Chapter Five

"You can't just say something like that and expect me to leave you alone."

I rolled my eyes and shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. "The whole point was so that you'd hate me and piss off.

"Look, just stop." We were walking through a residential neighborhood. To be honest, I had no idea where I was going. Just away. Fang grabbed my shoulder and spun me around and I glared at him.

"Stop touching me," I spat, shoving his hand away.

"Sorry," he raised his hands, palms out, in an 'I surrender' gesture. "I have a car. Let me just drive you to the bus station. Okay?"

A shiver ran down my spine as winter breathed frost down my neck. I stared at him, and my need for warmth won out against the anxiety clogging my throat.

"Fine."

"Fine." He breathed out in a thick white cloud and something that looked like relief crossed his face.

I followed him back to the school's senior parking lot. He drove a beat up old truck, black paint chipped and scraped in some places. The passenger side door was a bright orange, like the original was torn off and replaced. He opened it for me and I slid in, letting my backpack fall to the floor. I was already about ten degrees warmer just from not having the wind ghost over my exposed skin.

Fang clambered into the cab of the truck and slammed the door behind him, then turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. He flicked a dial and pointed the air vents at me. "Give it a second to warm up."

We were silent as he backed out of his spot and gunned it out of the parking lot. He seemed to know where he was going, so I sat back and watched his profile. He needed to shave; stubble was beginning to shadow his jawline. I could see his pulse beating above the collar of his coat. I cleared my throat and looked away.

"Want to explain what you told me back there?"

"Which part?" I asked, staring out the window. The snow from yesterday hadn't melted yet. Sleeping in the park was going to be a bitch tonight.

"The last bit."

I swallowed glass and glanced back at him. He pulled up to a red light and met my gaze. I quickly looked away, face heating. "I shouldn't have said that."

"But you did. Explain."

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of my window and closed my eyes. Blinding white, spinning wheels, a crash. Shattered glass-

I shuddered and opened my eyes. "Car crash," was all I could say. I swallowed against the bile in my throat.

"I'm so sorry Max." The car rolled forward again and the motion soothed my roiling stomach.

"I was driving." I watched the white sidewalks roll by. The snow was stained black from the snow plows. Soiled. I knew the feeling.

(DirtyDirtyDirty.)

(Swimming under your skin.)

(Killing you.)

Fang was silent, and for that I was grateful.

It was a few minutes before he spoke again. "You want to talk about the other thing?"

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold all of my pieces together, and shook my head. "No."

Never.

I wanted to keep it inside, hidden and shoved down, until I rotted from it.

Fang waited by the door as I stood at the front desk of the bus station and bought a ticket. I was supposed to leave in about three weeks, the week before Christmas. I wanted to leave earlier, but tickets too close to the departure date were way expensive.

"Ready?" he asked. I nodded and tucked the ticket into my backpack. It made it feel heavier, somehow.

"Could you, um- would you mind not telling Nudge? Please?"

He held the door open for me and gave me a look as I passed through in front of him. "You're not going to tell her you're leaving?"

"It'll be easier this way."

He bit his lip and shook his head. "Whatever. It's your life. Just know that I think it's wrong."

"Gee, however will I live with myself?" I rolled my eyes. "Look, thanks for everything, but it's going to get dark soon and I have to go."

"Go where?" He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a knowing look.

"None of your damn business." Anger lit me up, warming me from the inside out. It was mixed with something darker, dirtier: shame.

He laughed, too loud and too harsh, looking away. He reached up and rubbed a hand over his mouth, still smiling, and pulled his beanie lower over his ears. "You're honestly something else. I really don't understand you." He kept his hand over his mouth as he looked at me, then shook his head. He threw the hand over his mouth up in the air. "Fine, whatever. Tried to help you. But fuck you too, if that's how you want it."

He pulled out his wallet and threw a twenty dollar bill at my feet. "Here. Don't starve or anything. Would hate to have that on my conscience."

He stormed off to his truck, slamming the door behind him. The engine revved, and then he was gone and I felt colder than ever. I bent down and grabbed the twenty before the wind could take it. Fury spiked in my chest and I huffed a frustrated sigh, gripping the dirty money tightly in my balled up fist.

