Alright. I think I can continue this story now that I'm no longer messed up from Forever lol. Tragedies are not easy to write.

Thank you for the kind words and the reviews! I appreciate it and I thank you for taking a chance with this story! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own GMW or A Walk To Remember.


Lucas couldn't deny that part of him was somewhat excited about painting sets. It wasn't like he wanted to see Maya per se, but he'd actually practiced his painting and felt he'd gotten pretty good at it. In fact, he thought for only having one day, he'd learned it impeccably. And it was pretty therapeutic in a way. As Lucas had expected, his mom had chewed him out good when he had gotten home from Billy's, even staying up late in order to make sure he could get her earful. Lucas had locked himself in his room afterward, just blasting his music in his headphones and working on the assignment Maya had given him. It had surprisingly calmed him down from his stormy mood.

He had finally finished up scraping gum off of the bleachers and rushed to wash his hands and get to the art room because he was late. He wasn't sure how serious Maya had been about him being on time, but he felt bad about the day before and he felt he had to make it up to her somehow.

Lucas walked into the art room, his nose wrinkling at the pungent odor of musk and paint and the heat that seemed to permeate the room, despite the fact that most of the school was fairly cool. Maya was sitting cross legged on the ground, painting strokes of gray on a large wooden backdrop. From the fact that all her hair was carefully piled on her head so none of it was hanging down, and she had shed all her layers and was wearing only a tanktop, he could tell she had been there a while. She wiped some sweat from her brow with a sigh.

"Maya."

She glanced up and once again, Lucas was reminded of just how gorgeous and arresting her eyes were.

"You're late." She muttered, turning her gaze back to her task at hand.

"Sorry, I was helping the janitor."

She barely responded, save for a disinterested grunt. Lucas frowned, standing in the doorway holding her paint supplies and not totally sure what she wanted him to do. He thought they'd made peace already, but she was acting like he was a thorn in her side. Maybe he had been wrong about the truce she'd declared?

"I brought your paints back." he finally said after the silence had dragged on for too long.

"Did you practice?" she asked, still focused on her painting.

"Yeah. I think I've got the hang of it."

Maya rose a brow, looking up at him, a challenging look in her eyes.

"Really?" She set her paintbrush back in the can, picking up a clean one beside her and holding it up to him. "Then paint some of this and show me."

Lucas was a little put off by her tone, but sat down next to her, taking the brush from her. He felt like he was on the chopping block being scrutinized carefully by Maya who had fallen silent and was observing him calmly. But he felt uneasy. Somehow, he just knew she was already expecting him to fail miserably and was waiting for the moment to shoot him down. It really made him want to prove her wrong.

He carefully dipped the brush in some of the paint, making sure it was covered, but not dripping excess. He followed the way he had practiced all night, bringing it to the wood and pressing down, hard enough to have an even layer, but not too hard that he ended up with a big glob of paint. He had practiced it tens of thousands of times with more water added to the paint or less water added. He fancied himself a newbie expert by this point, but painting in front of Maya made him anxious. Her face was set in something of a scowl, and he wondered if he was actually messing up pretty badly.

Breathe, Lucas… She's not going to bite you.

"Not bad." Maya firmly enclosed her hand around his wrist, and Lucas almost jolted when the static from her fingers shocked him. She guided his motions calmly, her chin almost resting on his shoulder. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a little startled by how close she had gotten. "But keep your wrist steady. And make confident, clean, and even strokes. It's amateur, but it'll do, I guess."

"Gee thanks…" Lucas drawled, rolling his eyes.

Maya smirked. "I said not bad."

"I take it you're not the type to compliment people?"

She frowned. "Why would I compliment you on learning how to paint when the only purpose for you learning was because you ruined a bunch of sets and now need to repaint them? Do you think before you speak, Huckleberry?"

"Huckleberry?" Lucas' eyes narrowed. "Look, I get that you're mad at me still, but would it kill you to be a little nicer? I thought we were past the whole 'at each other's throat' thing."

"I am being nice." Maya snapped, letting go of his wrist and standing up, the scent of peaches assailing his nose as she moved. Lucas tried not to focus on the loss of the warmth from her lithe hand cradling his wrist. "We're past that point, sure, but that doesn't mean I like you. In fact, I don't like you."

She gathered her paint materials and sketchbook from the ground and walked towards the back to put them back in the box of art supplies. She came back with a different set of coloured paints and smaller, more nuanced brushes.

Lucas rolled his eyes as she sat down, continuing to paint the set. "Right… You know you really know how to hold a grudge."

"Thank you." she said snidely, picking up her discarded brush to continue painting with Lucas.

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Really? Didn't notice." Maya sassed, steadily applying paint to the wood. "Now shut up and keep painting. The sooner we get some background painted, the sooner I can start putting the details on it."

