A/N: Here we go! Next chapter done and dusted. Last chapter I worried I only had one viewer. Now I know I have at least three. And you three- well, I love you guys.

This chapter has no offensive material in it, but the next chapter might have some. But we'll see, won't we? For once I haven't already finished the a chapter ahead of time, so you might actually have to wait a week or so before the next upload. Then again, it is assignment week, and this IS a nice way to procastinate...

Anyway, enjoy the reading, and as always, Review for me! This chapter goes out to "I'll be Home for Christmas" by littlepinkbook, if you have time, check it out, and the prequel!

Disclaimer: I do not own HA!, or the song "Smile for the Paparazzi" written and performed by Cobra Starship.

Over the next week not a whole lot happened. Helga stole a bottle of Jack Daniels from Miriam, who had so many she didn't notice. All anyone had ever spoken about was Rhonda's Wicked Party, which was shaping up to look pretty wicked indeed. According to Rhonda, everyone was drinking. For most people, Helga realised, it would be their first times just like your first time with Ryan getting drunk, and she had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing them all stumble and gape at the effects. Phoebe was at her house now, getting ready. The two have them had already organised to stay the night at Rhonda's, most people had, and they had their alcohol and mixers hidden deep in their bags, padded by clothes so as to keep the secret from their parents.

Phoebe pulled two items out of her bag and held them up for Helga.

"What do you think? The blue or the red?" she asked, and Helga looked at the dresses. Both looked equally nice, respectable but certainly not boring, both were short and a little low cut. They looked basically the same, actually.

Helga pointed her finger at the red dress Phoebe was holding up. "That one," she said defiantly. "Red is more your colour,"

"…but I wear blue every day,"

"Exactly," she responded, to which Phoebe shrugged, stripped and put on the dress.

"Look okay?"

"Phoebe, you look hot. And I'm not just saying that because we're best friends," Helga beamed, and Phoebe turned a similar colour to her dress.

"What're you wearing Helga?" she asked, opening Helga's wardrobe and looking inside.

"I dunno, I thought just jeans and a T-shirt,"

"You really think Arnold will like that?"

"Phoebe!" Helga couldn't help but thunder, causing Phoebe to jump in her skin. Helga calmed down and took a breath, muttering an apology.

"Helga, I know the way you feel about Arnold is supposed to be a secret, but I'm your best friend! And you know I know; why can't we talk about it? The way I talk to you about Gerald?" Phoebe asked innocently, and Helga felt her muscles tighten. Having two secrets to keep from Phoebe was hard work when she had told her everything else, hell; Phoebe was the only one who had seen her cry! And she could trust Phoebe, she knew she could.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Guess I'm just so used to keeping it a secret I'm worried even talking about it aloud will give something away," Helga explained, and Phoebe nodded, smiling.

"It's okay Helga. What about…" she continued rummaging through Helga's wardrobe and Helga checked the time. They needed to go soon.

"Oh, this one is cute!" Phoebe explained, holding up a dress. It was short, very short, and very low cut, and very tightly fitting. The dress was an array of black and pink, and it shone in bright lights.

"Man, that dress looks great on you," Ryan said, pouring Helga yet another glass from the rum and coke jug they had ordered. The bourbon didn't taste great, but as he handed her the drink Helga couldn't help but accept it.

"Well… thanks!" she replied, drinking it all too quickly.

"Man, how'd I get so lucky? Prettiest girl in the nightclub right here by my side. I should be so lucky," he had said, kissing her lightly on the cheek and draping an arm around her shoulders. Helga looked away and sipped her drink, wondering if he could tell she was blushing in all the darkness. It felt so nice to be with a guy who appreciated her for once. It felt so nice to, for once, to be with a guy she could trust.

Helga snapped out of her memories and back to the dress Phoebe was holding up. Phoebe had a worried look on her face as she lowered the dress closer to the ground.

"Helga…?"

"Uh, not that dress tonight Phoebe. It's a little slutty,"Helga lied, and as Phoebe placed the dress back in the cupboard before pulling out another.

