Hello beautiful readers =) I apologize for taking so long blah blah blah...but well, we all know how retarted school is =P

Anyway, I have a feeling you guys will LOVE this chapter. It was my favorite to write, and I had the largest case of writer's block, but then I got rid of it! Anyway, I actually had a totally different plan for their EDO, but this is just so...I don't want to give so much away, so I'll just say perfect. But this chapter is the longest chapter by far.

Okay, I'm in a rush because I was supposed to be asleep half and hour ago. SHHHHH...

"To be honest, I never thought you'd actually come," Eli confesses. We snuck out the back doors, which were evidently unlocked and placed at the end of the hallway, merely two feet away from our English room. A few students watched us with eyes filled with different emotions. Many with confusion, a few with amusement, some envy, and maybe even a little anger thrown into the mesh. I found myself watching all of them, marking each and every person into my memory as I trailed behind Eli, who seemed to not give a second thought about it.

We were outside in a moment, the cool air enveloping over us. The world looks so different when you know you're not supposed to be in it; fresher, more alive, each detail seeming to gain its own radiance. The barbed wire fence surrounding the football field shines a glint in my eyes, even though the sun is hidden behind a mask of dark clouds.

"Then why'd you ask me?" We walk along side a few picnic tables where students eat lunch when it's nice outside, during the months of late March and June. They were all empty, with the exception of a few crunched up water bottles and aluminum foil on the seats.

Eli shrugs. This whole time he's never looked back to make sure I was still following him. "I don't know," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair, "I guess I just wanted to prove myself right."

"Well, you're not right," I say with a smile, opening the sense of warm pride I feel at the idea of proving him wrong with open arms.

"I guess so."

We enter the student parking lot. Car after car we pass, ranging from beat up junkies from the 1950s to shiny red Mazda 6s.

Eli turns slightly and pats his hand on the front of a black car. At first I think it's a truck, with its broad shape and thick tires, but when I get a glance of the rear I notice how it only has two doors and a back that stretches to the very edge of the parking space.

"A he-"

Eli grabs his keys and twirls them around his fingers. A smaller duplicate of the skull attached to the front of his car is placed on the chain. "Yes, a hearse. Surprised?"

"I'm surprised that somebody actually owns a hearse. But I guess I'm not all that shocked that you of all people does."

He rolls his eyes and opens the passenger door for me. "I know, right? Doesn't its creepy intuition match my eyes?" He waves his hand, motioning for me to enter. I don't move. My feet are glued to the concrete.

"Don't worry," he teases, "No scary ghosts or skeletons will come out and kill you."

"How do you know?" I inch my way over to the notorious car, vigilantly, I might add, and place my hand on the window. "This is a hearse you know. It once had dead people in it."

Eli smiles, shoving my hand off gently. "Yeah, but I've scared them all away."

I don't argue with him there.

A hearse really isn't as creepy as it's set out to be. There's a curtain behind the front seats, so the terrifying view of what could be a coffin in the back is shielded from the driver. The seats are leather, and they're cold in the late October chills. There's a stereo, along with a CD player and cup holders, and a gearshift in the middle. I buckle my seatbelt and lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes.

I hear Eli open and close the door, turning on the ignition, followed by the rumble a car makes when it comes out from hibernation. I feel him pull out slowly, carefully turning the car and driving through the parking lot, and stopping at what must be a stop sign.

My eyes snap open a few minutes later. "Where are we going?" Suddenly I'm frantic. My right knee begins bobbing up and down, a habit I gained when I was about six.

"Relax," Eli takes a left turn and heads down an endless road surrounded my trees. When I look through them with perplexed vision, I can make out a few houses in the clearings. But other than that, there are no streetlights, cars, or any other sign of life.

"Where. Are. We. Going. I deserve an answer."

"We're going to Townsend Street."

"What's Townsend Street?"

Eli scoffs and looks over at me for a moment. In the mysterious, cobalt tinted light, his face looks somewhat angelic. "See," he puts one hand up in the air real quick, "That's why I didn't tell you. You have no idea what I am talking about."

"You didn't know that before," I challenge.

"Yes I did."

"How?"

"I'm psychic," he states, so seriously that for a split second I believe him. But then he smiles and I realize he's joking.

For a few minutes there is no noise, just the whistling of the car running along the smooth surface of the road. Eli eventually reaches for the stereo and I jump when suddenly a hoarse, deafening voice belches out with heavy drums in synch.

"What is that?" I practically have to scream over the whining guitar.

"The Job."

"What?"

"Screamo. A screamo band."

