Sorry it's a day late, I have exams at the moment and I'm drowning.

It was early still, not quite seven AM, but Carlisle was already restless, barely asleep and tossing and turning. He was exhausted, though, and I was trying to sooth him before he woke up again; I wasn't sure how much longer he could go without having a decent night's sleep, and he needed to get all the rest he was able to.

Rubbing his arm over the bed covers, I tried to get him to relax again. I felt like shit – jetlagged and emotionally drained – and my eyes hurt to keep open, but I was sure he felt worse. I wanted cuddles, seeming as I'd be losing him again soon and the comfort of his arms around me was too nice to resist, but I couldn't warrant waking him up for it.

He moved again, his breathing quickening, and I shuffled closer, running my hand up and down his side.

"It's alright," I murmured to him, keeping my voice low; I wasn't sure what his level of consciousness was, but I could see he was scared. I let whatever the attack was continue, until he was trembling slightly and curling up to protect himself. He couldn't make a sound, but I knew this can't have been good, and I wasn't sure whether it was worse to let him suffer, or to wake him up.

"Carlisle." I nudged him, a little more harshly when he didn't respond, and kissed his forehead when he managed to wake up again. "Are you okay?" Running my fingers through his hair to get it off his face, I leaned over him a little, hugging him gently.

Freeing his hands from the blankets, he wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling me into him and burying his face in my shoulder as he nodded. The warmth of his body made me even more sleepy, and I was struggling to stay awake now. "…I'm okay…"

I kissed him gently before lying back against the mattress with a wary sigh. Now he was awake, I had no qualms about shifting him back against me, moulding my body around his while he curled up against my chest.

"Get some more sleep, Gar. We don't have to be anywhere until eleven."

I wasn't about to argue with that.

.

.

It was raining, which was fitting, though Carlisle had assured me it was always raining here. There was only the two of us there, aside from a priest and a grave worker, standing in the middle of a cemetery while we prepared to lower the casket into the hole. Beside me, Carlisle was in tears, desperately trying not to cry but failing miserably. I wrapped my arm around his waist, pulling him against my side and kissing the top of his head.

No one had anything to say, and my boyfriend shook with silent sobs as the final prayer came to a finish. He turned away as the first shovel full of dirt fell upon the casket, and I hugged him tightly, holding him against my body to stop him bolting.

"It's okay," I whispered to him. "It's over now."

"…I never thought I'd be doing this…" he whispered back.

"I know, I'm sorry." Despite our setting, all I could focus on was how cold he was, shivering and shaking, and how much weight he'd lost in the week or so we'd been apart. "Do you want to go home?" I waited until he'd nodded, then thanked the other two men for their service, holding Carlisle's hand as we walked back to the hotel.

He ate the tiniest amount of dinner, but it took him almost forty minutes to get through it. I didn't pester him to eat more or hurry up, pleased just to see him swallow anything. Bed time came around at eight thirty, and I wasn't about to complain; jetlag was killing me, and I was more than happy to be lying under the blankets, cuddled up to my boyfriend for the second time in far too long.

"…Garrett…I have to go to the house tomorrow…can you come with me?" he asked softly, tense in my arms.

"Of course I will, Carlisle, it's okay," I assured him, kissing him gently. "I'll help you with anything I can while I'm with you; just tell my what you need."

"I just need you."

.

.

The house looked fine on the outside. The lawn was a little long, and the garden beds over grown, but the paint on the porch was still perfect, and the windows were clean.

My fingers were tingling as Carlisle squeezed my hand so tightly he cut the circulation off, and he'd frozen at the bottom step leading up to the front door. I glanced over at him, and his eyes were wide, apprehensive at even being on the property.

"Are you alright?" I asked softly, running my thumb over his fingers.

He nodded without saying anything, wincing as the floorboards creaked as we stepped on them. Unlocking the door slowly, he entered the house ahead of me, glancing around the room. Almost robotically, he started pulling everything out of the cupboards, setting food in one pile to be thrown out, and dishes in the another to be packed into boxes. It smelt rotten, but Carlisle didn't react to it, and I held my breath to keep from gagging. I followed his example, unsure what else there was for me to do, and I was too scared to ask.

It took most of the day to clean the first level of the house, and then we were standing next to each other on the landing of the staircase. "You want to do upstairs or the basement first?" I asked him carefully. He was so quiet it was starting to freak me out.

"Upstairs," he mumbled, sighing and climbing the stair case. There were a few bedrooms and a bathroom up there, and I felt far more invasive working up there; these were people's personal things. My boyfriend seemed to know his way around, so I was simultaneously trying to help and keep out of his way.

