My eyes shut with the strain of staring at the phone screen for hours. I forced them open and glared at the screen defiantly, saying the last sentence I'd written in my head to make sure it was grammatically correct. It was.

I sighed in relief and read the article once more, just to make sure it made sense; hopefully I wouldn't regret this in the morning, although it was clear that it was morning already. Maybe I'll regret it in the evening.

My eyes shut again, and I forced them open. I couldn't do this anymore, so I just hit the button which would post the article in the website. Then I tossed my phone away and leaned back, my throbbing head hit something which made a crackling sound. Forcing my eyes to stay open for a few seconds, I looked around the room. It was as messy as it was everyday, but with an added flavour, the flavour being four huge bags of barbeque chips scattered over my messy clothes, two bottles of coke just laying on there on the floor and a bunch of chocolate wrappers on my bed. Needless to say, I'd been busy the past few hours, dirtying my room, writing and eating. Those three things were constant factors of my life, getting upset with myself led to writing or eating, I couldn't write without eating, so food was almost always added, then eating led to a very messy room. My mom was going to kill me tomorrow, or rather today, in a couple of hours because it was four in the morning. I had my training session with Horry in exactly two hours, and I hadn't slept a wink the entire night.

Brilliant.

I groaned and rubbed my tired face. My eyes were burning with strain. Maybe if I slept now, I would be able to make it tomorrow to the training session.

I yawned and leaned back again, ignoring the crackling sound made by the chocolate wrapper under my head. My eyes were moments from closing and body seconds from shutting down when I heard, or rather, felt it.

My phone was buzzing with the ferociousness of a freaking bumblebee. I would've ignored it if I hadn't seen the caller identity.

Tyler. Why the hell was he calling me at this time in the morning?

Sighing when I realized that there was no way I would be able to not piss off Horry tomorrow, I answered his call.

"It's four in the morning, why're you calling me?" I said grumpily into the phone.

"It's four in the morning, why're you awake?" Was his bright reply, he didn't even sound sleepy.

I muttered profanities under my breath. "Well, why are you awake?"

"Because I'm nineteen and old enough to do whatever I want, you're not even an adult legally."

My temper, helped by my sleepiness rose. "I'm turning eighteen in a week, you have no right to use that against me, and I can't believe you forgot my birthday." Tyler and I teased each other a lot, and his favourite way of teasing me was calling me a kid. I hated it, and I hated it even more if someone close to me forgot my birthday.

Instead of apologizing for his terrible attitude and trying to make amends for this admonishment, he laughed. Before I could lash out at him and reprimand him for annoying me this early in the morning while I was at my crankiest, he spoke. "That's what I wanted to talk about actually, I'll be flying over there for your birthday."

I blinked in surprise- or blinked away the sleepiness, but what he said wasn't lost on me. "You're what?"

I could hear him laughing his head off as I sat up, trying to clear my head. "This had better not be a prank." I threatened.

He calmed down for a moment. "No, I swear, I'm really coming over there, I'll be there on Thursday."

I knew Tyler well enough to know that he was telling the truth. "You're coming all the way here just for my birthday?"

"Yes."

I was a hopeless romantic at heart, my emotions got out of control for everything - there was a time when I felt depressed for days on end after reading the Divergent series, but I had a feeling what Tyler was doing for me right now would have melted the coldest hearts, and he was just a friend. Showing him how much this touched me would make him get on a high horse, so instead of saying sloppy words of thanks, I said. "Don't tell me you got kicked out of college for stalking a girl and now you need a place to stay in, so you're just using my birthday as an excuse."

Those were extremely offensive words, most sensible guys would have ended the conversation right then, most sensible girls wouldn't have said those words, but Tyler and I were neither, so he just predictably laughed again while I grinned at his deep laughter.

"You have a strange sense of humour Em." He said, trying to sound mature.

"You have none Tyler." I said, imitating his 'grown up' tone.

He laughed. "I have no idea why I still talk to you."

"Neither do I, so that's not a problem." I didn't realize how true this was until I said it.

He seemed to have noticed something off about my tone because his next words were full of concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause. Then: "Something's up, what is it?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"That's not the right answer, asking you 'what's up' is a sure way to make you spill everything that happened to you this week, the week before, the last month and the name of the hospital in which you were born. You never say you're okay. That's not what you do."

"I could say the same thing to you." I argued, it WAS strange that he called me at four in the morning; Tyler knew my hectic schedule too well to even bother calling me up at this time.

