AN: So, it's been a while. I didn't completely forget about this story. Actually, I just wrote it and didn't type it. Or post it. Oops. I'm a bad person. And I also didn't actually like it very much and felt sort of silly and presumptuous and out of my element writing it. So, keep that in mind. Thanks.

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As I opened my front door, I heard my mother's voice, coming from the kitchen. "Don't worry about it, love. She'll come 'round," she was saying maternally.

They were eating toast and drinking tea. Emily was wearing my clothes - including a colossal sweatshirt that said "Free for All' - which were incredibly loose on her. This was adorable. I poured myself a cup of tea and sat down next to her. I smiled at her lightly. "How are you?" I asked, tucking a strand of disheveled red hair (she'd obviously only just woken up) behind her ear and (in a way I hoped was subtle) caressing her cheek with my hand in the process.

She smiled in response, though not as brightly as I would have liked. "You girls are just so sweet," my mum said affectionately.

I stared at her, annoyed. "Haven't you got somewhere to be?" Emily laughed. And so, unwittingly, my sullen face vanished, as usual. That was annoying, the way that happened.

"Thanks for reminding me, sweetie," my mum chirped, though we both very well knew that I hadn't actually been aiming to be helpful. "I'll see you later, girls."

"Yeah. Bye," I said dismissively, hoping to hurry her along.

"Thank you for, um, breakfast, Gina. Really," Emily chimed pleasantly, trying, as usual, to balance out my dark rudeness. She did that rather nicely and I often thought it really was a wonder she kept me around. Sometimes I can't think of a single reason that she would want to hang around me, much less be in love with me. I didn't think it really made sense.

Once my mum finally left, we went to my room. We lay on top of my bed because, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was really exhausted.

Considering I hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before.

"So, how was the political rally?" She was trying to evade the topic of last night.

"I sort of have a confession to make," I said.

"Yeah?" she asked, a bit warily.

"I didn't have a political rally to go to this morning."

She looked confused. "Well, what did you do?"

I took a moment to consider whether she would be angry, or maybe hurt? Maybe she'd feel that I had stepped in where I had no business interfering. Had I crossed a boundary of some sort?

"What, Naomi?"She was beginning to look fearful.

"I sort of went ," I said in one uncommonly shallow breath.

"You . . . you what?!"

I had no idea if she was mad or just surprised. I figured I should apologize anyway. Just in case.

"I'm sorry," I said, and the words felt strange on my lips; I wasn't used to apologizing. Or feeling the need to apologize so frequently. "I was really . . . stupid. But I was just so angry and I shouldn't have, but I could fucking stand it. I just, I had to go and figure out why the fuck someone would even dare to say that you – "

I wasn't able to continue my idiotic rambling because Emily was kissing me. Kissing me fiercely and intensely.

When she finally broke apart from me to get in a decent breath, she said, "You're just so fucking amazing, Naomi." She was smiling. Really smiling. I had made her smile.

In a moment, though, her smile fell slightly, and she looked at me seriously. Then she grabbed my right hand and examined it. She was smirking a bit.

I laughed mildly. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged. "Good. Your hand doesn't look bruised."

I stared at her questioningly.

"Just making sure you didn't punch her." She was laughing and so, against my better judgment, I laughed too, even though I had no right to find humor in the situation.

When we stopped laughing, though, I became serious again rather quickly. "Em, I think I was about to punch her; I wanted to, but then she started crying."

Emily scoffed. "She did not. You're making that up."

"Emily, I wasn't expecting it either. But she completely freaked out. I think she actually feels really bad." I didn't sound quite as earnest as I had tried to.

"Naomi," Ems said, looking rather disconcerted, "my mother hasn't cried in my entire life. Not once. She's not a crying sort of person." Well, I believed that. But I also knew that most people thought that I wasn't a crier.

"I think she really wants you to talk to her. When you feel like it."

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AN: I know that not a whole lot actually happened in this chapter, but you can totally still review, right? I promise the next chapter will have substance. If I ever type it. Which I will.