The chemicals are restless in my head...

Ten minutes passed and Jared hadn’t returned to the living room. Curiosity taking over, I moved through the house trying to find him. As I climbed the stairs, I heard his voice coming through the half open door to our bedroom at the end of the hall. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying, not that I was trying. I had just wondered where he was.

I took a few steps forward towards the door, then stopped mid-step and changed course, heading back towards the staircase. But I stopped again at the top of the steps, unable to make up my mind. I wanted to shower and get dressed, get ready to start the day, whatever the day entailed. But I didn’t want to walk in while he was on the phone. I wanted to respect his privacy. I didn’t know what the call was about, if it was business or not, and I didn’t know whether it would be alright for me to overhear. I usually stayed away when his blackberry rang.

Deciding I was being ridiculous, I turned around a final time and walked the full length of the hall into the bedroom. Jared was sitting on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and he was picking at the chipped black nail polish on his fingers while apparently listening to whoever was on the other end. His head jerked up to look at me when I entered, his brow furrowed. I smiled at him and ducked into the closet to shed my pajamas and pull on a robe before jumping into the shower. But when I emerged from the closet, Jared was gone. I walked to the bedroom door in time to see his head disappearing down the stairs. He was still on the phone. I frowned and suddenly felt awful, wondering if I had done the wrong thing by coming in. But I tried to shake it off and told myself I’d apologize to him when he was done.

I showered quickly, dressed, and made my way back to the living room where Jared was now sitting, still in his boxers, his laptop open in his lap. "Hey," I said curling up next to him in the corner of the couch.

"Hey," he replied smiling.

"Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have come in while you were talking," I apologized sheepishly, motioning towards the bedroom above our heads.

Puzzled, he studied my face for a few moments before closing his laptop and setting it on the ottoman in front of him beside my new camera. He turned to face me on the couch. "There’s nothing to be sorry about," he said slowly.

"Are you sure?" My voice was small, and I felt like I had done something wrong and was now awaiting punishment from an angry parent. A terrified puppy with her tail between her legs. But Jared wasn’t angry and I fortunately was not about to get bopped on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

"Of course I’m sure," he said softly, leaning forward to punctuate his words. "It was just business, and the only reason I went downstairs when you came in was to get some coffee," he continued, pointing to the mug on the ottoman.

"Okay…I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to eavesdrop or something. Because I would never do that." I silently cursed myself as I was seemingly unable to make myself stop talking.

"I know." He was being patient while I was being ridiculously paranoid and insecure, and I didn’t know why. "You’re overreacting a little bit…" he said pointedly.

"I know, I can’t help it," I said, smiling and trying to shake it off. Apparently, I had freaked out about nothing. We had been together for nine months, but I still worried about overstepping boundaries every now and then despite repeatedly being told, like I was right now, that there weren’t any boundaries.

He reached out and pulled me into a tight hug before whispering in my ear, "Let me go jump in the shower and get dressed, then I’ll give you your present." He was letting the subject go, meaning I was fine and should let it go as well.

I gave a nod and a small sigh of relief before answering. "No, you won’t. But I’ll give you your gift."

He started laughing, amused by my determination to ignore the fact that he had gotten me something else. "Sounds like a plan."

I grinned and kissed him lightly before he rose from the couch and headed down the hall to the stairs. I waited a few moments before following him up, but instead of entering our bedroom, I ducked into the guestroom on the right. I walked around the bed to the small closet. Digging past dusty brown cardboard boxes whose contents I didn’t know, I found the envelope and small red box I had hidden there a few weeks prior. My nerves kicked up a notch as my fingers closed around the gifts and I pulled them into sight. I never enjoyed giving gifts. I didn’t like the element of surprise, of not knowing if the objects would be liked. And I didn’t like the idea of putting someone in a situation where they had to fake excitement or happiness over something I presented to them. I was a little more relaxed about it where Jared was concerned. Thankfully, I seemed to have better luck with him; he was always genuine, as far as I knew, and his reactions never appeared forced. But I was still nervous.

I descended the stairs again, chewing violently on my lip. I set the gifts on the couch where Jared had been sitting before diving into the overstuffed chair and shoving my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I stared idly around the room, my teeth still gnawing on my lip, waiting. I listened as the water shut off in the bathroom. A few minutes later, I heard his footsteps move across the bedroom and into the closet. Just a few more minutes after that, he was making his way downstairs. The butterflies in my stomach were multiplying exponentially.

When Jared entered the living room, he was carrying a rather large box wrapped in cartoonish Santa paper. My mouth fell open and he laughed at me, setting the box down. It came just about to the middle of my ribs. I tried to speak, to tell him no, I wouldn’t open it, but nothing would come out. My eyes followed him as he sat down on the couch and looked curiously at the box and envelope there waiting for him. He pointed at them and I nodded.

"Does it matter which I open first?" he asked.

"The box."

He grinned and picked up the small red, square box. He untied the white ribbon from around it, then lifted the lid. His eyes lit up when he saw what was inside and I immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

"What is it?" he asked, lifting the silver and black gift from its resting-place.

"It’s a Celtic knot," I explained, watching in delight as he ran his fingers over the silver emblem. "It represents reincarnation, the cycle of life, death and rebirth. I couldn’t resist when I saw it, it’s my favorite knot."

"It’s perfect," he gushed, happiness clearly evident in his voice. He ran the black leather cord through his fingers to the clasp and fastened it at the back of his neck. Warmth spread through my body at the sight of his elated reaction and the remnants of my nerves fell away.

I sat up cross-legged on the chair as he reached next for the envelope and tore the end off. This was the part I was most excited for. He tipped the envelope up and a handful of pictures cut out of various magazines fell into his lap. His eyes widened in surprise and he thumbed curiously through the collection.

His eyes always said more than his lips ever did.

"Okay, here’s the deal," I began as he looked up at me with question in his eyes. "I was going to buy you two plane tickets. For you and me, for you and Shannon, for you and whoever. But I was having trouble coming up with where, so I thought I’d let you pick the place. London, Brazil, Hong Kong, Argentina," I started listing, pointing at the pictures in his hands that I had found in various travel magazines.

"Wherever you want, whenever you want. Just tell me, and I’ll take care of it. I just thought…you might want to get away sometime. You haven’t taken a vacation in a while, since before I joined you guys on tour this year and then moved in…so I thought it would be nice. I don’t know." My insecurity was back and I was rambling, afraid it wasn’t thoughtful enough since I couldn’t pick a destination…or something ridiculous like that.

"It’s wonderful, thank you," he said after a few moments. "And of course I’m going to take you." He stood up and pulled me off the chair into a tight hug. A tiny bit of relief flowed through my body.

"Now open yours," Jared demanded, breaking my train of thought.

"Okay, okay, I’ll open it," I said, moving over to the box. Curiosity was taking over. "What is it?"

"Ha! Like I’m going to tell you. Just open it!" he persisted.

I hesitantly reached for the edge of the paper and slowly tore it off. But the box was no help in telling me what was inside. It was a plain, brown cardboard box, no writing or pictures or anything. I looked up at Jared, an eyebrow raised. He was standing a few feet away, chewing nervously on a fingernail but looking as excited as a kid in a candy store. I lifted the lid of the box and reached inside. Jared immediately stepped forward, coming to my assistance, and slid the box off of the object my hands had grabbed a hold of. My mouth fell open as my gift emerged from the box.

"You didn’t," I said in disbelief. "Tell me you didn’t." But it was obvious he had. I set the guitar case down on the floor and stepped back, my hand over my mouth.

"I did," he replied with glee. "You like?"

I dropped to the floor, excitement rising to a rather uncontrollable level, and opened the case. Revealed to me was the guitar I had always wanted. The guitar I had admired in the hands of many skilled musicians from the front rows of countless crowds. It wasn’t the most expensive but it had always been something that I lusted after and wanted some day to have. It was a black Epiphone EJ-200, complete with pick guard etching.

"Like?! LIKE?!?! How about LOVE!" I squealed, jumping up and flying into his arms. I pressed my lips against his, wanting to show him just how much I loved it, loved him. "How did you know?" I asked breathlessly, returning to the guitar and lifting it carefully out of its case.

"Well…" Jared began hesitantly, "I checked the internet history on your laptop." His voice had gotten gradually softer as he spoke, but I still heard every word. I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him, not sure if I should be offended at the invasion of privacy or touched. Apparently there really weren’t any boundaries. When I didn’t react negatively, he continued. "I just wanted to know if there was anything you had been shopping around for, like, window shopping or whatever. Things you wanted but wouldn’t buy for yourself. That’s where I got a few ideas for cameras, because I saw the ones you had been looking at. Then Shannon helped me narrow it down to one. You’re not mad, are you?" He still sounded unsure, like now he was the puppy who had done something wrong.

"How the hell could I be mad?" I said in assurance. "I got a fucking Nikon and a guitar out of it; I don’t think it would be right if I was offended. Besides, I don’t have anything to hide on there. The stuff I have saved in word documents is private, but nothing on the internet."

"Don’t worry," he jumped in, almost cutting me off. "I know you write a lot, and that’s your business. It only becomes mine when you choose to show me, and I didn’t want to violate that." So maybe there was a boundary, but only just one, and it was of my doing.

"Okay..." I said slowly. It was the answer I had been expecting. I knew he was respectful of my privacy despite feeling that he should sometimes push me to talk to him anyway. He looked as though he was relieved, certain that I wasn’t upset, so I turned my attention back to the guitar.

I fell back to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and set the guitar in my lap. I ran my fingers up and down the fretboard, and I knew the intense happiness I was feeling was written clearly across my face. Jared sat down on the couch to watch me silently. I tried to play a few chords, but the instrument hadn’t been tuned and the dissonant sound was enough to make me cringe. But I was content enough to just sit there, getting to know the feel of it. I ran my hand over the wooden top, fingers tracing the flower etching.

I sat a few moments longer, simply enjoying the feel of the guitar in my hands, but my eyes focused on Jared. He was watching me intently, an almost indescribable look on his face. Part of it was pleasure; pleased with himself for picking out something I loved. He was a musician. He knew what it felt like to hold a guitar in your hands, and he knew how that feeling was intensified when it was a guitar you lusted after and that was now yours and yours alone. It was a guitar I would pour the entire spectrum of my emotions and thoughts into, and he was genuinely happy that he could be the one to provide that for me. The camera, the guitar, it was everything to me. I had lost all forms of creative expression when my mother had died and months later, it was still gone. But Jared had just returned it to me. All of it.

This realization was followed closely by incredible appreciation. You could put a price on the camera and guitar, but you most definitely could not put a price on what those two objects provided for me.

A smile slowly spreading across my face, I set the beautiful instrument back in its case and rose, stepping around the guitar to the couch. Jared leaned back into the cushions and I dropped happily into his lap.