"What?"

"What's wrong? I'm not stupid, you never call me up this late unless it's important." I voiced my thoughts.

I waited and waited, but he didn't say anything. Finally, I decided to take action. "You can tell me."

He sighed softly, I could literally feel his sadness. "Something happened," There was a pause, "I went to a party, it was a normal college party - wild and crazy with barely anyone who could string a sentence together." Another pause, I could feel the hesitation in his voice. "Liz and Justin were there, I came back to my room earlier than planned with broken glasses."

I resisted the urge scream, the only reason I didn't was because I had a feeling Tyler wanted to do the same thing.

"One day, I'm going to get hold of those good-for-nothing, ego-filled, butt-headed results of failed contraception and spend an hour with them in a sound-proofed room before stuffing their heads into a pile of dog poop. What the fuck were they doing there anyway?" Let's just say, my anger was more than obvious, and definitely more than justified.

I heard him let out a long sigh. "I have no clue. But thanks for the vivid description of what you'd do to them once you get the chance, makes me happy. Although you could have left out the dog poop part." He was already smiling, I knew it.

The thought of making him smile made me smile. "What did they do this time?"

"The usual, reminded of high school, Liz kicked me, Justin broke my glasses so everything became blurry and I had to drive myself home without being able to see the steering wheel. I was feeling lonely so I told Rick to come over and called you."

I took in a deep breath, picked up the empty bottle of soda and squeezed it until it was completely crushed. Then I tossed it at the wall, imagining the bottle to be the couple from hell - Liz and Justin.

They were even worse than Hannah, because while Hannah only farted from her mouth and threatened the environment with it, Liz and Justin had rocks for hearts and shit for brains. Literally. Their existence was a proof of the nearness of the end of the world.

They were bullies who loved using Tyler for their sadistic satisfaction because they'd known him at his worst when he was in high school.

"What was Rick doing when you were getting beaten up?" I said suddenly. Rick was one of Tyler's best friends; I'd never met him, but if he was as nice as Tyler said he was, I didn't see why Tyler had to get hurt today - yesterday because it was past twelve.

"I went alone." He answered. "Rick was out with his girlfriend."

I sighed softly. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say, my consoling skills were as good as most pop singers' voices without auto tune; rough and insufferable. The best I could do was violently threaten the offender, and I wasn't sure if that was what Tyler wanted right now. "You're not hurt too badly, are you? Physically, I mean."

"Told you Em, it was the usual, I'm fine but I'll need new glasses."

"Good. When you come here next week, I'm going to teach you how to pack a punch that'll knock them out and help you get revenge, until then, try and keep yourself out of trouble."

He laughed. I wasn't sure if he was laughing at himself for calling me for support or at my lame, broken-almost-hundred-times promise. This wasn't the first time I'd promised to help him out, but each time he refused to learn a violent way to solve his problems. Not that these things happened frequently, but when they did, I wished they didn't.

"All right." He said lightly, the earlier sadness gone from his voice.

"I'll buy you a pair of glasses when you come here. Along with ice-cream." I promised.

He laughed again. "I'm sure you'll buy me ice-cream. But I'm more sure you'll make me pay for it."

I grinned, feeling a big weight being lifted off my shoulders when I heard his genuine, deep laugh. Making him laugh made me happy. "You're probably right, but what's the difference between your money and mine? We're friends aren't we?"

"Of course, we're friends as long as you buy me ice-cream but I end up paying for it."

"Yep. I think this is the first time you've spoken the truth."

"That is so funny Em. I'm laughing so much that my stomach is cramping." He said, sarcasm dripping with every word.

"Or, you're on your period."

He snorted. "Now, I can't expect myself to be as good of an actor as you are, can I? You're possibly the only person in the world who can fake periods."

"That's because I'm a girl, you ignorant mortal."

"I'm not ignorant, not more than you at least."

"And how's that?"

"I'm the one doing a majors in chemistry and biology with a minors in physics. That's how."

"But I'm a girl, girls know everything.""That's the wrongest thing I've heard today."

"Wrongest is the wrongest word I've heard today."

That made him laugh before I heard the sound of a door slamming. "Hey, Rick's here, I'll call you again tomorrow in the evening, okay? Get some sleep now."

"Okay." I ended the call. Tyler was probably going to get drunk now, that was the one thing he did whenever he was with Rick. As much as I sucked at dealing with upset people, drunk ones were much worse for me. And Tyler knew it. He got drunk whenever he had to deal with Liz and Justin.

