Sky was wearing a pair of leggings and the oversized, black Slipknot T-shirt, Hawk knew had belonged to Kat. Her hair was collected in a messy bun on top of her head, from which unruly curls and strands fell to her neck. The scars on the side of her head were clearly visible under the baby hair that was still growing to cover them. When she stepped aside and let Hawk enter, he couldn't help but notice how pale her face was, and that her eyes were red-rimmed, a bit puffy as if she'd just been crying.

God— I'm so stupid. Of course, she's been crying, it's only been a week since Luke died.

That thought made him hesitate - maybe he shouldn't have come? She was already feeling miserable - the last thing she needed was for him to pour all his crap on her. It wasn't like she was his girlfriend or anything - she had no obligation to listen to him whining about his stupid issues.

"You coming?" Sky asked, glancing at him over her shoulder, and Hawk forced his feet to move.

"Are you okay? You— you look like you've been crying."

Sky let out a tense breath and shook her head, brushing a couple of escaped strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry about it, it's— nothing. But what the Hell happened to you? Did you get into a fight?"

"Yeah… something like that."

They had reached the living room - the giant bust of Julius Cesar was still in the corner, the house plants and books occupied every free surface, Napoleon was snoozing in a chair by the window, and everything about this room was so familiar it hurt, momentarily taking Hawk's words away from him. The emotion squeezed his chest, almost unbearable. All the times that he had sat with Sky on that couch, watching a movie or making out flashed through his mind, crushing his heart, filling him with pointless, bittersweet longing.

He stopped to greet Napoleon and to scratch him behind the ear, trying hard to swallow the sudden emotion, to hide it from Sky.

"You want something? Water, or a Coke? Or you know, what I'm having." Sky asked, and Hawk turned to look.

His brows shot up on his forehead as he noticed a bottle of Tequila and a half-full shot glass on the coffee table, next to a tub of melting Ben & Jerry's - Cherry Garcia - that had a spoon stuck into it. There was a blanket on the couch, and the TV was on, playing My Neighbour Totoro.

"You were drinking? Alone? Watching Totoro?" Hawk glanced at Sky, taking a hesitant seat on the couch. "Where's your Dad? I thought he wasn't leaving you alone after what happened at the party—"

Totoro was just accepting Satsuki's umbrella on the screen, as Sky reached for the remote control, and turned off the TV, cutting the soundtrack of music and raindrops, leaving them in silence. Her brows furrowed, making her look annoyed.

"Dad's with Lisa. Apparently, they are having problems - which is probably all my fault. I bet Lisa thinks Dad's not worth the trouble, you know, because I'm always ruining their dates by trying to kill myself or getting others killed… So, anyway, Dad's trying to fix things with her. He… he thought I'd be at Cody's."

Hawk cleared his throat. "But— you're not?"

"I'm not." Sky sank onto the couch next to Hawk. "We had a fight. I left."

Hawk drew in a sharp, surprised breath. A fight? Sky and Cody were arguing? And why the fuck did that make him feel like he was choking, like his heart was suddenly trying to escape through his mouth?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather talk about the fight you got into," Sky sighed. "But whatever… He— he has a gun. You knew that, right? That Cody has a gun and he pulled it on Kyler?"

The gun.

The memory of Cody gripping the pistol with a trembling hand, standing over Kyler, who lay on the floor bleeding and begging, felt like a punch in the face. It made Hawk feel sick. He hadn't thought about it in a long time, had tried to push it off his mind with all his might. It had been fucking horrible - even the memory was enough to make his stomach turn.

"Are you okay?" He gasped, panicking. "Did he— did he do something to you? Did he hurt you—?" The words fell off his lips before he could even finish the thought behind them. Jesus fucking Christ, if Cody had pulled the gun on Sky, Hawk would kill him. He would fucking rip that asshole apart limb by limb—

"No, it wasn't like that— I found the gun in his room. It was an accident. He would never hurt me, he's not like that at all."

Hawk looked down and licked his lips, trying to hide his sudden jealousy. Of course, Sky was still defending Cody - saying he would never hurt her, how he wasn't like that at all. The perfect Cody, so fucking kind and polite and gentle— It felt like a knife to Hawk's heart. Cody could fucking own a thousand guns and parade around shooting people in the head and Sky would still think he was perfect.

"So— you're okay?" He asked, controlling his emotion. "What happened?"

