Taking a seat on the park bench, Priestly split the huge muffin in two and gave me the other half before he took a gulp of his coffee.

"I'll pay you back," I said, knowing it would take a long time before I could.

"Don't think about it," he answered as I fiddled a piece of the muffins off and placed it in my mouth.

Priestly and I had known each other for a month now. He still didn't know anything of the abusing, and I was scared that he would run off if I told him. If he somehow found out.

I liked his company. I felt safe. And I was still falling for him. It wasn't love yet, but I could feel that it was on its way. I kept waiting for that little thing he would do that would make me fall in love with him. I dreaded that moment.

Because if I fell in love with him, I would love him. I had never loved someone. And I knew that he would leave for college in only two months. There was no way that he even liked me back.

I was surprised that he seemed to want to spend time with me.

We still talked every lunch, and it felt like I knew him. All of him. He had never had a serious girlfriend, he didn't have many friends here in Brooklyn. His aunt was a broker, which is why they had so much money. I had walked past their house, and it wasn't huge. But it was cute. Even from the outside it looked welcoming. It was the sort of house I had always wanted.

I know how his parents died. Drunk driver. He was twelve, and Priestly was born after that. He refused to tell me his real name, which made me think that it was worse than it probably was.

Before the accident he had been a normal kid, according to him. He played sports, had a lot of friends...

To me he was normal just the way he was. The person sitting next to me was who he was now, and the person that I liked. I doubted that he had been a better person before his parents died. Because he was so good now.

Yeah, it felt like I knew all of him. But at the same time he knew so little of me. I lied to him, and I hated it. Every time he asked if I was okay, and I said that I was... Lie. A big one.

This month had not been fun. My ribs still wasn't okay, and I gained more bruises every week. Almost every day. It was getting harder to hide them. Especially since it was summer. Everyone walked around in t-shirts and shorts while I had long sleeves and jeans.

I hated lying to him, and in certain moment I really wanted to tell him everything. I had wanted to talk about everything to someone for so long, and here he was...The only person actually seeming to listen to me.

"Isn't it scary?" he suddenly asked and I looked at him.

"What?"

"Living with a heart failure," he explained and I looked at the muffin in my hands.

"I guess," I answered after a short moment.

"It scares me that you probably won't be thirty," he whispered back, looking out over the playground we were sitting at.

I had sneaked out of the house long before someone would wake up. The sun was rising when I met Priestly, and here we were eating breakfast on a Saturday. I didn't care that I would probably be beaten when I got back to the house. Any other day, it would have scared me. But I would gladly risk it for Priestly any day.

"It feels like I've known you for years," he added.

"You don't know me," I answered before I could take the words back. Hoping he wouldn't think about it, I continued. "I mean... There's a lot you don't know. Like how I've come to terms with my heart failure. Like how I've accepted that if I don't get that surgery, I'm going to die young. Painfully."

"How can you just accept something like that?" he asked, his eyes staring into mine. Even though I wanted to, I couldn't tear my eyes from his. "You shouldn't have to."

"Maybe I shouldn't, but I have. And some days, I wish for it to happen."

I mentally kicked myself for saying that. Why is he so easy to talk to? Why do I feel like I can tell him everything? Why does his eyes have to be so piercing and convincing?

"You really wish for that?" he asked, not really believing me.

"Sometimes. Not as much anymore. Almost never since I met you."

I said too much again. Way too much. I actually told him I liked him. God, why do I always have to screw things up so much?

Never breaking the gaze, he looked at me. We were both sitting completely still, and his eyes turned harder with determination. And then he leaned down toward me.

"Priestly, don't," I stopped him and I felt his warm breath against me before he straightened up again.

"Fuck," I heard him curse under his breath. "I took that the wrong way, didn't I?"

I shook my head, looking at the playground as I let out a sigh. I wanted that kiss. But I was scared. So scared.

