A/N: Ha, ha... I was meant to be gone, wasn't I? Oopsie.

Well, this is actually not me returning. Yep, it's not. I'm just rewriting this series as I find it very...cringey. I need to re-work some things and make it more logical and stuff. So yeah, think of it as a rewrite or something.

Much of this is AU and kinda diverging from canon. There's canonical elements and the characters will be themselves, but they'll go through experiences that kinda alter them from the canonical versions. I'm planning to do this in-depth and very realistically. So if this isn't your slice of pie, feel free to check out now.

That's all for now,

D.L.D

First Day, Last Year

Gwen's P.O.V

*Beep*

*Beep*

*Beep*

Groaning, I groggily slam my fist down on the sleep button of my alarm clock. For minutes, I lay there, still, my eyes firmly shut and my arms tense over my quilt. I don't want to get up yet. I fell asleep literally a few hours ago and a day takes way too much energy to work through. If anything, I'd stay in bed all day if I was given the choice. But I'm not.

School demands that I get up.

Frowning, I sit up and rub the crust of sleep from my eyes. Licking my hand, I smooth down my hair and turn to glance at my stupid alarm clock, checking the time; it read 6:30 am. Great. I've got two solid hours until the first day of the last year of high school starts. Two hours to prepare for my annual return trip to Hell.

Yay...

My eyes flutter as I contemplate ditching the first day to stay smothered in my bed. It's so tempting - oh so tempting. Those warm, fluffy blankets; the enticing offers of home-cooked food and hot chocolates; and watching TV and wasting time all day. I can sleep in until late afternoon, eat crap for brunch and dinner, and then wake up tomorrow and go to school - I'd be more prepared then. I'd also have a day to warn myself.

But of course as I start to drift off again, and snuggle back into my bed, I hear a voice calling me.

"Gwen, wake up, honey!" Soft, tinkling and way too cheery for this time of day. Yep, it's my mum.

Things can't possibly get worse.

Groaning once more, I throw my quilt away, almost dashing it onto the floor, and roll out of bed. Just hearing my mum call from downstairs has made me aware of the Hell I have to willingly enter today. In fact it makes me even more pissed as I loathe her for being such a bright morning person, while I am not. Mornings are the worst part of the day - the teacher's pet of the day if that's even possible - and always makes me feel like shit.

Coffee, sugar and music are the only things that help me to survive early mornings. I have to have buckets of coffee before going to school just to feel prepped - and that's on a good day.

Still grumbling to myself, I reluctantly drag my feet over to my wardrobe. Weakly, my arms tug open the doors and begin to rifle through my small but varied inventory, the metallic clang of my hangers on the rail only bugging me further.

'What to wear...' I gnaw on my lip as I browse through my clothes, passing my skirts and more formal-set shirts. Wearing a skirt to high school, especially on a first day, was like asking to be labelled as a slut or easy lay. Guys are way too grabby these days, especially in the lower grades, and so you have to prep yourself with the proper defenses beginning from day one. Girls are pretty similar, always being the gossiping judges they are - myself included.

So in the end I choose a baggy black shirt with some slogan on it and pair it with some black ripped jeans and teal converses. They're pretty safe, pervert proof, and are easy to clean if some idiot smears paint or something on them. Perfect.

Slightly more alert, I grab my selected outfit and clean underwear, and go take a shower. I need one to wake up. I also need one to smell fresh and dandy for the 'exciting' day ahead. I spend quite a lot of time showering, just closing my eyes and savouring the brief warmth of the water's warm spray, before finally shutting it off and deciding that I have to at least try and be on time. After all, I have to seem enthusiastic.

Stepping out of the shower, I firmly wrap a fluffy warm towel round me. I would've spent ten more minutes there, but I'm too time conscious this morning. Damn my conscience. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be dragging myself to school.

I hear a loud knock on the door.

"Gwen! Hurry up or I'm gonna break the door down!" I hear my younger brother, Lucas, yell pounding on the door. His voice is desperate, loud, making me alert of the problem here: he's just woken up and now needs to empty his tank.

"Use the other one!" I shout back, huffing as I adjust my towel. I glance at my reflection, noting the paleness of my face and the few small bumps of acne on my cheek. It seems that all the chocolate's made me flare up again.

"Mum's using it!" His voice replies, quite smugly might I add.

