I Don't Have Much In Life But Take It - It's Yours.

My limbs are sticky with sweat when I wake up, and I can feel Jay's bare skin pressed up against my own, his heart pounding in synchronisation with mine. I feel his lips brush against my shoulder blade and then on my neck, before hearing his sleepy voice say, "morning, Fynny."

"Morning Jay," I mumble, turning so I'm facing him and I see his half-asleep face, his messy, floppy hair, his yellow lip stud and the smudged kohl that lines both of his eyes. And I feel something in my stomach twist - in a good way, the kind of fluttery feeling - when I realise that he's mine.

"You were amazing," Jay whispers, bringing his hands up and placing them under my chin, titling my jaw upwards and placing a soft kiss on my lips. I feel myself blushing and he grins a half smile. "Really, you were," he laughs, and kisses me again.

I run my hands up his chest, something I've done to him countless times, but my left hand feels stiff and I think Jay notices too, because when I take my hands from his chest and look at them, he starts to laugh as I blush again.

But it should really be him who is blushing, as both of us know exactly where the white stuff that has now dried on my hands came from, and it certainly wasn't from me.

"You should have licked it off last night," he laughs, his breath hitting my ear and making the skin all over my body erupt in goose bumps. I find my breath catching in my throat, something Jay does to me that happens to easily, and I have to take a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"Well, I wasn't really thinking straight last night," I say, crossly, furrowing my eyebrows and sticking my bottom lip out a little in a pout. I know I'm acting childish but I don't care, but all my grumpy thoughts are crushed, against my common sense, when Jay takes my bottom lip in his teeth and tugs on it slightly, muttering "you weren't acting it either," as his fingertips touch my skin.

"Jay," I gasp, as he presses little kisses on the side of my mouth and along my jaw line, one of his hands on the front of my hipbone and the other on the small of my back. "N-n-next time, can I t-t-try.. you know-w.." I trail off, feeling slightly embarrassed at what I'm asking.

"Fynn wants it up the asssss!" Jay giggles, and I growl at him, pushing my arms against his chest and moving away from him. He snorts behind me and loops his arms around my waist again, but I push them off and fold my arms across my chest.

"You made it sound stupid," I whine, shrinking away from him each time his cold fingers touch my bare flesh and whimpering each time he laughs at me. "You're being horrible this morning. It's not fair!" I say pathetically, finally allowing him to bring his body up to mine and press us together.

"I'm sorry Fynny," he giggles, nuzzling my neck as he lightly drags his nails across my stomach, and my heart beats a tiny bit faster. "I didn't mean to tease you," he mutters, moving his hand further down and I feel myself getting an erection. "You can try next time."

I blush as he notices what's going on near his hand and I can feel him smirking into my neck. "Well, well," he murmurs, and moves his hand closer. "What's this?" he says, and I can hear the laughter he's suppressing in his voice.

"Shut up," I say, blushing some more and pushing his hand away. "Go away, later, pleaseeeee?" I whine the last part, twisting my head over ninety degrees, widening my eyes at Jay, as I know that my eyes are his weakness. I pout again, and blink quickly a couple of times for effect.

Predictably, he crumbles quickly, and I grin at him, flashing all my teeth, and he responds with something similar and equally childish. I twitch my eyebrows up and down and he twists his mouth into a distorted pout, and I do the same. "Weirrrrdo," he says, and I nod, before he pushes back the covers on the bed and gets out.

I have to stop myself from staring, and trust me; it's not doing wonders for the erection I'm trying to get rid of.

Jay raises a single eyebrow at me, and I stick my tongue out and roll over on the bed so I'm facing away from him, and therefore I can't see him. I do like to see him, but not early in the morning when I want to just get up and do something - like eat breakfast, or go out, or just watch a movie with Jay, or maybe try playing his guitar.

Any other time, and I'd most likely be ecstatic about the situation, but right now I'm not and I'm cranky and in all honesty I really don't want Jay to be doing God-knows-what to me.

"I can't be bothered to shower," Jay says from behind me, and I hear him opening his drawers and finding some clothes to wear today. "I'll do it this evening or something. Do you want one?" He asks, and I mumble a response, implying no.

About five minutes later, Jay tells me I can look round and I roll over, to see him dressed in a pair of bright yellow skinny jeans I think I saw in the girl section of a shop, and a tight, plain, short-sleeved black top. He's got about three belts on, only a thin one "holding" his jeans up (which are actually pulled down quite far) and the other two are just slung across his hips. He's wearing some bright pink flats this time, and he's got a blue bow clipped into his fringe.

"You total girl," I say, flicking my eyes up and down his clothes, and his face falls a little before I quickly add, "but you still look amazing," and that makes his eyes light up. He opens his mouth in mock surprise and then skips off into the hall connecting his rooms so I presume he's going to do his make up or something.

I stare after him for a second, and even when he shuts the door after him I stare at that. I blink a few times before getting out of the bed, glad that the blood that cause me all that humiliation has now decided it's better off being evenly distributed around my body. I blink around for the bag of clothes that Jay and I got a few days ago, and then decide on the black pair of skinnies, which are the least tight of the lot, and the tight black Atreyu shirt that has a skeleton and tentacles on it, the one we almost argued about as I said it was too expensive but Jay said it wasn't. I dig out a pair of boxers and a white belt with silver studs on it, and quickly dress.