Lucas fell silent, rolling his eyes as they continued their work. He had been hoping for a more cordial interaction. Perhaps one where they could actually talk a bit so it wouldn't be so tedious, but clearly Maya had no intention of being friendly. He knew he had messed up and that he'd made things more difficult for her, but did she have to be so snippy? He'd apologized. He was trying to make amends, and she was being way stubborn and honestly, a little bitchy.

And Lucas wouldn't lie.

It annoyed him quite a bit.

~.~.~

"Hey Sundance. Can you at least try to keep your strokes in the same direction or it'll look awkward when it dries."

This was the third order Maya had barked at him in the past ten minutes, and Lucas was starting to get fed up. They'd been painting the set for literal hours. His wrist was sore from repeating the same motions, his knees were on fire from resting on them for so long, he felt nauseous from the heat and the smell of paint, and he was starting to get cramped up. He was tired of painting this thing. He just wanted to stop, but they weren't anywhere close to being done. And it didn't help that Maya seemed to be just as cranky as he was and was taking her anger out on him.

"You think you could stop it with the nicknames?" He said, glowering at her, "I have a name, you know?"

"And I'll call you by it when you stop screwing up simple things." Maya responded, dismissing him.

Lucas growled under his breath, dipping his paintbrush back into the paint. He slammed it down on the set a little harder than he intended and paint splattered from the brush, bouncing up and splashing some of Maya's face and arm. She hopped slightly in surprise, blinking in confusion before her eyes slowly narrowed. She turned to him with a raised brow, her lips set in a thin line.

"Did you do that on purpose?"

Maya looked kind of funny with her glare and the little spots of gray paint on her face, and Lucas snorted, folding his lips over to try to keep from laughing. Maya's eyes glinted harshly, her expression darkening dangerously.

"You did."

"No, I didn't." Lucas said, snickering. "I swear."

Really. She looked pretty funny with taches of paint on her.

"You think it's funny." Maya stated, dipping her brush into the paint can.

"No, I swear I don't." But Lucas chuckled in amusement.

Before he could react, Maya's brush had swiped across his face, marking him across his nose and most of his mouth with the cold blue paint. His face fell as he stared at her in disbelief.

"Still funny?" She asked with a raised brow.

Lucas' jaw clenched. He put his brush calmly in the paint, mixing it around nonchalantly before lifting his hand up and putting a line of paint right across Maya's mouth. She looked pretty pissed after that, her eyes going glacial in a matter of seconds.

"It is now."

They stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything. Lucas could see the fury in her eyes, but there was also something like absolute shock, like she hadn't expected him to retaliate that way. It was the surprise on her face, coupled with the gray clown lips that she seemed to have that drove Lucas over the edge.

He started laughing loudly, unable to contain it any longer. She just looked so ridiculous, he couldn't help himself.

"You are such a pain." She growled.

And then, surprisingly, she started laughing too.

It was like all the tension had wooshed out of their bodies, leaving them a laughing mess. Maya's smile and laughter was infectious, ricocheting off of the walls and sounding like music to his ears. After a few moments, his laugh tapered away and he gazed at Maya, clutching her stomach and still laughing. He could tell she probably hadn't laughed like that in a long time. He didn't know how he reached that conclusion, but he just had a feeling. And he also knew that he wanted to keep that smile.

The million watt, beautiful smile that made her face light up, and his heart rate speed up a little.

"Okay…" Maya chuckled, wiping away a tear. "I think we should call it a night before we try to kill each other or something."

"I agree."

She smiled at him, before rising to her feet and stretching languidly, groaning as her joints creaked and popped. Lucas followed suit, feeling satisfaction when he cracked his neck and the crick loosened and disappeared. They walked over to the sink against the wall, meticulously washing paint off of their faces and off of their fingers and arms. As Lucas dried his face with a paper towel, he found himself staring at the tattoo of the shooting star at the base of Maya's neck. He had a better view of it now since it wasn't obstructed by her hair or her shirt. He wondered when she had gotten it. Or why she had gotten it.

"I have to lock up the room, so get your stuff."

"You have a key to this room?" Lucas asked, as Maya walked over to the paint bins and replaced the lids.

She took the brushes and headed back to the sink to quickly rinse them off.

"I'm in here after school for so long that Ms. Kossal decided it would be best if I could lock up too instead of her staying or coming back in the late hours."

"I see."

They made quick work of cleaning up, lifting up the half-finished set and dragging it to one side of the wall before wiping paint stains from the floor and putting the supplies back where they belonged. Then they gathered their stuff and left the room. Maya locked up and they made their way back towards the back of the school. Maya waved at an officer doing patrol as they continued on their way.