She shrugged, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. "I mean— I freaked out. And got a flashback, you know, of the day when Kat died."

"Shit, I'm sorry. That— that sucks," Hawk's chest clenched tight with anxiety. He knew how bad the flashbacks were, how awful they were for her. "Can I help? You need something?"

"You don't happen to have any opiates, do you?" Sky made a face and let out a long, strained exhale. "Just kidding, don't worry. It's just— they are the only thing that helps with PTSD, and now I can't have any because no doctor is going to prescribe opioids to an opioid addict. Which sucks ass."

Hawk didn't know what to say to that. His chest felt heavy. It still felt weird to hear Sky talking about herself like that, calling herself an addict. She had never done that before she'd gone to rehab, and hearing that word hurt every time. It always made him think about that night on his front steps when he had yelled at her, and she had left, crying, crushed, her heart broken. It was his fault she had started to do drugs. It was his fault she was an addict. It was his fault she couldn't get the medication she needed, that she was now suffering.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, not really. I'm gonna be fine. It's just… exhausting." Sky shrugged and leaned forward to take her glass from the table. She emptied it with one, long gulp.

"Does that help?" his voice came out a bit raspy.

"It's Tequila. It helps with fucking everything." Sky placed her glass back on the table. "And yeah, I know I shouldn't be drinking, but right now it's either this or me out on the streets trying to find someone to sell me pills, so… I'm pretty sure this is the healthier choice. You want some? You look like you could use a drink too."

"Yeah, okay— But just one. I still— I need to talk to my Mom tonight, and I can't get wasted."

Sky frowned. "Your Mom? What happened? Is she okay?"

"No. Well, she's not going to be okay. Shit— I don't know how to tell her—" The thought of Mom was too painful. Suddenly everything that had happened came back, breaking his chest - Dad's words deformed, disappointment – the blond woman crying, hugging her pregnant belly, Dad's fist hitting his cheek—

"To tell her what?" Sky asked, laying a hand on his forearm. "What happened, Eli?"

He shook his head, trying to force the tears down, but they were burning in his throat like acid. "Dad— He's— he's cheating on her."

"Oh my God—" Sky gasped, her fingers gripping his sleeve hard. "Shit— That's awful. Wait a sec, I'll get a glass for you, you definitely need a drink. And— I'll fetch the first aid kit, while I'm at it— and then you can tell me everything while I patch you up. Your knuckles are bleeding."

"Yeah, okay—" Hawk rasped. "Thanks."

Sky left, and for the short while she was away, Hawk tried to get his shit together. He did everything he could to force the tears down, taking a deep breath after another, but it did little good. In his eyes he could still see Dad smiling and laughing, his arm around his pregnant girlfriend— He could still hear Dad's voice, the sharp, disgusted tone, the words that were like bullets embedded in the muscle of Hawk's heart, digging deeper with every beat deformed, disappointment, embarrassment, never normal—

I bet that baby has no cleft lip. That's why Dad was so fucking happy. He's finally getting the kid he's always wanted, not a fricking monster like me—

Sky returned quickly, holding a rather large red, metallic box in her hands, and a shot glass balanced on top of it. Hawk drew in a deep breath, and wiped his cheeks, forcing down the tears as he reached to take the box and the glass from her hands, placing them on the table.

She sat on the couch next to him, so close that he could feel her warmth in the air, the scent of her strawberry shampoo, her vanilla perfume, mixed with the sharp tang of Tequila - and that scent went into his bloodstream, making his heartbeat quicken. It was the same scent he had breathed into his lungs on the night of their first, real kiss— when he had still been Eli, and she had come into his room. She'd had a bottle of Tequila in her backpack, and she had made him take a sip— that sip had burned all the way down, and the taste had still lingered on his tongue when she had sat on his lap on the bed and kissed him senseless.

Oh God— he had wanted her so much that night, had been head over heels in love with her. And she had loved him too— he knew that now, realized that crystal clear, now that it was too late. All she had wanted had been Eli, and he had fucked everything up by turning into Hawk, by breaking her heart and making her do drugs—

"Here, take it," Sky said and offered him a shot glass filled with Tequila. "It'll make you feel better."

Without a word, Hawk accepted the glass and emptied it with one gulp. It burned like liquid fire, but unlike the first time he'd tasted it, now he almost enjoyed the feeling.

"Thanks," he rasped, placing the glass on the table. "I needed that."