"You’re the one for me, you’re my ecstasy, you’re the one I need," I whispered against his ear, barely getting the words out before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Are you ever going to tell me what that’s from?" he whined, joining me in laugher. "That’s the third time you’ve said it!"

"Seriously," I said, calming myself and ignoring his question. "I cannot even begin to tell you how much this means to me."

"I know you’ve gotten back to your music," he said, referring to my struggle with the piano earlier, "but does this mean you’ll start taking pictures again?"

Hope was dripping from his voice. "Of course. It’d be a sin if I just let that beautiful camera just sit there unused."

"I think the last time you used your camera was when your mom died…at Dunkirk…" His voice had started strong as he had been thinking aloud, but he spoke quietly as he trailed off at the end. He swallowed hard and looked up at me, not sure if he should have spoken, if he had reopened old wounds or not.

I smiled reassuringly and ran my hand up from his neck into his hair. "It’s okay," I said slowly and his face brightened a few degrees again. "I think I sort of cut myself off from almost everything after mom died. There was the occasional song I would play, but that’s it. I haven’t even written anything more than a few sentences here and there in months.

"I noticed…" Jared said. "I would’ve said something, but I didn’t know how you would react. And I figured a grand gesture," he paused, motioning to the camera and guitar, "would make more of an impact." He cracked a smile.

"Never be afraid of my reactions," I replied seriously before lightening my tone again, wanting to be rid of the dangerously near heavy conversation. "Every girl loves a grand gesture or two." Before he could respond, I tightened my grip on his hair and pulled him forward, capturing his lips with my own.

"What was that for?" he asked once we broke.

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart," I said before pressing my lips to his again. I shifted as best I could until my legs were straddling his. His tongue was begging entrance to my mouth, so I opened to him, my hands running down his chest, coming to rest at the hem of his shirt.

But as soon as it had begun, it began to end. It was like a switch had been flipped, and Jared pulled back.

"Not right now," he said breathlessly, both apology and excitement in his eyes.

"Yes right now," I began to persist in confusion. I wanted him to know how much I loved what he had done for me, how much I loved him. I slid my hands up his chest beneath the fabric of his shirt and attempted to kiss him again but was met with avoidance. Confused and almost to the point of being hurt and offended, I withdrew my hands and crawled off of his lap.

"You wanted it last night and you wanted it this morning, but you don’t want it now? What the fuck?" I asked bluntly.

He looked a little squeamish and opened and closed his mouth a few times but failed to utter any explanation. I stared at him, silently demanding some insight into why he refused to kiss me, but he was saved by the bell.

The doorbell.

I groaned as its ring reverberated through the house. I didn’t want visitors or to deal with a salesmen at the door. I wanted Jared, and I wanted Christmas Day to just be with him.

But my groan quickly fell away as I saw a brief moment of excitement cross Jared’s face before he brought out the skillful actor in himself and put on more of a frowny, ‘It’s Christmas! Who could be at our door?’ kind of face instead.

He stood up and started towards the door, smoothing down his clothes and hair as he went. He stopped when he reached the hall and turned back to me. "I can’t answer it," he said pointedly. "What if it’s a salesman? They can’t know I live here."

I eyed him warily from my position on the couch. I knew something was going on, I jut couldn’t figure out what it was. But Jared didn’t say anything else. He stood expectantly, waiting, and the doorbell rang again. I sighed, still unhappy about his refusal to be intimate, and rose in resignation, making my way to the front door with Jared following closely behind. I paused when I reached my destination and the doorbell rang yet again. I looked over at Jared who had now moved to be out of sight when the door opened. I caught that same fleeting glimpse of excitement, only there for a fraction of a second. He looked from me to the door and back again, so I put my hand on the knob and turned.

And then there were two bodies flying at me, and I received multiple bone-crushing hugs from two of my best friends. Squeals of delight rang through the house, but whose mouths they came from I can’t be sure. I was in a state of complete shock that left me speechless. Sarah and Eva? Here in LA? Kevin too, but he was still standing in the doorway, waiting for Sarah and Eva to calm down before giving me a hug as well.

I turned wordlessly to Jared for an explanation. His smile barely fit on his face, and all he said was, "Merry Christmas." Like this was my real gift – the guitar and camera were just extras. Insanely expensive extras.

"But how…how did…" I was trying to form a question, but it didn’t work. "The phone call…earlier…that was…?" Eloquence obviously was not in the cards at the moment.

"That was me calling from the airport to tell Jared we landed," Sarah jumped in, practically vibrating with excitement. She pulled me into another hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Goddamn I missed you darling."

"I missed you too," I said, the shock starting to fade. Speech was returning. "All of you. You should have TOLD me you were coming!"

"Awww but this is our gift to you, and gifts are supposed to be surprises," Eva replied in defense.

And then it hit me. Eva was HERE, in LA. She wasn’t in the rehab center. When did that happen?

Wanting answers, I said, "Why are we still standing here? Come on, let’s go." I motioned down the hall towards the living room. Sarah, Eva, and Kevin left their bags by the door and followed me, Jared closing the front door behind us.

I stepped around the new guitar case and curled up comfortably in the corner of the couch, laughing as my friends bent over the instrument and asked a barrage of questions.

"Where’d you get this?!"

"Jared gave it to me for Christmas."

"What kind is it?"

"Epiphone."

"Will you play something?"

"Not right now."

"Play something!"

"Maybe later."

"Please?!"

I didn’t respond. Of course, I was too busy laughing to answer, but it served its purpose. They dropped the line of questioning and fell onto various pieces of furniture. Jared appeared a few moments later with an armful of water bottles and Dr. Pepper cans.

"So, how is everyone? Tell me what’s been going on," I asked, aiming the question mostly at Eva but addressing the general population.

"Life is good," Sarah and Kevin replied, answering in unison with smiles plastered across their faces. "Working, of course," Sarah continued, "unlike SOMEBODY we know."

"Fuck you," I said, giving her the finger before standing up to let Jared sit down. All seats were taken, so he pulled me down into his lap. Sarah just laughed and settled back into the couch cushions.

"I’m good," Eva spoke up, addressing my want, my need, to know how she was. "I was released early, two weeks ago. But I wanted it to be a surprise, so we didn’t tell you. I made Jared promise not to tell you either."

"Which I was not too happy about," Jared interjected.

"I’m feeling a lot better though," Eva continued. "I’m just happy to be out of that godforsaken place. I couldn’t stand it anymore, I felt like I was dying."

"I’m glad you’re out too," I said warmly. "And I’m glad you’re feeling better." I wanted to keep talking about it, to really make sure she was okay, but I didn’t know what else to say, and a nod from Sarah convinced me for the time being that all was good.

"Where’s Shannon?" Eva asked, changing the subject. You could tell she was trying to conceal the hope in her voice, but she was failing miserably.

"You missed him, he was here earlier to bring the camera over," I said. "He didn’t stay very long though. We could probably call him." I looked at Jared for confirmation.

"Yeah, I’ll call him now," Jared said.

"Wait!" Eva jumped in. "Don’t tell him we’re here. I want it to be a surprise."

"Okay," Jared said knowingly before pulling out his blackberry and dialing. Eva’s adoration of Shannon was obvious, and she wanted to be the one to show him that she was here and healthy again.

We remained silent as Jared spoke to his brother. Convincing Shannon to come over didn’t seem too difficult. In fact, no convincing needed to be done. Nobody wants to spend the holidays alone, and since Christmas with the Letos had been celebrated the night before, Christmas alone was exactly what Shannon had been doing.

"Here, let me up," Jared said once he had hung up, poking my sides to get me to move. I sat back down once he had risen, but he stopped at the end of the couch, gave me a look that said he needed to talk to me, and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen.

I frowned, alarm bells immediately going off, but I got up and followed him. "We’ll be right back," I said over my shoulder to my friends. We started toward the kitchen, but Jared veered off towards the music room. Apparently the kitchen was too open to the living room.

He closed the door once we were inside and started pacing in front of it. I stood watching, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t.

"What’s going on Jared?" I asked, breaking the silence. Something was obviously on his mind.

He stopped pacing and turned to look at me. "I think I’m overreacting," he answered honestly, his eyes widening a little bit.

"Okay, overreacting about what?" I was clearly going to have to take him through this one step at a time. He wanted to tell me what he was thinking, but at the same time, he didn’t want to tell me. The entire situation had come out of left field, and I didn’t know what to think.

"Shannon coming over," he said.

"You’re…but…he’s your brother." Now I was even more confused. "You’ve always liked having Shan around, he’s family."

"I know, I know. But Shannon and Eva? I don’t like it."

"Oh." That was unexpected. He had never had a problem with it before, at least not one that he had showed or talked about like this. "Where is this coming from?" I asked slowly. "You’ve never said anything about it before, and we’ve both known that they have a relationship since going to see her at Thanksgiving. And you had an idea about it even before that. If I remember correctly, you didn’t have any objections whatsoever."

"Yeah, well, that was before."

"Before what?" I demanded. I was the one frustrated now. This involved my best friend whom I loved dearly, and if he thought she would somehow get hurt with Shannon, I wanted to know about it.

"Before it became serious. Before she came here, to LA, and wanted to see him," he explained.

"We knew it was serious! You couldn’t tell from the way they were acting around each other at the center?" I was doing everything I could to control my volume, but I wasn’t sure how well it was working. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t talk to me about this before now, before Eva was sitting in the living room and Shannon was on his way over.

"I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to believe it," he said defensively. "Part of me didn’t think it would turn into anything. Shannon hasn’t said anything else about Eva to me since we left Buffalo last month. I don’t know how he feels about her."

"What makes you think he’s going to hurt her?" I asked, fearing the answer.

Jared shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Shannon’s just never been the…monogamous type," he said in defeat. It had been the sentence that was on his mind for the entire conversation. "And by never, I mean never. He’s never had a serious relationship, and I don’t want him to fuck up and have it hurt Eva. She’s already…"

"…Fragile," I said, speaking Jared’s thoughts. My shoulders fell slightly as I realized what it was he was saying and that I was agreeing with him. "I don’t like this, at all."

"Neither do I."

"Maybe we’re not giving either of them enough credit," I said hopefully.

"Maybe…I don’t know," Jared replied, not sounding too optimistic. "What should we do?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "I don’t think there’s anything we can do. Even if I said something to Eva, tried to warn her away, she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s too deep into this already, you can tell by just looking at her."

"But…"

"You can warn Shan if you want, tell him to be careful, to make sure he really wants a relationship with Eva and can commit to it, but if I say anything to Eva, she’s going to feel like I’m attacking her. Believe me, I’ve tried it before with other guys back in Buffalo. It never worked."

"But…" he said again.

"All I can do is be there for her if something does happen and it doesn’t work out between them. Okay?"