Liz and Justin were just the definition of awful. Tyler knew them from high school, and they were his bullies.

Tyler was smart, he always had top grades in the private school he went to, in which he got a hundred percent scholarship. That wasn't an easy task, but he managed it with ease until he reached his awkward teenage years. While most of his classmates were dating, Tyler had trouble with his sexuality. He wasn't sure if he was gay or straight, and the confusion stayed with him for a long time.

Liz and Justin were the worst of the bullies he had to face. Both of them stepped in and out of puberty like it was nothing but with good results. So obviously, they found Tyler and used him as a way to show off their superiority.

Justin was so bad that I pitied Justin Bieber for having to share his name with him.

Tyler was very smart, but confused about himself; it didn't occur to him that he might be bisexual, not until he finished school and started college.

Tyler had all his break throughs after school, he got into a good college easily, he understood himself better, he found friends he could trust and most of all, he got to use his brain to its full capacity. He was much happier than he had ever been, except when things like running into the old classmates happened, then his happiness went down the drain. Not for long though, I had a feeling he was going to be as happy as he usually was in a few hours.

The only problem was, I wasn't happy right now. The clock said the time was past five in the morning, and I had to meet Horry an hour without Shirley to help me survive.

Not a good idea.

I'll just skip tomorrow, it's not like I'm going to die if I skip training one day, am I?

Horry probably didn't share the same opinion with me, but I'd never listened to him before, so it didn't matter.

Groaning, I fell back onto the bed and passed out almost immediately.

-----------------------------------------------

I woke up feeling like someone had slowly roasted me on an open fire before dumping me in a tub of ice cold water- sore and cranky.

My legs, arms, stomach, butt, my everything felt like something was wrapped around them tightly to restrict movement, even lifting my pinky hurt like a female dog. So instead of putting any effort to move and causing more ridiculously tearing, burning pain to myself, I lay back down and decided not to wake up for a few more hours.

Last night had been an eventful one for me. Although that sounded like what a virgin would say after sleeping with her high school boyfriend for the first time and actually enjoying it, my experience last night was nowhere close to being as fun as sex.

Because when you have sex, at least you get some sort of pleasure (not that I knew how sex could be pleasurable, the thought of letting a guy stick his...junk inside my....wherever was very unsettling thought for me and normally induced puking fits, I already would have started puking my guts out in the washroom if it hadn't been for my sore legs and my laziness), but when you spend an hour punching your trusty punching bag for two hours straight right before a heavy dinner, it's not pleasure you come away with, it's the inability to walk properly up the stairs; and once you DO manage to get up the stairs, you shouldn't stay awake the whole night eating and writing an article - but I did all those things anyway.

I was surprised I didn't wake up with a heart disease after eating so many crisps last night.

It was around four in the afternoon when I finally gathered the willpower to get my butt off the bed.

It was as painful, if not more painful than I'd imagined it would be.

Almost an hour later, I was rocking a huge shirt and baggy pants, my frizzy hair was pulled back in the usual tight bun (mostly because that was the only form in which my hair didn't look like a tornado hit it) and I was making my way downstairs.

Ed was on the couch with his math homework.

"Do you need any help?" I asked him.

He shook his head and continued scratching away at his book.

"I'm going out then."

He looked up in surprise. "Where?"

"Outside." I answered vaguely, then walked out before he could make a sarcastic comment about it.

I had a couple of missed calls from Shirley and Tyler, but I was too lazy to call back and talk to them, so I decided to call them later.

Ethan was sitting in the park, blowing smoke through his mouth. I raised my hand and waved at him, and I was positive I saw him frown deeply before ditching his smoke and making his way to where I was standing.

"I don't get break on Saturdays?"

"No. The same way your lungs don't get a break from your bad habits." I pursed my lips and cursed myself for saying that, the last thing I wanted was to start the conversation with negativity; I'd been telling myself not to piss Ethan off all the way from my house to the park - but of course, even I wasn't good at listening to myself.

You really arean idiot.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. "Did anyone tell you that you talk too much for your own good?"

"Maybe."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm really starting to regret making this deal with."

I shrugged, trying not appear hurt or angry with what he said. "It's too late now. I'm holding you to your promise."

There was so much anger and frustration on his face that I couldn't fathom what I'd done to cause it. His grey eyes were dull but shining with annoyance, the way he clenched and unclenched his fists showed the anger he was holding back at someone I didn't know; but maybe it was just anger at me for probing into his life.

