c a l u m:

There's not a lot that scares me. There's a thrill; an adrenaline that excites me but causes others to step back. When I come across experiences that are meant to frighten me, but doesn't, there will always be a smile on my face. But then, in rare occasions, I do find myself face to face with fear - and this was one of those times.

"I think we should break up," the words flowed out of my mouth faster than I could think them, but the words couldn't be anymore true.

I lifted my head from my twiddling thumbs to the beautiful girl sitting in the passenger seat next to me. Gwen gazed at me with hurt in her eyes, and I knew she wanted to cry.

"I think you're making rash decisions," she opinionated, her eyes never leaving mine.

We were silent for several minutes after that. She sat back in the seat, as did I and there was no uttering of words for almost thirty minutes. We sat with the windows rolled down, the wind flowing through our hair and the music percolated through the speakers on a low hum. I guessed we both needed the comfort of a quiet environment to mull things over.

The longer I sat in the car hearing Gwen's breathing, catching whiff of her floral perfume, and just knowing her hand was within perfect distance to hold, did it become hard to let her go. Breaking up with Gwen would be the most unselfish thing I could do. It would mean that she could live a life that's safe, happy, and pure. Breaking up with Gwen would mean she could spend the rest of her time in Australia without stress; she could go home to America without any extra baggage; but best of all, she could go home and forget all about me. It pained me to contemplate a future in which I am without Gwen, but I'd suffer that ache as long as I knew she was happy.

"Cal," she was the first to speak.

I slowly turned my head to look at Gwen, "yea?"

"I love you," Gwen declared, her eyes bloodshot and glossy. She bit her bottom lip as she began to reposition herself.

I watched as Gwen climbed over the middle console to straddle my lap. My eyes widened, surprised by her movements but I wasted no time in holding her. Gwen's hands reached up to cup my cheeks with care before placing a tiny, spark-filled kiss on my lips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated over and over again. She paused for a moment to whimper, bringing her hands from my cheeks to around my neck before burying her face in the crook. Gwen started to cry, her shoulders heaving up and down as she held onto me tightly.

"Hey, shhh, baby girl," I cooed, rubbing her back and holding her with protectiveness to my touch. "Please don't cry. I love you, princess. I love you too."

"Then don't leave me," Gwen lifted her head, gazing at me with tear-stained cheeks.

I sighed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "it's best."

"Can we not break up now?" She asked, though I wasn't sure of what she meant.

"I don't understand," I narrowed in my eyebrows, cocking my head to the side in confusion.

Gwen sighed, leaning down to give me a quick kiss on the lips, "can we do this when I have to go back to America? Because all I need and want right now, is you."

Her words jolted my entire being. I wasn't sure who I was anymore, or why I even existed. But when I gazed into Gwen's dark brown eyes, losing myself in her colorful presence, did I come to an epiphany - an etherial stroke that rattled my existence. It was at that moment, a moment I'd never forget, did I understand why I didn't die that cool, summer's night.

I was at a low point in my life; I had hit rock bottom and I thought I had nothing left to live for. Gwen - my baby girl - she had everything to live for. Life was her best asset and I was convinced that death was mine. But when our paths crossed, in the most tragic and morbid of ways, did fate bring us together. Gwen is my saving grace, and I owe her my life.

"What are you thinking about?" Gwen asked, after several seconds of silence. She could see the thoughts dance through my mind, and I knew she was itching to know what occupied my brain.

"You," I simply answered, "I'm thinking about you."

With no hesitation, I pressed my lips against hers in the most passionate yet tender way I knew how. Gwen reciprocated the embrace, her fingers clinging onto my shirt. When I pulled her body as close to mine as I could get, I felt her heartbeat thump against my own. It was rapid, it was tenacious, it was sublime. Our heartbeats were synced together as one and it was the greatest feeling I could have ever felt.

"Maybe we should stop," my eyes were still closed, my lips still surrounding hers.

"Is something wrong?" Gwen asked, her warm, heavy breaths fanned against my face in the most relaxing of ways.

"Nothing baby, but if we keep going at it..." my words faded as my gaze drifted down to my crouch and the happily growing bulge in my pants.

Gwen's eyes widened in realization, "oh my."

I couldn't help but to chuckle in response to her innocent expressions. Her cheeks got a little red and I used that as a cue to place a kiss on the top of her nose.

"I love you," I declared.