I groan.

'At least it's not too bad,' My sub-conscience whispers to myself. I flick her aside and instead grab my clothes before stomping towards the door. It figures that today would be crap. It figures that today is the day everything goes wrong. It figures that today is just as shitty as every other school day.

Sighing, I fling open the bathroom door and Lucas dashes in before I can even attempt to walk out. The familiar swing of the toilet seat lid being opened fills my ears and I make sure to hurry out before I hear anything else. I'm not in the mood to half-witness my brother taking a piss.

"Idiot," I shake my head at my brother's idiotic behaviour, walking down the hall and heading towards my room.

As always, my room greets me with a silence I've come to love. My desk sits in its lonely corner, my bookshelf remains vacant of books and is instead filled with pictures and stupid mementos, and my wardrobe is spanning across half the west wall. My bed is stationed at the back wall, unmade and messy, with a few articles of clothing scattered over the dark sheets and sprawled blankets. Just how I left it.

Shutting the door behind me, I begin to dry off and put on my clothes. It doesn't take long, the skills of speed-dressing being learned through physical education and shared public changing rooms, and pretty soon I'm fully dressed. Once I'm finished, I approach my desk and begin to edit my face.

Naturally, makeup is used to conceal my acne-swarmed face and dark eye bags. Mascara is used to thicken my lashes, make them darker and bolder, and eyeliner is used to give off the Gothic vibe I love to radiate. Foundation is the base of my artwork, mainly hiding my flare up and dark eye circles. Teal lipstick, my own special blend, is spread onto my lips and it matches with my teal-streaked hair. I need to re-dye it actually, the teal is fading, but oddly I feel like leaving it just black sometimes. You know, embrace the natural you. But maybe that's just my mom's yoga crap finally getting to me.

Once done, I hurriedly tie my hair into a scraggly ponytail. I don't give too many fucks about how I look to be honest: if I look tired and zombie-like, that's a win; if I look like Heather and her cronies, that's a loss. They're my only rules. However glancing at my reflection, I can't help but feel like something's missing. I have my Gwen-brand lipstick, my teal-streaked hair and 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' clothes, but something else is missing. Something completely Gwen.

Chewing down on my bottom lip, my eyes dart about the room. They settle on the faded midnight-blue hoodie hanging from my bedroom door. Of course... I always wore that ancient rag on my first day - it's a comfort hoodie of sorts.

Laughing at my idiocy, I grab the hoodie and slip it on. I inhale the familiar scent, savouring the faint ghostly tendrils of cotton and lavender melded with the threads. This hoodie was a gift - one of my best gifts ever - and every time I slip it on I got a whiff of the gift-giver.

After getting snugly in my hoodie, I decide it's time to move on. It doesn't take long for me to trudge down the stairs, to the kitchen. Immediately the sweet aroma of pancakes cooking on the stove hits me, making my stomach growl and mouth swim. I haven't had pancakes in a long while - too long. I've been too busy eating burgers or pizza for breakfast, then cereal for dinner or lunch. Pancakes have never really hit me before...

Automatically, my nose leads me into the kitchen. The trance stops when humming hits my ears, accompanying the scent. Like the pancakes, it's light, airy and sugary. My mum - of course...

Where can a Goth get a break around here?

Instantly, I slouch and shuffle toward my seat. I pull it out grumpily, making sure that the legs squeal against the tile of the kitchen floor, and heavily sit myself down on it. Before me waits an enticing stack of pancakes, golden syrup dripping down the sides like the drool that pools in my mouth. Fresh blueberries are sprinkled on top, somehow gleaming in the fluorescent light of the room. Steam curls from the stack, wafting the aroma into my nose once more.

I shouldn't - couldn't - eat those. Not when my mother made them to try and entice me into going to school. But then, that meant I have to eat them. Just this once. 'It's for survival - fuel -' I tell myself. 'Not because you want them.'

My resolve breaks as I wolf down the stack, my brother strolling in as I did.

"Looking forward to school today?" He smirks as he slides into his own seat, easily picking up his knife and fork. "I heard Heather's really pissed at what you did last summer."

"Shut up," I growl, angrily chomping into another mouthful of pancake. I glower as I look at him. "It's none of your damn business and I don't need to be reminded."