But why did he want to kiss me? Did that mean that he actually liked me back? Was that it? Or was it something entirely different?

"Then why can't I kiss you?" he asked, and I felt his eyes on me. I kept looking at the playground.

When I didn't answer, he made his own guess.

"Right, you don't like being touched..."

"That, too," I answered. It wasn't the main reason, even though it was one of them.

"Then what?"

"I... I've never been kissed," I said slowly. It was the truth, but it still wasn't the main reason. The truth was that I was scared as hell. If we kissed, I would fall for him. And if he found out what happened to me in the house, he would run. And even though he never found out, he would run anyway. To college.

He would leave me, no matter what.

I knew that.

But he didn't know that's what I felt.

"So you don't want me to kiss you because you've never been kissed? Is that it? Or is it that you don't want your first kiss to be me?"

"Like I said, you don't know me," I said softly, ignoring his question. How could he believe that I didn't want my first real kiss to be him? After I pretty much confessed my love for him?

"Then tell me about you. Make sure that I know you," he answered me and I closed my eyes. He wanted me to tell him everything. And I couldn't say no to him. And if I would tell him everything, wasn't it better to do it before I fell for him completely? It would be somewhat easier to forget him then, wouldn't it?

At least that was what I tried to convince myself.

"You know I've lived in five different foster families," I said and saw him nod. "Some have been okay, some have been pure hell."

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Different reasons," I answered with my eyes still closed. I had no plans on opening them until this was over. "In my last place, I wasn't the only kid. There was almost eight others, and the adults would forget about me. I was the oldest, so I took care of myself. It's not just that they forgot about me, but they didn't care either. They didn't care if I was gone for days. They didn't even notice."

"It could be worse," he offered, trying to make me feel a little better. Instead a tear rolled down my eye and I wiped it away quickly.

"Do you remember the day I told you I don't like being touched?" I asked and opened my eyes slowly to look at him.

I could almost see realization hit his eyes a few seconds later. They got hard for a second before they softened. He knew now.

Taking a deep breath, knowing it didn't really care anymore, I grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and pulled it up. Underneath the new bruises showed, along with a purple hand mark.

I didn't dare look at him, but I saw how his hand moved from his side. He was about to touch my arm before he remembered I wouldn't like it. So he pulled it back, and told me to look at him.

With another tear rolling down my cheek, I did as he said and met his eyes. He looked so sad. So caring. So gentle. I had expected pity, but I couldn't find it. He just looked honestly concerned.

And that hit me like a brick. That little thing, that feeling I saw in his eyes... It meant so much to me, and it was enough. Much more than enough.

My heart swelled, and it beat hard against my chest.

I was in love with him. And I knew I would never be able to take it back. I would always love him. Always remember the look on his face. The way he made me feel.

And so I started crying against my will, and I hated myself for showing myself weak. Especially in front of Priestly.

"Don't... Don't cry, okay? Please don't..."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, pulling my sleeve down again and wiping my tears away. It didn't help – they kept coming.

I could see that he wanted to reach out to touch me, but I could also see fear. He knew now why I didn't like being touched. So now he was scared of doing it.

He was quiet for a short moment before he swallowed.

"Does it hurt?"

I nodded slowly and looked away from his piercing eyes. "But I'm used to it."

"How long?"

"Two years. The first six months was quiet, but then it just happened. There was nothing I could do about it."

"You could have gone to the police."

"No," I said. "And neither can you. Promise me."

He obviously didn't like it, but he agreed after a short staring contest.

"Fine."

"Good."

"Shit," he said suddenly. He looked furious. "Have he...? I mean, has he ever..." he seemed to have a hard time saying it. "Touched you?"

I bit my lip as another tear rolled down my cheek, and he understood. That didn't help with the fury. He looked like he wanted to hit something. Or rather someone.

"It's not like that," I explained. "He's never... raped me."

"He's touched you. And if you didn't want it, I consider it rape. And so would a judge."

