Laying on Luna's white leather sofa, I curl into a ball, staring out the window with the cashmere blanket wrapped around and curled into my fists. The moon is brighter than usual, shining through the window and reflecting some light onto the small television and glass table. My bottled water sits at my feet, it's cool exterior chilling me. I'm too lazy to push it away, though, and put up with the annoyance. My head is pounding, probably not used to all the new feelings and noises of being outside the institution.

Raindrops cast blurry shadow on the window's glass, illuminating small frames of the same image onto it. My hair smells of a floral garden, thanks to Luna's all natural shampoo, and I reek of organic soap. It's a good smell, though, better than the ones i've had in the past two years. It feels so strange, to be back in the place I spent so many hours at before everything spiraled downhill. Luna and I would spend lifetimes talking and playing cards, something I miss doing.

I need to walk. I've missed being free, and this insomnia isn't helping me sleep. Padding out to the front hall, I scribble a quick note on a sticky pad, putting on a pair of her combats over my ankle socks and walking out of her home. The pavement, flooded a bit, is no match for my waterproof boots. I easily trample through it, hands in my sweatshirt pockets as I walk. My footsteps echo loudly on the silent, dark street, giving the scene an eerie but comfortable feel.

Ever since I can remember, I loved the dark and late hours of the night. The silence called out to me like a temptation, luring me into the streets. My parents would constantly find my bed empty when they awoke for a glass over water and have to call out for me. Sometimes, I thought they didn't really want me, or like me, and that my brother was the favorite child who did everything right.

I used to barely scrape by in my classes, while Chris passed with flying colors. Everyone loved his bubbly, carefree attitude, ignoring me like I wasn't there. I don't blame them- I always dwelled too much on the bad moments of my life, never appreciating the family and life I had in front of me. All I could really do was paint, which consumed hours and hours locked in my room to do. Just outside my bedroom door, however, Chris would always have a friend or two over. They would talk about everything under the moon, sometimes even about me.

Every time he spoke, it was like magic. His words would twist into something Shakespeare would be jealous of, luring me in as much as the night. Whatever he said would become a story, something that could start off as walking the dog and ending up in a thrilling battle that really was only our dog chasing a squirrel. He was amazing, and I envied him for it.

"Hey!" A voice calls out. I turn around suspiciously, not really expecting anyone to follow me. A familiar flash of brown hair and cornflower blue eyes runs through my vision before Gabriel's right in front of me, looking worried. He's dry, under an umbrella. I realize I forgot one, and was letting myself get soaked in the rain. "What are you doing out here? It's late." His voice is concerned, questioning.

I shrug. Why are you out here? I want to ask. Did you follow me? "Ah, right. The silent treatment." He locks his hand on my elbow, leading me down the street. I shrug off his grip, avoiding his gaze. "You know, no lady has ever gone more than twenty four hours without falling for my charm." His light irish accent drawls in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I look up at the red umbrella, reaching my cold finger up to touch the fabric. A sigh escapes his lips, and he pulls it over both our heads.

"So, where are you from, sweetheart?" He asks casually. I pull a cigarette out of my shorts, lighting it and blowing some smoke out in front of me. It comes out in a ring, which I smile at. I'm so easily amused, it humors me sometimes. "I'm from Ireland." He tells me, and I roll my eyes. No shit. "Actually, I was born on a boat to Ireland. Pretty badass, huh?" I don't reply like he wants me to, focusing on taking another drag. "Lived there for thirteen years. Do you know how much alcohol is in Dublin, sweetheart? A whole lot.." He doesn't seem to be talking to me, anymore, pondering to himself.

He laughs, a bit humorlessly. "Someone should've stopped me sooner. I started failing classes, coming to class hammered, stoned, and hungover-all at once." I raise my eyebrow, not thinking this well-defined guy could ever have weaknesses. He sits down on the steps, depriving me of shelter. I have no choice but to sit next to him, watching how sad his face looks as he recalls his upbringing. It almost makes me want to talk to him. "My dad, he was as horrid as me. We got drunk together, and he.." His voice trails off, and I can swear I hear a cracking in his tone. "He beat my mum. I was too out of it to do much of anything except drunkenly defend her, but even then." He pulls down the collar of his black sweatshirt, exposing a white scar on the side of his neck, where his neck meets his collarbone.

"This was the last time I fought back. He killed her. Killed my mum." I stay silent, my heart breaking a bit at the emotion in his voice. He lowers his eyes to my hand, and his own grasps my necklace. His thumb runs along the engraved writing, murmuring to himself, "Alexxa."

He's drunk. How could he drink after all that happened to him? I could smell the whiskey on his breath, something that repulsed me. I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, but he needed to go home and sleep it off.

I pull away, dropping my hand from his cheek and clutching my dogtags to my chest. My heart beats wildly out of my chest. Alexxa. The way he says it makes me want to be really, truly be Alexxa. He says it like a prayer, as if it's the most genuine word he's ever heard. "Want to get some coffee?" He asks after a moment of silence.

