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

I feel a pang of guilt as I rest my head on Jay's chest - guilt for staying in his house, guilt for letting him help me, guilt for wearing his clothes and guilt for not telling him I don't like him in the way he likes me. Because I don't, and I can see the way he looks at me and I know that he does like me. I saw the way he looked at me when I came out of his shower and when we were choosing a DVD.

I push the guilt down, and I also push down the odd flippy feeling I get in my stomach when he runs his hand through my messy hair for the second time. I decide that I'm hungry and that's the cause, and I breathe in the smell of deodorant and fabric conditioner and cleanness, and I decide that the contrast between this boy and me is so huge. I should probably clear off in the night but I think that would hurt him and I don't want to let go of a house so fast.

I'll stick it out a while.

"So I'm thinking we should turn this film off right? I don't want you to get freaked out," Jay says after a few minutes of me pressing my face into his shirt, and I nod, and he pulls away from me. He gets off the bed and goes over to the TV, and obviously turns it off as the sound stops and the picture fades.

I curl myself up on the bed and rest my head on my knees, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to block out the memories.

"Bye bye, pretty," the man grins, his hand still under Leighah's shirt, and I feel a scream rising in my throat and bubbling out of my mouth.

I hear someone sobbing - probably Avolon - and Jonathan starts yelling random curses, but there's no way we can stop them and I see Leighah's tear-stained face, twisted with fear, and I see the men grab each of her arms and stretch her - like in some kind of sick cross.

She squeezes her eyes shut and the two gunshots make her chest turn into an explosion of red, and she slumps down almost instantly, held up by the sneering men and I hear my scream crack away, but buzzing for everything else.

The man grins and takes a step towards Avalon, but Jonathan's face contorts with fury and his mouth moves in a shout, but I can't hear it and it must have worked because the man scrunches up his face and shakes his head.

Blackness.

Jay interrupts me with a: "Want to get something to eat?" and I look up quickly, and I think he reads the eagerness in my face because goes over and opens the bedroom door, gesturing for me to go through, and I do, and he follows behind me.

He puts his hand into mine and for some reason I instantly grip his hand tighter than I probably should. I can see him grin from the corner of my eye and I feel that guilt inside my chest again, but I ignore it and ignore the weird tight feeling in my chest that makes my heart flutter and creeps me out a bit. I've heard that that can be a sign of heart disease, and I feel my cheeks go a bit pale. I don't really want to die on the rich kid's carpet, when I've just found somewhere to sleep and eat and wash and feel safe - luxuries I don't often have.

Jay seems to take the stairs quickly, as if keeping me away from someone - probably his sister. I stare around the hallways and at the paintings and photographs - yachts, horses, foreign countries, kids dressed like mini-adults - and I realise that this is what Jay's family are like and they're probably not going to welcome a kid who's lived one the streets for years and had a pretty fucked up home life beforehand.

I'm sure my eyes go wide as we walk into the kitchen, with the polished surfaces and glass tables and silver cutlery displayed in a case. The walls are covered with framed articles about some big restaurant that so-and-so has eaten in and has won some award, and I realise that this restaurant is probably something family owned and I'm not going to fit in.

I feel my jaw physically open when Jay yanks back the fridge door and I see shelves and shelves of food that I've never seen before - and there are huge fish packed into trays of ice and plates of green salad with white cubes of something in them, and when Jay asks what I want I have to swallow a few times before choking out an, "I don't mind.."

"Well, I'm kind of a shit cook, so I'm either thinking microwave-able stuff, or just like crisps or something? Or, you know, we could just order in.." Jay's unsteady tone brings some comfort to my voice as I realise that he's the type of person who eats all this posh food, and I don't think I've eaten a full meal that composed of stuff like this ever.

No even when I had a home.

My parents weren't really the sort of people to care about what their soon ate and how it affected him. I don't even know why they bothered having me. After all, if you don't give a toss about your kids, what's the point in making one?

I shrug, and lift one hand slightly, "Yeah, sure," I say, shaking my hair so it rests in my eyes. I shiver slightly, for some reason I'm not sure about, and then I notice that the fridge is open and I shut it with my foot.

"Order in?" He asks, squeezing my hand slightly - something that makes me jump a bit as I'd forgotten our hands were linked, and I nod. "What kind? They do good pizza just down the road?"