"Okay," Jared repeated, nodding his head. I started for the door, but his words stopped me. "What are you going to do?" he blurted out, panicking again.

I turned back around, wondering what he meant. I was pretty sure I had just answered that question. "What am I going to do? I’m going to make peace with this, go back out there, and pretend we didn’t talk about what we just talked about until something happens. IF something even does happen and whether it is soon or in the distant future. I suggest you do the same, or everyone’s going to wonder what’s wrong, because you look seriously freaked right now. It’s their relationship, we can’t get in the middle of it."

He swallowed hard and nodded again. "I’m overreacting, aren’t I?" But he already knew the answer. "I just don’t want Eva to get hurt."

My eyes widened slightly as I heard his words. Since when did he come to harbor such concern for my friends? He hadn’t known them that long. "Eva?" I asked. "What about the possibility of Shannon getting hurt? He is your brother after all, I thought you’d be more concerned about him than about my friend."

"I’ve come to care about all of those people probably as much as you do," he said motioning toward the closed door and the three friends on the other side of it. "I haven’t known them as long as you have, but they mean the world to you, they’re like your family, and I can’t ignore that. And as for Shannon getting hurt, the thought never really crossed my mind. He’s usually always the one causing the pain, not the recipient of it."

"My point is," I said, eager to get back to my friends, "is that when it comes to relationships, to love, no one’s safe. We should know that better than anyone. And, despite a person’s best efforts, pain can’t be avoided. Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen, and we can’t control it nor dwell on it or we’ll go crazy. We have to pretend that Eva’s NOT a recovering drug addict and that Shannon IS the monogamous type. They have to do this and make their own mistakes if they’re going to make any at all. And then, if need be, be there when it falls apart. Okay?"

"Okay," Jared repeated for a final time. "Let’s go."

He took my hand and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before opening the door and leading me back into the living room. Three faces turned to look at us as we sat back down on the couch, but no questions were asked and nobody looked alarmed or even intrigued as to what Jared and I had been discussing. Instead, they returned to a debate they had been having in our absence about the difference in taste between Pepsi and Coke. So far, Kevin was convinced Pepsi tasted better, Eva was convinced that it was Coke, and Sarah couldn’t tell the difference. I settled back into Jared’s lap to absorb the petty argument we had had many times in my apartment around the television on a Saturday morning or on our way to clubs on Friday nights. They mostly just tried to sway Sarah to either of their sides to break the tie while I refrained from weighing in and simply laughed my ass off, unable to wipe the completely blissful smile off of my face.

You could hear the crowd from the end of the hall. My heart picked up pace as each footstep brought me closer to the other end of the hall, the moment of reckoning. I tightened the black tie around my waist before pushing open the heavy door and poking my head around its edge. O Fortuna was already playing and the guys were standing in a circle near the edge of the stage, preparing to enter, Jared’s back to me. I slipped through the door and closed it lightly behind me, standing against the back wall to wait. Their circle broke and I pushed myself further against the wall, wondering what would happen next. Matt looked up and his eyes landed on me. He smiled, then leaned over to Jared, alerting him to my presence.

I pulled the corner of my lip between my teeth as Jared turned, searching for me. I took a few steps forward and brushed my newly cut and dyed bangs to the side. Jared’s eyes lit up as soon as I made my location known. I smiled quickly, then continued chewing on my lip. Jared slowly approached, his all black outfit making his face and the red of his hair stand out in the darkness enveloping us backstage.

Shannon made his entrance.

"My trench coat?" he asked, stopping in front of me.

I didn’t answer but allowed my lip to leave my teeth, smiling timidly again. Jared’s eyes traveled down the black of his coat to the red stilettos adorning my feet. He recognized them. His eyes became playful as he caught on.

"Take it off," he said, beginning to whine, and one hand pulled at the tie around my waist.

Matt made his entrance.

I pushed his hand away but made no move to remove the coat myself.

"Come on, I’m running out of time!" His eyes were dancing, desire overflowing.

I wrinkled my nose, self-conscious of what lay beneath, but the puppy dog look in his eyes conquered. I reached for the tie, then let the coat drop from my shoulders, landing in a black pool behind my feet. I watched as his gaze traveled the length of my body, from my bare shoulders to the red-ribboned boning of the corset to the white miniskirt to the red heels, then back to my eyes. I found the same heat, the same lust that had been in his eyes in the store was there again.

He pulled me close against him and whispered in my ear, "Why did you have to do this to me now? When I can’t completely devour you…." I blushed as he pulled his head back slightly, his lips brushing against mine as he turned his head to the side. He reached up and ran a hand through my new tri-colored hair; black, brown, and dark red. "Gorgeous," he said. "But you’re missing one thing."

Tomo made his entrance.

"Oh? What’s that?" I asked, finally speaking, wondering what he meant.

He grinned playfully and reached around me to a small table. His hand returned with a Santa hat. "Holiday cheer," he said quickly. It was almost time for his entrance. He pulled the hat onto my head and looked me over again. "You’re beautiful my love," he said in his best Captain Jack Sparrow imitation. His hand reached around to the back of my neck, latching on and drawing me close. He pulled me into a deep kiss but released me quickly. It was time.

He walked to the edge of the stage and slipped Pythagoras over his head. He looked back at me one final time, then ran onstage.

As the beginning chords of A Beautiful Lie started, I walked to the edge where he had been standing moments before. Immediately I could tell he was in his element. He was in the moment, spinning around, his guitar flying out at his side, the white puff at the end of the Santa hat atop his own head bouncing as he did. Any thoughts of me, of wanting to devour me, must have been gone from his head, but they were still strong in mine.

- - -

When the show was over and equipment was packed, we decided to go out. I pulled a red jacket on over my corset and followed the band out to Jared’s car. I climbed in beside Jared and fell back comfortably into the seat. The desire in his eyes was back and he smiled playfully as he had earlier before starting the car and pulling out from the back of the venue. The guys argued over where to go while I allowed myself to get lost in the moment. Things were finally back to normal after visiting Eva a few weeks earlier and it felt damn good. It was the first time we had been out together since getting back to LA and since my hip was healed, and I wanted to make the feeling last. Jared, Shannon, and I would be going back to see Eva again for a late Christmas and New Year’s after the holidays, so for the moment, I wanted to be happy.

After much debate, we ended up at Hyde. We made it through the mob of people outside, me trying my best to hide in the middle of Jared, Shannon, Tomo and Matt, but we all knew there would be something in the tabloids again. The press had been starving for another picture of me with Jared since the first time he had taken me to Hyde.

Once inside, we sat down and ordered drinks. I didn’t feel like dancing by myself, so I stayed with the band, watching with interest as different friends and acquaintances came up to say hello. I was introduced to a few, the closer friends, and absorbed the atmosphere.

Throughout the night, Jared’s hand kept coming to rest on my thigh or shoulder, his touch emulating his desire. It started to drive me crazy, wondering why we had decided to go out instead of going home after the show. Things became more intense when a Metric remix came on of The Twist. It was sped up and much more synthesized, but the words were still the same. As the first verse started, I looked over at Jared to see if he was listening.

I leaned over and kissed him quickly as the chorus started, but he caught my lip in his teeth as I pulled away, holding me longer. I bit my lip where his teeth had been once I was released, wondering how much longer we were going to do this, sit there, anticipating our arrival at home. He reached up and pulled the Santa hat still on my head down over my eyes, immediately bursting out laughing and trying to lessen our desire while we were still in public. I stuck my tongue out at him and pushed the hat back up, my vision restored.

An hour later, Jared finally stood, roughly pulling me up with him. I downed the last of my drink and slipped my jacket back on. The guys took our cue and stood up as well, saying their goodbyes to the latest visitors. By now it was 4:00 and people were beginning to slow down.

We made our way safely back to the car, me hiding again in the middle of the guys. Jared sped over the pavement through the quiet streets, dropping everyone off before pulling in behind my Prius in his own driveway. I immediately got out of the car and walked around the front. Jared met me and grabbed my hand, pulling me up the walk to the front door. He unlocked it and shut off the alarm before pulling me inside and closing the door behind us. He released my hand as soon as the latch clicked.

We stood watching each other for a few moments, motionless. I decided he wasn’t going to make the first move, so I walked past him and down the hall to the kitchen, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I shed my jacket as I went and let it drop to the floor, stopping ten feet later and kicking off my heels, also letting them rest in the middle of the floor. I smiled to myself as I heard him moving slowly behind me, following the trail I had left.

Reaching the kitchen, I pulled a carton of strawberries out of the refrigerator and turned around, setting them on the counter. I dropped one in my mouth, the juice immediately flooding my taste buds.

I hadn’t had time to swallow before strong hands were placed on my sides and I was lifted to the counter. Before I could think, his mouth collided with mine, and in no time, his tongue was within my mouth, stealing small pieces of the fruit.

He pulled back quickly and placed his hands on either side of me on the counter before swallowing. I swallowed too and was about to speak, but with lightning speed he clamped a hand over my mouth, shaking his head no. My eyes widened, watching as he licked the red juice from his lips and smiled.

He removed his hand from my mouth but almost immediately replaced it with his own mouth again. He stepped closer to me, moving between my legs, pushing harder against my lips, his hands gripping my sides tightly.

My hands automatically found his face, then moved back into his hair. I gripped the jet black strands tightly as his tongue slipped into my mouth again. I moaned softly, the sound filling the silence of the kitchen.

Disappointed, I felt his hands leave me, but moments later, his vest was dropped to the floor and he pulled back again.

His eyes immediately found mine, captivating me, distracting me from his fingers toying with the hem of my skirt. I smiled breathlessly but it fell quickly from my face as my senses registered his hands sliding beneath the fabric. I swallowed hard, concentrating on his touch and nothing else. I sucked in air sharply as his hands squeezed my thighs before falling between my legs, taunting my desire. My eyes closed and my head rocked back against the cupboards. My breath shook, and then his hands were gone.

I looked back down at him in bewilderment, wondering what happened next. He placed his hands on my lower back and leaned forward, letting his lips brush softly against mine before they were placed lightly on my neck. On autopilot, my hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, working through them one by one. I was halfway down his chest when he found what he was looking for. A wave of shivers shot through my body as his lips lingered on my neck. I was immobile. Delighting in his dominance, he ran his fingers over my knuckles, white from gripping the counter.

Finally he pulled back, allowing some small semblance of control and mobility to return to my body. As it did, he unfastened the rest of the buttons on his shirt and the thin fabric slipped lightly from his shoulders, falling in a grey pool around his bare feet.

He leaned forward one last time, his lips colliding fiercely with mine. His hands grabbed my sides again, slowly pulling me to the edge of the counter. I immediately wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. In one swift movement, he swept me off my perch, breaking our kiss. I ran my fingers into his hair as he carried me, holding tightly and pulling his head back to look at me. He did, the clear blue pools intense with his hunger. He locked onto my gaze, but I dipped my head, kissing him on the neck, shoulder, wherever I could make contact.