"Now, give me your hands. And start talking - what the Hell happened? You punched your Dad?"

Hawk let her take his hand. She turned it around in her fingers, observing the bruised and cut knuckles, and her touch was soft, gentle, it took his breath away. His voice was nothing but a broken gasp as he replied: "Yeah— and… he hit me too."

Sky's eyes widened and her face went pale. Only the burning spots on her cheekbones remained. Her grip on his hand grew tighter, her thumb was caressing the back of his hand, and he was clinging onto that touch like it was his lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping his head above the surface of dark, deep waters that threatened to pull him under.

"Oh my God—" Sky breathed, her eyes tearing up. "Tell me everything."

He did.

He started by telling her what had happened at the beach. It was hard, at first the words wouldn't come, but he forced them out. Tears came with them, and this time he couldn't stop them, they turned his voice wet and strangled, but he just kept going on, kept forcing the whole fucking story out of his chest.

Sky didn't interrupt him, but just let him talk. She cleaned the wounds on his knuckles and bandaged them gently, she wiped the small cuts on his face with desinfective wipes and put some band-aids on them, and all the while Hawk kept talking, and she kept listening.

He told her about the things Dad had said. The names he had called him.

He told her about the baby Dad was going to have with that woman.

He told her about how he had wanted to kill Dad, how he had attacked, and how only Demetri and Miguel had stopped him from doing something horrible, something unimaginable—

And he told her about the abuse. About how Dad had been beating him up since he'd been two years old, about all the times he had run to Demetri's house seeking a safe place, about how he had been hiding bruises under his clothes, and how he had found out that Dad was hitting Mom too. Memory after memory poured out of him, like a fucking waterfall that had been blocked for years and was finally bursting free, and with the memories came tears, bitter, burning, painful tears that ran down his face as he talked, tears that splashed on their hands that lay on his lap.

When he finally ran out of words, she was crying too.

She sat so close to him, that their knees were touching, and her hand was still in his, her fingers cold in his grip, cold but steady and strong. Her tears were unashamed streams on her cheeks, and she didn't even try to wipe them off, she let them run freely as if she barely recognized they were there.

"I'm so sorry—" she breathed, gripping his hand tighter. "Why did you never tell me?"

He let out a strangled sound and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess— I guess I didn't want your pity. I wanted to be a badass."

"I wouldn't have pitied you. I would have tried to help."

"I know," he drew in a shaky breath. "I know. I should have told you. I— I never should have lied. About anything. Everything— everything that went wrong between us— is my fault."

"No— Eli, shit— I feel horrible that you felt like you couldn't tell me! Your Dad was hitting you and I had— I had no idea? That night when you said, that it was always about me— about my issues and my stupid never-ending drama— " She was crying, tears running down her cheeks. Her words came shaky, broken. "When you said that I was never there for you, this is what you meant, right? And you— you had a point. I wasn't wasn't there for you. Cause I didn't know— My boyfriend was abused at home and I never realized? I'm the worst girlfriend ever—"

"Sky, no, no, no. I was full of shit, I never should have said that stuff— You were a perfect girlfriend. It's not your fault—"

"I didn't mean to— I didn't mean to be selfish—" She sobbed, tears making her voice thick and wet. "I'm so sorry—"

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Hawk rasped, gripping Sky's hands in his. "Nothing."

He looked up from their entwined fingers and met her eyes. There were teardrops caught in her eyelashes, big and shiny like dew pearls in the grass. Even when crying, she was beautiful, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, the green of her eyes was breathtaking. She was sitting so close to him that he felt her presence like an electric current that ran between their bodies, making his heart race in his chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted, and he loved her, loved everything about her, he needed her more than he needed the air he breathed.

"I wish none of that happened. I wish we could just go back and undo all that shit," she sighed, and brought a hand to his cheek, fingertips following the line of his cheekbone. Her touch was featherlight but it felt like fire on his skin, and a dry gasp of wanting left his lips. His chest ached so that he could barely talk.

"Me too," he rasped hoarsely. "I miss us. I miss us so much."

His hand found hers, pressed it against his cheek, and Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, he was melting against her touch, leaning into her like she was the sun, the source of all light and all love, like she was a magnet and he was iron, he was too fucking tired to fight it, to resist the pull that was always there, the nameless wanting, the need to be one—

But it was Sky who closed the distance between their bodies and kissed him.