A/N: Okay, this story is a part of me and I've been writing it for a while, and I've gotten a lot of it done and most of it is on fictionpress.com , but I was asked to add it here, so I am! I need face claims for Jer, Nick, Lynton, and Mik, but you'll meet all those people later. This is the shortest chapter, but it's also the beginning, and you need to read it. Um, enjoy it. 

=o=

The air was hot and sticky in General R. Windsor Graveyard. The sun glinted off several graves, blinding me from the side of my eyes, and sweat dripped down my face from the heat. I rubbed my forehead and looked around at the people around me. They were all dressed in black, a woman, his mother let tears drip down her face as quickly as my sweat did. I swallowed roughly and tasted the salt from my lips. My breathing caught and all things around me seemed to fade into one background. I stared down at the grave everyone else is crowded around. I stared as if the name had become foreign to me, and maybe it did. I don't know, anymore. I don't know anything anymore.

Lynton Aiden Ryers

June 12, 1996- May 1, 2012

"Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny."

Of course he would have that etched into his grave. The bitterness of reading his name on one of these forsaken tombstones echoed hollowly into my mind and I bit back bile and venomous self loathing. I'm pretty sure I turned around between those moments and the next, but I don't remember much. I think I stood with my back to the funeral for at least twenty minutes, not really doing anything but try not to break down into spilling tears. I think I hyperventilated. Maybe I didn't. I don't know. I remember I ended up running through the graveyard, panting and screaming at no one in particular; I remember sprinting out into the woods, and climbing into a tree house. His tree house. My thoughts were jumbled and fierce, coming in waves as did the pain in my head and in my heart, over and over until I was curled around myself and probably the cliche grief-riddled teenager who had nothing anymore. I think I felt like I had lost everything. And in that moment I had. I really had. Lynton was dead and in the ground and there was nothing I could do anymore to stop it. Finally the tears came that I had been holding back for so long, and when they did the poured. I pulled my legs to my chest and rocked back and forth, running a hand through my short dark hair and pulling on it like people did in movies, I thought maybe it was a coping technique but all it did was give me a throbbing head ache.

I try to remember everything about him. I could create a list. I could write a book about him. And it would be a best seller. I literally could. But he would probably say it wasn't anywhere near accurate and I needed to start over. Or to stop wasting my time on him. Something like that.

I remember that I swore to him once that I would let him take the hit if it came down to it. And I had.

I had let him take the fall, and he had fallen all the way into the ground.

I think at that point I had laid down and just...cried.

I sniff away the last of my tears about two hours later, and sat up. I leaned against the wall and pulled myself to my feet. I licked my lips and climbed down out of the treehouse and into the woods, walking out at a slow pace as my mind continued to wander through the last day. I was probably being looked for. People were going to be asking about me. I prepared myself for the onslaught of 'are you okay' and 'how are you feeling'. I really wanted to turn to whoever asked those questions and slap them in the face. No, I am most definitely not okay.

Here's my reasoning:

1. I had just lost my best friend, and who I thought was the love of my life.

2. He had not only died, but it had been my fault.

3. No one knew about it.

4. I would make sure no one ever would.

It seems overly cliche and totally dramatic but in my mind at the time it was the exact truth. Hell, it is the exact truth! I cringed at the vocalization of my next words.

"It's my fault he's dead." I said to the forest as I walked through it and back to my home. "I practically killed him."

There was, of course, no response and so I continued on until I reached the edge and walked through the field until I found the sidewalk. I heard laughs in my neighborhood, and I cringe. Laughter brings bile back to my throat and I shivered in disgust. How can anyone be laughing right now? This day is undoubtedly the worst day in all of history and shall go down as such in my mind. I turned the corner and my pace picked up. I don't know why I'm so paranoid. Maybe because of my life. I don't know. I will never tell anyone why my heart rate picks up anymore. I won't be able to say why I don't like to walk in the dark. It's not going to happen.

I walked quicker until I reached my house in the cul-de-sac of my street. The light is on upstairs and I can see my mother reading and my dad pacing with the phone in his hands. I don't doubt that if I happened to have checked my phone I would have messages from him, and no less that twenty missed calls. I don't know how he can expect me to answer with my life's current events. I know it's been hard on them too. I should have realized that and not taken all my anger put into their direction but I don't expect them to understand either. I took out my key from under the flower pot and opened the door, the lock turning crisply as it had before. But nothing seemed fresh. Nothing seemed satisfying. I slide my red and (now mud covered) Tom's off my feet and shag upstairs to my father, arms crossed over his chest and an expectant look on his face.

"Where were you?" He snarled and I stopped in my tracks. I debate an answer but all I can say as I slam the door to my room is this.

"Not with Lynton." I don't think they understand why this hurts me so much. They don't, and I know that. They think we were only friends. They don't know why my heart is breaking.

I know why my heart is breaking.

I know why I'm paranoid.

I know why I walk quicker now.

And it chills me to the bone.

Because my story does not end with Lynton's death.

That's where it begins.

2: Awaken

A/N: WARNING: Jer is a whiny baby. 

My alarm clock went off at exactly 6:15 the next morning, to which I routinely slammed my finger into the mute button and groaned into the pillow beneath me. I inhaled the scent of my linen. The sun shone through my window to my right, and burnt into my eyes when I finally opened them. How the sun could still be shining was a mystery when the only person who had any sunlight in their eyes was dead now? And they were in said state because of me. How my life had fallen so far, I seemed to be unable to comprehend.

I remember I sat up and put my head my head between my knees. "I don't wanna go to school." I said to no one in particular, as if voicing such a complaint would mean I wouldn't have to actually go, but I did, and I wouldn't be able to avoid it, no matter how badly I didn't want to.

I sighed and pulled my feet to the floor, wincing at the chill the floor brought. I wish I had kept those slippers from last Christmas that my dad threw out. I stood and I'm pretty sure I didn't move until my mother came to my room and leaned into the door frame. I think I jumped and swallowed roughly.

She gave me a sympathetic look and bit her lip. "Jer," She said softly. I furrowed my brow as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my thin waist. I crumpled into her, and let her rub my back "I know you don't want to go." She whispered and ran a hand through my hair. I pulled away entirely and looked at her. She seemed to be seriously sorry for me. That both encouraged and enraged me. I don't want everyone to go around feeling sorry for me because I'm 'the kid who's best friend was shot'. The kid who 'lost his everything'. And I did. I honestly did.

"I'm fine." I lied and sniffed once, rubbing my hand under my nose to make sure nothing was dripping from it. My nose and snot have become very acquainted over the past few days. So has my eyes and tears.