"Pizza it is then," I mutter, and he looks for a pizza menu and he chooses what to have. I blink at the words for a second and then squint at them, trying to read them quickly so I don't look like an idiot, and deciding after a while that I'll have a plain one, as it's the cheapest thing on the menu.

Jay picks up the phone and places the order, chatting with the person on the other end of the line and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, something that makes the breath go fluttery in my throat and I wonder if it's another symptom of heart problems.

We talk for the ten minutes we have to wait - or Jay talks, and I listen. I find out that he's just turned eighteen, he has an older sister (who I've met) and a younger brother who's at boarding school, he likes trancecore, disco metal, electronica and new wave and that his favourite colours are basically anything neon that can be seen from a few miles away.

He's just coaxing out of me stuff about my own life when the door bell goes, and I instantly shut up and drop his hand as he runs out to get the pizzas. He puts his head around the door and tells me that we're gonna eat in his bedroom, and I slide off the stool and follow him, sitting down next to him on the bed and opening my box with shaking hands.

I eat several slices in the first few minutes, not bothering to savour the taste on my tongue and just trying to eat as much as I can before someone takes it away from me. I notice that Jay's looking at me as I start on the fifth of eight slices, a smile playing on his lips, and I blush, going back to filling my stomach with expensive Italian food.

"Fynn... tell me about you..?" he asks, taking a small chunk out of his pizza and swallowing it as I shake my head, devouring the crust of the fifth slice and picking up a sixth. "Please?" he begs, taking a bigger bite this time, and I shake my head again, more violently this time. "Oh come on Fynn, please?"

I feel anger bubble in my throat and before I can consider it, I snap, "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" at him and glare, seeing him flinch backwards and instantly regretting it. I eat my last slice of pizza staring at the bed sheets, trying not to drop crumbs them.

"Okay... sorry," he says quietly, eating a third slice of his pizza, pushing the box in my direction and smiling at me. "Do you want mine too? You must be hungry.." he offers, and I feel a smile twitch around my lips.

I touch the box and then withdraw my hand quickly. "Do you mind?" I mumble, staring at the slices of weird looking thin ham and some green plant that I think might be rocket or cress or something.

He shakes his head and smiles. "Like I said, you must be hungry," he laughs, and smiles some more as I grab a slice, chewing it quickly and gulping as much down as I can eat in one go. I finish it quickly, and lie back, exhaling softly and and feeling my eyelids droop.

"Dya wanna sleep?" offers Jay as I yawn, and he gets off the bed and pulls the covers back a bit so I can get in.

"Sure," I reply, yawning again, rolling off the bed and seeing Jay pull the covers back completely as I get up. He gives me an off-white shirt that's probably a fair few sizes too big, and I thank him quietly and go off into the bathroom to change shirts and take off my - I mean Jay's - jeans, folding them up and placing them next to all my other stuff. I don't look at myself in the mirror, as I know I'll see a too-skinny messy-haired ugly guy and I hate seeing that.

I go back into the bedroom we're sharing for the night, and I hesitate by the bed, only getting in when Jay smiles and pulls back the covers for me. I pull the sheets up over my shoulders as I lie down and have a shock at how soft it is. I roll over to face him and he flicks off the little green lamp by the bed.

"Are you sure you don't mind sharing a bed?" He asks me, and I shift a bit, trying to get used to the feel of a mattress. Something feels wrong.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I mumble, rolling over the other way and staring into total darkness, trying to get used to the feeling of sleeping in between four walls, in a place I'm meant to be sleeping, a place where someone wants me.

I roll over again, and smack into Jay, who's shifted. I move back a bit so we're not touching still, and I make a sound of alarm, and he laughs, his breath tickling my cheek. "Something wrong?" he asks, his voice hushed in the darkness, and I twitch.

"I think something's broken in your bed," I mutter, poking the soft mattress. "Is it meant to be this comfy?"

I expect the light to be flicked on and Jay to look under his bed, checking if the slats or springs or whatever are broken, but instead he laughs and laughs and laughs, and I blink into the blackness, wondering what he's found so damn funny.

"Fynn," he finally gasps out, his breath colliding with my neck - I guess he's moved - and I feel myself flinch for some reason. "It's meant to be like this." He chuckles again, moving his legs under the covers and somehow, they end up tangled in with mine.

Neither of us move.

"Night," he breathes, and I smile.

"Night," I reply, and for some reason, I move closer to him in the dark so our bodies are touching.

And I don't think either of us understands why I do that.