Lucas wanted to ask Maya about her tattoo, but she was silent, her expression blank and he realized she didn't seem in any particular mood to talk anymore. Not to mention the fact that they weren't exactly friends so he didn't think Maya would tell him.

They opened the front doors of the school and were met with pouring rain, loud and roaring and making the already darkened night sky even darker and more ominous.

"Crap…" Maya sighed, digging in her messenger bag. "I forgot my umbrella."

Lucas glanced at her. "How are you getting home?"

"Subway."

The nearest subway station wasn't all that close to the school. It was pretty far, and she'd have to walk a handful of blocks to get there. And without an umbrella, she would get drenched.

"Let me give you a ride home."

Maya's eyes narrowed, her guard raised immediately and shoulders stiff.

"No thanks."

Could she be any more stubborn?

"C'mon. It's pouring buckets out there. Do you really want to walk in the rain?"

She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip, looking like she was contemplating something.

"Plus, I have an umbrella." Lucas added, with a shrug.

Maya still didn't say anything, glaring at the ground. She seemed like she was at war with herself. Lucas rolled his eyes. She may have been stubborn, but Lucas knew how to play it to his advantage. He reached into his bag, pulling out his umbrella and opening it as he started to leave the school.

"Suit yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

Her gaze shot up in alarm.

"Wait! Fine. I'll take the ride."

Lucas smirked as Maya hurried under the umbrella as they walked to his car in the parking lot. She stuck close to him, eyeing the falling rain uncomfortably, and Lucas was reminded of the image of a cat, unwilling to get drenched and uneasy with water. He stared down at the top of her head, surprised by how short she was. She barely came up to his shoulders.

He unlocked his truck and brought them around to the passenger side, opening the door for Maya. She climbed in and he hurried over to his side, hopping in after folding up his umbrella. He started his car and cranked up the heat when Maya shivered slightly. It was pretty cold outside and Maya wasn't wearing sleeves.

"Where do you live?"

"Do you know where Nighthawk Diner is?"

"Yeah." It wasn't particularly close to the school. "That's kind of far."

Maya bristled the slightest bit. "Just head to the diner, and I'll tell you from there."

"Okay."

He pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the streets of the city. Maya was quiet, sitting stiffly in the seat, her face somewhat pinched and a sour expression on her face. He didn't know why she was displeased, but her obvious bad mood was making him feel a bit uncomfortable. He didn't even want to turn on the radio because he had a feeling it would only make everything worse.

They rode that way for quite a while. In total silence. Maya barely having moved a millimeter from her original position. He was already approaching Nighthawk Diner and nothing had been said.

Lucas sighed in exasperation. "Are you still mad at me?"

"Still implies there was a time I wasn't mad." She said almost robotically, staring out the window at the passing city.

"Maya."

She looked at him, a slight look of surprise on her face from his tone.

"I never realized how long it actually does take to paint sets." He said honestly, feeling remorse and shame. "Even with the two of us working on that one piece, we still didn't finish. I can't begin to imagine how long it must have taken you."

"That's because that particular one was very big." Maya said. "Take a right here."

"Still. It doesn't excuse what happened to all the sets." Lucas replied. "Maya, I'm sorry. Really. From the bottom of my heart."

She was quiet for a little bit, still gazing out of the window. Lucas very briefly glanced at her reflection in the mirror and was surprised to see that there was a small smile gracing her lips.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." she said softly, "Take a left. And then at the stop sign, take a right. The third building is mine."

He followed her directions, driving down and realizing as they made their way closer to their destination that the apartments in this area were a little more rundown and worn. He parked in front of the burgundy apartment complex before cutting off his car. Maya made as if to get out of the car, but Lucas stopped her.

"At least let me walk you to your door."

"I'd rather you didn't." Maya said darkly, scratching her arm uncomfortably, "I don't live in the lap of luxury you know. I wouldn't want to give you ammo to feed your asshole friends."

Lucas frowned, feeling the sharp jab pretty damn acutely.

"Maya, I'm not that kind of guy. I wouldn't tell my friends about your life." He said, offended, "I want to walk you to your door to make sure you get home safely."

She didn't say anything in response, but she also didn't try to hightail it out of the car, and Lucas took that as her acquiescing. He hopped out of the front with his umbrella, going around to the other side and holding it up for Maya so she couldn't get wet. After he'd locked his car, he walked her to the front door of the complex.

"You don't have to bring me up to my apartment door, you know?" Maya muttered as she opened the complex door.

Lucas grinned. "I want to."

They walked into the dingy, musty lobby and Lucas folded his umbrella, shaking out some of the water.

And that's when Lucas heard the loud, disgusting sound of someone violently retching. He turned to the source of the noise and saw a petite blonde woman in the corner, vomiting in one of the potted plants. She was wearing a neon crop top, tight leather shorts that barely covered her tush, some knee high boots and was clutching a bottle of tequila in one hand.