"You promised you wouldn't say anything."

"Why are you so against me saying something?"

"Because he threatened to kill me if I ever tell anyone! You equals as anyone. If he ever finds out, I don't have to worry about my heart anymore. Trust me."

Crossing his arms, he looked out on the few people that he showed up to the playground. He still hadn't finished his coffee, but I doubted that he would.

After almost ten minutes of saying nothing, I broke the silence.

"I shouldn't have told you. You don't need my burden."

Looking at me, he didn't answer. Instead he pulled his hand out, and held it between us. Palm up.

He was the only one who had ever given me a choice. That showed what kind of person he is.

So taking a deep breath, I slowly slid my hand into his. And found that I liked his touch. It was warm, and safe. So I squeezed his hand and held it for a long time.

He invited me home, and I honestly thought about it. But it was best to get back to the house. I had already been away the entire day.

Climbing up the back of the house, I hoped that no one would realize that I came home. And thankfully, no one seemed to.

I sneaked out early the next day as well, walking to Priestly's house. We had agreed that we would met at seven, so I was outside his front door at seven. And he was opening it.

I was scared again today. He had a whole night to think of everything I had told him, and what if he had changed his mind?

But when I saw his tired smile, I knew that he hadn't.

"Hi," he said as he opened the door so that I could walk inside.

"Hey," I answered with a smile of my own. He reached his hand out, and today I took it without hesitating. I saw him smile as I did so, causing me to smile as well. Leading me up the stairs, I looked at the inside of the house in awe. It was so... open. And amazingly decorated. It was beautiful.

"The house is beautiful," I said as we reached the top of the stairs. I heard a soft laugh from Priestly who rolled his eyes.

"My aunt loves decorating," he explained and I nodded. He stopped us outside a closed door, and a second later he opened it. I guessed that it was his room, and as soon as I took a step into it I felt like home. I had never felt that feeling before. I had never had a home. And here I was, standing in a room that made me feel that. And it felt so good.

Unlike the rest of the house, or what I had seen of it, the walls wasn't painted. The wall was made of bricks, and I liked it. It was different. This room was open, too. The bed was standing against the wall in the middle of the room, a window on it's right side. The headboard wasn't really a headboard, it was more of a storage area.

Two guitars were hanging on the wall above the bed, one black and one red. There was music pretty much everywhere. He didn't have much CD's since it was mostly vinyls. The floor was wooden, and there was a laptop lying on the bed. Looking closer, I realized that the storage area wasn't the headboard. It was more of an add-on. The headboard was the same color as the bed and the storage area, which is why I didn't see it at first. Underneath the quilt, spread on top of the bed, I could see some wheels and realized that they belonged to the bed. The pillows were matching the quilt, and a feeling told me that Priestly hadn't picked that out. But the room did feel like his.

There was low music on, and Priestly was about to turn it of but I told him to leave it on. I liked it.

"Why do you look so nervous?" he asked. I was still standing in the opening to his room. He took my hand and pulled me in, and I sat down in a chair standing in one of his corners. The chair was brown with the rest of the room, and the cushions felt like heaven. That single corner chair was more comfortable than my bed.

"I'm still waiting for your answer," he said jokingly, and I smiled softly.

"Because I told you a lot yesterday, and you're going to leave me."

"I won't leave you." He was serious now, almost arguing with me.

"But you will. You have college in two months."

"High school ends in two months," he corrected me. "I'm not going right away."

"But you are going."

He didn't have anything to say to that, so he shifted his weight and looked at me for a few seconds. Trying to figure out what to say.

"Do you want some breakfast?" he finally said and I nodded. I would love some.

I was about to get up from the chair, when he told me to sit tight. So I stayed while he walked out of the room, and I heard his soft steps in the stairs.

I hadn't slept much last night, and sitting in such a comfortable chair didn't make me more awake. I could feel myself relaxing more and more, so I got up so that I wouldn't fall asleep.