"I'm just trying to help," Lucas chuckles, amused. He takes a small bite from his stack. "At least, you'll know to be on the lookout for the bi-"

"Language!" My mum warns, not turning her gaze from the stove. Frying sounds fill the air, crackling and popping as the meaty scent of bacon fills the air. "You should know that already, Lucas."

"Sorry, mum," Lucas smiles sheepishly, already going back to eating. That stupid smirk's still on his lips though, sure and smug, and I really wanna wipe it off his face. He kicks me under the table, grinning wider. That little- He's so gonna get it.

"I'll make sure she knows that you're involved," I answer coolly, smirking myself. I take a satisfied bite out of my pancake. "I'm sure Heather would appreciate knowing that you're the mastermind."

"You wouldn't- "

"I totally fucking would."

We both stare each other down, my dark brown eyes meeting his as we both chew on our stacks. Lucas knows that my threat is real, capable of becoming truth, and I know that he can easily snitch to mum. Lucas is always doing that: snitching. He could fight, cuss someone out, but always opts to snitch. Part of me believes it's because he believes I will always be the hot-head of the family, the one to get into stupid fights over stupid shit; but another part of me feels it's because he's scared of violence.

Yeah, it's gotta be that.

It's always tricky to win our occasional stupid sibling squabbles, especially as he's gotten older, but with Heather and his new emergence within high school, I may be able to gain some headway today. After all, Heather and her Queen Bee squad will be on red alert for me today. It's only Courtney who wouldn't attack me - and that's only because she's dating my best friend. The rest aren't guaranteed to leave me alone.

So if I drag my brother's name into that mess, he'd be socially six-feet-under within a matter of seconds. And nothing burns worse than a ruined social rep.

"Language, Gwen," My mum coughs a little, turning off the stove and placing her bacon onto an egg-and-toast-filled plate. She's given up with banning swearing with me, especially after the incident of last summer, so I've always been given a small pass. Just a small one.

"Alright, I'll try to be better," Nodding, I look at my watch. 8:00 am - time to go. School starts in half an hour and that means I have ten precious minutes to spare. That's not a lot of time.

"Looks like Gwenny needs to go!" My brother jeers, laughing.

"Like you're any better," I tease, pushing away from the table. My hand ruffles his hair. "Mum still drives you."

Sighing for the umpteenth time today, I then head to the hall, grab my black backpack, keys and phone, and leave the house - making sure to slam the door behind me. The walk to school isn't too long and I need every second of it. The fresh air, the clear sky and the nearly empty streets are something that I can use to help calm me down. They're all things I can use to forget about the upcoming school day and Heather's latest schemes.

I get to school in record time, ten minutes, and am greeted with the sight of my friends all grouped together near the entrance. Geoff, Bridgette, DJ and Leshawna - my four best buds from elementary and middle school, and the only people who decided to stick around through high school. Everyone else diverged down the river of trends and fakery.

Leshawna's dark-skinned, owning a pair of dark thick-lashed eyes, and is dressed in bold leopard print today as well as plain denim jeans. She's the loudest of the group, always speaking out against social injustice and whatnot. Bridgette, a blonde with glowing hazel eyes, is dressed in her usual baby-blue hoodie and corduroy shorts. She's the stereotypical surfer chick of our group. Geoff's your typical party guy, sporting his open pink shirt (with a white undershirt), shorts and a cowboy hat (a gift from Bridgette). But DJ is more tamed out than everyone else, wearing a green shirt and jeans. But mostly no-one has changed.

Fitting.

At my arrival, Geoff and DJ wave goodbye. They're both headed inside, talking about what I can presume to be food or some stupid guy things. I can never really tell much these days, especially because food and guy things often tend to cross paths.

"Hey Gwen," Bridgette is the first to greet me, her eyes creased with a smile. I return her greeting with a hug, inhaling the sea-salt scent of her hoodie. For some reason, Bridgette always smelt of the ocean and its beaches.

"Girl, save some sugar for me," Leshawna tuts, stealing and then wrapping me into a hug. She squeezes a lot softer than Bridgette. "She's my baby too."

"Sorry," Bridgette blushes, biting her lip as she tucks away a stray stand of hair. She kicks at the ground, her hands stuffed into her hoodie's pocket. "So... are you still planning to tell spill the beans? You said you were last week."

Fuck. I forgot about that. The explanation...