"Would you mind turning it off?" The noise is sending my head into a downward spiral of anxiety. Naturally, I try to piece out every aspect of the music, and the task is nearly impossible when everything is so closely compacted together.

Eli turns down the volume a little, and some of the pain rushes out of my head. But it still hurts. "Nope," he shakes his head, "Your on an EDO. And screamo music, well that, is just one of my traditions. No way am I changing it for you."

"That's rude."

"I don't want to be polite to you."

I shoot him a dirty look and fire away. "Why not?"

"I respect you too much"

The phrase themselves make no sense, but for some reason I find a comfortable understanding in what Eli is trying to say. Respect is a barrier, a wall you build in between yourself and another person when you want your relationship with them to have limitations. But when you don't respect someone, and just say what you want to say without worrying how they may shape it, your pushing down some invisible force and swimming in new waters. Waters that are dangerous, unpredictable, but never get cold. But why would Eli want that with me?

Why do I suddenly want that with him?

The first thing I notice when we enter Townsend Street is that it resemble one of those deprived neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Buildings that are gradually disintegrating, smoke arising from unknown areas, people in worn out coats, begging for money. The whole scene sends chills down my spine, and I crush my arms close to my chest.

"This is Townsend Street?" I try to keep the disappointment in my voice mellow.

Eli turns off the stereo. Silence is harsh, quick, especially when awakened from such deafening sounds like his music. "What were you expecting?"

I really don't know what I was expecting. I didn't have any expectations at all, no picture painted as for what I though was going to happen. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that Eli could have taken me anywhere and it would have caught me off guard.

"I don't know."

Eli opens his door, stepping out of his car, and I follow suit. The air is much more bitter than it was at Degrassi, icy winds whipping my hair in front of my eyes. It smells like cigarettes and beer.

Eli walks around the car so that he's standing next to me. I guess the worry on my face is palpable, since his expression softens and he places a hand on my arm. "Hey, it's fine, trust me. I go here all the time and nothing has ever happened."

I fiddle with the zipper on my jacket. Eli's hand is still touching me, and little fireworks are going off in my stomach. I tell myself it's just my fear. "Yeah, well, you're not a fifteen-year-old."

"You make a valid point," he says, leaning down so his face is even with mine, "But I promise, if anything happens to you, you have permission to beat the living shit out of me."

I bite my lower to lip to hide a laugh. Eli lets go of my arm and begins walking, but this time when we walk he keeps it so I'm within reach of him. I shouldn't feel like an outsider; no one is giving me confounded looks or whispering about me behind my back, but yet I still feel like a distorted puzzle piece that ruins the whole picture.

We round the corner of a beat up brick building, with graffiti dancing along the walls. The words are barely visible, just little smudges that you know aren't supposed to be there.

I grasp my stomach, right where a large bruise lies.

On the other side there's an old man, with a scrawny, fragile face and snow-white hair. He has no teeth and there are numerous rips on his coat. When he sees us, or rather Eli, his eyes grow wide with excitement and familiarity.

Eli stops and turns to give him a grin. "Hey there," there's no sarcasm or wittiness in his voice, and the new tune is curious to me, "Let's see what I have," he shoves his hand into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. I watch the old man, stretching out a smile and holding out a shaky hand as Eli places two bills in it.

"Twenty should do you pretty good. Spend it wisely," he gently pats the elder's arm and continues walking. For a moment I just stand there, twisting my head from each of them. Eli turns around and motions for me to hurry up.

When I reach him, I can't help but say, "Who would've known."

"Who would've known what?"

"That you, Mr. Telling off the teacher and king of sarcasm, would have the ability to be that kind."

He smiles at me and shrugs. "That's nothing. It's just money. Some people are just too selfish to give what they have more than enough of to someone you has none of it."

I think back to a couple weeks ago, when I was down in the dumps and began wishing for someone to hand me some of their strength. I always expected people who could be so….giving, to be the people who let their kindness shine through the exterior of their personalities. But I guess I was wrong. Maybe there are some people out there who hide the good inside of themselves and just wait to find someone who's good enough to experience it.

"But still," I tell him, pulling a strand of lose hair out of my mouth, "That's really nice."

After a few minutes of walking along the street, the discomfort I felt before begins to melt away. The cool air doesn't get any warmer, but the thrusting wind decreases to a cool whisper in the world. The brittleness of the buildings don't become any less, but I suddenly see them as less than omens for the future, and more of reminders of the past. It feels as though with every step we take, Eli's eyes are placing themselves inside of my own, and I'm seeing things like never before.