"Okay." She said in a maternal tone, but I knew she saw right through my lies and facade. "I'll set your cereal out." I swallowed roughly and looked in the mirror as she padded out of my room, accompanied by the slamming of her bedroom door, and a sigh from within her room. She always seemed to get upset with herself whenever I lied to her. I don't know why, maybe she feels it's her fault that I don't feel comfortable enough to let her see me break, but it's the exact other way around. I'm too comfortable with her for her to see me break. I crinkled my nose and turned around again, sitting back down.

"I look like hell." I muttered under my breath as I sat at the edge of my bed, staring into the mirror at my reflection. "Like...major hell." I shrugged my night shirt off, revealing my pale skin. The red ring around my eyes had failed to disappear from my previous night, and it made me look like a zombie. I slumped to my pile of dirty clothes in the corner and pulled out the white button down from my school uniform. I knew how today was going to go. The second I walk in I knew eyes would be all over me, staring until I could feel them bore into my skin. I just couldn't wait. I pulled the shirt around my shoulders and let it swallow me, as it usually did. I looked like a potato sack in my school uniform. It literally made me look like I had fallen into a marshmallow and wore it to school. I looked back in the mirror. My green eyes were rimmed in red, bloodshot from my previous night of crying. I made a noise between a whimper and a growl and pulled out my tie from my bottom drawer, slinging it around my neck and not bothering to tie it. I pulled my bag from under the pile of clothes, flinging it to my bed and pulling on pants. I really needed to get a smaller uniform. "I look like a potato sack." I finally said out loud, but my voice sounds hollow and disgusts me even more with myself. I let my eyes flick down my body, before leaning down and picking up a pair of shoes, and walking out of my room, down the stairs and to the kitchen.

My mother was true to her word and had set out a box of my favorite cereal, something she only seemed to do when she was feeling guilty about something. It drove me crazy that she somehow blamed herself for my current depression and hatred of the surrounding world, and in turn I felt even guiltier. My father sat in the recliner in the living room, his eyes brimmed with red too, and I could only assume he hadn't slept last night. I grabbed the cereal and poured it into a bowl, followed by skim milk. I hated skim milk.

"Sleep well?" I asked with a lace of venom I hadn't intended to use. He rubbed his jaw and looked up as I padded to the sofa.

"Fine." He said plainly and I could see the lie behind his eyes.

"Okay." I surrender.

I knew he stayed up all night to listen for any sign I was about to do something stupid, something I would later regret. Probably, he suspected I was going to go wild with grief and release it all on my own soul.

The moments of silence pass and I raised my green gaze back to him, wincing as he blinked away sleep.

"I'm not gonna do anything stupid, dad." I say and my voice sounds a bit mollified. I usually feel little to no compassion for the man in that recliner, and a part of me blames him for not accepting me, but I don't know how I plan for him to accept something he doesn't know. My father is the man everyone respects, and everyone knows. He has the Golden Family, perfect in every way. My sister Sarah graduated as Valedictorian and they expect me to do the same, but I know that it's out of the question. I'm the nerd that no one respects, and no one really cares about. I mean, I have a select four friends, one of which I had fallen in love with and he was now dead. I'm going to be a country. Rely on isolation. But I know that if I told my father the truth...I would be out of this house before I could say "gay" and there would be no argument. I would be disowned. Right now, though, none of that was on my mind. "Dad, I promise." I squeaked and he looked up at me like I had told him I was just elected president. He sighed though, and looked away.

"I know, Jeremiah." He said and looked back at me. "I saw how losing Lynton effected Greg and Lynda...and I realized how much you mean to me." He looked down. I sort of wanted to slap him and ask him if he thought about how losing Lynton affected me, but I couldn't even bring myself to make a snappy remark. I set my bowl down and wrapped my arms around him.

"You won't lose me." I said and pulled away, pecking his forehead. He gave me a sad smile as I grabbed my bag and called out to my mom that I was leaving.

She didn't answer and I took that as a dismissal, and I closed the door with a slam.

The bus was my only option, though I had my license and I yearning desire to actually drive, but my father refused to buy me any sort of transportation other than a bicycle, which I would never ride in a million years. I waited at the end of my street bouncing on my heels when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone approach from the left.

He was tall, lean, with dark hair and dark eyes. I had to admit, he looked eerily like Lynton and I had to repress a squeak from leaving my lips as my heart decided to skip twenty beats. He swaggered to the bus stop and leaned against the stop sign, a hand running through his hair as he completely ignored me.

I cleared my throat and he looked over lazily letting his head loll to the side, eyes flicking over me before letting them flick away just as quickly. I took him in in those five seconds I had of silence.

He was dressed in what I would call...totally not in dress code. His life shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a tank top underneath is with BRING ME THE HORIZON written in blood red lettering, his pants were not even part of the wardrobe, but were black and tight around the knees, ripped across the thigh and kneecap. His tie was hanging from his beltloop, and he seemed completely oblivious to anyone but himself. He had a kinder looking face, but his wardrobe and demeanor sent me shivering. But his eyes were what caught my attention. There were knowing, and when he curled his lip into a smirk I felt my heart thud.

I barely even heard his deep voice rasp out: "Enjoying the view?"

3: Arrival

A/N: Please ignore grammatical errors, or otherwise. I know I need to edit it. 

I don't know how long I stared after our little lack-of exchange. I think I looked away after that. He seemed to laugh at me regardless of what I had meant by my inspection. His eyes had been the only thing that had any meaning to me. It scared me, how much he looked like Lynton, but it didn't matter anymore to me. I breathed in softly and looked away from his knowing gaze, and a spring of doubt erupted into my heart and conscience, that maybe he didn't know anything but was just his demeanor. I shrugged it away as he pushed off the stop sign, but didn't advance anymore.

I felt a sigh leave my lips at the way his body rippled beneath his tank top.

"Can't speak?" He asked, a sneer gracing his pink lips.

I looked up to make sure he was still speaking to me. I stuttered for a moment. "I-I can." I finally answered and looked away. "I just-"

"What don't speak to strangers?" He asked and I furrowed my brow and felt anger pulsate in my veins.

"Excuse me but who are you?" I asked, and blushed at such a lame answer.

He quirked a brow. "No one." He said, as the bus pulled up and honked for us both to get in. I stood still for a moment. I had heard of people in movies try to keep their identities secret, and be all mysterious, but this guy was A) not in a movie and B) as far as I knew, not James Bond. I rolled my eyes at his immaturity and climbed onto the bus before he did, sitting in the back, pulling my bookbag onto my lap, I felt a growing disdain for Mr. Mysterious (my name I had so accurately dubbed him). I pulled my knees to me chest and tried to make myself as small as I could in the seat. I had been so focused on Mysterious that I hadn't noticed all the stares on my bus until I had actually sat down. When I did, however, the were everywhere. Even some of the middle schoolers pointed their gazes in my direction. I kept my green eyes down, so I wouldn't make actual eye contact with anyone.