"Have you been here before?" I asked after a while, wanting conversation more than anything.

"I grew up here," he mumbled.

I almost dropped the books I was holding, a little lightheaded suddenly. "Carlisle…you didn't tell me that…"

"It doesn't matter." He looked faintly ill though, and I knew that it did. "This is the end of everything anyway."

Setting down the books, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into my chest. "I wish you'd told me before we came in," I scolded him gently. "I didn't realise this was that house."

He sighed quietly as I kissed the side of his face, and leant his head on my shoulder. "…I knew you'd feel weird about it…"

I squeezed him, shaking my head. "Are you alright?"

There was a pause, before he gave in. "…I can't go in the basement…" His voice shook, and I didn't have to ask.

"I'll do it then, if-"

"No- leave it, I don't want you down there, Garrett…the real-estate agent can deal with it…" Pushing himself back from me, he went back to sorting through endless amounts of crap.

"Where's all this stuff going, anyway?" I asked after a little while.

"Charity, hopefully. And if they don't want, I'll burn it." His reply was flat and final, and I didn't dare contradict him on it.

.

.

It took us until just after three AM, and my boyfriend was barely functioning. He looked ill, and I kept hold of his hand as we walked back to the hotel. "Do you want to get dinner? Are you hungry?" he asked me quietly, visibly defeated.

I was hungry; we hadn't eaten since we'd gone into the house. I agreed and we stopped at the nearest open takeaways, but we didn't have much choice seeming as it was a stupid hour of the morning. After ordering, we took the food back with us – I still couldn't stomach eating in public, despite it being dark and having no one to watch it, and Carlisle just couldn't bring himself to eat in the first place.

We ended up back at the hotel, wrapped in blankets despite the thermostat and watching movies despite the time. I was scared to leave him again tomorrow; he looked absolutely shattered.

"How's the jetlag?" he asked, shuffling closer to rest his head on my chest.

"I'm okay…Are you?" Squeezing him and rubbing his arm, I kissed the top of his head.

He just nodded, burying his face in my shirt. "...I want to go home, though…"

"I know, Carlisle…the worst is over now though, right?" It fucking better be; there was only so much a person could handle.

"…I hope so…"

.

.

"Being here again is fucking with my head…I want to come home…"

"We want you to come home too, Carlisle. I miss you." I forced back the lump in my throat, not letting myself cry while he could still hear it. I'd cried at the airport, as soon as he was gone, and I was worried sick. It had been fifteen days since I'd last seen him.

"I miss you too…fuck, I even miss the Christmas tree…" He tried to laugh, but it was swallowed by tears. "The property sold yesterday…"

Breathing a sigh of relief, I realised that this would all be over soon. "You're coming back soon, then?"

"Yeah…maybe a week…I'll be home in time for our first Christmas…"

"Don't worry about Christmas now, alright? We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I stayed on the line with him until his phone beeped with a warning about a lack of credit again, making us both groan.

I fell back onto my bed and folded my arms over my face as we said goodbye. I felt absolutely ill about having him alone while he sounded so tired and downright broken. I didn't know what was going to come home to me, and part of me didn't want to know. Three weeks was a long time to have been apart while he was going through this. Still, I couldn't wait to have him back.

It wasn't just Carlisle that I wanted. I missed the constant affection, and having someone else to talk to and wake up with every day. In pure desperation, I sent a text to my brother, proving once and for all that I was still a whiney child. He directed me to mum, and within minutes there was a dinner organised for tonight. I had the best damn family.

.

.

"What have you got to say for yourself, Gar?" Eleazar asked during a lull in the conversation around the table, turning the attention to me. I hadn't told them what was happening, so he didn't know not to push me.

"Don't," I snapped at him without meaning to; the name had hit a nerve. It brought on a pang of longing, and I repressed a tired sigh. I'd hoped that seeing my family might help to distract me, but it really wasn't, and I just missed my boyfriend.

He grinned, chuckling to himself. "Its only cute when your boy does it, huh?" he teased, pleased with himself.

I didn't take the bait, gritting my teeth and keeping my eyes on the table. The next comment regarding Carlisle pushed me over the edge; my temper was short to begin with, but with everything happening at the moment, I was particularly shaped edged. "Shut up, Eleazar. Don't be a dick."

"Someone's moody," he continued to tease, not dropping it. It was just like we were kids again, bickering and fighting. Mum was frowning at both of us, but Eleazar was having fun winding me up, and I was pissed. "Do you need a nap, Gar?"

"Fuck off," I repeated, biting my tongue to keep from snapping something harsher. "You're such an asshole."

