Author's Note: Hello again, thanks for the read and all that. Do appreciate that I am putting off my university homework to write this, so the least you could do is leave me a juicy review.

It felt like my head was going to explode, and I honestly wished it would just so I couldn't feel my brain dribbling out my ears anymore. It was about five in the morning, meaning I had had a solid three hours sleep. There was a sliver of dull light crawling through Magus's curtains and I mentally cursed him for having bad curtains, and also for making me convince myself that I loved him.

He was still asleep, obviously, because who wouldn't be apart from me. His face was pale, and eyelashes long and I felt my insides go all wobbly and my face scrunch up in that unattractive way. I had slept next to him in a very platonic way, apart from the fact that I wanted to reach over and pull off his clothes. So, platonic for him at least.

Magus's room always smelled a way that can only be described as boy smell. It was cluttered with books and hand-scrawled notes reminding him of his mother's birthday and days we planned to meet up. The only corner of his room that was carefully arranged was the one across from the window that contained his record player and vinyl collection. Most of the records belonged to his dad, but a couple were from me and a few were found in a charity shop.

We'd spent so much time in here. Listening to his records, storing alcohol under his bed and all the usual shenanigans. Apart from the whole being in love with my gay best friend thing, there was another problem that intervened with our friendship. Magus, unlike me, was going away to college in a couple of days.

Neither of us had addressed it. We just let it float around like the big, uncomfortable elephant in the room. For the moment we were sort of pretending that I'd be able to fit snugly in one of his bags and join him for more hedge-hopping in New York.

New York. Honestly, I should really think before I decide to become friends with someone who is far more intelligent than I am. Magus is going to study literature and become a famous author and go to famous parties and talk about "some girl from my hometown who I've forgotten the name of."

On the other hand, my talents lie with serving frozen yogurt. Magus commented that I was quite lucky to even get a job, seeing as my special skills included drinking corpus amounts of alcohol and making a fool out of myself. I suppose he was right, but I didn't particularly want to serve frozen yogurt the rest of my life, especially seeing as I preferred ice cream.

I shuffled quietly out of Magus's bed and collected my cardigan from the floor. I found one of my shoes under his bed and the other sprawled on the other side of the room. Obviously walking home at five in the morning wasn't the most appealing of situations, however I didn't want to hang around for the next seven hours, seeing as Magus only ever wakes up after noon.

I used the front door, seeing as it locked behind you and made my way up the deserted street. It wasn't too bad – this whole walking business, even though I had never really been one for physical activity. However, it was still cold and dark and after a while, when the cold air was starting to sting, I was almost regretting the decision.

I couldn't help but feel as though I needed a strong cup of tea, or even another drink. Which might suggest I have a bit of a problem, but like most important things, I ignored it.

I was walking past a section of dense forest when I heard some rustling. Obviously I was terrified and was quite close to sprinting away when I realized I'd much prefer to be murdered than to run. I was stuck in that awkward fight or flight decision. I am uselessly weak and also hopelessly slow, so the most beneficial thing I could do was stand still and pretend to be a tree.

I expected an axe-wielding psychopath to leap out, but was surprised to see a shirtless man stumble out from behind the trees. He looked vaguely familiar, but also looked as though he had spent the night in a hedge.

"Ah – Ginger!" He said, feigning unconvincing surprise. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Then it clicked. I saw my number scribbled on his arm and it hadn't faded one bit.

"Are you following me, or are you homeless and just happen to live in this particular part of the forest?" I asked.

"Following you?" He repeated. "No, I just happed to be on a run."

Running? Exercise? I gave him a disgusted look. The least he could do was cover his nauseatingly defined chest and put a shirt on or something. Looking at muscles so early in the morning wasn't doing that much for my self-esteem.

"Don't talk to me about physical exertion." I tell him wearily. "I might be sick everywhere."

"Not one for hangovers?" He asked sympathetically.

I glared at him. "You're the one who looks like you've slept in a bush."

"Then why do you have twigs stuck in your cardigan?" He said smugly.

He was right, of course. I assumed it was from my spectacular misjudgment of my own leaping abilities that caused me to collide with a particularly high hedge the night before. Magus had to help pull me out.

"That's the fashion these days." I quipped back at him.

"These days?" He laughed. "Honestly – how old are you? You sound as though you're in your sixties."

I rolled my eyes at him and began to continue on my way home. I had a hot shower and warm cup of tea waiting for me, and no leaping out from behind trees was going to get in my way.

"Where are you going?" He asked, catching up to me.

"Home, and please don't follow me to my house and show up a week later to murder me. I'm starting a new job soon." I asked as politely as you can ask someone not to murder you.

"Why would I murder you?" He said, slightly perplexed.

"Well you did just leap out from behind a tree. I'd say your actions are quite questionable at the moment." I told him, giving him a nervous sideways glance.

"You're walking home at about six in the morning. I'd say your actions are much more questionable." He teased.

The sun had begun to squeeze through cracks between the clouds. The air was still fresh and a frost hung in the air as if it were about to rain. Transparent shadows cast before us as we walked side-by-side.

"You're the one who's following me home." I told him in a resigned sort of way.

"I'm not following you. I'm just trying to make sure you get home safely." He said.

"Yeah," I smirked. "I heard there's some homeless guy who leaps out from behind trees on the loose. Got to watch out for him."

"I'm not homeless," He told me with a slightly exasperated expression. "I live in La Push."

"That's a twenty minute drive from here," I noted suspiciously. "Why are you running here?"

"Er – the scenery is nicer?" He tried, looking at me hopefully.

I sighed. "Please don't cut off a lock of my hair or anything."

"Honestly," He said. "After the party last night I must have fallen asleep in the forest or something and then I heard someone walk past so I just sort of leapt out."

"While that is a convincing story," I started, coming to a halt. "This is my house, and I am going inside and locking the door because I'm a bit worried about my personal safety."

My house was quite small, and almost crooked looking. It was two stories and painted a cheerful blue, but was almost swallowed by the garden that grew around it. The porch was littered with ferns and potted plants, several newspapers, and an ancient couch. It looked more like an overgrown hoarder breeding ground than a house.

"This is," Seth said as he struggled to think of a nice word. "Quaint."

"Yes, truly five stars." I said, walking towards the door. "Goodbye, Seth. Try not to murder my family."

"I'll do my best." He said, and I supposed it was some sort of goodbye.

I couldn't help but grin when I locked the door. I didn't mind if he broke into my house, just as long as he was shirtless.