Lucas grimaced in slight disgust, but when he glanced at Maya, he was surprised to see her face had blanched, and she had completely stiffened, her eyes wide and almost frightened.

"M-Mom…?"

Mom?

The woman stumbled around unsteadily, turning around until she was facing them. Her excessive makeup was completely smeared all over her face, most likely soiled by the rain and dripping down her eyes and cheeks. She had vomit dribbling from her chin onto her shirt, but she laughed without a care, her eyes lighting up in recognition.

Lucas knew about Maya's infamous mother only from rumours. They called her the city whore. And his friends talked about how she'd been passed around by so many different men. It was a little strange to see her face to face.

"Hiya babygirl." She slurred, wobbling over to them as she took a swig from her bottle. "Isthat a newclient f'me?"

"No, Mom!" Maya rushed over to her mother, quickly wrapping her arms around her waist to try to keep her from hitting the ground. "Why are you drinking again?! I thought you said that was the last time!"

"But babygiiiirl…" She giggled, leaning heavily onto Maya. "I hadto… Hewas horrible… horrible… violated…"

Lucas could clearly tell that Maya and her mother were on a certain crash course to the ground. Maya was barely her mother's height and with her mom wiggling around like that and squirming, she wasn't helping matters much.

Without a word, Lucas walked over and gently pulled Maya's mom away from Maya, stooping slightly and scooping her up bridal style. She was clearly in no condition to be walking. Maya stared up at him in alarm.

"What are you doing?"

"Maya where do you live?" He ignored her question.

Maya's eyes narrowed slightly, but she started up the stairs with mangled, dirty carpet, taking them two at a time.

"Ohmy…" Maya's mother giggled, her head lolling to the side as Lucas hurried up the stairs, following Maya. "Youa prince? Youhere to saveme?"

She stopped on the third floor and brought him to a brown door with chipping paint. With fumbling hands, Maya slipped her key in the lock and finally unlocked it and pushed the door open.

"Gammy! Mom was drinking again!" Maya called out as soon as she rushed in, Lucas in tow carrying her babbling mother.

The old lady wearing wide rimmed, round glasses, sitting on a puke green wicker rocking chair, almost immediately stood up, looking a bit rattled.

"Oh dear." Gammy Hart tsked, "Put her on the couch, son."

Lucas brought Maya's mother over to frayed sofa, laying her carefully down as she groaned tiredly. Gammy pried the bottle from her hand before sitting next to her and smoothing her wet bangs back off her forehead.

"Katy. What happened?" Gammy Hart scolded angrily. "I thought you said you were going to stop!"

"One customer…" Katy groaned, her voice wavering. Lucas realized in shock that she was crying, her eyes red and tears dropping from her cheeks as her body trembled from her impending sobs. "I jussfelt so dirty afterit… I needto drink… And youdon't let mekeepalcohol in the house, Mom…"

"Honey, I know it's hard, but you're getting drunk all the time now. Think about Maya!"

"Urgh…gonnathrow up…"

Maya ran to the kitchen, grabbing a bucket before quickly bringing it over to her mother. Without so much of a gag, Katy leaned over the side and puked in it, the garbled sound of liquid and partial solids hitting the sides cringeworthy and sending a slight shudder down Lucas' back.

Lucas didn't really know what to do and stood there, staring at the whole spectacle, a bit appalled by the whole thing. He felt like he was watching a movie, despite the fact that he was standing there live and in person and witnessing the scene with his very own eyes.

And it was then that he looked around the room. The old, tacky cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. The easel near the window. The quilt draped over the sofa. The torn, aged chairs and splintered wooden furniture. The scratches all over the hardwood floor. It was noisy, the clattering of the poor heating and air conditioning system providing constant background music to the whole event. The room smelled pleasantly of vanilla though, and it was a little ironic, seeing as how the rest of the room was in a fairly poor state and considering the atrocious scene that had played out.

And then Maya was suddenly in front of him, her watery eyes looking irritated.

"You can go home now, Huckleberry."

Lucas wasn't given a chance to respond before Maya planted her hands on his abdomen and forced him backwards. Lucas stumbled backwards, not able to fight against her more out of stupefied shock from the scene he had seen than anything.

"I think you've seen quite enough." Maya growled, pushing him out of the door and into the hallway. "So get out."

Lucas stared down at her in alarm, surprised by how cold Maya had suddenly become. Her eyes, though watery from impending tears, were frigid and chilling, no warmth in them whatsoever as she stared up at him.

"I-Is there anything else I can do to help?" he asked stupidly, once he found his voice.

"No."

And she slammed the apartment door in his face.

Lucas stood there for a few moments, shocked and confused and still trying to wrap his mind around what he had seen.

Was this Maya's life?