"Better?"

Helga stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. She didn't really want to wear a dress, they were easy access and prohibited running, and she rather wanted the option just in case.

"What if I wear short-shorts, will that make it better?" Helga asked finally, pulling open the drawer and showing them to Phoebe, who stared at them for a moment before nodding.

"Why, yes, I think those'll do nicely," she finally agreed, and Helga pulled them on. They decided on a shirt, a yellow and black stripy shirt that rather made her look like a bee, and out they went.

Hurriedly, Phoebe and Helga rushed to the party, set down their things in Rhonda's room, pulled out their 600mL water bottles filled with alcoholic beverages and mixed with soft drink, and began to make their way downstairs.

Before Helga reached the railing, however, she found her feet glued to the floor.

"A-actually, Phoebe I might meet you down there. I need to make a phone call, kay? Go find Gerald," she said, trying to sound cheerful, and Phoebe, who was too excited to party and be rebellious for the first time in her life, didn't notice otherwise, and hurried downstairs. Helga backed into Rhonda's bedroom again and sat herself on the bed. Rhonda's bedroom was huge, no doubt she, and other people, would be fooling around in here tonight. Hopefully Helga would be able to remove her things from the room before that happened.

Helga sighed and started drinking. The sooner she was drunk, the better. Slowly, the minutes ticked by and while Helga couldn't feel any real difference the half empty bottle told her the moment she stood up she would.

The half empty bottle also told her she really needed a wee.

Screwing the lid on tight, Helga made her way to the upstairs bathroom. It was still a noisy mess downstairs, a mess she was almost ready to join. She did her business and started making her way downstairs, sculling her drink as she went. By the time she reached the last step she was tonguing at the last couple drops (why did the last of every drink always have to taste the worst?) and threw the bottle in the bin.

She was pretty drunk, she would have to admit, and she looked around. She could tell by looking she wasn't the drunkest there, and she eyed the punch bowl. No doubt it was filled with goon. She began picking her way through the bodies full of sweat in an attempt to make it to the bowl.

Helga tried to make her way back to Ryan from the bathrooms, but was instead bombarded by dancing bodies. None of them noticed her, she was used that happening. She picked her way through the crowd of people, placing her hand on the back of a person she didn't know when she was knocked from behind. She yanked her hand away from the sweat coated back and pushed through faster, she could see Ryan, he wasn't looking at her, but he shone like a beacon of light at the end of a dark, drunken and confused tunnel.

Finally, she was out of the dancing bodies and on the couch next to Ryan. He smiled and placed his arm back around her, pulling her close to him as she wriggled to get comfortable. She felt the butterflies in her stomach take off as he kissed her cheek, and she beamed, shoving him and taking yet another drink from the table. This would be her last one, she promised herself. But even if she had drunk too much, who cared? Ryan was there.

She felt safe with Ryan.

Helga stopped mid-crowd and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Stop it, go away Ryan, she told herself, before continuing on.

It was worrying. Ryan was becoming more than an annoying and devastating memory; he was becoming a force in her head. He could stop her in her tracks; threaten her with tears at any minute.

Helga had cried once about the incident, in the shower the morning after. She hadn't intended too, but when the smell of Ryan, the taste, the feel of him couldn't be washed away by painfully hot water, she found she couldn't help it.

She was supposed to be in control, goddamn-it!

The punch bowl appeared in front of her magically. She didn't even realise she had pushed on, walked through the crowd.

…well, at least my body is in control of something.

She was just scooping herself a drink when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Helga!" Phoebe called, and Helga turned around, her eyes widening as she saw her friend.

"Phoebe… are you drunk already?"

"…you're drunk already too," Phoebe said guiltily, and Helga laughed.

"Yeah, I am, I'm just surprised, I thought you'd take it slow. Find Gerald?" she asked, and Phoebe's eyes widened as though she had just remembered.

"Oh! Why, yes I did, and you'll never believe it Helga… it's all too funny!"