"We're adults," mum reminded us sharply. "Not teenagers." She made eye contact with Carmen, and she looked uncomfortable too.

Both of us fell quiet, but my brother was holding back laughter. Unable to stand it anymore, I stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind me. Forcing myself to take a few deep breaths, I leaned back against the bench, rubbing my face. This wasn't helping at all. Throwing a temper tantrum wasn't exactly making me feel better either. My phone weighed heavy in my pocket, and I tried to gage the time in London at the moment; fuck, I wanted him back so badly.

"Garrett," mum murmured as she came into the room behind me. "What on earth is all this about?" She didn't sound mad, more a little worried. She stood in front of me, seeing through absolutely everything.

I gave in to wanting the comfort, hugging her. "I never thought I could miss someone so much," I sighed. "I just want him to come home safe."

"I know, sweetheart." She rubbed her hand down my back, squeezing me a little tighter. "Carlisle is an adult; he can handle it. Losing a parent is hard on anyone, but we all get through it."

Slowly shaking my head, I swallowed the lump in my throat, finally surrendering; I was a breaking point, and badly needed to talk. "It's more than that. His dad…hurt him quite badly, and he's the one that's had to go and clean up the house and get rid of the property. And he's still trying to hold down a job while he's over there; he just sounds so tired when I talk to him and I feel so bad…"

Her frown grew, and I hoped she wouldn't ask me anymore; I didn't want to tell her something my boyfriend would be uncomfortable with her knowing when he came back. "Carlisle was abused-" she started, but I cut her off.

"Mum," I warned.

"Is that why he's so nervous of your father?" she asked anyway. At my silence, her lips thinned out into a flat line. "If we know what's wrong, then we can find a way to make this easier for him when he is back."

I sighed; she was right, as usual. "He doesn't handle dad's negativity towards him well because it's too close to what happened to him." It was awkward, and I was uncomfortable without Carlisle monitoring the conversation. "I'm not sure that he actually understands what a family is supposed to be, and he's terrified of Christmas…I don't think I'm going to be able to bring him over here on Christmas day; he wasn't feeling good about it before all this with his father happened, and now…"

"If he can't handle it, love, perhaps we can see the two of you in the new year?" she suggested. "We don't need to force him into something that's too much." She was nervous about it too, I could tell, and I prayed she wouldn't work up enough courage to ask whatever she was about to. "Are you two…" Oh for fucks sake.

"Mum, we're using protection, if that's what you're asking," I grumbled, fighting to keep from blushing and trying to figure out why the actual fuck she wanted to have this conversation now, of all times. "We're not children; I'm twenty-seven. And neither of us can get pregnant."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at me. "Not that, Garrett. I mean, is Carlisle…okay with intimacy? Is he giving you what you need?" she asked gently. I could see her mind racing, and I wasn't quite sure how to interrupt her. Her apprehension toward my boyfriend was growing again, and I couldn't let that happen. Not now. Everything about the conversation was wrong though, and I hated it – it pissed me off as much as it embarrassed me. "Perhaps if you two aren't able to work together romantically, then you could be friends; it can be hard for someone who has trust issues to reciprocate feelings-"

"Stop. Stop right there," I snapped, not able to listen to this anymore and quickly becoming upset again. "I'm not having this conversation. You like him; don't change that now. I love him a lot, he's my best friend, and he's living with me as my partner." Beyond annoyed, I clenched my teeth. Berating my brother was one thing, but yelling at my mother when she thought she was helping was another entirely. I gripped my keys in my pocket, ready to leave; this was far worse than being alone in my apartment.

"Alright, love. But has he ever had any counselling for what happened? It could help him if he's struggling-"

"No, mum, I don't think so. I'm sure if he wanted it, he would have done it already. I'm going home."

"Garrett," she sighed, grabbing my hand as I turned away. "I just need to know that you're safe with him. If you love him, and he makes you happy, then we'll love him too, despite his past-"

"You cant turn on him just because his father hurt him, it doesn't work like that!" I growled, my voice too loud for the kitchen. No doubt, everyone else had heard my outburst too and I immediately regretted it. "It's not his fault, and he's doing his best to cope with it now. I need him to accepted as part of this family, or he's never going to be able to sit at a table comfortably with you and dad."

"I know, love. Of course he's part of this family. He's a sweet boy, and so long as you love him as much as you do, we'll do anything to make this easier for him." She hugged me again, and I gave in. "Now, go and sit down and finish your dinner."

The room was silent and nobody was speaking as I sat at the table again, and the conversation was strained as we continued eating. Being with my parents was nice in the end, and I ended up staying the night so I didn't have to be alone.

Three days, and my boy would be back in my arms.