Before it registered that we were ascending the stairs, we were already at the top. Jared kicked open the bedroom door and entered spinning around to the wall and throwing me forcefully against it. My back arched as my spine hit the drywall hard and I gasped. Jared didn’t seem to notice.

He leaned forward, his lips finding my neck again. As he found the right spot, my body went limp. My hands fell from his shoulders, my legs from his waist. His hands still held my sides, his grip growing tighter as he supported the entire weight of my body. He slowly lowered me to the floor, once again enjoying his control.

As I recovered on the carpet, he disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later with three pillar candles. Setting them on the nightstand, he pulled a lighter out of the drawer and ignited each wick. I struggled to my feet and moved to the side of the bed, stopping behind him. I wrapped my arms around his torso and down to his abdomen, my destination being his belt buckle, but he turned around before I made it that far. He looked down at me, then kissed me roughly.

When our lips parted, he disappeared behind me. I frowned, confused and not liking the lack of contact. But hands almost immediately landed on my shoulders, tracing the bare skin before moving down to the red ribbon marking the top of the corset. He planted a light kiss on my shoulder before his fingers began working the lacing up my back, slowly loosening what had kept me confined all night. With every fraction of an inch the fabric relaxed, my heart raced faster, my breathing shallower. My hand shaking, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to slow my respiration, my excitement. I heard Jared laugh softly behind me, his fingers still working the ribbon. My body yearned for his touch, to touch him, but his pace was viciously slow.

Finally, the corset was slipped over my head. Before I could turn around, his hands slid up my sides and to my breasts before falling down to the top of my skirt. I felt him step closer behind me, and my head fell back against his shoulder. He lightly traced my skin, sending my abdomen into fits. He laughed again, his breath hot against my neck and shoulder.

He stepped away abruptly, my head jerking up as it lost its support. He stood in front of me again and I threw myself at him, needing to touch him, to kiss him. He pulled me down onto the bed with him, my lips pressed firmly against his. I clung to his shoulders and chest, my hands exploring well-known territory that felt completely and utterly unknown.

I quickly found my way to his belt buckle, and this time, Jared let me follow through. My lips trailed down his chest and stomach, stopping just above the top of his Calvin Klein’s peeking out above his black jeans. I smiled and bit my lip, my fingers nimbly working the button and zipper, allowing his hunger and desire to be free of the confining fabric.

As soon as he was, he pulled me back to eye level with him. He licked his lips slowly before crushing my mouth with his own, his tongue finding mine. I must have lost touch with reality, because my skirt and panties were being removed before I knew it was happening.

With all clothing shed, nothing but air separated us from being together.

Strong hands gripped my hips, pulling me down. My back slid against the cool sheets, a slight relief to the heat of my body, but my mind was elsewhere. He stopped and brushed the hair back from my eyes, running my bangs through his fingers and smiling again at the new cut. He lowered his head and kissed me softly before pulling back. He traced my cheekbone, then my neck before his lips replaced his fingers.

This was the wrong time to be moving slowly again. I impatiently clawed at whatever piece of him I could reach, trying to get him to come back to me. But he continued to explore my body. When his face finally reappeared above mine, I bit my lip, anticipating what came next, but it wasn’t what I expected.

He grinned maliciously down at me, and before I knew what was happening, I was frozen. His lips were on my neck once again and he had complete control. He knew, full well, the power he now possessed over my body, and he used it torture me.

He slowly lowered himself between my legs. I managed to force out a whimper as my body demanded his motion, but he didn’t give it to me. His fingers stroked my sides a final time, drawing a pattern on my skin while his lips maintained pressure against my neck. My senses were screaming for more, for the ecstasy only he could provide me with, but my body could do nothing about it.

A fraction of a second before he viciously slammed himself into me, finally providing both of us with what we craved most, he released me from his hold. Able to move again, my back arched with the beginnings of our ascent as his motions simultaneously pushed me deeper into the mattress.

With every thrust, his lips caught mine and a new wave of pleasure wracked my body. I began to uncontrollably twist and writhe beneath him as an unrivaled intensity swept over both of us. Ending the silence I had begun downstairs in the kitchen, my throat opened and a cry filled the room, my fingernails digging into my palms. Jared looked down at me intently, pleased and amused, before he quickened the pace.

I was driven dangerously close to the edge of release, my body quivering, waiting for the moment. And then it stopped.

I blinked, confused, and found Jared’s face. There was a perverse smile gracing his lips. Maybe he found my torture entertaining, but I most certainly did not.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed in desperation, in frustration, my hand finding his back, my nails digging in. He laughed, and then crushed my lips with his own before taking me the rest of the way.

Oxygen was forced out of my lungs as he started moving again and I was sent over the edge. I froze, having reached the highest level of ecstasy I had ever felt, but Jared kept moving in need of his own release.

I slowly came down, my body shuddering. When I came to rest, my heart racing but my body still, Jared withdrew and lowered himself beside me, his body half covering mine. I turned my head and nuzzled into his shoulder, the smell of sweat mingled with cologne filling my nostrils. His arm lying across my stomach, he began tracing a small pattern on my hip. He was unusually silent.

"That was…"

"…indescribable," he finished for me.

"Yeah, that’s the word," I said softly. "You’re the one for me, you’re my ecstasy, you’re the one I need."

He lifted his head as recognition dawned on him. "You said that before," he stated, looking down at me.

"Mmhmm," I said, nodding my head.

"You gonna tell me what it’s from?" he asked, a slight puppy-dog look in his eyes.

I bit my lip, debating. "No, I don’t think so," I answered. "It’s a secret."

"Fine," he said shortly, a mock pout on his face, before he fell back to the sheets.

I turned to my side and scooted closer to him. I wasn’t sure what or why, but something was off. He wasn’t being his usual after-sex self.

"Jared?" I whispered.

"Hmmm," he murmured. He was lying on his stomach, his head facing away from me.

"Jared," I said a bit more persistently. He lifted his head and turned to me before laying it back down again, but he didn’t say anything. I studied his face. There were slight lines in his forehead, the signs of tension. Impatience was held captive in his eyes along with confusion. I didn’t get it. "What’s wrong Jared?" I asked softly, the high of being together quickly fading.

"Nothing," he said, a slight defensive tone in his voice. I hadn’t attacked him, had I?

"Are you sure?" I asked carefully.

He blinked a few times, realizing I had seen something in his eyes. "I’m sure," he said strongly, trying to reassure me. In further attempt, he leaned towards me and caught my lips with his. I closed my eyes immediately as I tried to fall away and forget the unsettling emotions I had seen in his eyes. His tongue traced my lips before I opened my mouth to him, allowing him to sweep me away for just a few moments. The hand he still rested on my hip tightened and pulled me closely against his body before he pulled his mouth away. "I’m sure," he repeated confidently. "I love you."

I studied him again, but he succeeded in showing me only the compassion he possessed. I licked my lips, remembering his kiss, his love, his presence within me. I didn’t want to, but I accepted his answer and nestled my head against his chest. Eventually, I fell into an uneasy sleep, his body wrapped protectively around mine.

- - -

I woke with a start, my breath ragged and my heart racing. It was light outside, but just barely. Sunrise was on its way. I lifted myself onto my elbows, blinking furiously to entirely wake myself up. What happened? I shook my head and checked the bed beside me to make sure I hadn’t woken Jared up, but he wasn’t there. Whatever I had been dreaming about immediately dropped in importance. Where was he? Was he okay? I knew he wasn’t, not after seeing his eyes earlier…

I threw the sheets back from the bed and pushed myself up off the mattress. On my way to the door, I picked up a discarded black t-shirt of Jared’s from the chair in the corner and pulled it over my head. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I listened for signs of his location, but I heard nothing. Perplexed, I continued through the house to the living room. On the far wall, I finally spotted light beneath the curtained door to the music room. I stood leaning against the couch, chewing on my lip, not sure of what to do next.

Making up my mind, I crept across the floor to the door, my hand shaking as it reached for the handle. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what lay behind the barrier, but I had to know. I slowly pushed down and the door swung open silently.

Soft guitar strums greeted my ears and I stepped fully into the room. It took me a few moments, but I quickly recognized the song. Jared was sitting on a stool in his boxers fifteen feet in front of me, facing the piano. His back was to me. His shoulders were slumped, his torso hunched over the instrument resting across his thighs. I uncomfortably folded my arms across my chest before bringing a finger to my mouth, chewing on one of my nails.

"Come, break me down,

Bury me, bury me…"

His voice was low, but it carried throughout the room, reaching my ears. My body immediately wanted to sink to the floor but I locked my knees, remaining upright. He sang through the song again without stopping before he dropped the pick to the ground. I waited a few moments, but he did nothing.

"Why?" I asked. My voice was barely above a whisper but it demanded his attention.

He must have known I was there. He didn’t jump at my question. "Why what?"

"Why did you just do that?" I said, expanding the question.

He still didn’t turn around. "Why did I do what?" he asked again.

Frustrated, I dropped my hand from my mouth. I stared hard at the back of his head, willing him to turn, but he didn’t. Pushing down my anger, I walked across the carpet to stand in front of him. He looked up at me weakly, his body still crumpled over his guitar.

"Tear yourself apart," I said simply.

He blinked, surprised. But I stood, awaiting a reply. "Because I need answers, and I can never do that on stage," he said, standing up and brushing past me to replace the acoustic in its stand.

"Answers," I repeated, confused.

"Yeah," he said, not offering any more.

I stepped in front of him as he attempted to walk past me again. "Answers to what?"

"Nothing," he said, trying to brush it off. But I wasn’t going to let it go. There was an emptiness to his eyes that I couldn’t just dismiss.

"Not good enough," I said, my tone harsher than I would’ve liked.

"Why not?"

I pulled him over to the couch and pushed him down into the cushions. I remained standing and began pacing. "Do you remember what I wrote in my notebook the day...the day before I bought those cigarettes?"

"No..." he said slowly, wracking his brain as he answered. "I know I didn't like it, I know it scared me."

"Please understand me, I am alone with my thoughts. Please rescue me, I am falling fast. Please help me, I have nowhere left to turn. Please save me, my rapid decline is overwhelming," I said, reciting the lines that felt most appropriate.

Recognition and remembrance appeared on his face as we were both brought back to that day.

"You were all of those things for me. You helped me. I don't know if you fully understood, but you rescued me, helped me, saved me. And I didn't think I had to tell you, but I can do all of that for you too. I want to." He looked confused, trying to organize his thoughts. "I need to..." I added softly. "You told me you wanted me to talk to you, to not repress, but sometimes, you have to take your own advice. Can you do that?"