"What's too funny, Pheebs?" Helga asked, and Phoebe beckoned her to lean closer. Helga bent down, lower, until Phoebe whispered in her ear "Arnold's drunk,"

Well, Helga was there in a second.

Arnold, Gerald and the boys sat outside sipping their beers, happy to get away from the loud and stupid crowd. They had talked about everything, Harold dropping out of school after this year, Sid telling them all they should try marijuana, Stinky's love for Lemon Pudding, Gerald and Phoebe and all other sorts. And now, they were talking about Arnold.

And Helga.

"Arnold likes Hel-ga,"

"I do not, Harold. She's just a friend,"

"Arnold and Helga, sitting in a tree,"

"Shut up Sid, how old are you, nine?"

"Well, gawsh, I think she's mighty fine since she stopped bein' a bitch an all,"

"Yeah, Stinky, she's great, but…"

"AHH-HAHAHAHAHAHA- YOU LIKE HELGA,"

"Shut up, Harold," Arnold growled, drinking more and more of his beer with each insult. He hadn't intended to drink much. He hadn't intended to drink at all, originally, until Grandpa had bought him beers. Then, the plan was to only drink two. Now the plan looked like it was to drink all of them. Plus whatever else he could find.

Gerald pulled him away from the noisy crowd, his arm hanging over Arnold's shoulder as he leaned in to talk to him.

"Look, Arnold, I know you and Helga just say you're friends…"

"Arnold likes Helga…"

"Hey shut up! Leave my main man alone, you hear? Anyways, Arnold," Gerald continued, leaning closer. "You have a tendency not to know you like a girl until you're crazy about them. I saw you do it! Ruth, Lila, Jamie, Lila, Marcie, Lila…"

"Okay, enough about Lila," Arnold scoffed, downing the last of his beers. His face felt funny, and he tapped it absent-mindedly as Gerald spoke.

"And now, I see it happening with Helga. Now you can tell me you don't like her but here are facts; I think you like her, Sid thinks you like her, Stinky and Harold think you like her, man, all that's left is you. And Helga is a fine girl, she is, you know it!" Gerald said, patting Arnold on the back. "Don't be afraid of feelings you have now that you would've hated to have six years ago," he said, trying to sound almost prophet like. Arnold laughed. He didn't exactly mean to laugh, but it had happened.

"Look, Gerald," Arnold started, at which moment Phoebe came bounding out all excited like.

And then Gerald was gone, blissfully unaware of anything around him, including his best friend, thanks to Phoebe. If Arnold hadn't wanted to talk to him, he would have thought it very sweet. Scowling, Arnold made his way back over to the other boys, determined not to talk about Helga. Thankfully, they were off topic, and Arnold felt his mood rise higher and higher with every moment, with every sip of alcohol. Through his own fuzzy-headedness, he could see everyone else getting drunker too. Phoebe, who had barely had anything from her bottle of vodka and sprite, was laughing incredibly loudly at everything Gerald said. And Gerald, in turn, was talking incredibly loudly at Phoebe. Harold, Stinky and Sid seemed to be swaying a little, all of them laughing like the rest.

*Party Queens! If you wanna be seen take a shit where you sleep, and smile real wide for the Pa-pa-pa-pa-paparazzi! *

"I love this song!" Arnold exclaimed suddenly at the music coming through the living room door and onto the terrace.

He didn't exactly know why he said it. He hadn't meant too, as he didn't love the song at all. He had heard it a couple times, but that was all. And then he started dancing.

At first, he meant to stop immediately. But upon seeing the laughter his dancing caused his friends, even Gerald and Phoebe were looking over at him, laughing, he decided to continue. Even if they were laughing at him not with him, he was having fun. The alcohol buzzed in his brain. He felt silly, a little foolish, but he was having fun, so he chose not to care.

Before he even knew what was happening next, Helga was in front of him.

"Helga!" he exclaimed excitedly. He hadn't realised how much he had wanted to see her. "When did you get here?" he asked her, feeling his grin widen.

"I got here with Phoebe…" she said, but Arnold wasn't listening. With one swift motion he had a hold of her hand and was pulling her closer.