An opening in between two buildings emerges into my view, and just when I think it's nothing, Eli turns and walks into it. I hesitantly follow him, catching my breath along the way; the narrow alleyway is dark and notorious, but then it reminds me somewhat of Eli, and my fear begins to diminish.

More graffiti is placed upon the walls, from the tip of the roof to the crease between the building itself and the ground. I look at the words, some of them cursing off life, others people's names or initials strung together inside a heart. One day, maybe last week, or maybe five years ago, people came to this exact spot in this exact town staring at this exact structure, and decided to mark their existence in a way no one thinks anything of. And I can't help but wonder if the people who cursed off the walls are still that angry, and if Emma N. and Sean C. are now married and deeply in love. People change, loves change, lives change, but these moments that are marked with spray and a bucket full of emotions will always stay the same. Whether or not Emma and Sean never speak again, whether or not that person who "fucked the world" is finally happy, they once felt this way, exploding with passionate love and agonizing hatred, and no amount of time can ever change that.

When Eli notices me eyeing the variety of messages written on the walls, he stops and stares at them, too. "Are you intrigued by graffiti as well?"

I nod my head, "Absolutely," I say, tracing my forefinger along the ridges of one side of a broken heart. "I love graffiti."

Eli comes and over and copies my movements with the other half. For an instant our fingers almost touch, almost, and a line of electricity sparks out from the space in between the heart.

"Whenever I come here," he says, his eyes distant, as though he's reliving a memory I wasn't involved in, "I always check for new graffiti. And sometimes I do find some, but do you know the thing that interests me the most?"

"What?"

"How that no matter how many times I look at all of them, they're always here. It's nice knowing that something in life will never change. Because practically everything else is always in motion."

Something inside of my chest tugs. His words sum up everything I've ever wanted to say. Never in my life have I felt so connected to someone before, so understood. The feeling is absolutely terrifying, like I'm walking along the edge of a roof with cars and traffic hundreds of feet below me, but at the same time it's exhilarating.

"Do you know what I mean?"

I look at him, and he's looking right back. I want to pause time and take a picture. I want to hold onto this moment forever.

"It's scary how much I do."

He drops his hand, snapping back into reality. We were both in a fog a moment ago, lost in the pool of our memories and sentiments.

"Come on."

I follow him without any hesitation. Once we reach the corner of the two buildings, met by a dead end in between, I notice a metal ladder rising up the left wall. Eli grasps onto it and begins climbing up.

"Where does this lead to?" I grip the railings and set one foot on the ladder, pulling myself up. Eli doesn't answer me, but every few seconds he turns back to make sure I'm still holding on.

Once I reach the top I find my hands planted against granite. Warm hands clutch them, helping me up until I'm standing on top of the world.

The view isn't amazing. There are run-down stores and tarnished schools and houses; smoke is rising in the air and the trees have no leaves on them. The world looks dark and dreary, like it's nothing but a cry of help, the only sign of pride is the fact that it's still holding on.

But it's real. I don't have to question anything. There are no blurs hidden at the edge of my vision, no colors too bright or signs too full of words and pictures to comprehend. Everything is simple, all the same and all the equal, a screwed up utopiary. Sure, it's anything but perfect. In fact, all it may be is flaws. But it's real. And in the end, that's all that matters.

"Do you like it? I know it's not a breathtaking view or anything."

I stare at Eli and wonder what goes on in that messed up head of his. He's mean, sarcastic, careless, but at the same time he can be the opposite without actually being the opposite. He's not unusually nice, except for giving the elderly man money, he's never not sarcastic, and he still doesn't seem to care that much about anything. Yet somehow, I feel as though I'm experiencing a whole new side of him. But maybe it's not who he is that's changing, maybe it's how he's making me feel.

"You know, the phrase breathtaking is kind of odd. Why would we want something to cut off your lack of oxygen?"

He laughs and strides over towards me. "I honestly have no idea," he wraps a hand around my wrist, gently pulling me to the farthest side of the roof.

"How'd you find this place, anyway?" I ask as we near the edge.

He closes his eyes, a look of anguish flashing across his face, like he'd been slapped. But when he opens his eyes and looks at me, it's gone. "Long story," he sighs.

"I've got time."

He shakes his head, denying me, "It's not important."

I shut off any more questions I may have stirring around inside. I know how it feels to constantly be weighed down by questions your terrified to answer, questions you hunger to be honest with but know that by doing so you'd only be feeding yourself poison.

He sits down on the ledge, his legs dangling off into mid-air. He pats the spot next to him and I lean forward, eyeing the length between the ground and us. It's really not that far of a way, maybe twenty to thirty feet, but with my fear of heights combined with the quick rush of my blood, the distance stretches even further.