He took a deep breath and sat up, resting his forehead in his hands. I stopped pacing, realizing it was probably setting him more on edge than it was actually helping me. "Answers to everything," he said abruptly, looking up at me. "An answer to every question running through my psychotic head."

"Questions?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, questions," he said, his voice growing stronger. "Questions like...After everything I've done, why do I have you? Why do I deserve you? Why do I love you? Why am I not the happiest man on Earth right now? Why do you love me?..."

My head was spinning. I wasn't ready for this. I walked to the couch and sat down next to him, crossing my legs and pulling the t-shirt over my knees nervously. "Everything you've done?" I asked, pressing him for more information. I didn't need specifics, but I needed to know what he meant before I could even begin to formulate a response.

He nodded his head and took another deep breath. "Everything I've done. All of the mistakes I've made, all the people I've hurt, everything I've ever taken for granted..."

"What about all of the people you've helped? All of the people whose lives you have unknowingly saved. All of the people you have inspired. All of the people that respect you for all that you have accomplished. All of the people whose lives you have touched in unexpected ways. You can't lose sight of that."

"The bad outweighs the good," he said sadly. "The good is immaterial, intangible. And as far as I can see, I haven't accomplished anything worthwhile."

"Look around you," I said loudly, forcefully, desperation to make him believe my words growing within me. "This," I said waving around the room, "this is what you’ve accomplished. Everything you have. Your acting, your music. It’s worth everything. This is what you have to be proud of."

"Maybe it’s worth being proud of, maybe you’re right. But it doesn’t mean I deserve it. It means I got lucky," he countered.

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it almost immediately. I needed to think before responding. I needed to find the words that would change his perspective, and I found it.

"You think you don’t deserve your success?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"You think you don’t deserve to be admired, to be loved?"

He shook his head. I paused, not sure if I should ask the next question or not.

"You don’t think you deserve me?"

He didn’t move. He looked hard into my eyes for a long moment, evaluating the impact of his answer.

"I don’t just think, I know I don’t deserve you," he said quickly, spitting the words out before allowing himself to reconsider. His form, hunched beside me on the couch, was lost. This was not the Jared I knew. This was an insecure man who held himself to too-high standards, who hated the person he was and the things he had.

"You deserve nothing more than me," I began. "How’s this for perspective? I am your punishment."

"Some punishment," he interjected.

"Listen," I said earnestly. "I am the penalty that has been handed down to you for the mistakes you’ve made and the people you’ve hurt. I am your burden to bear for every single thing you’ve ever taken for granted." He tried to protest, but I didn’t let him. "I torture you when I pull away. I torture you when I lie. I torture you when I repress. I torture you when I break. I torture you when I have the urge to shoot up. I torture you when I attempt to face my demons. I torture you when I fail. I torture you when you’re forced to put me back together. I torture you when you’re faced with the impossible task of making everything better for me. I torture you when I smash my fist into a mirror simply because my mother died. I torture you when I run until I’m seriously injured. You deserve nothing more than me. I am your purgatory."

"That doesn’t make any sense," he said slowly.

"Yes it does," I insisted. "Think about it. Life isn’t sunshine and roses with us. It’s sunshine and hell. It’s ecstasy and crippling pain. By your reasoning, it’s everything you deserve, and then some."

We sat in silence for at least five minutes, me chewing violently on my lip as I wondered whether my words would work or not. I watched his eyes change from confused to doubtful to accepting repeatedly as he tore through everything I had said, trying to make his own sense of it.

"It’s a bad concept," he said finally. "The idea that you’re this…awful creation that was thrown into my life to punish me. It’s ridiculous. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

"Maybe so," I said, forming new words. "But can’t I also be the worst? Your reasons for me being the best thing that has ever happened to you are your own, and I don’t need to know what they are. But I have also caused you pain. I have caused you anger, stress, and immeasurable torment. I never said that I was only punishment, only purgatory. But why can’t that be one of the reasons for me falling into your life like I did?"

Jared stopped to think again, his eyes darting around the room as his mind moved at lightning speed, finally coming to a conclusion. "Okay," he said simply.

"Okay?" I repeated, surprise filling my voice. I didn’t know my insane metaphor or whatever it was would actually work.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "I’m not sure if I completely buy into it or not, but in some…crazy…twisted way, it can fit. It can make sense." The familiar light was returning to his eyes, bit by bit.

"Crazy and twisted," I said smiling. "That’s us."

He wasn’t completely back to normal, and part of me wondered if this was only a temporary fix, but I was thankful for it.

"Thank you my love," he whispered, closing the space between our bodies. His lips caught mine by surprise and pulled me under. I fell into the kiss, into his embrace, and for those next moments, it was all okay. I was his purgatory, I was his savior, I was his everything. I was his love, and he was mine.

Exiting onto Elmwood again, Jared laced his fingers through mine and pulled me against him, his momentary jealousy and discomfort having already disappeared.

We walked Elmwood all the way down to Home of the Hits, stopping in between at Damsel in a Dress, Everything Elmwood, Neighborhood Collective, Plum Pudding, Shoe Fly, Talking Leaves, and Urban Clothing Co.

We spent a long time in Talking Leaves, Jared delighting in the idea of an independent book store. He must have looked at every single shelf twice before I pulled him out of there, a bag containing a Buddhism book and Frida Kahlo calendar hanging contentedly from his fingers.

When we were in Damsel in a Dress, he made me come out and show him every dress I tried on. Amused, I did as he said and blushed as he repeatedly complimented me.

Nothing stood out to me until the end. It was the only hanger I had left in the dressing room. I almost didn’t try it on, frustrated with my inability to find something I loved. The store had always had something new and perfect every time I went in, but this time seemed a failure.

I chewed on my lip as I looked at the last article. My eyes traveled along the dark red ribbon tracing the boning down the torso. The entire thing appeared hand-sewn in red and white thread, stark against the black fabric. I picked it up and turned it around, my eyes drawn to the thicker ribbon lacing up the back. I grinned, knowing I had to put it on.

Before emerging, I pulled on my jeans and poked my head around the curtain. I called the saleswoman over, asking her into the dressing room to fully lace me up, tight. Jared would have happily done it, but I didn’t want him to see it until the end. The woman smiled when she was done and told me it fit perfectly. I knew she was just trying to sell it, but she was right. It was perfect.

Grinning, I pushed the curtain to the side and stepped into the store. Jared immediately got up from the ottoman he was sitting on while he waited. There was something different in his eyes this time, different than the dresses I had put on.

"Is that...a corset?" he asked as he walked towards me. A smile was playing on the corners of his mouth.
I gave a small nod, trying to decipher his eyes. There was a heat to them, a lust I rarely saw. I watched as his eyes traveled from my bare shoulders, across my chest, and to my waist before returning his gaze to mine. Desire.

"You are gorgeous," he said slowly, quietly.

I blushed and crossed my arms across my chest, embarrassed for reasons I didn’t know. "Thanks," I said, focusing on the floor.

He leaned down and kissed my gently, pulling my head up, before pushing me back into the dressing room, a warm glow in his eyes.

"Take it off and hand it out to me," he said through the curtain.

"Why?" I asked, the hanger in my hand.

"Because I’m buying it."

"What?!"

"I’m buying it," he said slower.

"Nuh uh."

"Mmm hmm."

"Jared, I don’t want you to buy it for me."

"Who said it’s for you?" I could hear the tease in his voice, but my mouth immediately fell open. Closing it, I handed it to him around the edge of the curtain. I pulled my shirt back over my head and slipped my jacket on before emerging. Jared was at the counter, money in hand.

I walked up beside him and kissed him lightly on the cheek, blushing as the saleswoman watched us, an entertained smile upon her face. With his change in hand, I swept the black bag delightedly from the counter and followed Jared out of the store.

After stops at Shoe Fly, where Jared insisted again on buying me a pair of shoes to go with the corset, and then the Lexington Co-op, where I bought my favorite granola I had been missing and a couple blueberry muffins, we finally stopped at Hero and purchased a few posters before returning to the apartment.

When we walked in the door, Shannon was sprawled out across the couch, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He was flipping absentmindedly through the channels, not paying much attention to anything, but he immediately jumped up when he heard us enter.

"Took you long enough," he said irritably as he walked over.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were down at Kevin's," I asked.

"Yeah, I was, but then I went for a walk, and I just ended up back here. Keys bro?"

Jared tossed him the keys and started to ask where he was going, but the door closed behind him before he could get the words out. He glanced at me and I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't care, Jared and I had the apartment to ourselves now. We carried the bags into the bedroom, but I left them piled in front of the closet doors.

"Still feeling sick?" Jared asked from the doorway.

"Thankfully, no," I said. "I could go for some lunch though."

"In or out?"

"Out, I think. We don't really have anything here except granola and muffins."

So we walked back outside and down a couple of blocks to Mighty Taco. Yes, it was fast food, but it was the most delicious Mexican fast food you could find...in the country. Most definitely better than Taco Bell. Not to mention cheap.

After two bean burritos each, we walked back up the street to the apartment, bickering about how to spend the rest of the afternoon before dinner and going out again with Kevin and Sarah. I wanted to watch a movie, but he didn't want to let me, predicting that I would fall asleep.

But I won the argument and we settled on the couch to watch Magnolia.

As Jared predicted, I fell asleep only half an hour into the movie, my head resting in his lap. When I woke up, it was noticeably darker in the room. The clock read 5:17. I turned onto my back and looked up at Jared. He had fallen asleep too, his torso slumped to the side at almost ninety degrees with his head against the armrest. I suppressed a laugh and quietly sat up. I stretched and shut the television off. As soon as I did, Jared stirred. He frowned slightly and his hand felt around where my head had just been, searching for my hair or any part of me that told him I was still there. When he didn't find it, he slowly blinked his eyes open and straightened up.

"Fuck, my back," he muttered quietly, then looked over at me.

"Hypocrite," I shot at him.

"What?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

I grinned, but tried to look as scornful as possible. "You didn't want to watch a movie because you said I would fall asleep. But YOU DID TOO. So ha." I stuck out my tongue at him.

He seemed fully awake now, and he leaned over and grabbed me around the waist before I could move out of the way. "You fell asleep first," he said simply, his hands making a move to tickle me.

But I twisted away and fell onto the floor.

"Oomphugh," I grumbled as my elbow collided with the foot of the couch. I heard him laughing above me and crawled away from his feet before standing. "Not cool," I said indignantly.

"It's not like I pushed you," he said, hands held up in defense.

I wrinkled my nose at him and made for the bedroom. "An hour till we leave," I called over my shoulder. But as soon as I was in the room, arms grabbed me from behind and tossed me onto the bed.

"Jesus Christ!" I exploded. "I think I just had a fucking heart attack."

"Are we feeling dramatic this evening?" Jared asked, his voice teasing.

