A/N: Yeah, I know I probably should've tortured you all and taken longer to update, but I just love writing this story! I was reading it out of boredom and after the last chapter I was like, "OMG! WHAT HAPPENS NAO?...Oh wait this is my story." Oh teh lulz… Sorry if I sound like a crazy person in my writing, my theoretical ADHD was going off when I was typing. Oh yeah, this is kind of random, but when I first started working on this story, I picked out specific eye colors for the characters. If you want a little insight on their personalities, look up eye color meanings (and astrological signs!)

We didn't say anything. We just stood there staring at each other. His eyes were so deep. They were hypnotic, mysterious…isolated. They were cold, and unfeeling, as if there was a wall there, keeping out the world.

"What are you doing here? I mean, I'm not trying to be rude, but I was just kind of wondering," I managed to mumble, my eyes quickly retreating to the floor. I was always so reserved around him, his eyes were so penetrating; it was like he was looking into you, not at you. Maybe I was afraid of what he might see.

"I live here, now if you would kindly move out of my way, I would appreciate it," he voice was apathetic, but I didn't miss the hint of irritation.

I side-stepped lithely, and he brushed past me, walking quickly to another, identical door in the never-ending hallway. Wait, if he lives here... I gasped. No. Way. Never would I ever have thought…

"So Chad's your brother, then?" I called out to his retreating form.

He froze, but didn't turn to face me. "…Yes. I would tell you to talk about it all you want, but my bro," he said the word with bitter sarcasm, "doesn't really like admitting that we're related."

"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Does it matter?" He resumed his journey to the door, and reached a hand out to the knob.

"It does, actually, now if you'd stop being so cryptic, I'd really appreciate it." I pouted, making my way to where he was standing.

He was currently in an odd position, his hand half-outstretched towards the door, and his head turned slightly sideways to stare at me. His eyes followed me as I walked, which normally would've caused me to lose my motivation, but I was becoming irritated. I loved knowledge, and when I was deprived, I became aggravated.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a monotone, though I noticed the faint flash of alarm in his eyes.

"Does it matter?" As I said this, I strolled casually to the door, leaning against it.

"Can you…not?"

"Not? Not what?" I asked innocently.

He didn't respond, just continued staring down at me with an icy glare.

Lucky for me, I wasn't affected at the moment. I was getting into that other half of myself that loved challenges, and wasn't intimidated by anything. I smirked at him, and slowly crept my hand towards the doorknob.

I turned it and pushed myself backwards, flinging the door open and darting inside, not taking note of much before launching myself onto the huge bed in the center of the room. After bouncing a bit, I smiled at him. "Problem?"

He was livid, which gave me a tinge of regret, but I was still a bit high off of adrenaline. He was standing rather casually against the doorframe, but his eyes conveyed such a sheer force of rage I could practically feel it. But me, being a stubborn little girl, ignored it. To some extent.

"Get the fuck out. Now." His tone was detached, but cutting. I shrank back a little.

My smile faded, and was replaced by a look of hurt. I walked slowly towards him with my eyes on the floor. "I…I'm sorry," I bit my lip, "I have a habit of doing stupid things, just don't mind me," I giggled awkwardly.

He was silent. "…No, it's…fine. Sorry, I'm being a dick. I've been a dick since we met."

I scoffed. "More just like being annoyed by a crazy girl."

"Not crazy, just energetic," he smiled halfheartedly. It was a sad smile; it made me want to cry.

I stared at him. I wanted to know him. To know why he was so sad, but acted so harsh and uncaring. To know why he wouldn't allow anyone to get close to him. To know why he was the way he was.

"What?" he asked, averting his eyes from me.

"…Nothing." Truthfully, while I'd been contemplating my wishes, I'd been admiring him subconsciously.

An awkward silence hung in the air.

"…So, what's up besides the ceiling?" I asked in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

He scoffed, "Did you really just say that?"

"What? It's a commonly asked question. Most of the people at school seem to find it so hilarious when I say it." I explained.

"Must be nice…" I barely heard him whisper, as he slumped towards his bed and threw himself face down on top of it.

"…Alex?"

"Go away, I'm being emo," I didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone.

"Not emo, just…poetic?" I offered.

I heard his muffled laughter. He sat up and looked at me seriously, "I am, though. More than you know." The self-hatred was only slightly masked in his voice. "Though you might try to deny it, you'd think I was a total freak if you knew the half of it."

"Alex-"

"Don't. I doubt you can prove you know what it's like." He turned away from me, but I heard the faintest bit of…sorrow in his voice.