"Dance with me!" he exclaimed even more excitedly, and Helga fell onto him, quickly pulling herself back up and laughing as he spun her around, laughing every time she stumbled thanks to his foolishness.

"Alright, football head," she said at last, pushing him off her. "There's a dance space inside for dancers, why don't you dance there?"

"Will you dance with me?" Arnold asked, panting. Helga raised an eyebrow at him and Arnold could feel snickering eyes on him, and suddenly he could feel himself turning bright red.

"I…I mean… what I meant was…" he stammered, and Helga laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Not usually a drinker, eh?" her eyes were kind. Arnold looked at her, they were just about the same height now, and her blue eyes gazed into his, a smile placed delicately on her lips. Arnold laughed sheepishly, placing a hand on the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Never done it before, actually," he said, and Helga beamed at him.

"Actually, I think I could get some weed right now, if you guys want some," Sid said suddenly behind them, and they all swivelled to face him. The silence hung in the air for a moment before quietly he added "…it was just a suggestion,"

Helga was nudging Arnold, and he looked up at her. But she wasn't looking at him, and instead nodded over to where her gaze was resting. Dazedly, Arnold followed her gaze and landed on Gerald and Phoebe. They were standing awfully close, smiling goofily. Arnold was basically holding his breath waiting as, eventually, the couple leaned in and kissed for the first time.

"Well, about time," Helga grinned beside him, and he looked around at her. He had a goofy smile on his face too, he was happy for Gerald. Gerald had liked Phoebe for almost a year now, but hadn't said anything because being single was wicked! (Not that anything worth talking about ever happened in his oh-so-cool single life)

"So, Helga," Arnold continued now that Harold and Stinky had followed Sid to 'observe' the drug and Gerald and Phoebe were preoccupied, "how about that dance?" he asked her, and watched her face fall, and her eyes glaze over. Arnold waited a few seconds but Helga still didn't respond, and he could tell she was someplace very far off, the same way he often found himself far off, only he could see sadness welling deep within her eyes.

"…Helga?" he asked quietly, and she seemed to snap out of her daydreams, and forced a smile at him.

"…actually, football head, I'm not really in the mood to dance right now," she said shakily, and Arnold shrugged.

"Okay, well, why don't we find someplace to talk? I think I could use a sit-down, anyway," Arnold offered, and Helga smiled, a real smile, but a sad smile none the less. They made their way back through the foyer and upstairs to the bedrooms, Arnold snaking yet another drink from the punch bowl (he didn't know why) and finding a wonderful, delicate guest bed for them to sit on.

"So, Arnoldo, how do you like being drunk?" Helga asked, and Arnold shrugged.

"Well, at first I liked it, but now I don't so much. My head feels funny,"

"Haha, yeah, it'll do that to you," Helga grinned, laying down on the bed and tugging her short-shorts down lower. They sat in silence for a time, just content to be with their own thoughts, when Arnold realised he had been staring at Helga's legs the whole time.

Embarrassed, he looked away so quickly it caused Helga to sit up again.

"What's up, football head?" she smiled, and Arnold fiddled with his cup, drinking from it unsteadily.

"Uh… well, Helga, have you ever been so sure of something your whole life, and then someone comes along and suddenly everything you know is shattered into a million pieces and suddenly you find yourself not knowing what to believe anymore?" he asked somewhat shakily, looking over into her big blue eyes. Wow, they're so big and… blue.

"Well, I guess I'd be lying if I said no," she said at last. Her face had fallen again, and Arnold placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Helga… is everything okay?" he asked, and she shook her head, smiling.

"Sure, everything is great. Why were you asking me if I was unsure of something, Arnold?" she asked, and Arnold supressed a groan. Just like Helga, change the subject to avoid the question.

"Well," Arnold started, deciding to go along. "I… I don't really know how to say this without it coming out wrong, but… you know Phoebe and Gerald?"

"…yes, Arnold, I know Phoebe and Gerald,"

"Well, Phoebe and Gerald are Phoebe and Gerald, right?"