His gaze burned into mine for exactly a moment, his deep grey eyes swirled with so much pent up rage that I felt breathless for that one moment, then I turned and broke the contact and walked as fast as I could towards the cafe, hoping he'd follow me.

He did. And I was more than thankful for it, especially since I didn't have to look into his eyes and specifically ask him to come with me; I wasn't sure if his eyes wouldn't burn me on the spot.

We were seated in our usual seats in the cafe when the gloominess of the atmosphere hit me. His stormy eyes had already begun shooting lightening at everything, and if the lightening coming out of them had been real, the chairs, the cafe, the park and my body would have been struck down by it long ago.

I opened my notebook slowly, suddenly afraid to ask him my intrusive questions in my insensitive way.

I took in a deep breath, solidifying my liquid confidence with as much indifference as possible.

"Look. You should stop this bullshit."

The intensity of the moment was replaced by utter surprise on his face, but he recovered quickly and the frown was back on his face. "Bullshit? What the fuck are you talking about, kid?"

I hated the way he said kid, but I hated his patronizing tone a lot more. "First of all, I'm NOT a kid. And as for the bullshit, I mean you should STOP giving me this bullshit attitude whenever I say something negative!" My voice was above the range that was acceptable in polite discussion, but I didn't care; my anger was mostly, if not wholly set off by the way he seemed to think he could treat me like a kid. If there was one thing I absolutely hated, it was a stranger underestimating me.

He pursed his lips. "You don't get to tell me how my attitude should be. It's not your fucking business.!"

I wanted to give him a heated reply, but now that I'd already snapped once, I didn't want to do it again and piss him off more. Taking a safer route would be better. "I know you're mad at me, okay? Bu-"

"It doesn't have to be you, maybe I'm mad at something else. Stupid kids are not the only people I have to deal with on daily basis."

I sighed. "Maybe you're not. But I have a feeling I'm the reason you're spitting fire. Just hear me out, okay? I'm not a very nice person, and I'm very good at throwing insults which might hurt people, and half the time I don't think things through, but that doesn't mean you should take me seriously. Try not to pay any attention to my words, and you'll stop getting the urge to rip off my head whenever I open my mouth."

His mouth popped open in surprise at my confession, and somehow his anger went down the drain."Seriously? If you're aware that you talk in a way that hurts people, why don't you just stop it?"

I smiled, glad that we weren't throwing colourful words at each other anymore. "If I answer that, do I get to ask you an extra question toady?"

He snorted, a little irritation came back into his grey eyes. "Can't you have one proper, serious conversation?"

I shrugged. "No, not really. So, do I get to ask an extra question or not?"

He frowned, and his face clouded with a deep thought as he considered the pros and cons of granting me a wish and letting me ask an extra question. Apparently, the pros overcame the cons, because he agreed to what I wanted, but changed it a little bit. "How about you skip telling me your story instead? That way we're balanced. You answer one question of mine, and I answer one of yours."

Trust him to change it to make it less painful for himself; not that I could complain, the thought of not having to spin a love story was very appealing. "Fine."

"So, why do you do it? If you know that you talk too much out of turn and talk too much and irritate the shit out of people, why do you do it?"

"Am I that bad?"

He rolled his eyes. "That bad? The first day I met you, I had to spend two hours smoking to get you out of my head. I was mentally traumatized."

"Now, you're exaggerating. And you're blaming your addiction on me."

He snorted. "I would never blame you for my addiction, but that doesn't mean I like dealing with you."

I shrugged dismissively. "Don't worry. You're not the first person to say that, and you won't be the last. I'm not very likable and I know that."

He frowned, now looking more confused than annoyed. "Why don't you make yourself likable then?"

I studied him carefully. All his irritation seemed to be replaced by genuine curiosity. "You really want to know?"

He leaned back, but continued staring at me intently. "Maybe."

"Because making yourself likable is impossible."

"Not really. All you have to do is stop talking. Everyone will love you, and I'll be able to bear your presence without wanting to run away." He disagreed.