I pouted, crossing my arms across my chest. He pounced onto the bed beside me, but before I could retaliate in any way, his arm was around my back and his lips were forcefully pressed against mine. I slowly reclined until he was above me. His fingers were already toying with the bottom of my shirt when I scooted out from beneath him. He collapsed on the bed and growled lowly at me.

"We have to get ready to go!" I said in response to his stare.

He still didn't move.

"Come on, please? This is our last night here..."

His annoyed, defiant persona fell as he realized the emotion behind my words. He could tell I was reluctant about having to leave tomorrow. He got up from the bed and walked over to me in front of the closet. I watched him approach, my emotions growing quickly and threatening to spill. He slid his arms around me and pulled me tightly against him. I nuzzled my head into his neck, absorbing his support and empathy. After a few long moments, he pulled away, kissed me lightly on the forehead, and disappeared through the bedroom door without a word.

When he had left, I reminded myself that I still had this night. This night to be with my friends, and the next morning to see Eva again. And then I would be going back to my other home, with Jared and my other family, in LA. And it would be okay.

Sighing heavily, I rummaged through my closet while I decided what exactly I wanted to do that night, determining what clothes I wore. Of the few clothes that were still there and not in California, I pulled out a black and white striped v-neck sweater. Shedding my Inspi(RED) t-shirt from earlier that day, I pulled it over my head. I took off the guitar pick necklace and fastened the turquoise one on instead, matching the ring already on my finger. I swept my hair back, sticking a few turquoise clips in to hold back stray pieces, and stepped into a pair of turquoise heels I had bought earlier. No dancing tonight, but I still felt the need to dress up.

I exited the bedroom and sat next to Jared at a stool in the kitchen. He glanced away from his laptop and looked me up and down, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You look wonderful," he said softly. "Where are we going?"

"Chippewa," I said hesitantly.

His face immediately darkened, in surprise and concern, not anger. "You sure?"

I looked away, not wanting to answer. But he silently demanded one. "No, honestly, I’m not sure. But I can’t avoid it for the rest of my life when I’m come back here to visit. It’s a part of the city I love that I frequent with my friends. I’m going to avoid Quote, but I can’t avoid the street, the atmosphere. We’re going to go to SoHo. No dancing, just drinks."

He seemed unsure, not wanting to believe me. But again, he knew this night meant a lot to me, so he shrugged it off. "Alright, when are we leaving?"

"I don’t know, I’ll call Sarah," I said reaching over him for the phone. She picked up after the first ring.

"Darling, where are you? We’ve been waiting for you to call."

"We just got back and got changed," I said laughing. "You guys want to come down here before we go out? It’s a little early yet."

"Yeah, sure, fifteen minutes," Sarah responded, abruptly disconnecting the call.

I stared at the receiver in wonder for a few moments before laughing again and hanging it up. "Fifteen minutes," I said to Jared in answer to his quizzical look. He just nodded and turned back to his laptop. What he was doing I didn’t know, but I left him to it, settling on the couch with the remote until Sarah and Kevin arrived.

Jared answered the door when they knocked, leaving his laptop to collapse next to me on the couch, Sarah and Kevin settling on the opposite couch.

"Where we going?" Sarah asked.

"I was thinking SoHo," I said, anticipating a reaction something like, ‘What?! No dancing?!’ Luckily, her reaction was the opposite.

"Cool, cool," was all she said. Apparently she had been hoping for an answer like that, for she too was not in her usual dancing clothes. "Ooooo cute shoes!" she exclaimed, the bright turquoise attracting her gaze.

"Thanks," I said grinning. "Shoe Fly, of course."

"Of course," she repeated, wrinkling her nose. She preferred the numerous shoe stores in the mall, but Shoe Fly would always be my favorite. More than 2/3 of the shoes in my collection were found there, and Sarah had always borrowed my shoes when I lived full-time in Buffalo, but she would never admit that she liked them. She could have a lot of pride and determination sometimes.

I shook myself out of the nostalgia and got up, grabbing two beers and two bottles of water from the refrigerator. Returning, I handed the beers to Kevin and Sarah and one of the water bottles to Jared before sitting back down beside him. There was something in the atmosphere, something almost tangible. I was apprehensive about seeing Eva tomorrow, and I was sad about having to leave. I could tell Sarah and Kevin were feeling the same things I was. And Jared, well, I couldn’t read him as easily as always. He was an emotional cocktail, I could tell. I guessed he missed his house, his dogs, his city, but he was happy to be here with me as well. I could tell he was anxious to get back and didn’t necessarily want to go out tonight, but he was going to be supportive for me. He knew the next day wouldn’t be easy in any way. We were all a little withdrawn, quiet.

Just then, Jared’s blackberry rang, breaking the silence. I immediately recognized the separate ringtone that indicated a call from his brother. I looked at Jared as he answered.

"Hey Shan. Where are you?...Okay…We’re going out in a little while, but we’ll wait."

"What?" I asked him when he hung up.

"I don’t know where he was," Jared said shrugging, "but he’s on his way back to the hotel. He said he was going to shower and then come over if we’re going to be around. So I said we’d wait."

I glanced at the clock. 7:30. We had plenty of time. "Absolutely," I said. "Now let’s watch Jeopardy." I grabbed the remote off of the coffee table, stealing a glance at Sarah. It had been a tradition with us when she had worked at Salvatore’s too for a few months. Our shifts on Tuesdays ended at 7:00, so she would come over, we would have a drink, and then watch Jeopardy at 7:30. There was a smile on her face that surely matched mine as we both remembered the tradition.

By the time Jeopardy was over, Shannon was there, sitting comfortably on the other side of me on the couch, beer in hand. I waited until he finished, then stood up. Everyone immediately followed, assuming it was time to go.

We exited the apartment and started walking towards Chippewa. As we went, I held tightly to Jared’s gloved hand, flashing back to my walk to Quote just a few nights before. He must have sensed my anxiety, because he pulled on my hand, bringing my body closer against his, his pace falling into step with mine.

When we reached SoHo, I relaxed a little bit. We found a table in the back and ordered drinks. When they came, I decided my vodka would be my only drink that night. I wanted to enjoy it, remember it, not have drunken bits and pieces of memories of the night. With the way I was feeling, not wanting to leave, I knew that was a distinct possibility, so I chose self-control. It was a little bit self-preservation as well, knowing Jared wouldn’t be the happiest if I, at the age of 20, was completely drunk.

We stayed at SoHo for three and a half hours. It was midnight when we decided to leave, so we filed out of the bar, Sarah, Kevin, and Shannon walking ahead, Jared and I trailing behind. I stopped abruptly, Jared’s hand tugging on my wrist as he continued to walk. Realizing I wasn’t moving anymore, he stopped as well and came back to my side.

"What’s going on?" he asked quietly, glancing quickly ahead at our friends getting farther away.

"Will you do something with me?" I asked, disregarding his question. He paused, examining me, but I looked down at a crack in the sidewalk. "Please." I whispered.

"Of course," he said. He let go of my hand and ran to catch up with Shannon. I watched as they exchanged words, then Jared came back to me. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started walking back towards Chippewa. "Where are we going?" he asked as he caught back up to me.

But I didn’t answer. I shook my head and looked briefly at him, pleading. No questions. He would find out soon enough, if he didn’t already have an idea.

We turned a corner and the electric green sign came into view. Jared immediately grabbed my elbow, stopping me in my tracks.

"What happened to avoiding Quote?" he demanded.

I shrank away slightly at his harsh tone. I knew it was only him wanting to protect me, afraid for me, but the tone was not pleasant.

"I’m facing my demons," I shot back at him. It wasn’t intentional, but I was sounding harsh now too. Tension filled the air between us. He definitely didn’t want me going inside. "I need to do this," I said, my words not leaving any room for debate. I pulled my arm from his grasp, my hands leaving my pockets. "I’m going in there, whether you come with me or not. But it would probably be better if you did," I said, softening my tone.

His gaze was still hard, but I stood my ground, waiting to see what he was going to do. He briefly paced in a small circle as I watched, his hands running through his hair. He stopped and looked at me, checking to make sure I really was serious, then took my hand in his. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was still going to support me.

Reassured, I walked through the door into the dark club. Immediately the mediocre music filled my ears while my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I felt Jared close behind me as the crowd influenced our direction, but I pushed through, my destination the back corner.

I felt Jared pull back on my hand as I reached the door, trying one last time to stop me, but nothing was going to stop me. I needed this.

I pushed through the door and felt Jared’s hand drop from mine. A part of me wondered if he was going to stay outside, but I was too preoccupied to dwell.

I froze as the door swung closed behind me. There he was, standing in the corner. A menacing grin on his face, he recognized me. But he remained silent. I dropped my gaze from his, afraid he would pull me in before I could stop myself, with Jared right outside the door. I looked to the floor, the discarded needles making me nauseous. There were two girls passed out in the corner. I looked closer and realized they were the same two girls from my previous visit. I used to be them, I thought. Here every night. And immediately I started flashing back. Not to three nights before, but to the numerous, countless nights I had spent there, in the corner, after Dan died. Passed out, or in a daze. Trying to be numb, take away the pain. Trying to feel alive, invincible. Forever wanting the bliss and perfection you could only attain if you reached the high. I started pacing, out of touch with my surroundings. My head was spinning, as memory upon memory, vision upon vision of that bathroom floor flashed before my eyes at the speed of light. It was dizzying. The pain I felt on those nights came rushing back in an instant, and I wanted the high again. I wanted it all.

Suddenly, I crashed into something. Something that wrapped its arms around me, holding me still. Faintly, I heard yelling around me. Somebody wasn’t happy.

I started drifting back to the present, the memories fading but the desire for a ziploc bag from the man in the corner still strong.

It was Jared, that’s who was holding me. And he was yelling at the man in the corner. Was I crying? Yes, I was. I started laughing, then slowly tuned into the argument.

"You can’t be in here!" the man was shouting. "This is a women’s bathroom!"

"You’re a man!" Jared yelled back. "A despicable excuse for a fucking human being!"

The man rolled his eyes and dismissed the comment. "Is she going to buy, or what? Are you?"

"NO! SHE’S NOT GOING TO FUCKING BUY, AND NEITHER AM I!" Jared screamed even louder.

"Yes I am," I said through my laughs.

Jared looked down at me, not aware I was back in the present. He blinked at my comment before responding. "No, you’re not," he said forcefully.

"Okay," I answered simply, still laughing.

I was there, but I wasn’t. I was easily influenced, and Jared could tell. Obviously, my idea had been a bad one, so he led me out of the bathroom and through the club quickly, his hands never leaving my arms.

We walked back to the apartment in silence. He held onto me, most likely out of fear I would turn around and try to go back. His grip was rough, forceful. As I slowly came completely back to the world from whatever trance my flashbacks had put me in, I sensed his anger. But it was more than that. It was disappointment. I had disappointed him. And I started crying silently all over again.