I nod, hoping the caffiene would sober him up enough for me to go home without worrying. He holds the umbrella over us as I finish my cigarette, stubbing it out on the pavement and tossing it in the trash can nearby. The rain has lightened up into a sprinkle, hardly making a sound as we walk. Al's is the only one night diner around, a place Chris and I used to go all the time. Al was like family to us, a sort of uncle we never had.

We walk inside, leaving the umbrella at the door. It's almost empty with the exception of Kendall Briggs, one of the jocks at my high school. I want to ask how he's doing, but realize I'm outcasted now and probably won't be recognized. I bet they all forgot about me, if they even realized I was there in the first place. Gabriel nudges me, and I remember to move forwards, sitting across from him in a booth.

"Do you want the same thing as before?" I nod, pulling out two euros and sliding them towards him. He shakes his head, pushing it back to me. Al walks over to us, just as I remember him. Salt and pepper hair, warm, forest-green eyes, and a tan that never fades. He's as skinny as I remember, maybe even a little lighter. I turn my head out the window, hoping he doesn't recognize me.

"Hey, Gabriel." Does everyone know him around here? "What're you doing up so late? And with a lady, I mi-" He cuts off, and I can feel him put some weight on the table as he leans closer to me. "Holy crap, you look like her." I turn to face him, swallowing hard. His green eyes widen as he meets my eyes, and I make it a motive to play with the dogtags on my neck, hoping he understands.

"Alexxa," He smiles warmly, but he looks depressed all of a sudden. "How are you?" I smile, shrugging, and stare at the menu in my hands. "You've grown to be beautiful, darling." He isn't flirting, more complimenting me like a father would. "I'm really sorry about everything that's happened, especially with-"

I glare at him, trying to get him to stop. He cuts off immediately, looking back at Gabriel. He glances between us, confusion etched onto his handsome features. "With the funerals." He continues, not catching what I had been trying to say. "Anyway, want the usual?" I nod, staring at Gabriel's fidgeting hands.

"I'll have the same thing." He says, and Al leaves us in silence. He examines me, eyes soft. "The funerals?" He asks quietly, concern laced through every syllable. I nod, breaking eye contact with the stranger i've only met less than twenty four hours ago. Why am I even here? I should be home. Luna's probably having an anxiety attack after losing me again. "Who died?"

I shake my head, the pain too great even two years later. I try not to think of my older brother, who was able to weave amazing stories like nothing. My mother, who was always a social butterfly. My father, who would teach me to play basketball like the boys. How they brutally killed themselves on my sixteenth birthday, leaving me on my own. "Alexxa," Gabriel's voice is soft, comforting. "You don't have to tell me."

I bite back a snort. I wasn't talking to you, anyways. I think, but my heart is still plummeting to my stomach at the memories. He leans back in his chair, knee bumping mine. Unconciously, I pull away, sitting indian style on the booth seat and putting in one of my headphones, to listen to the song that always calmed me down.

"I awoke,

Only to find my lungs empty..

And through the night,

So it seems I'm not breathing..

And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be,

And I'm breaking down, I think I'm breaking down." As I listen, my eyes close, trying to escape reality.

"And I'm afraid,

To sleep because of what haunts me,

Such as living with the uncertainty

That I will never find the words to say

Which would completely explain,

How I'm breaking down.." The aroma of coffee opens my eyes, and I look up to see Al, smiling warmly at me and pushing it in front of my face. Gabriel's eyes never leave my figure as Al puts his in front of him, making sure he sees it before sighing.

"We should talk, Alexxa." He says, voice coated with suspicion. I nod, standing and sending a reassuring smile towards Gabriel before walking off into the kitchen behind him. I wait for the door to close before turning and facing him, waiting for the bombshell to explode. "What's going on? We looked everywhere for you, and you just suddenly pop up, two years later?" I shrug. "You know something? I haven't heard a word come from your mouth since i've seen you. Tell me something. Anything having to do with why you disappeared."

I bite my lip, feeling the cool diamond of my lip stud graze my tooth. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my license and discharge papers, setting them on the counter. He picks them up and examines them carefully, trying not to look suprised at the words written. "I can't believe this. All this time, you were right down the street. I could've saved you.." He whispers, voice breaking. "They fucking ruined you. This girl, it isn't the same one I used to know."

I know he doesn't mean to hurt me when he says 'ruined,' but I feel the pain like stab wounds anyway. He gives them all back to me, pulling me in for a tight hug. I bury my face in his shoulder, taking in the familar scent of grease on his navy tee shirt. "Don't go away again. I lost Chris, but I can't risk losing you."

Nodding, I break away and turn out to the back door, not even remembering to go back to Gabriel but not really caring.

I need to be alone.

------

Picture on the side is Gabriel --->

Ah, tumblr boys...