A few people even dared to whisper and in my mind I put together their conversation, even though it was probably far from what was actually being said.

"There's that Jeremiah Rogers kid."

"Yeah, his boyfriend died last Tuesday."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I heard they were like...hanging out somewhere and someone shot him."

"Aw, poor thing. He's probably so heartbroken."

The idea of what they were saying kinda made me sick, so I pulled the collar of my white shirt up, and curled into the bus seat, letting my body relax until I felt it reach the parking lot to school.

The bus slowed and I begrudgingly sat forward and grabbed my stuff, pushing through people to be the first one off the bus, away from the eyes and voices of the people who had no idea what they were talking about. I scrammed to my English class, the only class I enjoyed, and took a seat in the back. The bell wouldn't ring for about ten more minutes, I noted, and pulled out the fourth Harry Potter book. I buried my nose deep into it, reading what I could until I heard a deep chuckle.

No. Not my English class.

I looked up from behind the thick book, my green eyes just over it enough to lock on brown ones, and my heart had a momentary spazz.

"You." I said with anger and Mr. Mysterious just plopped down beside me.

"Yeah?" He asked with sarcasm and I had to repress the urge to slap him across the face. Hmm. I really need to look into my slapping disorder.

"Why are you sitting next to me if you don't even want me to know your name?" I spat and he just chuckled that deep chuckle once more.

"Mr. Schubert assigned seats," He said and leaned back on his arms. "Besides." He continued. "You're the juicy news."

I think I became a tomato and looked away, burying my face into the world of Hogwarts once more, and ignoring the infuriating being beside me. I had no time to get into being 'the juicy news' and didn't really want to speak about my hellhole of a life right now. Screw this. Screw him. Forget everyone. That became my mantra for the next few minutes, as people walked into the classroom, staring and murmuring, until Mr. Schubert walked into the room and crossed his arms. "Can I speak to Mr. Rogers?" He said in a nasily tone and I turned, once again, tomato-esque.

I stood and did a speed walk (what most people called my 'gay walk'—I'm extremely loved) to the outside hallway, Mr. Schubert following close behind. He closed the door and crossed his arms.

"I heard about Lynton." He said and inhaled.

I nodded.

"I know you're a really smart kid, Jer. But this is a senior class, and with all that's on your plate I-"

"I am NOT dropping this class!" I interrupted.

He looked like I had just shot my own foot.

"Jeremiah it's gonna be a lot of work this next semester, and with this...grief... I just don't want you to fall behind." I looked at him with a shocking glare and turned on my heel.

"Not dropping the class." I said as I made my way back inside and to my desk, awaiting the 'downpour of work' he had warned me of.

Turned out to be rereading The Catcher in the Rye

For my eighth time.

After this announcement he began to call roll, from Allen, Joey to Yeager, Brenda, I had no issues or new faces...until Zarrow, Nicholas.

The kid next to me raised his hand and I felt my breath leave my throat as I looked him over. He didn't look like a Nicholas. He was chiseled and, even despite his attitude of self importance, quite attractive. I saw a smirk grace his lips as he turned to look at me, his eyes dancing some sort of triumph that I couldn't place. He laughed under his breath and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. I found myself wondering why he seemed so intent on keeping his focus on me, taunting me and giving me that little...knowing look, like he could read my secrets and pull them from me like a string from a roll. Oh no. When I finally looked away, I knew my tomato paste face hadn't gone away.

Great.

Schubert passed out books and I eagerly took it, happy for the opportunity to use it to hide my face once more. I had always found the book interesting, something that made me feel like I was doing pretty darn good in my life, until the past few days. Now my life made Holden Caufield look like a happy little bunny. I inhaled and opened the pages, letting the comfort of familiarity try and take away the pain but it only made it worse.

I scanned the pages, the word coming easily to me as we read the first few chapters. Schubert called on people to read, like we did in first grade, and while he didn't call on me, I was happy to hear the book read outloud, instead of the asylum that was my own mind.

"Nicholas." He said and Nicholas looked up with that smirk, and began to read.

His voice was silky, and deep, and made me want to fall asleep to it, but in a positive way, not out of boredom. I pulled myself out of my trance, hitting myself mentally. This was not Lyton.

Lynton was dead and there was nothing I could do about it, and finding a replacement was not an option.

I felt a note hit my desk, and I came out of my reverie.

It read, in beautifully intricate script:

I know you aren't who you seem to be.

The bell rang just as we finished chapter 5, and I hightailed it out of that class as fast as I could, keeping my arms around my self, speeding out until I reached the bathroom, slamming the door shut, and retching into the toilet.

Someone knew.

Someone knew what I did.

And there was no getting out of it.

4: Avoidance

A/N: Tbh, I love Nick. 

When I finally got out of the bathroom, and went back to class, my mind was at ease by things that I had told myself about that note. It was probably just some joke, right? That's what I'm going to assume, nonetheless. It's the only thing that makes this easier for me. The knot in my stomach twisted and warped around inside of me and I didn't know how to get it to leave, no matter how much I had mollified my fear. Anxiety coursed within me, and the only thing I could do about it was to block everything from my mind.

The usual laughter than ran past me in the hallways at school has been replaced with sympathetic glares and soft whispers. I don't want this sympathy. Anger seemed to bloom within my chest and I huffed out air and hugged myself as I walked to my next class, hearing my name whispered on enemy tongue. I really needed some assistance. Everything in my life had changed and all in one day. I went from Jeremiah Rogers, the gay kid, to Jeremiah Rogers, the kid who saw his best friend and lover get shot in the head. How could this suck any worse?

I'll tell you how it could suck more.

When your best friend and lover got shot in the head because of you.

I groaned internally, not wanting to make an actual noise because I know it would draw attention to me, well, more attention than I already had. The hallway was crowded, but anyone could see the Red Sea part as I walked. I wanted to stop and yell "I'M NOT CONTAGIOUS" but I figured that doing that would make this worse and someone would sign me up for some sort of Anger Management class. Maybe I needed one, actually.

"Hey, Jer." A soft voice said, and I turned around to look at whoever had spoken.

Makaela Romana stood behind me with an unreadable expression on her face. Makaela, or Mickey as everyone called her, was a pudgy sophomore who seemed to be the only person in the school who wasn't going to stand and whisper, and she was also one of the only people who thought that "faggot" was a rude word, and didn't use it around me. She was probably, now that Lynton was dead, my best and only friend.

"Hey Mick." I said and people seemed to look away and get bored with whatever throw down, or lack of was happening.

Her blue eyes flicked around her and then back to me. "Wanna leave?" She asked softly and pressed her lips together.

