I stood in front of the empty house and sighed shakily. I rubbed my sleep-deprived face and squared my shoulders. It had been a week since my beating at school, and I'd been released from hospital this morning, and Gerard's dad had driven me back to their house. Now, I was stood in front of my own house, which I hadn't set foot in since Mitch had attacked me there. I was supposed to have been living there all along, but the Ways insisted on putting me up and I saw no reason to object. Now, however, I saw every reason. I had left Gerard's house, bags packed, despite the pleas of his parents. I had walked out, leaving a trail of apologies behind me. I wouldn't let Donald drive me, either. I hsd taken enough from them. Hopefully the 150 dollars which I had left on their fireplace would make up for most of it. I hadn't had to spend any of the cash I stole from Mitch thanks to them so it seemed only fair to leave a wad of it with them. The walk home had been a difficult one, with my still-sore injuries and my case of belongings, but I was finally here, stood on the street in front of my old house. Sighing, I pushed the door open and set my bags by the door, looking around. The whole house was dark and dusty, curtains drawn. It was dull and gloomy, and its smelled funny. The smell, I quickly realised, was from some sort of cleaning product that had been used to remove the bloody evidence of the last time I'd been here. I shuddered at the thought, and began to wander the house, pulling open windows and flicking on lights as I went. Mitch's room was the worst, drawers and cupboards thrown open everywhere, evidently been searched for drugs. I closed the door with a shiver, barely having set foot in there. My own bedroom was the last room I ventured in. It was exactly as I'd left it, a few things thrown around from my rushed packing, but other than that it was fairly clean. Sighing, I lay down on my bed, the springs creaking. I curled up, hugging the pillow, and squeezed my eyes shut tight. I was still tired from the painkillers I was on, and walking here had taken a lot out of me, too. But despite my fatigue, I couldn't fall asleep. It just didn't feel right. I missed the rough mattress I'd had on Gerard's floor, I missed the murky darkness of his basement bedroom. Mostly I missed him, his warm arms around me while I slept, his soft, comforting smell, his lips against my skin. I missed his gentle voice whispering sweet words into my ear, and his gorgeous smile and the way it made his eyes sparkle as he stared into mine. I felt the tears begin to flow down my face again. This may be my house, but it wasn't my home. I cried into my pillow, thr pillow that didn't smell right, didn't smell of Gerard's hair. I lay there for too long, sniffling and feeling sorry for myself, until finally I was pulled into reality by a knock at the door. I got up, hastily running my hands in my hair and scrubbing at my eyes. I stopped in the bathroom and splashed some water on my face before I dashed down the stairs to the door. I opened it and nearly burst into tears once again. Gerard stood, head bowed, on my doorstep. He glanced at me, coughing awkwardly. "Um, hey, Kriss..." he seemed pretty lost. He sighed, and wordlessly held out his hand. In it was the little pile of money I'd left at his home. I looked at it, then at him, staring at me expectantly. I shook my head. "I owe you," I whispered. He frowned. "No, Krissy, you don't. We didn't take you in because we wanted your money. You needed us, and we helped you, that's all there is to it." He kept his hand held out, but I stubbornly refused to accept it. He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, and took a step forward. "Listen, Krissy... I'm sorry. I know I hurt you. But you didn't have to leave, you can still stay with us. I know you hate this house, and I know you hate to be alone, so just come back, okay?" He looked at me with pleading eyes. I shook my head. "I'm fine here, Gerard, thanks for the concern." My voice was harsher than normal, surprising both of us. "I'm fine here. I don't need sympathy, I don't need help, and I definitely don't need you!" I slammed the door in his face. I'd tried my hardest to keep my voice composed and level, but at the end I'd cracked and let too much emotion out. Fuck, I wasn't supposed to let him see that. I pressed my back against the door, pressed my face into hands and let loose tears once again. I was crying so much lately, but I just felt terrible. Everything seemed to be going wrong. But what hurt most was that I deserved it. I was pathetic. A stupid, worthless waste of space. No wonder he didn't want me, no wonder Austen beat me up. I was absolutely fucking pathetic. My sobs were embarassingly loud at this point, so I breathed deeply and swallowed, trying to push it all back. I pushed away from the door, and walked toward the stairs again, but something caught my eye in the window. A dark-haired boy, still stood outside my door. His fists were clenched, and as I watched, he slammed one of them against a post on the street before storming - practically running away.

Notes

:'( I'm totally not crying.... Is this too angsty? I feel like I'm overdoing it a little. But hey, it's an update. What do we think of Gerard's behaviour, then? Comments are loverly. I have tried to reply to them but it doesnt want to let me. But thankyou, I do read and appreciate them all. Love always xx