Walking around in his room, I looked at his music. There was so much! Walking past that, I reached his bed and I couldn't help but to look at the picture frames standing in the storage area.

One picture stood out. It was a wedding picture. In black and white, a couple was kissing.

I turned around quickly when I heard footsteps, and saw Priestly in the door. Holding a tray of food, he closed the door behind him. He had seen me looking at the picture though.

"Your parents?" I asked and moved toward him. He placed the tray on the bed as he moved the laptop.

"Yeah," he answered and motioned toward the bed. Sitting down indian style, I did the same opposite to him.

"She was beautiful. Your Mom, I mean."

"It's a bad picture, but it's the only one I have of them."

"It's beautiful," I told him honestly. They looked happy.

He didn't answer me and I turned my eyes from him to the tray. I chuckled low when I saw it.

"It's a lot," I said and saw him roll his eyes.

"I didn't know what you wanted. And I figured you'd be hungry."

I had told him yesterday that I didn't exactly get any food at the house.

"Thank you."

"Just eat," he answered me and I smiled before I took one of the french toasts.

I could see that he held back, letting me eat what I wanted. And for the first time in a really long time, I ate until I was full. Until I couldn't eat anymore.

"You look tired," he said as I had finished and I nodded.

"I didn't sleep much last night."

"Why?" he asked, and I laughed. "What?"

"No, nothing. It's just... I can actually tell you this."

I don't know why I found it funny. But if I haven't told him everything yesterday, then I wouldn't be able to tell him now why I didn't sleep much.

"Tell me what?" he asked, smiling since I was laughing.

"I didn't sleep much because, well, you can't really call my bed a bed. This is a bed," I said, indicating on his bed. "Your chair is more comfortable than the bed I'm sleeping in every night. And then I didn't sleep much because my ribs are still pretty much killing me."

He looked at me sadly. "You should go to a doctor."

"They can't do much about ribs. And I can't afford it."

"Can I ask how it happened?"

I pulled my legs up, wrapping my arms around them.

"You don't have to tell me," he added when I didn't answer right away.

"I got back from school, and he was drunk. I tried to avoid him, but I knew it was too late. I was walking up the stairs, and he took my wrist to pull me down. I fell down the stairs, and he kicked me. More than a few times."

I could see the same anger I saw yesterday, but he quickly composed himself and bit his lower lip. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

We were both quiet for a moment before I reached out to take his hand, and he twisted our fingers together.

"It's okay," I whispered and he shook his head.

"How can you think that something like that is okay?" he asked, his voice flat.

"I guess I'm just used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be," he argued and I met his eyes. They were staring into mine, and I couldn't tear them apart. I couldn't stop looking into his eyes.

"I still have this weird feeling that's telling me that you'll run as soon as your mind tells you that you shouldn't be here."

"Screw my mind – my heart wants to be here. With you."

His eyes didn't leave mine, and I saw that determination in them again that I did yesterday before he tried to kiss me.

But after a long moment of looking into each others eyes, he still hadn't made a move. And I wanted to feel his lips against mine. I wanted to know how it felt like.

"That almost kiss from yesterday..."

"What about it?" he murmured.

"You could try it again if you wanted to..."

Oh god, what was I saying? That was so lame? Why didn't I just have the courage to kiss him myself? I mean, I wanted to. I liked touching him. I liked his hand in mine. And I wanted his lips against mine.

I saw his face lean down against mine, and as he closed his eyes so did I. I felt his hand on the side of my face, his breath just an inch away from my mouth. He leaned in closer, and our lips were almost touching. There was a small hesitation, almost like he was waiting for me to lean out. But I wouldn't. Not this time. That second before his lips met mine was the longest in my life. Not because he hesitation, but because this would be my first kiss. Our first kiss.

I had already fallen in love with him yesterday, but when those soft lips touched mine, I fell for him all over again. And the love was a lot stronger this time. I would always love him.