I really appreciated her lack of care for the rules just to comfort be and allow me to get away from everything in my suck a- life. I walked away from the hallway as an answer, and pushed open the back door, an emergency exit that people used for everything but an emergency. She skipped out with me, and unlike our previous exchange she began to act like nothing was happening.

"So, James texted me last night." She said as she walked to her car. Explain this to me: a sophomore who just got her license has a car, and my parents won't even consider it and I'm almost 17? It blows.

"Yeah?" I asked and let a smile plaster itself to my face. I know James and she had been having a problem recently, mostly that she liked him and he wasn't ready for "a committed relationship with only one person". In my opinion he isn't worth giving the time of day to, let alone going through pain and heartbreak to get to him.

"Yeah. He said he was like...Well, he put it like this:" She pulled out her phone and typed something into it, then read her text messages out loud as she climbed into the 1989 Tranzam. "He said 'I really care about you and all, and I think I'm almost ready to be with you, but right now I just wanna be friends because we don't have a good chance with each other.' Whatever that means." I looked down as I closed the door and chuckled.

"I wouldn't keep trying, Mik." I said and she pulled out of the parking lot.

"Why not? He said he's almost ready..."

"And he said that everytime for the past four years." I would have continued if a pair of dark brown eyes hadn't come into my view. Nicholas Zarrow leaned against a motorcycle a few feet away from us and Mik followed my gaze to him.

"Jer, he looks like..."

"I know." I said and Nicholas approached our car. My eyes wandered down his body and back up, and the smirk on his lips radiated to his eyes. Oh, go shove it up your-

"You're ditching?" He asked with a glint of triumph in his eyes, the same from earlier this morning that he had shown when I had a lame comeback.

"No, I'm Mickey and this is Jeremiah, who are you?" Mickey snapped and I felt my heart flip in gratitude.

Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels, licking his lips with a pink tongue, and even though I totally and completely hate him I couldn't help but letting my eyes linger across his lips. They were pink and kissable, but I try to push that away and focus on my cuticles as if they had become super duper interesting.

"I'm Nick." He said, and my eyes flashed up and I looked back at him.

"What the hell? You tell her your name and when I ask you make me feel like the biggest loser in the world?" I spat.

He just laughed and looked at me like I had spoken the funniest words in the world. When he saw my lack of amusement he cleared his throat and wiped the smirk off of his face.

"You're right, excuse my wittiness and your lack of humor."

I turned red and stuttered a response. "Excuse me, but who do you think you are?"

Mickey cleared her throat and looked at the two of us pointedly. "Hate to interrupt, but I we really need to leave if we plan on actually getting away before Harrison's daily car lot check." She said. Harrison was the school principal's assistant and he puts the first three letters of assistant to use, he's probably the worst person in our entire school. Nick looked over his shoulder.

"Okay." He said and his jaw tightened. My eyes lingered over over the chiseled edge of his jaw and his cheekbones. He was literally probably God's gift to women. And clearly not God's gift to me. That was Lynton.

"Well?" Mickey asked.

"What?"

"Are you going to stand there, go back in, get on your little tricycle, or get in the car?" She raised a dark brow and I whipped around to face her, my face pulled into a look that screamed "HELL TO THE NO".

He clearly thought that going with us would drive me batty, and chuckled in the deep and alluring chuckle. I fumed and tightened my fists.

Why did this guy seem so intent on sticking around me? Why was that so important to him? I wanted to get away from him. He was too much like Lynton. I heard the car door slam.

"It's a Harley." He said, as Mickey pulled out of the car lot.

"What is?" She asked, smirking to herself and giving me a pointed look.

"My 'tricycle'. It's a Harley. Not a tricycle." He leaned back with his hands in his lap and his eyes locked on the back of my seat.

"It's ugly." I said under my breath.

"It's expensive." He retorted.

"Why are you in our car? You could have sped off on your Harley if you wanted to skip." I turned back around in the seat and he raised a brow at my outburst.

"I was invited," He said softly, and his voice had a gravel in it that made me want to melt. "By your girlfriend over there."

I turned around and resumed my occupation as a permanent tomato. "She's not my girlfriend." I said to no one in particular and vaguely heard a chuckle in the back.

"Lucky girl." He said to himself and Mickey laughed.

"Jeremiah is g-"

"Great alone." I say before she can finish that sentence. She looks over to me and her eyes widened with a clear knowing gaze. I looked back for a moment and then looked away, turning red again.

"Oh, yeah I totally understand." Nick said. "My last love interest was uhm, well, I caught them cheating on me with my older brother." He said with a pained chuckle. "And my brother wasn't even interested. It was just to get back at me." He looked out the window.

"Yeah? My boyfriend decided to break up with me because he didn't like commitment. But GOD FORBID I date anyone else." She said and my eyes locked onto her knuckles as they tightened on the wheel.

"Ha! That sucks." He said. "Don't listen to him. Guys are dumba-es."

Mickey laughed and then silence ensued.

When the silence was ended the conversation was directed to me.

"Hey Jeremiah?" Nick said and I look back around the seat to face him.

"Yeah?" I said, looking at him expectantly.

"Is the word on you true?" He asked.

"What word?"

"That you were there when Lynton Ryers was shot?"

I swallowed roughly, and to hear it be put so bluntly made me cringe and force away tears.

"Yeah." I said, but felt a one word answer was not deserving of the question. "He was my best friend."

Nick nodded like he understood, but I knew he didn't. No one understood that. No one could possibly understand all the pain and terror that coursed through me because of watching the life leave his eyes. I vaguely wondered, from his silence, if he knew I was in love with him, or if he had heard me be called "Jeremiah the Gay Kid" or if people had forgotten entirely my coming out due to looking at me with sympathy, rather than disdain or confusion.

"I'm sorry." He said and looked away.

Mickey didn't talk for the first time in a long time, until we pulled up to a small abandoned pond in the west side of town, a falling house on the side of it, and Mickey giggled fakely.

"Okay, Jer. We're here."

Nick smirked and opened the door. I was surprised he actually got out. I know that if someone took me to an abandoned house and pond in the middle of nowhere, I sure as heck would have stayed in the car.

Mickey walked to the falling house and pushed the door open, dust flying into her face as she summoned us over. "Okay, Jer, I don't think your shorts will fit Nick, but you can try."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"He's...muscular and you're...wimpy." She answered and Nick cleared his throat to cover a laugh.

"Oh shut up," I grumble.

We used to come here with Lynton. This house had been Our Spot, and every year, right before the last drop of summer faded away we would swim around in the pond, just us three. Too bad those times were gone. And I could never get them back.

My swimming trunks were in the corner of the room, Lynton's beside them. Maybe Nick could wear Lynton's. I pointed to them. "Here. Wear those." I say softly, and swallowed hard. If Nick was going to remind me everyday of Lynton, I knew I would have to distance myself. But as I looked into his dark eyes, appraising me I like I was a puzzle, I didn't know if I could.