"With Heather on the prowl after what happened last summer?" I raise a brow, separating from Leshawna. My gut swims. I'm getting too good at these quick saves and lies. "That's a definite no."

There's no way Heather's finding out about it. My secret, my little reason for hating human attachment, is mine and mine alone. If Heather finds out about it, she'll use it against me. She'll ruin me. And right now, she's looking for any weapon to fire in my direction - it's just too risky.

"You know you've gotta tell us eventually," Leshawna sighs, rolling her eyes. Her thick lashes frame her dark eyes, making the motion more dramatic. "You can't play chicken all your life."

I know that. I'm aware of that. Playing chicken is just as bad as explaining. If I have any hope of making things right, of retaining the normalcy between me and my friends, then I have to tell them all eventually. I have to reveal the feelings tucked away within my guarded heart. I can do that. I can tell others how I feel and how it links into them; I can tell someone why I have trust issues. Explaining is never the problem: the problem is keeping myself together after people left.

"I know, you're right," I breathe, hanging my head. My arms wrap loosely around my torso, attempting to keep myself together despite still being whole. My heart aches a little, past memories echoing through my brain. "It's just - right now isn't the best time. Heather will make my life hell if I choose today."

"She always will," Leshawna sighs once more, shaking her head. She's pissed - I know she is. But Leshawna won't say it right now. Not now. She knows that I need time to heal and adjust, just like how others do after experiencing things that are similar to what happened to me.

"What Shawnie's trying to say is that we'll always have your back, Gwen," Bridgette shakes her head, shooting Leshawna a slight glare. She gives me a gentle smile, showing off her pearly whites. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right," I nod.

I should believe them. I should just ignore this problem and focus on tackling the day ahead. I should relax.

But my stomach still swims. It swims with dread.

Duncan's P.O.V

I wake up to the jarring tones of yelling and shouting, deep voices breaking through the floorboards of my room. One is the distinct drawl of the house tyrant, my dad, or the Geezer as I call him. It is low, authoritative, and barks much louder than the second voice. The second voice is the more youthful and defensive one - the one that belongs to my older brother.

Can't a person get any decent sleep around here?

Those two always get into a stupid fight late at night. My brother could never control his big mouth around the Geezer, and the Geezer always has to express his supreme power as the house tyrant. That leads to clashes happening every week, everyone in the house being woken or disturbed by their stupid squabbles. Doesn't matter if you actually needed the sleep for the next day; the Geezer would only say that you need to learn how to deal with it.

I swear I can't wait until I fucking leave.

"Shut up!" The higher-pitched and southern-influenced voice of my younger sister interrupts the Geezer and my brother. It's followed by her heavy footsteps. "Some of us are tryin' to sleep!"

"Well, I didn't ask, Crys!" My brother yells back. He soon starts to continue yelling at the Geezer, his voice gaining volume and traction as my sister butts in between each statement.

"Get out, Tony!" The Geezer finally bellows. His voice rises above all others, filled with the recognisable 'Do whatever the fuck I say or consider yourself dead' threat laced into it. The Geezer only ever uses that voice when we go too far, or rather when we directly challenge his authority. I would know. I do it the most. "You're not wanted here."

"But- "

"Nah, I'll go," My brother speaks, his voice lower. I can see them all: my sister holding back her stupid crybaby tears, my brother glaring daggers at the Geezer and the Geezer retaining his tight-lipped grimace and looking like he just sucked a whole lemon. He's always the most sour of us all, the most old-looking, and most definitely grumpy as shit. Oh yeah, I can definitely see it all. It's happened so many times before that I can just recall it without even thinking. It's only Ma who stays out of it these days. Like me, she's grown tired of this family's bullshit.

It doesn't take long for the slam of the door to rattle through the house, all the walls vibrating from the force. I'm not surprised. My brother's always had a heavy hand. Plus the Geezer always pisses all of us off. He's the reason why none of us could ever be normal for more than a damn day.

"Well, I'm up for the day," I roll my eyes, throwing my duvet off my body and easily sliding out of bed. Even though everyone else is grumpy as fuck this morning, I have a little bit of happiness stored within me. I always do. But to make sure it stays that way I always act like I'm asleep (or sneak off) when they argue. It's always best to wait for the argument to be done before showing up - otherwise they get you involved. Sadly, I've learned that the hard way.