I took a deep breath, preparing mentally for what I was about to do. I walked over to where he was sitting, and sat next to him, turning in his direction.

"Alex? Look at me, please?" I asked timidly.

He turned after a moment, and my dark eyes were met with those unyielding, steel gray ones. I reached my arm out to him slowly, telling myself everything was okay.

"Medurma works wonders," I smiled sadly, gesturing to my wrist.

His eyes widened momentarily, then took note of the barely visible scars decorating my arm.

"The word 'hate' is there. Why?"

I laughed, "Because back then, it was the only emotion I knew besides grief."

He met my eyes again, and understanding was displayed on his features.

"Now don't give me any bullshit about me not knowing anything." I quickly withdrew my arm.

"Yeah…I'm sorry about that," he moved his hand behind his head in a sort of "My bad" gesture.

"Well, my image is a bit misleading…"

"…Yeah, but still. You put on a good show for everyone around you. Doesn't it ever get old?"

"Well, I'm happy, so it doesn't really matter."

His eyes searched mine. "You don't seem very happy."

His words caused a nearly audible click in my mind, and I contemplated them. Was I happy? Of course I was, I was the most popular girl in school, every guy wanted me, and I had two amazing best friends. Those were the three main things I'd desired the most for years. Of course I'd be happy now that I had them.

"You should probably leave now, it doesn't take this long to use the restroom, usually," he said in a monotone.

I really didn't want to leave, especially since he was just starting to open up to me. My eyes narrowed, "Oh, they won't mind, Maddie and Chad are probably fucking each other senseless by now, and it takes girls hours to take a piss anyway." I slapped my hand over my mouth.

He gaped at me. Clearly, this sort of dialogue was very far from what would be deemed "Jamie Miller-like."

We both jumped when there was a dull thud against the wall. I stared at the source of the noise, hundreds of possibilities flashing through my mind before settling on one. "…Is Chad's room next to yours?"

"Yes."

I smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "And as usual, I'm right."

He chuckled at that, and got up to close the door. I'd always liked it better when doors were shut. It made me feel less vulnerable to the outside, and I felt more at ease.

"I take it we're going to talk more now, yes?" I asked hopefully.

He scoffed, "You're like a little kid on Christmas."

"I don't believe it's a bad thing to be a little immature sometimes. If you go around your whole life acting like there's a stick up your ass just because you think people'll think you're weird, then there's no fun to anything at all!" I realized a beat later how hypocritical I was being.

"I guess I understand what you're saying, but don't social statuses depend on looking cool?" He quirked an eyebrow at me.

"I'd say 'Touché' but there's no fun in that," I smirked, "The trick is to maintain the balance between 'cool' and childish, which is easy for me, since I'm a Gemini. Just in case you couldn't tell, since I'm always talking. I'm sure people are just like, 'Omg, shut up!' but I don't really notice too much 'cause I'm always talking!" I babbled. I stopped short and shook myself. "So what's your sign?"

He had a partially hidden grin on his face, probably from my random spout of craziness prior. "Aquarius."

"Oh! I read-" I cut myself off, knowing I was about to say something awkward. I had a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. What I would have said was that I'd read somewhere about the high compatibility of Gemini and Aquarius couples. I didn't really live my life off of astrology or anything, but it egged on my girlish fantasies.

He didn't comment on my outburst. "I don't mean to sound like a jerk or anything, but how come you're babbling so much?"

"Oh, no reason." I replied slyly, thankfully repressing my bubbly side.

"There's always a little motive behind everything without reason," he smirked at me. The line was spoken like a true poet, and it made me interested in him just that much more. I wanted to ask him if he wrote poetry, but I was too apprehensive to force the words from my mouth.

"But what's the motive behind unreasonable things?" I challenged.

"I will be apathetic and simply say, Touché."

"Great. Now, in case you don't know how this is going to work, I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them. Truthfully." I instructed.

"Maybe if you bind and threaten me," he replied sarcastically.

"If that's what you're into, then sure," I joked.

He directed his gaze away from me, and a faint flash of pink colored his face. I then thought of a past memory, of when I was in my own living hell. The mention of anything personal, having to do with me would make me kind of uncomfortable, since I'd always seen myself as Forever Alone.

"Oh, um, sorry, I didn't mean to cause an awkward silence."

He laughed, though it sounded forced, "its fine. I'm just weird."

I frowned. "No. I know the feeling, really. I did just show you my arm, didn't I? We're not as different as you think."