When we reached the apartment and the door was safely closed and locked, he finally let me go. I walked directly into the bedroom, kicked off my heels, and buried myself in the covers. I felt awful, like I had let him down. Like I wasn’t strong enough to handle the shit I needed to handle. I was a disappointment.

I felt his weight on the bed beside me, but I didn’t bring my head above the covers. We stayed there for a long time, me hiding, him waiting, until we both were calm. Or at least, calmer.

I felt him tug at the sheets, so I released my grip and let him pull them down. My head level with his chest, I tipped it up, searching for his eyes. When I found them, I saw they were filled with apology. Concern and fear were there too.

"I can’t face my demons," I whispered, barely audible. "I can’t do it."

"It’s okay," he said quietly. He pulled me against him and I buried my head in his chest. "It’s okay," I heard him whisper again, his fingers running through my hair.

Emotionally exhausted, I almost immediately passed out.

I woke up and it was dark. The moon was coming in the window, throwing light across Jared’s face. The rest of the room I couldn’t see.

Why am I awake?

My stomach twisted.

Vaguely aware of sweat dripping from my forehead as I lifted my head from Jared’s chest, I began shivering violently. The room began to spin and I lost focus. I groped my way to the edge of the bed, trying to be quiet and not drag the sheets with me. I fell off the edge of the bed and landed in a rather awkward position on the floor. Despite my efforts, I let out a moan, the pain of falling and the nausea becoming too much to hold back. I managed to rise to my feet, the cold sweat running down my back while my body felt as though it were on fire. Stumbling to the bathroom, I collapsed on the cool tile floor, pressing every inch of my skin against it that I could. I blinked a few times, willing the spinning sensation to go away, but it only got worse. Groaning again, I pulled myself up on the edge of the toilet and rested my chin on the ceramic bowl until my stomach twisted again, more violently, and emptied itself of what was left of my dinner. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and let my torso fall to the floor again. The hair glued with sweat to my forehead and face were beginning to annoy me, the feel of them making my skin crawl. But I was too weak to do anything about it. "Shit," I managed to mutter as I rolled over onto my stomach. I couldn’t stop shivering, but I felt like I was being burned alive. I pulled myself up to lean over the toilet again, the beginnings of another purge making themselves known. I felt hands appear on my shoulders, then in my hair, finally peeling if off of my skin. I opened my mouth to thank him, to apologize, or tell him to go back to bed, but another bout of bile poured forth before I could. Weak, I fell back against him and he laid me down, the cold tile beginning to relieve the inexplicable heat overwhelming every cell of my skin. A blanket was draped over me, my body still naked from earlier that night. I heard the water running in the sink once, twice, three times. First, a cold washcloth was laid on my forehead. Then a damp towel cleaned off my mouth and the hand that had previously wiped my mouth. He sat me up and brought a glass of water in front of my face. I tried to take it from him, but my hand was shaking, so he lifted it to my lips. He set it down on the floor beside me and I realized I could focus again. The spinning was slowing.

"Thank you," I said finally.

"What happened?" he asked, still holding the washcloth against my forehead.

"I don’t know. Food poisoning. Flu. I don’t care, it’s going away I think." I closed my eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass. Able to sit up by myself, I held the blanket across my chest and Jared’s hand moved from supporting my shoulder to running up and down my bare back.
I turned to look at him and he let the washcloth drop. "Go back to bed."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stay here, in case it comes back."

"And you expect me to leave you here? Abandon you?" he asked incredulously.

"Well...no... but I thought it was worth a try." I wished he would go back to bed. I could do this on my own. And a throwing-up girl isn’t exactly the most attractive.

But he shook his head and stood, exiting the bathroom only to return a few moments later, boxers in hand. He pulled them on and sat down against the cabinets, reaching forward to pull me back against him. I wrapped the blanket tightly around us and curled into a ball on his lap, smiling as he rested his chin on top of my head. My eyes closed as I ignored the nausea and headache still present. Soon, I was in dreamland.

- - -

I slowly became aware of fingers tracing up and down my arm. Smiling, I stirred, pressing closer against him before settling again. I was afraid to open my eyes, afraid the room would start spinning again. The nausea wasn’t completely gone.

But reluctantly, I did. I wanted to see the man who had taken care of me during the night. I blinked a few times, focusing on the sunlight filling the bathroom, before looking up at him.

"Hello gorgeous," he said sleepily. He tipped his head down and pressed his lips to mine.

"Good morning," I said against his mouth before he kissed me again.

"Ew, gross," he said, pulling away and making a face.

I laughed, I couldn’t help myself. "I know. But you kissed me, and I wasn’t about to complain." I pulled myself up on the edge of the counter, letting the blanket fall to the floor, and grabbed my toothbrush. "At least you’re not the one that was throwing up," I shot down at him.

He made a face and started blowing a stead stream of air onto the back of my calf. Immediately goosebumps spread over my body. I spit into the sink and kicked him lightly in the side before rinsing and running into the bedroom before he could grab my leg and stop me.

I dove onto the bed and nestled into the sheets. I didn’t have any intention of going back to sleep, but Jared didn’t know that. I buried my head in a pillow and closed my eyes. I heard him exit the bathroom and cross the bedroom to my bed. I could feel his weight on the end of the bed, moving closer as he presumably crawled across the sheets.

And then there was nothing. He wasn’t moving, I couldn’t feel anything. Until he flopped down on top of me. I grunted and immediately pushed against the mattress, trying to lift myself and his dead weight, but it was useless. I was pinned.

"Asshat," I said, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

He laughed and I felt his body shake on top of me. "What is it with you and asshat? That’s the second time in 20 hours."

"Hey, it’s better than asshole, alright? Shut up and get the fuck off of me."

"No," he said stubbornly. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear the malicious grin on his face. The 5-year-old was back. I couldn’t help but smile.

"Get off!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"I’ll love you forever."

"No."

"Asshat."

"No."

"Sex."

"No."

"Then I’m going to sleep."

"No....Wait, what?"

"Shhhhhh."

"No!"

I closed my eyes and didn’t say anything.

"Laura?"

I still didn’t move.

I felt his hand reach for my hair, removing it from my neck. I knew what was coming before I even felt his lips against my skin. Almost immediately, they found my tease. The spot on my neck where I couldn’t maintain control. Failing at staying silent, I whimpered quietly as the heat of his body on top of mine didn’t stop the chills running down every inch of my skin.

He pulled away and laughed softly, lifting his body off of mine and laying down on the mattress beside me. I kept my eyes closed and pulled the sheets tighter around me. My bangs were swept away from my eyes and I finally opened them. He was staring at me intently.

"What?" I asked quietly.

He gave a small shrug of his shoulder and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. The simple act again awakened a hunger that was never satisfied, and ever muscle of my abdomen clenched. I scooted slightly closer to him and lifted the sheets, letting him in. He moved closer as well, but maintained distance, not letting himself touch me.

I chewed on my lip momentarily before whispering, "Jared."

"Hmm…" he murmured.

"Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Don’t avoid."

He blinked at me, surprised by how forward I was being.

"Please Jared…"

He sighed and licked his lips again. "Last night, we made love…"

I made a face and he stopped. It was a phrase I didn’t like. Cliché and maybe even fitting, but always sounding wrong, forced, uncomfortable.

"We made love," he continued, "and it was…"

"…breathtaking…"

"…among other things. We were together, and we were perfect." I smiled and nodded, wanting nothing more than to kiss him at that moment. But he wasn’t finished. "But then you woke up and you could barely stand. You were physically ill. I’m just…what if it wasn’t food poisoning?"

I quickly analyzed his words, trying to decipher, figure out where he was coming from and where he was going. But I came up with nothing. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"What if…I’m afraid…it was some sort of reaction to…us."

I was speechless. "Um, us?"

"I don’t know," he mumbled, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Just, what if your body’s trying to tell you something?"

"Like what?" I was still completely and utterly confused.

He squirmed a little and brushed the hair out of his face before answering. "I don’t know exactly. Like, your body knows you don’t want to be…here…but your brain doesn’t recognize it. So your body is trying to tell your brain that."

Body versus brain immediately took me back to the club bathroom. A place I didn’t want to go. Ever again. "What exactly do you mean by ‘here’? Here with you, or here in Buffalo visiting Eva?"

"I don’t know."

"Yes, you do."

He paused. "Here with me," he said, barely audible.

"Jared!" I said, my tone growing louder. He jumped, startled at the change in volume, and his eyes widened. "How could you…where is this coming from?" I asked, abruptly sitting up, holding the sheet around my chest.

"I don’t know," he said, growing frustrated. He rolled onto his back and started staring at the ceiling. "It’s just something I started thinking about when you were sleeping in the bathroom."

"You weren’t sleeping?"

"Not very much."

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"I know it’s probably unfounded fear, but I can’t make it go away," he said.

"Listen to me," I demanded, turning to face him. "I know things were barely okay between us before this happened and we came back here. But, even when things weren’t okay, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to be with you. And it most definitely doesn’t mean that now. There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be, and not with any other person." He smiled, slightly reassured. "Sometimes, it doesn’t feel real," I continued. "Like, can this really be? Am I in love, living with and in a relationship with Jared Leto? THE Jared Leto? But then I see you…wherever. Sitting with your laptop on the couch, or laying in bed like you are now, and I know. It’s real, and it’s everything I want. Maybe I just don’t tell you that enough."

Now he seemed completely reassured. "Words are underrated these days," he said. "Things like the things you just said, they should be said more often. By everyone." He smiled delightedly. "But I guess for the in between times, a simple I love you will do." He reached out and pulled me down against him again.

I started giggling as he rolled to his side and leaned over me, threatening to drop his entire weight on me again. I slid a hand around his neck and pulled his head down to mine for a quick kiss that he turned into something longer.

"What was this you said about sex?" he asked when he pulled away, raising an eyebrow.

"Nuh uh," I said, shaking my head for conviction. "You missed your chance."

He stuck out his lower lip and cocked his head to the side. It was having an effect, but I held my ground. He whined and closed the distance between us, nuzzling against my neck again. I squirmed and twisted away from him, laughing, before he could send chills through me again.

"Stop," I complained. "Come on, let’s do something."

He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned down to kiss me again.

"Not that!" I squirmed away again. "I mean, let’s go somewhere. This is the only full day we have here, I want to do something."

He groaned and leaned back, propping his head up on his arm. "You ruin all my fun," he pouted.

I stuck out my tongue and sat up. "What should we do?" I asked, more to myself than anything else.

"I don’t know, this is your town, your choice," he said in defeat, rolling onto his back.

I chewed on my lips for a few minutes, thinking. There were so many choices and what seemed like so little time. "We need a car," I said, deciding on at least the first thing we could do.