I watched the truck fly down the road until it turned a corner and I couldn't see it anymore. Then I shoved the money in my back pocket and took off down the road in the direction of my park, my feet dragging.

The plastic was hard and cold beneath my bruised bones. I shoved my hand under my face and pushed my nose into the bend of my elbow. It was snowing again.

I was back at my park, curled into a tube that connects one half of the playground to the other. It was obviously made for someone much smaller than me. I was shivering so hard my bones were rattling together. It was half past eight in the evening and the only thing I had to be grateful for was my full belly, courtesy of Fang's twenty dollar bill. Well, half of it anyways.

I was just drifting off into a fitful sleep when a sharp laugh made me jolt awake. Every sense was immediately alert, and I was straining myself to listen for Sam's voice.

The tube shifted under me, and I felt the play area swaying and creaking.

Somebody was climbing the ladder.

I curled tighter into myself, tucking my head under my folded arms. If it was him, I wasn't going to be able to fight back. My limbs were heavy and slow from the cold, and I felt too drowsy, too frozen.

"Max?"

Fang's voice was a hushed whisper, awe and shock shining through.

I peeked up through my lashes and sighed, relief coursing through me like a river. He was crouched down, just his head stuck inside the tube. "God. I thought- "

"Scoot."

"What?"

"Scoot over."

I furrowed my brows but did as he asked and scooched over to make room. He crawled in and positioned himself on his back, his feet pressed against the side of the tube, his knees almost touching his chest. I turned over on my side and pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them to hold some of my warmth in. He turned his head to look at me and I could feel his warm breath ghosting over my cheeks. It smelled earthy and green and familiar; weed. He was here smoking.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Even in the dim light from the moon and streetlights streaming in through the holes in the tube, I could see his cheeks and nose were red from the cold.

"I-I was g-going to ask you the s-s-same question," I stuttered, teeth chattering.

"Here with some friends. Just got off work." He reached a gloved hand out towards me, then faltered and tucked it under his head. "Lips are blue again," he said, and gestured to my mouth.

"'m fine." I pushed my hair out of my eyes. "What do you w-want?"

"Don't stay here," he whispered.

"Why do you even care?" I hissed, suddenly furious.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a yell of "Fang?" somewhere on the playground. I could barely make out him rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, coming," he yelled. I startled, bumping my head on the tube. I swore gently under my breath, rubbing the sore spot. "Sorry," he whispered to me. I had a feeling he meant for more than just the yelling.

"Yeah, whatever. Go home. Get out of my tube."

"Last I checked, this is a public park. Not going anywhere without you."

I blew hot air into the fabric of my gloves and glared at him. His dark eyes watched me until it grew unnerving. "I can't figure you out either," I said softly. My heart was stuttering in my chest, fear racing through my veins. "Why do you care?" I murmured, more to myself than to him. "I don't understand."

He bit his lip and shrugged, finally looking away. "Nothing to understand. Let's go."

I hesitated only a second before nodding. "Okay."

I followed him out of the tube and down the ladder, my legs shaking. My jeans were worn thin from multiple washings and they served little to no protection against the cold. Two boys and a red-headed girl, Fang's age more than likely, were sitting at the picnic tables a few yards away.

"There he is," said the shorter of the two boys, raising his hand in greeting. "Who's that he's got with him?" I heard him ask the taller one, who was holding the short remains of a joint. They looked like they were probably related, as both had white-blond hair under matching black beanies and light colored eyes. I couldn't tell exactly what color in the moonlight, but they were so pale they looked almost clear.

"Fang, who's she?" asked the red head, a hard edge to the question, eyeing me from where she was sat. I wrapped my arms around my torso and avoided their eyes, the scratchy feeling starting at my wrists and spreading up my skin.

He nodded at the taller boy, "Iggy-" and then at the shorter one "-and Gazzy. Don't ask how he got the name." He waved his hand at the girl, "Lissa, my girlfriend. Guys, this is Max. Don't mess with her, please. She's shy."

I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut.

"I have to go," Fang said, and moved his arm around my back to usher me forward. He didn't touch me, but I could feel the warmth from his hand hovering through my jacket and thing t-shirt. I was grateful to him for remembering this time. His friends voiced their disappointment, but Fang waved them off. "See you tomorrow in class."