5: Anchored

I dipped a toe into the pond, Mickey standing behind me with her hands on her hips. "Well?" She asked and I shrugged.

"It's fine." I answered and I heard a deep chuckle to my left. Nick had his arms crossed across his chest. His chest. I'm not trying to be a queen or anything, but he definitely has The Body, if you know what I'm saying. I mean, most people like him are lanky and have no need for muscles or all of their, er, recreational activities, have caused muscle loss. But Nick was toned. His chest wasn't too far out, and his abdomen was well carved out. He looked like a marble statue.

I think I was staring. I looked away and back at the water.

"I'm going in." Nick said and licked his lips as he waded into his hips.

"Oh, it's warm." He said and leaned back, letting the water cover his dark hair, dripping off happily as he let it envelop him. I watched the way the water dripped off his skin and shivered. No. You just lost Lynton. No ogling. I closed my eyes as Lynton's face appeared into my mind. It was the face he made whenever he was thinking too hard, or was frustrated. His lip would curl around itself, like a snarl, his forehead would crinkle up, and he would fist a hand in those curly brown locks. The guilt came back when I thought about him. I killed this beautiful boy.

"Jer?" Mickey said, and I looked up. She too had waded into the water, standing next to Nick. Why did we bring him? I would much rather wallow in Lynton's memory. "Get in." She said.

"O-oh yeah." I said and slowly waded into the water with them. Nick was right, it was warm and soothing as it flowed over my sore muscles, which I assumed were sore from running away from the funeral yesterday. Funeral. Lynton's. The boy I practically killed. The boy I loved. The boy I lost. It sent shivers down my spine. I could tell that Nick knew something was wrong. I could see it in the way his eyes danced over me, and I remembered the note on my desk in English. Was it him? He was the only person who looked at me like they knew it was my fault. But that was impossible. Like I said earlier, it was probably just a prank. I needed to get my mind in happier place, but even in the warmth of the lake...That seemed impossible. I dunked myself beneath the surface and let the water flow over me.

I remember when I met Lynton, and then when I fell in love with him. It was all so simple. I knew I loved him. The second I fell, I remember the. Exact. Second.

"Hey Jer, hand me that red one." I looked over my shoulder at Lynton, who was leaning against my headboard, legs spread out in front of him. They were crossed at the ankles, his hair fallen easily over his dark eyes.

"You really want another Dum Dum?" I asked, throwing him the cherry one he had asked for.

"Hey, don't judge, knucklehead." He laughed and popped it into his mouth.

My eyes locked on the way his tongue glided along the sucker, and I blushed and looked away. He pulled it out of his mouth and looked at me.

"Okay, Jeremiah, something's wrong." He said and sat forward, placing the sucker back in the wrapper.

I shrugged and shook my head. There was no way I was going to tell him the truth. I wasn't. No. "I'm fine, L." I said and looked away.

"Jer, you're my best friend. Don't lie to me like this." He let his tongue press to his lower lip, as if in thought. I grimaced at the hot iron feeling in my gut at that movement. Da-n. He was hot. What? No.

I couldn't think that anymore. Not now. Not ever. He was my best friend. Always had been. And...he was straight. I knew he was. I could not be gay because the only boy I wanted to be with wouldn't love me back anyway. What the -ck was going to do? "I'm fine." I said again. "Nothing's up."

"Jer, just tell me! You can tell me anything-"

"You'll just walk out and leave me here." I spat before I could actually think about what those words meant to me, or what they would mean to him. "Just never mind." I sat down in my beanbag and looked up at him with guilty and hurt eyes.

"Jer, listen. I'm not gonna just up and leave you. It can't be that bad." He knelt down and licked his lips, curling around me and wrapping his arms around my slender waist. "I swear I won't leave you. Tell me. Please, Jer, trust me. Tell me."

I looked into those big flecked brown and gold eyes, and they captured my soul in that one moment. It wasn't fair, how one boy could be so perfect and so loving and so...beautiful, and then there was me. Messed up, and ruined, and gay. I was gay. I don't know how many times in my mind back then that I had said it over and over. Gay. Gay. Gay. I was gay and there was nothing that was ever going to change that for me, or for anyone else. He gave me a look that begged me to put my trust into him, to tell him the truth, and honestly, in all honesty, I wanted to. So, so badly. I knew that I would break for him at some point. Why not now? I stood up and paced the room for a minute, needing to be out of his embrace, but I swore the moment I stood I heard him groan in displeasure from my body leaving his. I was reading into this too deeply. I looked back and him, and inhaled the scent of home. I knew when and if I told anyone the truth about this, I would have to hide it all from my parents. 

"I am..." I stopped and Lynton looked at me expectantly.

"What, Jer? You're...what?"

I ran a hand over my hair and I fell to the bed, and curled into fetal position. I felt warmth wrap around me. I knew there was no stopping the blossoming feeling in my heart anymore. I loved him. I did. I had fallen in love with the boy who was holding me as I felt tears run down my face. I guessed that now...that now there would be only two options. Tell him, and push him away. Don't tell him, and push him away. I went with the former. I at lease had a chance of keeping him then.

"I'm g-I'm gay." I whispered and I felt him take a sharp intake of breath and roll away from me. There it was. He was going to laugh at me and push me away. I could feel the dejection fill me.

"When-Who-Do you-I-Um..." I looked up with the tears still in my eyes, my green eyes locking on sparkling brown. Even then he was beautiful.

"Jeremiah, why didn't you tell me?" He said in a voice that sounded like he was in such pain that it sent me reeling in the same emotion, in hurt and guilt.

"Because...becuase I love you." I whispered and he looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Y-you're in love w-with me?" He said in a whisper and I curled my lip.

It hadn't been love until I finally felt his trust in me. His need for me to trust him.

"Yes." I whispered back and he swallowed.

I closed my eyes to preapre for hearing him slam the door to my bedroom. But I didn't.

Instead I felt soft lips press to mine, and my green eyes fluttered open, an embarrassing groan leaving my lips as I reacted, my hand flying to his jaw, to carefully stroke it as I gave into the weakness in my knees, in my mind. He was kissing me. He was kissing me. I sighed once more, and pulled him atop me, feeling him smile against my lips as I let my tongue glide along his lower lip.

I felt him allow my entrance, and he took the chance to dominate the kiss.

Ah.

I finally pulled away from him, to catch my breath. I stared into his eyes, before closing my own to recover. I faintly heard a velvet voice whisper: "I love you too."

I was pulled from my reverie by strong arms wrapping around my waist. I gasped and realized I had run out of air in the moments I was reminiscing. The oxygen had completely left my lungs and I found myself gasping for air, but my lungs filled with water. Grass tickled my back, once I was out of the water. I made some awkward noises as I cleansed my lungs of water, and I saw beautiful dark eyes above me.