I ignored insults. "Probably. But I'm never going to be loved by everyone."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because we live in a world where it's impossible to please everyone around us. Even if you're the nicest person in the world, some people are going to hate you, even if you're the strongest, most selfless person in the world, someone will hate you, even if you're the kindest person in the world, someone hate you for being too kind. Even if you compromise your entire character to make yourself lovable, there's always going to be someone who's jealous or wants to bring you down. Trust me, it is impossible to be loved by everyone, so it's better to just be yourself and hope the right kind of people will love the real you. Life is like a high school, there are so many kinds of people that it's impossible to please everyone. Look at it this way: In school, if you're cool and rebellious, your friends will love you and parents will hate you for being too rebellious. If you're not cool enough, you'll get bullied. If you're too smart, you are put by students. If you're not smart, you're put down by teachers and parents. If you're a jock, you're expected to win while keeping up with your grades and attending parties with your friends and keeping up with your social life. Do you see what I'm driving at? There's no way anyone can keep everyone happy, so it's better to be yourself and do whatever you want and hope you can make at least some people happy."

There was silence after my huge, positive, philosophical rant. We stared at each other, unwilling to break away from the eye contact. There was a spell, this energy, that kept us locked for a lot more time than should be comfortable.

But then, he looked away suddenly.

I glanced at my palms, silently chiding myself for talking too much, when he cleared his throat, making me look at him. Were his eyes always such a beautiful grey?

Since when do you care about that?

"What's your question for today?" He asked, probably in hopes of clearing the awkward air.

I opened my book and looked through my notes. It took my some time, given my ridiculously small handwriting. "What - what kind of drugs do you take?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

I sighed. "Because I want my article to be factually accurate. If you tell me the kind of drugs you take, I'll Google them and their effects."

He looked strangely uncomfortable with me knowing about the effect of his drugs - seemed ready to argue with me; but I gave him a glare and he backed down - or I hoped it was my glare which made him back down. "Mostly weed. I started off with Ecstasy. But now it's mostly weed."

"That's it?" My eyebrows shot up sceptically; it was surprisingly easy to deduce from his expression that he was hiding something.

"And other drugs, you won't be able to find out much about them; but they give the usual weed effect. They just make me high."

"And?" I prompted. It was a little too obvious that he hadn't told me everything.

"Cocaine." He said like a person would say that the world was ending. There was so much weight in his words."But only if I'm in a really bad state. Like once or twice a month."

Problem was, I knew absolutely nothing about drugs, so how much ever weight his words carried, they didn't affect me, and wouldn't affect me until I checked them up.

"Okay."

He looked surprised by my lack of reaction, but didn't say anything; although I did notice him drop his shoulders in a relieved way.

I noted down the two words and put my pen back in my pocket.

Any other day, he would already been walking away, but today he just sat there, staring at me like we had some kind of unfinished business.

I steeled myself for the jump and took a leap. "Look," I started scratching the coffee table between us like a nervous cat. "Look... there's this article I wrote... last night... it's kind of dedicated to you and for people like me who judge others without knowing them properly. Yesterday I called you a failure, and I'm sorry for that. The article I wrote is kind of inspired by you. It's my way of saying sorry, and you can read it if you want."

"Okay."

More awkward silence. "And I think you should give me your number."

"Why?" Safe to say, he didn't jump with joy at the thought giving me his number.

"I have my finals coming up and I have a lot to study. I don't want you to sit here waiting for me if I'm not able to make it or something."

He rolled his eyes at the thought of waiting for me, but we exchanged numbers without incident.

"What subjects do you have?" He asked out-of-the-blue.

It amused me that he would be curious about my education. "Why?"

"I could help you with math if you want. I had math when I was in high school."

That caught me off guard. "You want to help me?"

"Yeah." His defensive tone stopped me from asking any more questions.

"Are you any good at it?"

He smiled for some reason. "No. I was only good at it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Used to get an A-grade in every math test." Oddly enough, he didn't look very proud of it. Although there was a smile on his face, the smile wasn't a happy or proud one, it was the kind of smile which you find on old paintings of wise people - vague and sad.

It was just by pure luck that I'd brought my math books along with me - I'd brought them in the hopes of getting the mood to study in the park. Now, there was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to spend time with Ethan and learn more about his strange character.

"Well. If you're actually serious about the offer, it will be awesome if you can help me out a little with my calculus. I'm terrible at it."

"I don't make empty promises. I really do want to help. Ask away." He said indignantly.

I couldn't help but grin widely for some reason as I reached for my bag and pulled out my books. Sure, there was something extremely strange in his behaviour from yesterday and today, but I was weirdly interested in knowing him better.

And what better way to bond than over a math textbook?

Author's note: No idea what to say, but please let me know what you think as I really need some feedback :-) (I still love all of you who are reading this story, your patience is commendable). Also, I don't like this chapter very much for some reason, so if you don't like it either, please let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

Cyan