Claire's idea of a date, if we could call it that, was to take me out to a shitty diner, then bum around her house all day. I realized the entire plan had been rather short notice, but it struck me as odd she didn't have more ideas locked in the back of her mind. I knew Claire had been on dates before, so I could only assume she was against recycling ideas. Then again, she had told me she wanted it to be a "bad" date to reacquaint my mind with normal life, so maybe that was part of the reason. Being out in public again was nothing short of nerve wracking. I'd tried before, I really had, but there was a sick feeling that crept up in my stomach that everyone knew. I'm not sure what I thought they knew, but they fucking knew. I hear crippling paranoia is the new black.

Over a mediocre burger, Claire was trying incredibly hard to make conversation with me. I wasn't sure I heard half of what she was saying, I was just nodding my head as I looked around anxiously. There weren't even that many people in here yet somehow it was all too loud for me. Had I really gotten this bad? I was aware of my own anxiety but as it turned out that magically didn't mean I could stop it. It had been years, actual fucking years and I still wasn't better. I was trying, I was fucking trying every goddamn day and nothing! Nothing!

Was I? Was I actually trying? I spent a lot of time locked up in my room after all…

Apparently I wasn't being very subtle about my mini freak out, because there was pressure on my hand now. I froze, bringing my attention back to my so called date. She was watching me intently, giving me a look I recognized. Her eyes pleading to know if I was okay, if I could keep going like this. Her mouth was moving to form the same question, and it took every ounce of sanity I had left to pull myself back to focus.

"Yeah no I'm…I'm doing awesome." The words felt far more sarcastic than I meant for them to be. I wanted to reassure her I was fine but, hell, that was bullshit. The pressure increased on my hand. I looked down half confused like some sort of moron. Oh, right. Claire's hand was on mine. I guess that made sense.

"Do you want to leave?" She asked slowly, not taking her eyes off mine.

I tried to count the freckles on her nose while I thought of a response. I didn't have one; she seemed to realize that. She was pulling me to my feet now and she hadn't yet let go of my hand. Was she afraid of losing me? I sure wasn't going anywhere. Nowhere to run off to, probably, hopefully, no one to take me. Claire took me to the counter, paid for our meal, and we were back out the door. I think I stood there playing with the hem of my shirt like a fucking loser.

Nevertheless, we were out of there. Claire's jeep was comfortable enough, a way to keep us protected from the outside world. We didn't talk on the drive home. Claire kept focused on the road and I imagine she was planning what to do with me. I was still planning what to do with myself, to be fair.

It'd been years since I'd been to Claire's house. I think she still lived with her brother at that point and we still lived in America. Of course I didn't actually remember any of this, but I was told it had happened. She and her brother were long time family friends, and I knew Barry was probably the closest thing they had to a dad anyway. Claire didn't like to talk about family, and I only did when I was complaining (which was…pretty damn often, I admit). I knew plenty about her though from her visits to my house, plus she had my number and we'd text now and again.

What I did not know, though, was what her living conditions were like. It just never came up. I never thought to ask, and until right now it had honestly never crossed my mind. Maybe if I'd lasted a week at TerraSave I'd know what the pay was like. I sure as fuck wasn't going back to work there, yet Claire had. She cared about this shit way more than I did. I wanted out, I needed out, but she kept at it. She kept at a lot of things. She was in charge of the entire branch now or something, so she was probably making bank, or at least mini-bank. She had two fucking vehicles of course she was. The BSAA paid pretty well I knew and they were basically the same thing, just TerraSave had less guns…which had at the time been alluring.

We pulled into the driveway of a small, boring looking house. I couldn't describe it any other way because it looked like every other house we'd ever passed on a street in my entire two decades of life. I guess I didn't know what I was expecting, so I wasn't allowed to be disappointed. There was a garage, but it remained closed and Claire took me in the front door. Faintly I wondered what was inside, though it was a stupid thought. Motorcycle was the answer. I think my ordeal left me with a fixation for metal shutter doors.

Inside, I noticed something strange. No, it wasn't the boring as hell décor, the worn out old couch, the collection of magazines half straightened under the coffee table. No, it was Claire. She was watching me, rubbing her hands together. Was she…nervous? Jesus Christ. I made her nervous? Was that even possible? She was an actual real adult and I super wasn't and here she was wondering how I felt about her house. It was obvious it was set up to have normal, boring adult friends over, which I guess that wasn't me.

"Nice place." I said, wondering if it'd ease the tension. It seemed to work as Claire's shoulders relaxed, and she stopped playing with her hands.

"Oh, thanks. Sorry it's not that clean. I was going to clean today but-"

"Don't worry about it. It's fine. Yeah it…where you putting me for the night?" I asked, doubting this place had two bedrooms. The look on Claire's face made it apparent she hadn't really thought of that either. She bit her lip and glanced around before speaking.

"My bed, I guess. I'll take the couch?"

"No shut up that's stupid I'm the guest. I'll sleep on the couch." Or you could join me in your room, which might be fun too.

The thought nearly caught me off guard, I felt my face turn red and once more I was being watched like a hawk.

Shit.