"Lynton?" I whispered and a deep voice, too deep to be Lynton's replied in a "no" before moving from the sight line I had, while laying on my back. "Oh," I said and sat up. "I was fine. I didn't need you to rescue me." I spat and pulled my knees to my chest, spitting out the rest of the water onto the ground. "I would have come up when I wanted to."

"Yeah, and you're totally not hacking up half of the lake right now."

I heard a grunt and looked up to see Mickey with her arms crossed standing across from me. She looked pissed, to say the least.

"Yeah, seriously, Jer. You scared the hell out of me!" She said and it wouldn't take an idiot to hear the venom in her voice. "D-n, Jer." She huffed, and I heard her walk to the old house. My eyes scanned up to Nick, who had leaned against a tree, arms crossed across his toned chest.

"I think you pissed her off."

Cue my signature eye roll. "Thanks, CO."

"CO?"

"Captain Obvious." I said under my breath as I stood up and stretched my arms out.

"You gonna thank me? Or, just gonna...you know. Act like nothing happened and I'm not the sexy life guard everyone always dreamed of." He laughed to himself. I say himself, because to me...That wasn't funny or original. Besides. I don't go for the lifeguard type anyway.

He laughed again.

"Okay, okay. Back to not talking to strangers. I gotcha." He looked me over and poked my chest. "You should work out." I flinched and reeled away.

"Don't." I whined like a child.

Silence ensued.

"Look, Jer." He began and I let my green gaze flick back to him. "I know a lot of crap has gone down in your life recently, but you're..." He paused. "Never mind." He said bitterly and walked back into the house too.

I wanted to ask him what he was going to say to me, if I had done something wrong or had just not been the way he had wanted me to be. But I knew that when people didn't try to push me, it was because I had given them the idea that I didn't want closeness. And maybe that was for the better. I didn't want closeness. Was that why I hated him immediately? No. It was because of that knowing glare, and on top of that...because he was Lynton in my mind.I let Nick go. My breathing began to steady and I walked to the water's edge. This was the place where Lynton and I spent most of our time after that day. This was the place that...well, that's personal. I didn't want to bring him to my house anymore because my parents would notice something. My father was the town's best lawyer. And nothing odd went without his notice.

I felt my heart beat come so close to explosion. I need to let go. I couldn't go through the rest of this year without seeing Nick. I couldn't go through it when everytime I looked at him I saw Lynton. He was not Lynton. He was not Lynton. I had to let Lynton go. The guilt was too much.

"Lynton." I said softly, as if he could hear. "Lynton I- I miss you. I'm-I'm so sorry. I just...I have to let you go."

6: Alliance

I knew Mickey was mad at me.

She didn't even give me the passenger seat in the car. I always had the passenger seat in her car! That was literally my seat. I shrugged angrily and got into the back. Nick gave me a smirk and got in next to Mik. Really? Mik's car began to smell like lake water. It dripped from my hair and onto my v-neck, staining it with a brown tinted hue. "Mk," I said softly and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Mik?" I said again and she inhaled as if she still hadn't heard me. I scooted forward and poked her shoulder, which she rolled away from touch. "Mikaela Grace Romana don't ignore me." I said firmly, and she pulled the car over haphazardly, into a field next to the wood

"Look, Jer." She began. Oh, here comes a lecture. "You can't just-Jer, losing Lynton hurt more than just you, and I know that you think that Lynton was your friend and your friend alone, but he wasn't. He cared about more people than just you! I cared about Lynton too! But drowning in that lake isn't going to make the pain away!"

"I wasn't going to drown." I huffed and leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms and looking out the window. She sighed and turned around to face me. Her hand landed on my knee and I stared at it.

"You just scared me, Jer." She whispered and I looked up at her. I saw the pain in her eyes and I figured that she wanted to say she was sorry for snapping if I was sorry for her worry. I nodded and put my hand on hers, squeezing it once. She returned to the steering wheel and pressed her tongue to her lower lip. She put the car back in gear, and pulled off the side of the road. Nick had that smirk back on his face, as if he hadn't heard anything that had just occurred. He looked into the side mirror, and I saw his gaze lock onto mine, and the flash on omnipotence glimmer within his pupil.

I blushed and looked away. He never told me what he was planning to say at the lake, and it festered like a wound inside of me. He whirled around in my mind like an infection, a mystery that I could not decode. He inhaled softly, and the drive continued.

Mickey turned left onto my street, and pulled up to my house, putting the car in park and then stepping out. "C'mon. I'm hungry and your mother cooks meatballs every Monday."

Nick snickered. "Meatball Monday, Jer?"

I looked away and blushed. "Her mother was Italian."

I saw him laugh and shut his car door. Mickey was already at the green door to my house, my mother opening it and looking out at me with an unreadable expression on her face. Well, it was unreadable until it contorted into anger. "Jeremiah Frederick! Where have you been all day!? I called the school when you didn't come home on the bus!" I shrugged and pointed to Mickey.

"We went for a swim.

My mother looked slightly mollified but she still looked pissed.

"Fine. Get in here, dinner's ready."

True to my mother's habits, she had meatballs on the table and a salad on the counter.

Her eyes locked on Nick, who had swaggered in, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes appraising everything my family own. Nosy.

"Who's this, Jer?" She asked and I looked up at him, deciding what to tell her, but Nick spoke up before I did.

"I'm Nick Zarrow." He extended a hand to shake hers. Well. There you go. He won her over with a flashing smile and a handshake. I hated my life. Really? "My parents just moved in down the road."

"Oh, so Tiffany must be your mother!"My mother said happily. No, mom, no! Don't be sucked in by his charm! "She came by this morning! It's so nice to meet you!" She ushered us to the table, my father was late this afternoon. I watched her spoon meatballs and noodles onto everyone's plate. I groaned internally.

"Yes, ma'am. She said she was going to hope all the neighbors took well to us." He laughed and shot me one of those notorious triumphant glares. I hate people.

"She's a lovely woman, she said she had moved for your father's work, and so you could finish your senior year in a school geared towards academia. I thought that was marvelous. Jeremiah's sister Sarah graduated valedictorian, but Jer here seems to be more focused on reading than actually doing work."

I looked up from my meatballs. "Huh?" I asked.

"His head is always in the clouds." She looked miffed. Her eyes flicked back to Nick, and I saw the gears turning in her mind. "Your mother says you've kept up a 4.3 GPA! Maybe you could give Jeremiah some tips as to how to stay ahead when he's a senior?"

Oh, great. The conversation is on my grades. Lynton was always my tutor, and the person who kept me on track when they slipped. If only Lynton was here...

