"Indie, what are you doing here?" Brock asked me, the confusion he felt evident by the way his brows were furrowed.

I didn't answer, I just looked at him instead. I'd never really looked at Brock, carefully anyways. I've never admired him, I've never ran my eyes over his face and taken in his features. So, I did. I looked at his short brown hair, which even though I'm assuming he was just awoken by my texts, looked like it was styled perfectly. His eyes were blue, and they were scrunched in confusion as he observed me observing him.

And, though I don't know why, I couldn't help but compare him to Chase. While they were certainly both handsome, Chase had a softness about him that Brock didn't seem to have.

"Indie?" Brock said my name again, and I noticed his voice sounded even more confused.

"I couldn't sleep," I told him, not that it explained anything. But, I didn't know what else to say. I, myself, didn't even know why I was here.

"Okay," Brock let out, glancing around the interior of my car like he expected someone else to be in there. "Where's Bella? Is she okay?"

I titled my head back at him, wondering why he jumped to the conclusion that something had happened to her. But then, I remembered that Bella and I had been glued to each other's sides for so long, that it likely seemed like a good explanation for why she wasn't with me.

"She's okay," I let out, "she's at her house, sleeping."

"Do you need me to call her?" Brock asked, surprising me. Why would I need him to call her? "Do you need help? Should I call your parents?"

Brock was looking at me like I was a gunshot victim that had just been delivered to my door. I needed life saving surgery that he didn't know how to perform.

"No," I told him, my eyes starting to water from embarrassment. "No, I just... I," I let out, struggling to find the words.

Brock crouched down quickly, so that our faces were level. He brought his arms up, laying his hands on each of my shoulders. His face had changed, from what was alarmed concern to what looked like determination.

"Hey, Indie, it's okay. It's okay," he was speaking to me like a mother speaks to its hysterically crying child.

"You said you were here for me," I told him, the logic that was filling my brain when it told me to come here not making quite as much sense as it did then.

"I am," he said quickly, patting my shoulders. "I am here for you." Brock stood to his feet, and he looked back towards his house, as if he was hesitant. "Do you want to come in?"

I took a breath, weighing the options of staying here or driving back to my house to be all alone again. When the last option didn't seem too appealing, I nodded.

"Okay," Brock let out, and I couldn't tell whether he was relieved that I said yes, or disappointed. "My parents are sleeping, so we have to be quiet."

I nodded again, using the hem of my sweater to wipe the stray tears from under my eyes. Brock took my hand, as he pulled me from the car. Once I was out, he closed my door for me. I didn't bother locking my car as he led me towards my front door, knowing that our neighbourhood was as safe as a neighbourhood could be.

Brock opened the front door, trying his best to make no noise as he closed it behind us. He led me through his house, which seemed even bigger than it had the last time I was here. Without the large amounts of drunken teenagers, you could see how spacious the luxurious house really was. Brock didn't let my hand go as we crept though the rooms, until eventually he pulled me down same stairs as Bella, Isla and I had gone down at his party.

I wasn't surprised that his bedroom was down in the basement, after all, it had been outfitted as every teenaged boy's dream. With the large TV and the various sport memorabilia, not to mention the pool table and the bar, he probably spent most of his time down here anyways.

I was surprised, however, at the sight that met me when he opened his bedroom door.

While I was used to large bedrooms, as most of the people I surrounded myself with were wealthy, this room was incomparable, even to my own. It was even bigger than my parent's master bedroom. A large king-sized bed stood in the middle, couches and chairs filled the spaces beside it. While the room was certainly impressive, it lacked any personal touches. Besides the sports trophies, there was nothing in the decor that seemed to have been picked out by Brock himself.

"We can talk down here," Brock told me, finally dropping my hand as he closed the door behind us. "The basement is soundproofed."

I raised my eyebrows at his words, they were simultaneously expected, due the lavishness of his house, and completely unexpected, because what kind of parents soundproof their child's living space? "Soundproofed? Why?"

Brock chuckled, looking down at the ground. "My parents built this basement so that I stayed out of their hair, basically."

"Oh," I told him, knowing exactly what that felt like, and it didn't feel nice.

"They need their sleep, so they say, and this seemed the easiest way to accomplish that," Brock explained, walking over to the bed and sitting down on top of it.

"Usually parents manage to sleep without soundproofing their houses," I said awkwardly, crossing my arms over my chest. I was glancing around the room again, and it might have just been because I didn't want to make eye contact with Brock.

The craziness of my actions were starting to kick in. I shouldn't be here.

"I guess most parents don't have to wake up and save lives," Brock answered, his voice holding a tint of humour, "as they repeatedly tell me."

I looked towards him, his words gaining my curiosity. I remembered back to when we came here for his birthday party, and Bella questioning what his parents did for a living, and Isla wondering if they were famous.

"Surgeons," Brock answered my unspoken thoughts. "Mom's a heart surgeon, dad's a plastic surgeon."

"Oh," I said simply, making a mental note to tell Bella and Isla. Then, my stomach sank because I remembered I wouldn't be able to tell Isla, I'd never be able to tell her anything else again.

That was one of the worst parts of grief. That single second where you forget, you forget that they're gone, and then you have to remember that you'll never see them again.

"Indie," Brock said, causing me to shake my head of my torturous thoughts. "Come here."

He patted the bed beside him, and I only hesitated a second before I walked over and sat beside him. I noticed the messy sheets and blankets as I sat, only confirming my thoughts that I had woken him up. I looked over at him as I sat, seeing the frown that was on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Brock asked again, probably because I never answered his question. "Don't get me wrong, it's fine that you are. Like I said, I'm here for you. Just, why are you here at almost 3 in the morning? Did something happen?"

I let my eyes drop, embarrassment rocking through me. It was almost impossible to explain my chaotic thoughts and actions to anyone but Bella, because I knew they would never understand.

"I couldn't sleep," I told him, hoping that explanation was enough.

"Okay, why didn't you go to Bella?" Brock questioned.

"Bella and I aren't supposed to sleep over at each other's houses anymore," I said quietly.

"Why?" Brock questioned me again, and I wanted him to stop asking questions because the answers were painful.

"Our grief therapist said so. We've slept in the same bed since, well, since it happened. I just couldn't sleep. And... well, I don't know why I came here. I guess I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Chase flashed through my mind at my words. Of course, I thought about going there. But, the sight of him talking to the girl made me not want to.  Not simply because of jealousy, but because my constant presence in Chase's life might be problematic to him finally getting to girl of his dreams.

"Well you can sleep here," Brock told me, and I was relieved he wasn't going to send me back to my empty house. "I can sleep on the couch."

He started to rise from the bed, when I caught his hand, causing him to stop his movements to stare down at me in wonder.

"Can... do you mind if you sleep in the bed with me?" I asked, hating the neediness of the words as they came out of my mouth. I just didn't think I'd be able to sleep in an empty bed, even if it wasn't my own.

Brock simply nodded, his eyes wide as he fell back onto the bed. He pulled the blankets over us as we laid down, covering us completely.

Neither of us spoke again, only the sounds of our respective breaths filling the room. Sure enough, sleep found me. Or rather, I found sleep, from where it had been hiding.