I look at myself in the mirror and wrinkle my nose in disgust. The bright blonde hair is the only thing I honestly like about myself. I'm too skinny and my skin is dry and my arms are covered in old bruises, along with needle marks along the veins and ugly deep scars across my wrists and going vertical down my arm. I shudder at the memories that try and flood my mind and build a wall against them, blocking them out and trying to move on. It's not the easiest thing but I can try. I lift up my shirt and run my hands over my rips, my jutting out hipbones, and I almost feel bile rise in my throat at how I look.

I see Jay coming into the room, reflected in the glass, and he looks perfect - his hair styled and his eyes ringed with thick black lines. "What are you doing?" he asks, coming up behind me and putting his hands into my back pockets, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I am hideous," I mutter, meaning it, and he stands up straight and spins me straight round. I feel another memory of someone - someone evil, someone horrible - doing the same thing to me and I feel myself shaking.

But the shaking soon subsides as he crashes his lips onto mine and I feel his hands on my jutting hips. He keeps his lips on mine for a few moments, and when I put my hands in his hair he slowly takes his lips away. "Fynn," he says, staring straight into my eyes. "Don't say that. Don't ever. You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life. I will always think you are beautiful, no matter what." He presses his lips to mine again for a second, and his hands move from my hips to my jaw to bring my face to his. "And that's a promise."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just give him a weak half smile and shrug my shoulders limply. Jay's face falls and I feel bad, but I know that he's lying and that I'm not beautiful. I'm a guy off the streets, a kid who has had poison flowing through his veins and has mutilated his own arms with a rusty razor blade, a boy who's living with a guy who almost had to force him to agree to it.

"Can we go into town?" I ask quietly, staring down at my feet, which are in the pair of ripped Converse I bought on the day I came to stay with Jay, and he takes my hand and squeezes it. He leads me out of his bedroom and out of the house, locking the door behind him and stuffing the key in a pocket that probably wont fit much else in.

We walk in silence, and I get the impression that Jay's thinking about something, but I don't really mind as I don't know how to respond to the promise I know he'll break sometime soon, and tear up my heart with it. He occasionally squeezes my hand a little but he doesn't even look at me while we walk.

We get to the edge of the main shops, and somehow we end up in a cafe and drinking some kind of juice from tall glasses, and I realise that this is the one cafe that Avalon and I once found a fiver and decided to treat ourselves to some fresh apple juice and a blueberry muffin each. We weren't even served. Just thrown straight out.

I suddenly feel sick again and push away the half-eaten blueberry muffin I've got, and I feel the apple juice taste a lot more bitter. "Jay," I whisper, and he meets my eyes for the first time since we left his house. His face looks distorted and then I realise it's because my eyes are starting to fill with unshed tears. His face is full of concern and when I manage to choke out, "can we leave?" he nods quickly. He just tosses down a ten pound note and takes me by the hand and we go out of the posh place and back onto the crowded street.

"Sorry," I cough, and he shakes his head a bit, mumbling an "it's okay," back.

We're heading down the park from a different direction, and that's when we see a blonde kid quickly putting on a hoodie that a worried-looking girl is handing him. He drags a cap out of his bag and jams it down on his head, and when we walk past we can hear a mention of bins and the police and something to do with an out of control fire.

We can see the smoke twisting up from the park before we get their, higher than the trees and there's a few firemen spraying the alight bin with a hose. A policeman is talking to a purple-haired girl and she seems to be arguing with him.

A sound comes from by the bridge, and a stoned Joe - the guy in bondage trousers who was running from the police the other day - emerges out of the trees. "Haaiizzz!" he giggles, twitching on the spot a little and I murmur a greeting back.

He spews a lot of nonsense, and I just nod along with it and I can feel Jay tense besides me. He sends a glare at Joe, who's ignoring him, and when Joe presses his lips to mine before skipping off, Jay's hand tightens around mine a hell of a lot.

"I don't think you should be around him," he says, and for some reason, I'm so pissed off today that this is the last thing I want - some fucking rich kid telling me that my friends aren't good enough. I feel anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach and I know that I'm going to say something that I'm going to regret later but I don't care. I don't. I really don't.

"Why?" I snap, dropping his hand like it's too hot and shaking my head. "Because he's stoned? Because he steals?" I raise my eyebrows and Jay looks shocked, but I don't care and I carry on because I'm going to defend Emo Joe today with all I've got, because I'm sick of hearing him criticised and I'm sick of knowing he's looked down on.

"Do you know what, Jay? Weed isn't that bad. Look at this-" I hold my left arm out, the one with most of the needle marks on it, and I can see something stirring behind his eyes. "This is what heroin does. This is the mark it leaves when you can't get through half a day without getting a fix. This is what you have from sitting in alleys with dirty needles and having to find a vein to get your high. You steal everything you can get your hands on, because that's life, and you don't care who it's from because your only friend is the chemical that's going to make you forget the fact you've got concrete to sleep on and that you feel like you're going to vomit from hunger. This is why weed isn't bad. Because it's a social thing, something that doesn't leave a mark, something that doesn't fuck up lives like heroin does."

And then I see the look in Jay's eyes and then I decide to hold out my other arm, the one with the scars of the times I've had to fight the cravings and been sick of it. The times I felt my skin crawl and that the morning was going to be worse than the horror of the day before.

"And this-" I swallow, and have to take a few ragged breaths before I go on. "And this is what you get when there's no more drugs to numb the pain of being alone, the pain of feeling worthless and the pain of knowing that no one is going to care if they find your frozen body in an underpass on Christmas Day."

There's silence apart from my heavy breathing, and the breaths catch in my throat as I start to sob, and that's when Jay wraps his strong arms around me and pull me - even while I struggle - to his chest and lets me lean there, saying nothing apart from two things.

The first being, "sorry."