"Jer!" I heard a silken voice call to me from the bank of the pond, as I waded in and sat down in the mush beneath the water. "Jeremiah Frederick Rogers I know you can hear me!" Lynton yelled and I wrapped my arms around my waist and hugged myself as I sunk to the bottom. It seemed to help me when nothing else did, just sinking to the bottom and letting the water flow over me.

I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me into his person, lifting my small body and carrying it back to shore. I nuzzled into him and felt his lips work my bare shoulder. "Nnng," I groaned. "L, don't." I whispered.

He pulled back and set me on his lap as we sat at the porch of the rotting house. I felt slender fingers trace circles along my spine and I looked up into dark brown eyes. "What's wrong, J?" He whispered in an husky voice that send shivers across my body, and I leaned into him.

"My mom saw my grades," I said and Lynton chuckled.

"Chem?" He asked and I whimpered and covered my ears at that blasted word. "Guess it was Chem." He answered and I nuzzled into him.

"Shut up! I don't want to even talk about that class." His lips grazed my jaw and I winced and pulled away.

"Lynton..." I groaned and his eyes traced my face once more, giving my the reassurance I needed to sigh and explain my predicament. "She said that if I didn't pull me grades up..." I pulled at a string off my shorts. "She said she'd send me to some school in Maine."

Lynton took a deep breath in. "Jer," He whispered and let his thumb trace my jaw line. I looked into his dark eyes, locked on mine, searching them for words to help me. I supposed he didn't find any, and instead leaned in, pressing his soft lips to mine. I kissed back eagerly, my hands lacing around his neck as he worked my lips with his own, his tongue tracing my lower lip.

"L," I manage to squeak and he pulls away, breathing hard for a single moment and then looking at me longingly.

"Jeremiah Rogers, I won't allow anything to take you away from me." He said and gave me a weak smile. "I'll help you with Chem, if your mother agrees that she won't send you anywhere, please Jer, I don't want to be here without you."

I nod and his arms wrap around me, comforting me silently as his lips attach to my neck, biting softly, and licking over each red bite mark he makes. "O-oh," I whimpered and arch into him, to which he laughed and continued his workings.

He doesn't know the effect he has on me, the way he makes me feel. Things are simple with Lynton, easy, and I don't ever have to worry about anything that would happen between us.

Never.

"Jer? Jer!?" I looked up from my meatballs, pulled out of my memories again. My mom was calling me, Mickey and Nick looking at me with expectant glares.

"What?" I asked dumbly.

"Nick was saying he played lacrosse, and I asked you if you had told him about the lacrosse team?" Ew. Sports. I guess my mother had taken it upon herself to put me in the place to tell Nick everything he needed to know about our school. I honestly don't care if Nick knows about the lacrosse team. She just knows that I know about lacrosse: Thanks to Lynton.

"Oh, um-no, I-I didn't know he played." I stammered and looked away from both Nick and my mother and to Mickey. She was looking at me rather apologetically. Jeez! Nick can't just come here, acting all like Lynton, and looking all like Lynton, and...and...and...ugh. I wish I could tell my mother the truth. But even telling one parent, who is much more accepting than the other, brings risk to the other parent knowing. "Nick doesn't really tell me much." I said pointedly, and with my teeth grit togehter.

"Yeah, I've played since I was eight." He said to me and looked down at his food once more, obviously feeling the tension. "But I don't know if I'll play." His voice had dropped to a whimper.

The rest of the meal went without consequence.

I shoved the dishes into the dishwasher, chipping a plate and pretending it didn't happen.

Mickey sat on the counter, Nick leaning against the wall at the far end of my house. My mother had practically fallen in love with him (not that I could blame her, he was perfect, but I totally didn't say that. I hate him), but had given us the house for the night, falling asleep as soon as dinner was over.

"Nice house." Nick said, and I felt a twinge of sarcasm drip from his words. I slam a cup down and look at him.

"Why are you even here?!" I finally spit.

"Um, I moved into this town, I just told your-"

"No! In my house!? With my friends?! I just met you today and now you're eating dinner with me!?" I snapped and he laughed at me as if he heard a punchline. Cocky arrogant bast-

"I was invited in, I think." He said with a smug look. "Your mother didn't mind having me here." There it was, that annoyingly sexy smirk. I hate it. I don't understand why I can so easily think that about him. Lynton would kill me. Oh wait. I killed him.

"Do you ever not act like a smart a-?"

"Um, lemme think." He paused. "Uh, no I don't think so." He laughed, and Mickey rolled her eyes.

"Boys are stupid." She said and waltzed out, leaving me and Nick alone.

"I know you just lost Lynton-"

"No you don't know." I snapped.

"I bet I know more than you think I do." He whispered and I find myself meeting those dark brown eyes. He knows. He has to know. How else would he look at me like that? AH! God, paranoia! Stop!

"What's that even supposed to mean?" I snapped.

He sighed and shrugged. "You're not the only person who's lost someone you love." He said and turned on his heel.

Mickey and Nick left not long after, and I ambled up into bed.

Something tugged at the back of my mind as I snuggled into the sheets, but I couldn't figure out exactly what had my attention. I felt sleep pull at my eyes, and as I fell asleep I finally figured it out: Nick was more than he seemed, and he was pretty da- good at hiding it. I just had to figure it out.

7: Aide

A/N: I pre-apologize for this chapter. It sucks a-. And it's super short. PLEASE COMMENT. COMMENT. COMMENT.

Nick sat down next to me the next morning in Schubert's just before I had a chance to get out Harry Potter. I pretended not to see him, and I think he was okay with that, he seemed to be doing the same thing with me. Once again he was wearing something that wasn't in our uniform dress code. His dark skinny jeans were once again ripped at the knee, and his tight black v-neck was under the school shirt, but he had it once again unbuttoned. Did he ever follow any rules? Sometimes I'm thankful for cold shoulders. Nick sat down and pulled out a cell phone, scrolling through something on it, and smiling as he read it. Probably a girlfriend's message or something. Something I wouldn't understand. I licked my lips and looked away, as Nick slid the phone back in his pocket and then turned to me.

"Morning." He finally said.

"If you had a motorcycle at school, then...why did you ride the bus?"

Nick laughed and looked over at me. "You're weird, y'know that?" He said and I bit my lip with no expression on my face. "It was in the shop across the street. I had to take the bus yesterday because when we moved it was jostled and a part came off." He said as if he was telling a four year old.

I furrowed my brow and looked down at my cuticles.

"I'm not weird." I finally voiced.

"Whatever." Nick said and pulled out a book and a journal. "So." He began. "What's your deal, anyway, hmm? Are you like one of those kids who's all depressed and lonely-"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks at his words and looked up. "I'm not depressed!" I snapped. "Just because I'm the kid that lost his best friend, that everyone's feeling sorry for right now-"

"I don't feel sorry for you."

