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

I don't fare well at parties.

I remember when my best friend at primary school, Benjamin, turned six and he had a fancy dress party. My parents, due to the fact they didn't give a fuck about me, didn't help me with my costume so my sister and I painted a few boxes silver and I went as a robot.

I cried when everyone laughed at me.

I haven't been to one since I've been on the streets, but I've been to the piss ups in the park and it didn't really work out too well. I just end up the odd one out while everyone else is having a laugh, because I don't take alcohol well and just fall asleep. I'm always the first one sober too, as I wake up quickly and while everyone else is throwing up I have to pull their hair back and help them throw up in the river.

This party is pretty much a disaster for me. I'm probably the only person here wearing black skinny jeans - everyone else is a nu-rave disaster - and a couple of people have even asked me who 'Off The Heezay' are and then I have to explain that it's a Bring Me The Horizon shirt with a song name on it.

That's a cue for people to snigger behind their hands, and whisper something about me being a "stuck-up metal kid" and then launching into a drunken explanation about how The Pigeon Detectives are so much better when I think that they're just trying to hard.

Jay's not doing too much to help - he's completely out-of-his-head drunk and is dancing on his own to a Klaxons song - another one of the bands being played here that I cannot stand. I'd be able to bear it if they were playing Enter Shikari as those guys play pretty good music and I remember them playing in bars and clubs around town - and they were pretty nice too.

But they're not bothering with the hardcore-hybrid stuff here, just the electronica and trance that I honestly cannot stand to listen to. I've got a bottle of WKD in one hand that I was given when I came in but I haven't drunk any yet and I don't intend to.

The day hasn't been that great so far, to be honest. Jay's dad's comments did hurt and Jay's response that I was just a friend upset me, even if he did say something different after, and the way he reacted and yelled scared me. I think I annoyed him by saying I didn't really want to sleep with him right then and I feel guilt in my stomach.

Today hasn't been a success at all.

A very, very, very drunk guy wearing some neon blue skinny jeans and a bright pink t-shirt - and so many chains and charms around his neck that I'm surprised he's still walking - stumbles over to me and sits down next to me on the couch.

"Yknow... Yuhhh look like ssome fuckn' hobo kid tha tried to take mah wallet once," he slurs, swaying his head to the synths pounding out of the speaker system. "Expect... Except he has black hair an' whai wullddd a hobo kid be 'ere? Ahaaaa," he laughs, and I move slightly further away from him on the couch. I remember this guy - he managed to give me a black eye and a sprained wrist and I had to run for a long time to get away.

I give him a weak grin and then tell him I need to go and talk to someone and quickly get up, and when I look around he's started on my bottle of WKD and is downing it very quickly. I pull a face and look around the crowded room for Jay but I don't see him - not until I spot him in the corner drinking from a nearly empty bottle of vodka.

"Jay-jay," I whisper to him when I finally cross the room to him. "Can we go?" I ask, and he just giggles loudly and pulls me towards him, dropping the bottle onto the floor and pressing his lips to mine.

I can taste alcohol and smoke on his lips and tongue and it disgusts me, so I pull away quickly and take his arm. I don't wait for him to reply to my question because I don't need an answer now - he needs to go before he gets any stupider and I manage to drag him out of the house without too much hassle, apart from the time he stops to throw up in an antique vase.

Nice.

Jay falls over the porch as we go outside, and starts to shiver even though it's quite a warm night and he's wearing a thick hoodie. I roll my eyes and put my arm around his waist, more to keep him walking properly than anything else, but he giggles and presses himself closer to me.

His house is only a few minutes down the road (if you're not counting the walk up his drive and the walk down this one) but it takes us more than double that time to get there, due to Jay stopping every few steps to do something stupid or occasionally throw up.

When we eventually get to his house, I have to go through his pockets for his keys as he's incapable of getting them out himself. Jay's lips remain attached to whatever piece of skin he can get to and I have to ignore my feelings for him so that we can actually get into the house as opposed to standing here on the doorstep for the rest of the night.

When I find the key and get the door open, I motion to Jay to be quiet and shut the door quietly after him as he stumbles inside. I don't really want an encounter with his dad and I'm thankful that we get up to Jay's room without bumping into him or Chelsea.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder where his mum is but I dismiss that as it's not very relevant.

I close the bedroom door and wince as it makes a loud noise against the door frame. I stand there for a second and when nobody opens it from the other side I relax a little, and turn around to see Jay lying on the bed, staring at me and laughing quietly. I don't know what he's laughing at but he's drunk, so it doesn't really matter.

I realise something then - that because he's drunk he's not going to remember anything of tonight in the morning and I decide that this is the time to tell him something I've been meaning to tell him - and this way it won't hurt him because he won't remember it.

But at least I won't be feeling guilty anymore.

"Jay," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. He smiles up at me but there's not understanding in his eyes, and none of the guy I fell in love with in just a few days. He's just a drunken idiot and it actually hurts a bit to see him like this.

"When I first met you; when I first came to stay with you; you weren't anything to me," I say quietly, my voice shaking slightly. I think for a bit about how to put the next bit; how to make it sound a little less harsh but I decide to just tell him exactly how it is - after all, the point of this is to tell him and be honest and if I don't I'm going to feel guilty.

"In all honesty, I was using you. I thought that you were just some stupid, stuck-up rich kid with more money than sense and a way to get free food, a place to stay and even some new clothes - but I didn't want as many as you got me. I was planning on stay a few days at the most, picking up what I could and getting as much out of you as possible, but something changed."

I look into his eyes and I think that I can see some recognition - and hurt - in them but it's gone quickly and I'm looking at a stranger again. It reminds me of the man I once saw drinking in the underpass and sleeping there, who I though I once knew but I didn't anymore.

I still don't know exactly who that man was.

"It was you, Jay," I whisper, taking his hand and tracing my finger over the bones in his knuckles. "You changed something. You made me fall in love with you. You made me fall in love with you in less than a week - it's too fast, it's too scary. You just kissed me and then my emotions went haywire - you changed how I saw you and then all thoughts of leaving went. All the ideas of getting as much off you as possible went with that, and now I'd rather die - for want of a better term - than use you like that. I love you, Jacob, and I promise that it's not going to ever change."

I trace around his hand, drawing an imprint with my finger on the bedcovers, and write letters across his knuckles on both knuckles - but of course you can't see them. You never will, because they're just written with the skin on my fingertips but I won't ever forget them. Because they say forever.

"You can have it all, Jay. You can have everything. I don't have much in life, but take it - it's yours. I know I'm unlovable," I smile, quoting The Smiths, and then lace my fingers with Jay's. "But somehow you've managed to love me, and that's all that matters. I'll give you everything I've got and everything I'll ever get and that won't even begin to show you how much I love you. I'm not going to let you go - ever, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for using you and I'm sorry for being a twat, and I'm sorry you've fallen in love with a fuck up like me. You've fallen for a hobo, an ex-smack head, a guy who's friends are in juvvie and do dope and set things on fire and make bombs in fields. I'm sorry."

I smile at him, the smile not reaching my eyes, and lie down next to him. I roll over so our eyes meet and he doesn't smile, and I see that hurt in his eyes for a millisecond. It goes straight away and I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he did understand, but he gives me a big, childish smile, and I smile back.

Maybe he doesn't after all.