He contemplated my words. "Yeah, but you're…you. I'm still just a loner no one wants around."

"Pardon me for sounding cliché, but…I want you around. I like you. You're not shallow and condensing, and mean and overbearing. You're the rose in a field of thorns." I blushed at my poetic outburst. I had thoughts like these all the time, but I rarely said them aloud.

"I really appreciate being compared to a flower, considering I'm a guy," he said sarcastically.

"Fine, then you're the least of a dick out of all the dicks, how about that for a metaphor?"

He burst into hysterical laughter at my words, "I'm sorry, but it's just too funny when you get irritated, you have this little pout and you just say everything with a huff; it's so cute."

"What?" Did he just say I was cute? No, he said what I did was cute. Does that mean the same thing? I think so. Why do I feel so elated…?

"Huh?" he asked, his eyes turning cold, where they'd been more open moments ago.

There were suddenly a lot of odd noises coming from the other side of the wall. Mostly things that sounded suspiciously like moaned curses.

"Fuck, they're loud," Alex disapproved, "and these walls are damn thick, too."

At least my best friend's…"adventure?"…had saved us from a very awkward conversation.

"…Hey, you have a cell phone, right?" I asked awkwardly.

"Not that I really use it, but yes."

"Can I have your number?" I asked hopefully.

"…Why?"

His question caught me off guard. "What do people usually use phone numbers for?"

"Oh, sorry, my social experience is kinda low," he smiled apologetically.

I smiled. "I'll forgive you if you give it to me."

I pulled my cell from inside my shirt and readied it to add a contact. He stared at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked, oblivious.

"You just pulled your phone out of your shirt…"

"Oh, well when you don't have pockets, bras always work!" I giggled. "I'm still not sure how it fits, though…" I trailed off, contemplating how there was enough room for my phone there at all. I wore a D, and greatly surpassed most of the girls at my school. It would be awkward if it wasn't considered a positive factor.

"Right…" He then told me his number, after which I saved in my Contacts, with a stupid grin on my face. I probably looked like an idiot.

"Why are you so happy?" he asked me.

"'Cause I finally got your number! Now I can bore you forever with my random chatter!"

"You're not as boring as you say you are," he complimented, "it might come as a shock, but it's interesting talking to you."

"Totes," Sarcasm dripped from my words. "Hey, Alex, there's something on your arm," I pointed to the dark liquid dripping from under his sleeve onto the bed.

"Shit," I heard him mutter under his breath, and he moved towards the door in a flash, flinging it open and darting out of sight.

I moved to the doorway, peeking my head around the corner. I could hear him shuffling around in the bathroom, and I resisted the urge investigate. I believed in respecting privacy, but I also believed in knowledge being power. Ignoring my better instincts, I snuck swiftly into the room, where I was met with a familiar sight.

Alex was leaning against the counter, trying desperately to find a suitable material to stop the blood seeping from his arm. When I got closer I saw the thick, red lines covering the pale skin of his wrist. A feeling of anguish engulfed me. I barely registered the crimson razor blades scattered on the counter, or the drops and splats of blood; all I could see was a poor, tormented soul.

"What are you-?" He stopped short, looking at me with shock displayed on his features.

I didn't notice I was crying at first.

"Please don't," I whispered my voice barely audible.

He didn't respond, just looked at me with a torn expression.

I stepped towards him, carefully taking hold of his arm. I traced around the wounds with a feather-light touch, knowing how sensitive skin was when penetrated. I grabbed a nearby washcloth, and gently held it over his arm.

I looked up at him, not hiding the affliction in my eyes. "Please, don't do it again," I pleaded, my voice sounding very fragile, "Please."

He wouldn't meet my gaze, but eventually he sighed, looking at me with an expression of defeat.

I couldn't help it, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him so tightly, it's a wonder he didn't burst. He recoiled at first, then returned my embrace. I don't know how long we stood like that, hugging like we would cease to exist if we left each other, but I never wanted it to end. All good things come to an end, a pessimistic voice whispered, but I ignored it, snuggling deeper against his chest.

A/N: Okay, honestly, I cried while writing the last bit. It was just so emotional; I had to tap into that really dark, sad part of myself to write it. You want Hurt/Comfort? You most definitely got it (and there's more to come.) I guess on a brighter note, I was looking up random words on Urban Dictionary and got the brilliant idea to look up my characters' names. The first description of Jamie fits this character perfectly O_o And if you look up Chad I about died of laughter because that was kind of the idea I had about his character. Yeah, I posted this a little early, but so what? Review it! Rawr!