I glance at the clock: 5 am. I gotta hurry or Courtney will kick my ass for being late. I swear this woman controls my life. It's a wonder how we haven't broken up yet. We argue all the time, then make up in some stupid way, and somehow it works. Somehow I deal with her.

That's pretty odd for me.

Quickly grabbing some 'Courtney-approved' clothes, I kick open my bedroom door and head to the bathroom. I make sure to keep quiet, quickly using the shower and hurrying back to my room so no-one can bother me about their petty problems - especially my sister.

I've grown too tired to get involved, too apathetic. The fighting, the screaming and everything in between is something I've just learned to deal with. When it happens, I sneak out or do something dumb to bypass the thought of my constantly arguing family. But of course when living in a literal time-bomb it only takes so long before one of my relatives find me to come and spew more bullshit into my life. That's why I try to avoid them as much as possible.

By the time I finish up, get my mohawk just right and stick in all my piercings, it's 6:30. Guess I have to skip breakfast. Usually, I like to prolong getting ready so I don't have to see anyone, but today it seems I took a little bit longer than usual. Good. That makes sure I won't see anyone at all.

Rushing down the stairs, I hastily grab my empty backpack, phone and keys and yank open the front door. Before my sister can even stop me to ask for something stupid, I pull open my car door and shove my key into the ignition. Within seconds the engine's thrumming and I'm reversing out of the driveway. There's no way I'm getting involved in today's brawl. No fucking way.

As I drive, I turn on the radio, switching through the countless stations, but nothing good's on so I soon turn it off. It's a wonder that my parents even got me a car. We don't exactly see eye to eye on most things. Ma's the sweet one, she'll bail me out of any problem I get into; but my dad, the Geezer, is my exact opposite. To me, he's like the Satan - no he's not even that cool, he's just a dumb cop - of our house.

I'm not even kidding.

Having gone there so many times, I know the route to Courtney's house like the back of my hand. It doesn't take me more than twenty minutes to pull up to her drive and turn off the ignition - which sucks. I was counting on being late.

While I wait, my fingers drum against the steering wheel. Courtney expects me to take her to and from school every day, let's not even mention everything else. I think it's a bit insane, but to her it's perfectly normal. I should've told her about some other people I know, then she'd know what's normal.

Rolling my eyes, I finally decide that I've waited long enough and should just drag her ass out, ready or not. I walk up the gravel path leading to her front door and ring the bell.

This summer has been... nothing special. Unlike last year, things seem to have died. I remember last summer being some sort of time of year where I lived to annoy this girl. I would wake up early, ready to carry out my latest scheme to piss her off just for a joke; now I woke up early to drop her off or block her number and dismiss all her angry texts. Occasionally, I'd end up appreciating a nice outfit of hers - but that's so rare, I've forgotten what that feels like anymore.

What happened to the cliche bad attracts good? Has she changed me?

Frowning, I tap my foot in irritation as I still wait at the door. It's been a good five minutes and Courtney still hasn't answered the door. I feel like breaking it down with my bare hands. But then again, she does leave it open sometimes. I go to yank the door open.

"Hi Dunky!" A wide smile greets me, making me step back in surprise. Of course she chooses now to actually open the door.

Without another word, we both trudge towards my car. Courtney hums, brandishing her satchel and a thick envelope - a letter with more rules for me no doubt - while I follow with my hands stuffed deep into my pockets. I'm not liking today. It's a lot shittier than usual.

We both get into my car, my brain already anticipating and dreading the decreased space between us. The car ride can go only one of two ways: Courtney is kind today and actually shuts up for once, or Courtney is controlling and yells at me the whole time. With how it's gone so far, I'm pretty sure today is an option two day.

"The usual," Courtney smiles sweetly once more, handing me her thick wad of rules. I grimace in response, chucking it into the backseat. I can read that crap later - or shred it. Oh, I really wanna shred it.

"Hey- " She frowns, but she's cut off as I speed down her drive and come to a jerking stop at a traffic light. I laugh as she begins to moan at me, her face pinched and nose scrunched as she slaps me on the arm.

I miss this. I miss these moments between us.

Too much of me wonders if she misses them too.

A/N: So here's the first chapter edited and done. This may take long to edit as it is a rather long story and I write in more detail now :P

Make sure to share your opinion,

D.L.D