Boychild & Girlchild.

She didn't imagine her last night in town to go like this. She planned to mope on her own, eating from a tub of ice cream and cursing that stupid Boychild's name as many times as she could while watching Mean Girls. She planned to pack and maybe get a little drunk, causing her to leave later in the night.

She didn't plan to have her front door flung open by a shaking, soaking wet Adam. Nor did she plan to console him, warm him up, and bring him to her bed. Wasn't she angry with him? Didn't she want to hit and hurt him like he did her? Olive frowned as she held the man close to her silently, listening as his hiccups turned into more steady breaths with just occasional, quiet cries.

"Adam?" She quared quietly, pushing a little hair back from his face. He only nodded, looking up at her and slipping an arm hesitiantly around her waist. She allowed it before she queried, "Why the hell have you shown up the night before I go away for a week soaking wet?"

And as he told his story, explaining to her the concert and the girl and just how damn much he missed her, Olive realized that, though she'd pushed the side of her that loved him away, it never really had left her. She was slipping back into her ways, those creature comforts he loved so much, for all either of them wanted was to love and be loved.