"…Right…"

"And you and me are you and me, right?"

"Arnold, what in god's name are you trying to tell me?" Helga finally snapped, clearly exasperated. Arnold coughed uncomfortably. He didn't know what he was trying to say, even. He wanted to talk about it though. He wanted to say something to someone, that maybe Gerald was right; maybe he did have feelings for Helga.

"I…I don't feel so well…" was all he finally managed to say, and as his stomach churned he realised how true that statement was. And before he could do anything else, he had spilt his drink and was on the floor.

"Arnold!" Helga was by his side in an instant, and he looked up at her, smiling.

"Huh, guess I lost my balance," he said, trying to pull himself up but his stomach heaved angrily.

"Ugh, Helga, I think I drank too much," he grumbled, and she laughed, pushing the hair off his face and re-adjusting his silly little cap.

"Come on, football head, let me help you onto the bed so you can go to sleep," she smiled, and he shook his head.

"It's not that I'm tired, I just… can't do anything," he grumbled, and Helga laughed, heaving him up and back onto the sheets.

"It's alright, Arnold, we've all be there," she said, fluffing his pillows as he snuggled in.

"Helga?"

"Yeah Arnold?"

"Will you stay and keep me company? I don't want to ruin your chance to party or anything, I just…"

"No, Arnold, it's not a problem," Helga said kindly, and Arnold grinned at her as she settled onto the bed across from him. "I've become aware that I'm not really ready for this anyway," she said, and Arnold frowned.

"Ready for what?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing Arnold," she lied, and Arnold sighed, pulling himself a little more upright so he could look at her properly.

"Whatever you say, Helga…"

The two of them talked a while, as the evening stretched on and on and the music downstairs got softer and softer as more and more people left the party. And the more the party went on, the more sober Arnold felt, and the more he and Helga laughed. Around twelve o'clock Helga finally pulled herself off the mattress.

"Well, you look like you're about to fall asleep, football head, so I'll see you in the morning. Do you need anything before I go? A glass of water?" she offered, and Arnold shook his head, reaching forward and grabbing her hand.

"I just wanted to thank you, Helga. For taking such good care of me. For always taking care of me," Arnold muttered, already he could feel his eyelids drooping, and, he thought, through his haze, that he could see something in Helga smile more warmly than she had ever smiled before, but on the outside she just gave his hand a squeeze and made to leave.

Arnold never would be able to explain his next action. Without ever letting her loosen her grasp, he pulled her forward and kissed her.

It only lasted a second before he realised his mistake and pulled away.

"Uh, I. I, uh. Erm. See, Helga…" he tried to explain, but even to himself he had no idea why he had been so impulsive. Helga's face was an array of confusion, bewilderment, and, was it fear? He couldn't tell, but he let go of her hand quickly.

"I'm sorry, it was a drunken mistake," he mumbled, and Helga, seeming to regain her composure, leaned forward and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

"What was that for?" Arnold asked, and Helga began to walk away.

"It was a thankyou kiss, Arnold,"

"What do you have to be thanking me for? I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable…"

"No, not about that, you dope," she said, lingering at the doorway. "It was a thank you for… for always taking care of me, too," her voice was unsteady, and this time Arnold could clearly see the fear she felt about it. Even though she was a nicer person, her shields always remained high, and he was witness to one of the rare moments where it was down. He smiled at her warmly, suddenly realising he didn't want her to leave but his exhaustion told him he would be asleep in a matter of minutes.

"You're welcome, Helga," he murmured as she turned off the lights and shut the door. Arnold laid awake for a short time longer, calming the butterflies, his mind whirring, as finally, he drifted into slumber.

A/N: Oh my god, Arnold totally just kissed Helga. You know you're all excited about the eventuating romance that's coming. But what of Helga's visions of the past every time something that reminds her of what happened? What will she do? Will Arnold be able to continue ignoring Helga's obvious sadness? What will he do about his confusing feelings?

The more reviews I get, the more enthusiastic I'll be about writing more, so the sooner you'll find out. ;D