself longing for the comfort their dysfunctional little family offered. She attributed this to growing up and learning to forgive, though a part of her felt as if it was something she had missed all along.

That night, Craig helped her pack up a few of her things and listed for her all of the people he wished to extend his sincerest greetings to if she should see them. She half-listened to him, her mind consumed with finding the right words to say and contemplating on what she would even do upon arriving home.

She was only brought back to full awareness of the present when Craig had sat down on her bed and tilted his head to look up at her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"It's… nothing," he half-smiled. "Just… you're only gonna be gone a few days and I already really miss you, that's all."

Ellie felt her heart simultaneously skip a beat and thump louder. Surely, that comment went against everything the Guidelines stood for. Or maybe she was reading too much into it, having loved the guy forever.

"Huh," she said, "I guess I'll miss you too."

"You know you will," he replied, his tone humorous, but underlying with something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She finished packing and zipped up her suitcase but found herself unable to move under his intense gaze, the bottom of her feet fused with the floor beneath her. She stared back, her mind racing wildly at a thousand thoughts per second, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

He broke their trance with a realization of how silent things had gotten and was suddenly uncomfortable with the things he was feeling.

"I should probably drive you to the airport now if you're gonna make that flight."

"Yeah," she responded with a nod, her red hair piled into a sloppy bun at the top of her head. "Let's go."