"Fang, can I talk to you for a second?" Lissa asked, her voice high and shrill. Fang sighed, his breath billowing out in a white cloud.

"Just be a sec," he said to me, and I nodded. I moved towards his beat up truck, which I could see glinting under a street light in the distance. I leaned against the ice cold metal and blew in to my hands to try and keep them warm. I watched Lissa's face turn as red as her hair as she yelled at Fang, her voice carrying over to where I was standing, but not enough to hear the words, unfortunately. Fang's face remained stoic and set in stone, and I smothered half a laugh with my hand. He waited until she had yelled herself out before kissing her cheek, then turning towards me and walking away without a word.

He unlocked and opened my door for me when he reached me, and I said "Thanks, Fang," softly.

He didn't say anything, but when I looked up there was something resembling a smile on his face.

"Toes are turning blue," Fang said, plopping a metal basin of steaming water down in front of me. I was sat in a kitchen chair, shivering, with a woolen blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

"Tell me again why I can't just get in the shower," I grumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

"It would shock your system. Have to warm up gradually, not all at once." He kneeled in front of me and gestured for me to lift my leg. I did, hesitating only slightly. He propped my foot up on his knee and rolled my pants up to mid-calf. His fingers were like an open flame on my freezing toes. I fought the urge to jerk away, as the warmth was more welcome than the bad feeling was scary.

He gently pushed my foot into the hot water, and I had to force myself to not pull it right back out. My skin screamed, the heat painfully thawing my numb toes out. I hissed and balled my fists up in the fabric of the blanket.

"I know," he murmured, then did the same to my other foot. "It'll get better." It was painfully hot for a couple of minutes, and then it became soothing. I sighed and sunk down into the chair, sleep pulling at my eyelids.

Fang was at the stove stirring something in a pot; it was beginning to smell warm and slightly of cinnamon.

"What are you making?" I asked.

"Hot chocolate. Mom's recipe."

"Mrs. Fremont?"

"Uh, no. She's my step-mom. Real mom took off a while back."

I bit my lip and processed that new information. "Oh. I'm so sorry to hear that."

He shrugged and turned to look at me over his shoulder. "She's pretty great. Better than my real mom, anyways. Only thing she was good for were my charming good looks and this hot chocolate."

I scoffed, a genuine smile splitting my face. His lips quirked in response and he faced the stove again.

He pulled the pan off of the heat and did something I couldn't see. When he turned around, he was holding two mugs. He handed one to me, and I held it in both hands, soaking up the heat. The steam curled into my face, warming my nose and lips. Everything felt slow and sleepy, only the light from the bulb over the stove illuminating the room. Mrs. Fremont and Angel had already gone to bed before we got home, so we were the only two up.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, my voice low. I felt like I was beginning to nod off, the heat creeping into my bones in such a delicious way. It felt so good that I almost forgot to be scared. The voice in my head was sleepy, too. The images weren't flashing as violently, or as quickly. In fact, they were almost slowing to a stop.

He sipped his drink and eyed me over the top of the mug. His eyes were too dark to read. He set the cup down and leaned against the counter, spreading his arms out to rest his hands on the marble. "You were so hurt, and I turned you away the first time." He shook his head and let his eyes slide past me to stare at the wall. "Anything could have happened to you. That creep could have found you and done worse than he already did. You could have frozen to death. I can't let you go again. Not knowing what I know."

"So it's pity, then."

"No, Max. It's more than that."

"How so?"

"'m not going to say anymore, okay?" He picked his mug back up and took a long sip, as if to punctuate his point. I drank from mine too and we stared each other down, something odd settling in the air between us. It crackled like it was charged with electricity.

"What if I don't want your pity?" I finally asked.

"I told you, it's not pity. Finish that and take a hot shower. I'll get the nightgown back out for you. Goodnight." He set his mug in the sink and left the room, shoulders tight, gait short. He seemed irritated; more so than usual. Which was odd- at what point had the conversation taken a turn?

I sipped my hot chocolate and pondered on that.

A/N Thanks for reading! Make sure to leave a review because they're what feeds my starving author soul.