Dear journal,
As expected, Scott's mom never actually won custody over him. He was ecstatic, I was ecstatic, it was great. In response, she chose to move here in an effort to "enter his life again". Scott wasn't happy about this in any way, shape, or form. He ranted to me over the phone one night for nearly two hours. I listened to him, of course, though it did hurt me a little hear him sound so upset.
-M

Scott was fixing up his room, cleaning it up a little. I sat on his bed and watched him clean, throwing most of his belongings into his closest as most teenager would. I remembered his room from that party we went to when he let me crash here. I wanted to see his art room again, but I was too afraid to ask him.

Everything we had talked about that day at school was suddenly dropped. We never spoke about it again, just went back to the way we were before. I think we both felt bad about how we treated each other. I was afraid of confronting him about it again because it ended badly last time. I didn't want to argue with him.

"I told my dad about ya'," Scott said suddenly, not looking to me. I raised an eyebrow shortly. He continued to pick things up off of his dresser. "I, uh, is that okay?" He asks.

"I mean, sure?" I question softly. "What did you tell him, exactly?" I ask him. He shrugs and joins me on the bed, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling off the end.

"Not much," he answers. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that," he continues. I looked at him intently, practically begging him for more information. He sighed. "I just said I was seein' someone," he shrugs again. "I am seein' someone, right?" He asks. I waited a moment before nodding.

"I thought so, yeah," I say. "Is that...all that you said?" I ask.

"Practically. Didn't say ya name if that's what you're worried 'bout," he says.

"Why would I be worried about that?" I ask. He shrugs yet again. "Scott?"

"No reason," he replies. "Just wasn't sure, that's all." I nodded slowly.

We sat in silence for a little, both of us looking down at our hands as a sense of awkwardness built around us. I was sure it was a full minute before Scott moved closer to me and put his hand on my thigh lightly. I looked up at him.

"Can I, uh, kiss you?" He asks. "Is that okay?" I nodded quickly, and just like that, we were kissing. He kissed me slowly, softly, and it seemed like all awkwardness was suddenly lifted as we grew fonder of each other. His hand still sat on my thigh. Occasionally he would run his hand up and down my thigh, and it made me smile a little.

It was the most gentle kiss I had shared with anyone. I could feel him being careful with me, like I was glass. Like he could break me with one wrong move. He was being cautious.

I didn't want him to feel like I was scared, or that I wasn't ready for whatever baggage he had with his family. I wanted him to know that I accepted him and that he didn't have to worry about losing me.

I didn't know how to tell him this, so I simply pulled him back with me, laying down on my back. He was hovering over me. From that moment on, everything had changed.

It was fast, needy, everything but careful. And it wasn't him. It wasn't full of care, or lust, or the pure want for one another. It didn't mean anything anymore. It felt forced, like he was trying to prove something and I just didn't know what it was. And most importantly, I hated every bit of it.

I pushed him away suddenly. He immediately pulled away at the tension. After a moment of realization, he sighed. He pulled himself off of me and sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. I didn't say anything for awhile and neither did he. Just like before, we sat in awkwardness.

I watched him, the expression on his face. He looked disappointed, like he let someone down. Like he let me down. I moved so I'd be sitting next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop me, he didn't tell me to stay. He was silent.

"It's okay," I say softly, reaching to hold his hand, intertwining his fingers into my own. "I don't know what's happening in your head right now, but it's okay." He shook his head slowly. I didn't know how to get him to speak. "Please talk to me," I stated softly.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his threat before speaking again. "I ain't deserve this," he says pointing back and forth between the two of us. I knew that I couldn't change his mind on that, no matter what I said. "Us, I mean."

"But I deserve you," I said softly. "And I think you deserve me too. I know you don't believe it, but that doesn't mean that I don't." He nodded. "What are you thinking at the moment? Tell me." He took a deep breathe.

"Like I'm the biggest idiot in the world," he said simply. "That I should'a listened to you," he continues. "Like I ain't good enough," he whispered the last part. I don't think he wanted me to hear it, although he knew that I would anyway. I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Why?" I ask softly. "Why does such an amazing person feel like that?" I continue. "Explain it to me." He shook his head and took a deep breathe. After a moment, he began to talk.

"I was raised in a household where I've never been good enough," he starts. "Everything was wrong. My chores, my grades, even my personality. When my mom left, it was like I couldn't keep her. No matter what I did, she didn't come back. I wasn't good enough for her. I've been raised by the fact that I'm not up to everyone's standards, like I'm less than them," he took a breathe. "And I met you and finally felt...right. Nothing feels wrong when I'm around you, and then when you yelled at me in the hallway. I knew it was my fault, of course I did. I'm such a defensive person. I had finally found someone to fully accept me and understand me, and I made him feel like shit. So once again, I felt like I wasn't good en-" he stopped suddenly, a little sniffle escaping from him. He was crying...almost. He was trying to not, but in a way, I kind of wanted him too. So I turned his head so he looked me in my eyes. He broke down. He cried and he cried hard. No matter how awful I felt holding him in that moment, I knew he needed it. He needed me, and he needed to cry.

"You are good enough," I say. "I know-"

"But-"

"No," I say. "Don't speak. Listen to me," I demand. "You are the best human I have ever met. I don't care what you've done, or said, in the past. It is the past for a reason, Scott. You grow from it and you learn. You are such a humble and grateful person. You did nothing wrong with me, okay? We are perfect, if not better than before." He nodded slowly, silent. We both had nothing to say for a moment before something dawned on me. "Did you, you know, kiss me like that because...you felt forced?" I ask. He was still for a second before shrugging.

"I don't know, Mitch. I just felt that you wanted something that I wasn't giving to you then. I just want to give you everything you want so we can both be happy. I guess I felt like you wanted to go, I don't know, farther? I guess? I thought kissing you would make you," he hesitated for a moment, "would make you stay." The only reaction I had to that was laugh. I laughed out loud, an audible laugh as well.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say. "I don't need to go any farther with you to know that I want to be with you. I want us to both to be comfortable in whatever situation happens, okay? That's why I stopped you. We were both uncomfortable," I explain. He nods silently. "How about this: we go slow," I suggest. "No labels, nothing. Well just let things move, and if something comes out of it, then great!" He nods again. "Can we both agree with that?" He smiles softly.

"Yeah, I think we can," he answers. I smiled brightly before pecking his lips once, wrapping my arms around his neck to hug him. "And I promise, I won't be a jackass to people anymore, okay?"

"You can still be a jackass. It's your personality. Just try to keep it limited?" I joke. He chuckles.

"Yeah, I'll try."

Hey! So school just started up for me so I can't promise to post very frequently but I'll try my hardest...