"What?"

"I said I don't feel sorry for you."

I felt my nostrils flare and I didn't know if his lack of sympathy made me feel better or worse at the moment. I think better. Then again it might just be because his dark eyes were locked on mine. I think I was shivering. "Why not?" I countered and his eye brows raised, his pink tongue poking out of his lips for a moment.

"Because there's a lot worse things that could happen to you than someone dying. Trust me." He said and fiddled with the corner of his notebook. "People die everyday it's just what happens. Doesn't make you special. Doesn't make them special."

I swallow. "Lynton was special." I murmured and Nick rolled his head to the side, and leaned against the wall.

"I have a feeling to you Lynton was very special." He said.

I roll my eyes at that comment, because it's true, and I don't really know if I want to share my story with Nick.

"Yeah." I murmur. "He was."

"And...by special, and very special, I mean..."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Nick raises a brow and gives me that smirk. "Okay." We sit in silence until Schubert comes in with his hands on his hips.

"Okay, take out Catcher in the Rye."

The rest of the class was uneventful, and quite possibly the most boring moment of my high school career.

When the bell rang I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, rushing out and trying not to scream 'gay' in my walk. The staring had become a little less obvious, and little more endurable. I didn't see Mickey, but I knew that she and James were probably fighting. It happened a lot. I walked to Vehicular Mechanics, my least favorite class, undoubtedly, and one of the reasons my grades had plummeted. It's like they want me to walk in already able to build a car. Which, I can't.

I bet Nick could.

It seemed I was about to find out, as Nick came in and slung his arm around my shoulder. "Jer!" He exclaimed happily. "Fancy seeing you here," He said into my ear, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. Lynton had spoken to me like that so many times. God, this was NOT Lynton! Why was my mind having such a hard time understanding that! Probably because everything he did was Lynton-like. It was like...it was like I hadn't even lost Lynton. But I had and I needed to remind myself of that.

Nick's arm fell from my shoulder when I shivered at his words, my cheeks going red, (no surprise there), and my body inching away from his. His dark eyes looked down at me, and something flashed in them, and emotion I couldn't see, couldn't tell. I closed my eyes for a moment and cleared my mind, radiating with the mantra of 'Not Lynton, Not Lynton, Not Lynton, NOT LYNTON' but it seemed that it didn't work. I inhaled the scent of gas, and grease from the mechanic shop around me. Why did I get put in this elective?

Lynton wanted us to take this class together. That's why.

Nick seemed to sense my reverie, and stepped closer, his lips nearly pressed to my ears as he whispered "You think about him all the time don't you?" and then pulled away just enough to look into my eyes. My breath caught at how much he looked like him.

I looked away and the emotions whirled within me. "Yeah." I said softly, and he seemed to nod.

"It shows. Your eyes get all...lusty." He looked down and away as Mr. Quentin walked in. "Alright boys-" He said and walked to the front of the workshop. He took roll, and then announced a project that would take all semester and began to read off partners. I tuned out, not caring who my partner was. I knew that if Lynton was here it would be him. Or at least I hoped it would be him. Of course...I got the next best thing. I guessed. I don't know. All I know was Nick was leaning against a tool box, those dark melodious eyes locked on mine, as he smirked in what I assumed was amusement. He laughed. Definitely amusement.

A stack of papers was passed out to each group of partners. Nick walked over, and slung his arm over my shoulder, once again. "So, 'partner'," He began and the light smell of cigarettes and leather wafted into my scent. "I guess this project will take all semester, huh? Guess we'd better get to know each other." I rolled my green eyes and shrugged him off, my heart pounding faster than I could have thought possible. Mr. Q dismissed us all to go around the school and begin, saying that we needed to be fairly acquainted with each other by the end of the day. Yay.

Nick looked up and pulled me to the courtyard, somewhere most people went to smoke and nothing else. My legs were barely keeping up with his. Oh great. He plopped down against a tree, and my rapid and traitorous mind went back to thinking how much he looked like Lyn...god, I needed to stop.

"Jer?" He said. I shook myself out of that horrendous thought process.

"S-sorry." I mumbled and sat down in front of him, a few feet away, crossing my legs and chewing my lip. "So, um. Uh-"

Nick raised a brow and smirked.

"What are we gonna do?" I finished finally, turning red. Again. Jeremiah the Tomato. I should have gotten a new name.

Nick flipped the packet open without answering me and began to scan through it. "Okay so on each unit we write something new. I don't know. We have to do a segment on each other. Ew." He said and raised his dark eyes to mine. I blushed even deeper. If that was possible. I don't know. I looked away.

He sat forward. "Well, I'm not losing my free ride to UCLA." He said. "So, I'll start."

I looked up with worried eyes. Was Nicholas Zarrow who didn't even want to tell me his name when we met, about to spill his life story?

"My name is Nick. My middle name is Chester. I'm 17. And true to my middle name, I like Cheetos."

Clearly not.

"That's like...nothing!" I screeched. "You told me nothing interesting!"

"I told you my middle name." He smirked. "That took major balls. Chester isn't a manly mid-"

"Just stop." I growl.

"Okay you're turn." He said.

"I have nothing to say."

I felt my heartbeat increase because I honestly did want to tell him things. His knowing gaze made me feel like I should tell him everything and it scared me. I looked back up and somehow he had scooted closer to me, his face near to mine and I could feel him breathing.

"You wanna know something about me?" He asked huskily. Oh god, I could die now.

"I-I-I-"

"My father is a high end lawyer, and I can tell when someone's feeling an enormous amount of grief, and is acting suspicious. I know you're blaming yourself for something, and I think it has to do with your friend. I know he's more than a friend to you, and I know you're dying inside because you think it was your fault he died. You hate me because I remind you of him and you don't want to let go becau-"

I don't know when I decided to punch him in the face. Or if I even punched him, rather than just attack him, but in seconds I had him pinned beneath me and was attacking him as tears streamed down my face. I think I was yelling 'shut up' over and over, but I don't really know anymore.

When Nick realized he was being attacked by a 130 pound prepubescent boy he managed to grab my wrists and pin me to the ground as I screamed and tried to push him off.

"Get off," I whimpered. "Shut up, please, just shut up," I said as my voice grew quieter and I subsided to a ball of crying boy.

"Hey," Nick said softly and his arms curled around my middle, I think. I don't know. He was purring soft things into my ear that sounded like "I'm sorry I went too far with that."

I rolled in his arms and pushed him away but his hard chest stayed exactly where it was. I looked into his dark eyes and bit my lip.

"You're right." I whispered.

He licked his lips. "C'mon kid. Let's get outta here." I felt myself being lifted to my feet, and carried to a motorcycle, my arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as we sped off down the highway.

A/N: Jer's gonna fail high school. He skips too much. Blame Nick.