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

My heads pounding again, just like every Sunday, just like every time it's the morning after the night before and I'm nursing one cast iron bitch of a hangover. But this time I dont stay in bed 'til the late afternoon, with the covers over my head, trying to forget the mistakes of the night.

Because this time I have a purpose. I have a reason for being out on the streets at ten past eight in the morning. All I can think of are these boy's eyes, their shining icy colour, that hold you and keep you safe.

Maybe thats why I'm pushing my way through a crowded market street, looking for that hoodie, looking for that bag on his back, hoping I can see him again. Because those captivating eyes of his cure that loneliness thats eating away inside of me, and for those few seconds his eyes held mine the night before, I felt safe, despite the circumstances.

So maybe thats why I suddenly get shoved in the shoulder, making me stumble into a stall and knocking a few things off. I get sworn at, and I quickly pick up the fallen items, shoving them back on the stall with a hurried apology.

I keep pushing my way through, trying to dodge hurried mothers, running over my converse clad feet with their prams, or arrogant teens thinking they rule this place, elbowing everyone from their path. I'm about to give up hope until I see a group of people sat in the mouth of an alley, a bag or two between them

I can tell they're homeless by their clothes, by the tired look in their eyes, the way they try to blend into the background and hide from the dirty looks those arrogant teens give them. I can tell they're homeless by the way they clench their teeth when someone gives them a dirty look, when someone throws them an insult, to stop themselves yelling at the person, asking them if they'd like to try living on the streets, stealing and begging, living each day knowing it could be your last.

I see the scowls they give the people hurrying past, the jealous glances and eyeing up their bags, easily snatched from fingertips or shoulders. I dodge through a few people and move closer to the group. They notice me coming and are up in a second, their bags behind their backs, defences up.

I stop, holding my hands up a little, "I'm not gonna nick anything," I say, so they can hear me above the busy streets.

"Fuck off then," One girl snaps back, her fingers tightening around her bag.

"I need to know if you've seen someone," I ask, edging a little further, and they all jump back.

"We see a lot of people, so what," One of them snaps at me, "It's not a crime,"

"I never said it was," I say tiredly, lowering my hands a little and take a deep breath, "I need to know if you've seen someone, someone like you, he's got black hair, these piercing icy blue eyes, and I think it's a Bring Me The Horizon hoodie,"

One of them shrugs, and they all hunch together, like a pack. I can see their fists are clenched, but I'm desperate to find this boy with a piece of my soul and I hurry to them, "Please! I need to know,"

I know its a mistake when they all move round me, trapping me in a circle, "We said fuck off, you should've listened," One of them hisses. I know it's a mistake when one of them grabs my shirt and they all pull me deeper into the alley. There's a fist driven into my stomach and I bend double, clutching my middle.

Rich kid's in trouble now.

There's another fist in my stomach, another across my face, someone twisting an arm round my back. They're quiet, too quiet, they know what to do, its almost mechanical for them. I struggle and manage to punch one of them in the shoulder, making him or her stumble back. They get more vicious now, and I can feel the blood running down my chin. I struggle and struggle, my fists flailing wildly, occasionally catching one of them.

I'm about to go limp, let my vision blur, and realise I'm not going to get out of there, until I hear a yell, making my head snap up. Out the corner of my eye I see a figure standing in the mouth of the alley, and feel my heart skip a beat. It's the boy, I can tell from the way he's standing and his clothes even though it was dark when I first saw him.

"Get the fuck away from him," The boy says through clenched teeth, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The group look up like a pack from a kill, and scatter, melting into the corners of the alley, dodging into shadows, out of minds, out of sight.

I fall to my knees onto the dirty concrete, wrapping my arms round my stomach and grimacing at the pain. I want the boy to hurry over, to kneel next to me, put his arm round my shoulders, whisper in a sweet voice, asking if I'm okay. But I stay alone, no arm round my shoulder, no whispered voice in my ear.

I look up, teeth clenched, and the boys still standing there, his beautiful eyes darting anywhere but me. I can see his alert stance, ready to run, to disappear again with even more of my soul, and I dont want that to happen. I stumble up, clenching my teeth, trying to lessen the pain, and he takes a step back, eyes wide, ready to run. I put a hand out towards him and he flinches away again, but still doesnt run, "Dont run away, please. I'm not going to hurt you,"

He doesnt say anything, just bites his lip and shifts his weight onto his back foot, still not letting his guard down.

"I want to help you," I say softly, reaching my hand out a little further.

He looks at my hand if he's confused, "Why would you want to help me?"

I struggle to think of an answer then, I think about mentioning his eyes, how they make me feel safe, cure my loneliness, but I decide against it, just opting for simple, "Just because I do, you shouldnt be on the streets. Please?" I move my hand a little more towards him and he stares at my slightly shaking fingers.

He lifts his hand up a little, running it through his hair. I think he's going to drop it back to his side again, and I stare at his eyes, silently begging him to take my hand. Instead, he looks straight back at me, and his shaking fingers touch mine, just for a second. They pull away again, as if human contact's alien to him.

"Please," I say, barely audible. His fingers touch mine again, this time for longer. I smile at him and I almost see the ghost of a smile, just lifting the corners of his mouth. His fingers grip mine slightly and I fold my fingers round his, holding them tightly.

I let our hands drop between us, keeping his tightly in mine. I glance at him every few seconds as we walk through the market, and he glances back at me. I smile, and each time I smile I can his smile's getting stronger and stronger. I notice we're in back streets, avoiding the crowds, but I know we're heading back to the rich estate.

"Who are you?" I ask quietly as we turn out an alley and along a road I recognise.

He acts like he doesnt hear me for a minute, even though I know he does, until I hear him say quietly, "Fynn,"

"I'm Jay," I say, just a little louder than Fynn and he smiles a little more. We turn down my street and I inwardly groan when I see a car parked in the drive, my sisters. Great, the one time I actually want the house to be empty it isnt. I slow our pace, giving us more time alone as we trudge up the street.

I notice his hand is still in mine, and he's tensing his arm, holding himself a little awkwardly, always on guard. But he hasnt run yet. That's a plus. A very big plus.

I realise we can't delay us reaching my house, when we're suddenly at the bottom of the drive. I lead Fynn up there, and he's suddenly more nervous, hanging back, biting his lip.

"Please Fynn," I say, pulling him forward a little, "You know I just want to help, I promise,"

He stops straining a little, and lets me pull him along to the door, where I stop and pull out my key. I push open the door and hold his hand tighter, pulling us in. As I shut the door I can see him staring around the house in wonder. I hang my head a little, and pull us up the stairs, trying to dart into my room.

But as we reach the top of the stairs, my sisters comes out her room. She stares at me, her eyes full of hatred, and I try to push past her. I realise Fynns hand's not in mine, and I glance behind me, seeing him a few steps back, his eyes wide and darting, his stance alert.

"Whose he?" She hisses at me, putting her arm out to stop me.

"He's a," I glance down at my hand, the one he was holding just a few seconds ago, "He's a friend," I look behind me at Fynn, and this time I see a smile, a proper smile, one that lights up his beautiful eyes.

"Yeah," I smile widely, "He's a friend,"