"I’ll call Shan," he said, getting up and heading for his jeans, pulling his blackberry out of the pocket.

I got up as well, disappearing into the bathroom for a shower.

- - -

When I emerged, a towel wrapped around me, Jared was already half-dressed and rubbing a towel through his hair. Surprised, I stood blinking at him for a few moments.

"Other bathroom," he said in explanation.

I dropped the towel and walked to the closet, watching as Jared’s eyes followed me. I laughed and shook my head. He really couldn’t get his mind off of it.

I pulled on my black jeans and INSPI(RED) t-shirt. I laced my converse and grabbed the white skull jacket from the previous night before turning around and straightening up. Jared was sitting on the bed, looking intently at something on the screen of his blackberry. He had a fedora on top of his head, black to match his jeans, and a plain grey sweater. His trenchcoat was thrown across his lap. I noticed the leather wristband on his left wrist and immediately smiled. Rummaging through my bag, I clasped the silver guitar pick around my neck and walked to the door.

"Ready?" I asked.

He looked up from his blackberry and grinned at me. "Absolutely," he said, bouncing off the bed and to my side. He snaked his arm around my waist and led me to the door. "Shannon should be here any second with the car. He’s going to walk down to Kevin’s, hang there till we get back."

We exited the building and found the car idling in front. Shannon was leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his leather jacket on his chest. I saw his drumsticks peeking out of his back pocket. I gave him a hug hello and ran around to the driver’s side, jumping into the car.

I heard Jared talking to Shannon outside the car. "Hey, listen. We won’t be late, okay? Here’s the spare key to the apartment," he said, motioning toward the building behind us. "If you don’t want to hang out at Kevin’s the whole time, you can go there."

"Thanks bro," Shannon said. "Have fun!" He waved at us as we pulled away.

"Why are you driving?" Jared whined as I turned the corner onto Delaware.

"Because I know where we’re going," I said pointedly. "Driving myself is so much easier than giving directions."

"Fine," he said in mock annoyance.

I punched the power button on the dash, turning on the radio and tuning it to 102.1 The Edge. Canadian rock, and the best station you could get in most parts of Buffalo or Ontario. I turned onto Elmwood and pulled into the parking lot of Globe Market.

"What’s this?" Jared asked, peering out the windshield.

"This," I said motioning with my hand, "is Globe Market. Wonderful food. And right over there is a yoga place. I took a couple lessons there…two years ago I think."

He grinned at me and got out of the car, tying his coat around his waist. I followed.

I dragged him out of the parking lot and across the street during a break in the passing traffic. Spotting one of my favorite stores ahead, I pulled him into New World Records in a state of blissful happiness.

"This," I said, motioning around the cavernous shop, "is easily my favorite record store in the world. If you can still call it a record store..." I trailed off as I took in the warehouse atmosphere the place had, looking up at the tall ceilings and cement walls. I loved it. "People don’t call them that anymore, do they?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Sadly, no."

"It’s a shame really. Because, you can actually buy real records here. It’s vinyl heaven." I led him around a short wall to a small alcove that was the home to both new and old artists, all re-produced on vinyl. "I had this routine a couple years ago," I began telling him. "I would go to the co-op, which I will show you later, then go right over there," I said pointing through a doorway, "to Spot Coffee, get the drink of my choice, and spend hours here trying to decide what to buy. Every Friday, because I didn’t work Friday’s, that’s how I would spend my afternoon." My voice consistently grew softer as I continued, nostalgia taking over. Part of me missed my routine.

Shaking off the feeling, I started flipping through the stack of albums in front of me. My eyes fell on Picaresque, easily my favorite album by The Decemberists, and I held it up triumphantly. Jared laughed and flipped through another stack until he found what he was looking for.

"Now couldn’t you go for this?" he asked, holding up one by Depeche Mode.

"Mmmm, not so much," I said grinning. "Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, beats The Decemberists playing on a turntable. Oooo except maybe The Beatles or something classic like that. And if you ask me, Depeche Mode is not classic. At least not vinyl classic."

"How do you figure?" he asked indignantly. "They have been around a hell of a lot longer than The Decemberists," he said pointing at the cover of the record he held.

I rolled my eyes at him, determined to make him see my side. "Classic isn’t just old. Classic is...classic," I said. There was no other word to describe it. "It’s a sound, not a length of time." I stopped, examining him to see if he believed me yet or not. But there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. He had something to say.

"Twenty-seven years," he said. "Fucking twenty-seven years, millions of records, and innovative recording. Plus, they’re English. Nothing beats English." He knew as well as I did that the last part was ridiculous. But he didn’t care.

I threw my hands up in the air and started pacing. "SOUND," I repeated. "Depeche Mode is...electronic. Futurist, if you will. Techno even, a lot of synthesized shit." He opened his mouth in frustration but I forged ahead. "The Decemberists, on the other hand –"

"- Are indie pop!" he interrupted.

I blinked, not prepared for that. "Okay, yes. They’re indie-pop. Or at least that’s what they’re being called. But LISTEN to it. It’s folk rock. Now, both folk and rock have been around a lot longer than electronic. Their songs tell fucking STORIES," I said. "How many bands do you know that tell real stories?! Mariner’s Revenge Song for Christ’s fucking sake. It’s a nine minute storytelling phenomenon. Oh AND, they’re literate. I’m not saying you’re not, because you are. You’re one of the more literate songwriters out there, but they use words like fucking parapets, legionnaire, rhapsodical, folderol, and magistrate. Oooo and debonair. It’s like sea chanteys all over the place. And how about the fact that they play stand-up bass, organ, and accordion, along with a few other things I don’t know the names of." I stopped, breathing heavily but determined to respond to anything he came back with.

But Jared didn’t say anything. He stood staring at me, barely concealing a smile and a laugh. "You’re crazy," he said simply. "You really know your music, don’t you?"

"I try..." I said cautiously, a bit taken aback.

"I can see I’m not going to win this one," he said, moving forward and wrapping his arms around my waist. "So go ahead, buy it. Not another word from me." He smiled and leaned down to kiss me.

I smiled back triumphantly. "Good choice," I said simply. I plucked the Depeche Mode record from his hand and tucked it under my arm with Picaresque before pulling away from him to explore the rest of the store. It had been months since I had been there. He followed me around contentedly, watching as I picked up and discarded things repeatedly. Finally I settled on the newest Nine Inch Nails, Feist, and Finger Eleven CDs to go with the two vinyl records and a white spike belt from a rack in the corner. Jared reminded me that there was more than one store I wanted to take him to today, so I reluctantly agreed to pay.

As I approached the empty counter, my eyes were drawn to the guy standing behind it, his chin resting on his hand as he watched me approach.

"Shit," I said aloud in wonder.

He just smiled and didn’t move. I dropped my stuff on the counter and stared at him in disbelief.

"Hello to you too," he said.

"Oh right, hi." I blinked at him a few times, trying to process. Then I noticed his gaze focused on something over my shoulder. I turned around and snapped back to reality. "Oh, John, this is –"

"Jared Leto, I know," he said interrupting. "Surprised to see you around here."

"Yeah…and Jared, this is John."

They shook hands politely, but I could tell that Jared was a bit uncomfortable. I felt bad, but no discomfort was felt on my part. Standing before me was a guy I hadn’t seen in two years, someone who had meant a lot to me the last time I had seen him.

"How’ve you been?" I asked, a smile slowly spreading across my face at last.

"Pretty good," he said as he began cashing me out. "Still going to UB, design major. I work here as often as they’ll let me. There’s no better place to work in the city."

"What happened to Hero?" I asked surprised. "I thought you loved it there, it was perfect!"

He winced and shrugged his shoulders. "Artistic differences? I like creative control, and I wasn’t the one in charge so, it didn’t work."
I laughed and shook my head. Stubborn, that was the John I knew. Stubborn and loveable.

"Damn, that’s really too bad. I wanted a couple posters. But, now I’ll have to go and actually PAY for them." I made a face, pretending to be upset.

"Was that you, over in the vinyl?" he asked teasing. He knew me and my knowledge of music, and my ability to defend it.

I blushed and picked at a fingernail. "Yeah, that was me. Decemberists vs. Depeche Mode."

"Depeche Mode," he said immediately.

Immediately enraged, I opened my mouth to start ranting again but clamped it shut again, deciding against it.  I just glared at him instead.

As the total appeared on the cash register, Jared pulled some money out of his pocket and handed it to John. "You know," John said, getting the change, "We should get together sometime. Catch up."

"Absolutely. But, I’m living in LA most of the time now. Next time I’m home, around Christmas maybe, I’ll come see you, we can get some coffee or something."

"Fantastic," John said, handing me the bag and Jared the change. "Good to see you."

"You too," I said waving, walking backwards from the counter and smiling.

Jared laced his fingers through mine and I turned around, walking with him through the connecting doorway into Spot Coffee. We ordered, both just a cup of coffee, and sat down facing each other at a table against the window. I took a sip of my coffee black before adding a tiny bit of sugar and milk. I looked up and Jared was looking at me, his gaze hard.

"What?"

"Who was that?" he asked, wrapping his hands around his cup.

I took another sip before answering, not sure if he would like the answer or not. "That was John."

"So I gathered," he said impatiently.

I blinked. "Jealous?"

"Should I be?"

"Well," I said taking a deep breath. "No actually. He was my boyfriend when Dan…He didn’t get it when I fell apart. He tried to help, tried to distract me. Tried to get me to talk to him. But instead, I just…stopped. I broke up with him. And then I went to the club, and everything went to shit." I rushed through the last part, trying not to revisit it.

I watched as Jared changed from being on-edge to experiencing something resembling realization. He smiled softly at me. "What?" I asked.

"I’m seeing a parallel here."

"What are you talking about?" I was thoroughly confused.

"He tried to get you to talk to him, and you broke up with him. I tried to get you to talk to me, and you pushed me away."

I bit my lip and stared into my coffee. It was a blatant connection that I had managed to ignore. I knew destruction was a pattern, but I never liked linking it to something in the past. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least.
"Yeah, I know," I said quietly. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, pleading. Let’s drop it, I was trying to say.

He thankfully decided to comply with my silent request. "What’s Hero?" he asked.

"Hero," I said smiling, "is a graphic design studio. They do a lot of design things, like webpages and shit, but my favorite stuff is the posters and shirts they do for bands. It’s fucking fantastic. John used to get me posters for free, of whatever I wanted…when he worked there."

"Can we go?" Jared asked. Being an artist, he was intrigued, I could tell.

"Absolutely. It’s over on Allen Street, so we’ll have to drive, but we can go after we’re done here."

We finished our coffee in silence as I happily examined the newest addition to my vinyl collection. Throwing the cups away, I was determined to show him all of my favorite stores, and we walked back out onto Elmwood Ave.