Eventually, I place myself next to him. My legs dance in the air, swaying with the wind. I feel free and young, fearless even when I'm facing one of my greatest fears.

"What's your biggest fear?" I inquire, putting my hands behind me and slightly leaning back.

Eli does the same thing, the tip of his thumb brushing against mine. Neither of us moves our fingers.

"Spiders," he says simply, "You?"

"Be serious."

"I am! Haven't you ever seen daddy long legs? Their legs are alive!"

I roll my eyes and think hard. I can think of one thing that terrifies me cold, but there is no way I can say it. Instead, I push it away and think even harder.

"I guess everything," I say truthfully, "Like everything in life piling on top of each other. School, friendship, romance," I blush, "Jobs, and family," I wince, "Sometimes, I just feel like I can't handle it all. I just wish I could push some of it away for a while. Not for good, just for a couple of days, or something."

Eli doesn't seem too phased by my heartfelt reasoning. He just stares out into the sky, his eyes pushing past all the buildings, people and smoke and seeing something so much more. "Wow," he eventually mumbles, "That makes my answer sound like crap."

"That's because your answer is crap. Now, what really is your biggest fear?"

He crosses his arms against his chest and leans back into the pavement. I stare down at him, with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, ready to speak. He looks to innocent if you shred off all the black clothing and take away the hearse.

"I'm not being lazy, or anything, but you honestly just said it. Life itself is so complicated, and then they throw together all this other shit for us to deal with and expect us to make it through without killing ourselves," He laughs like nothing is funny, "Ha! It's a wonder more people don't commit suicide."

We don't speak after that. I stare out into the town and he gazes up at the sky, both of us searching through different thoughts. I wonder what he's thinking about. I wonder what his favorite color is and what bands he likes and where he wants to work when he grows up. I want to know everything about him, from the smallest habits to the biggest picture. More importantly, I want to know if he wants to know everything about me as well.

The first raindrop hits my right thigh. I look up at the sky, and within a second, more drops fall, sailing down from the clouds and onto the Earth. It's not pouring, but it is coming down hard enough that after a few minutes we're pretty damp.

I stand up and begin heading towards the ladder when Eli grabs my arm and spins me around. We're in the center of the roof now, both of us dripping with a little bit of water. His eyes are filled with something I've never seen directed at me before, but it's so strong that it spends my mind into a frenzy of lust and desire. Maybe that's what the something is.

"Why are you leaving?" His voice echoes with the showers. It's like a soft melody only I can fully understand. "You yourself said you love the rain."

"I don't want to get your car wet."

He shakes his head, smiling slightly. "I don't care about my car," Gently, he grabs my hands and pulls me closer, so our foreheads are just barely touching. "Stay here." He brushes my cheek with his thumb, and I lean into his touch, "With me."

My breath gets caught in my throat. But this time I don't mind. I finally understand why the word breathtaking is so great. It's not that you don't have the ability to breath. It's just that you don't want to take any attention away from what you're experiencing by breathing.

I didn't realize that we were growing closer until the distance between us disappears. Our lips meet the moment more raindrops hit the ground.

It's not an intense kiss with tongue or moaning. It's soft, gentle, pushing down a barrier neither of us wanted. Deep down, I might know just how wrong this is. It's dangerous, deceitful, and unsafe.

But even so, when he moves his hands to wrap them around my waste, I link mine around his neck. Pleasure is shooting up my spine. I feel wanted. Needed. And they way he kisses me, the way he holds me so tightly, it feels like he never wants to let go.

I grip onto him for dear life, pulling his body as close to mine as possible. Droplets of water cascade down our faces, and I can taste the liquid on his lips.

Everything, our smart ass comebacks, our obvious flirting, our endless amounts time spent driving each other mad, have all been lining up for this one moment.

I finally do what he wants. For once in my life, I stop thinking, and just start feeling.

And nothing has ever felt this good.

EEEEPPPP! ROMANTIC! I love kissing in the rain, so I just couldn't resist myself. Plus the whole thing with their conversation about rain, it was just perfect! Anyway, tell me what you think.

PS: THIS WAS MY FIRST KISSING SCENE. So please keep that in mind. Is it good for a first timer?

Okay, so now I am going to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep because Degrassi won't come back until February =( Do they want us to die! Oh well, I'll just keep writing this to keep my spirits high.

Once again, I adore you guys. Your reviews make me the happiest I can be and I can't express my appreciation enough. You all are so amazing. And who caught the Emma and Sean reference? I just love them together and couldn't help myself.

REVIEW!