"And I, you," Gwen grinned, pulling me into a tight hug, and everything seemed to be right in the world.

We continued to sit together in my car for what seemed like hours. We talked about anything and everything. We argued over our favorite cartoons, laughed at iconic lines from the movie "Mean Girls," and even took turns throwing Skittles into each other's mouth. It wasn't until the sun fell behind the horizon did we notice how late it was getting. Our stomachs were growling - hers more than mine - and I knew to keep my girl happy, was to keep her tummy happy.

"What do you feel like eating?" I asked Gwen, turning the key in the ignition.

"Pizza!" Gwen shrieked, eyes wide, and a grin wider than that. "I want pizza!"

I laughed, "and that's why I love you. Team pizza for life."

"Hey, I have an idea," Gwen looked over to me, strapping the seatbelt around her body, "let's go grab Michael."

"What? Really? Why?" I question with a raised brow, backing out of the parking stall.

"When was the last time you saw him? He's your best friend, and I don't mind at all if he tags along," Gwen expressed.

"Are you sure? He probably already had pizza," I chuckled.

"Come on Cal, both you and I know that Michael wants another slice," Gwen looked at me with a smirk that could instigate a world group hug.

"You're right," I admitted defeat, throwing my hands up in emphasis. "Let's go grab Mikey."

Gwen sat back with a satisfied smile on her face, but not before turning the volume knob on the audio console. As the speakers blared some upbeat pop song that was playing on the radio, I drove towards the Clifford household. Only a seven minute drive - a straight shot down Mesa Avenue - the Clifford home was a place I hadn't been in a while. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I hadn't seen Michael in almost two weeks. I was glad that Gwen suggested picking up Michael because I did miss my best friend.

Just as some Nicki Minaj song ended - Gwen rapping the lyrics perfectly, might I add - we pulled up into Michael's driveway. His mum's car was parked in its usual spot and once the engine died down, we hopped out of the vehicle. After rounding the front of the car, I immediately reached over to hold Gwen's hand. She looked down at our intertwined fingers for a moment, surprised at the cheesy gesture, and smiled.

We walked up the narrow pathway to the small porch, pressing the small, white button. Through the front door, I could hear the echo of the doorbell inside. Gwen and I waited for a few seconds, but when no one answered, I rang the doorbell again.

"Call him," Gwen suggested.

I nodded, pulling my phone out of my pocket. After tapping my finger against the screen, I held the device to my ear. That's when something quite odd happened - a disconnected cell number. Hanging up, I placed the phone back into my pocket with puzzlement on my face.

"Is everything okay?" Gwen questioned, looking up at me with concern.

"His phone is disconnected," I told her.

"Maybe he got a number? Or forgot to pay the bill?" Gwen theorized.

"Plausible, but I don't think so," I shook my head, "Michael never forgets to pay for his cellphone bill. The last time he did, his phone was turned off when Fiora--"

I halted my words, a switch turning on in my brain and causing my thoughts to run at rapid speed. That's when I walked around the porch, notching tiny peculiar things that added up to one, big mystery. The grass was longer than normal, weeds decorating the curb. Newspapers piled up at the end of the driveway, and even the mail was spilling out of the black, iron box.

"Michael's not here anymore, is he?" Gwen was doing some deducing herself, that intelligent mind of hers could do so much.

I didn't vocally respond, only gazing down at Gwen with utmost worry. I didn't want us to be right. There had to be some kind of explanation for Michael's absence. That's when I heard a familiar sound to the right of me. I turned my head to see old Mr. Jenkins rolling out the trash bin down his driveway. I ran over to the aging man, memories of him babysitting Michael and I rushing through me.

"Calum, is that you?" Mr. Jenkins chuckled as he looked at me through his glasses. The old man still had the same bright blue eyes, and became more brighter as he gazed at me. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," I apologized, leaning down to give Mr. Jenkins a hug.

"You need to visit me more often, son. The Missus still bakes those lemon cookies you love so much," Mr. Jenkins mentioned with a grin. "You need to promise that you'll visit us."

"I promise," I looked him in the eye as I spoke, and I made a mental note to keep my word. Gwen strolled over to us, and like reflex, I grabbed her hand.

"And who is this beautiful young lady?" Mr. Jenkins asked, smiling at Gwen.

"Hi, I'm Gwen," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. Mr. Jenkins quickly shook it, but pulled her into a warm hug as well.

"When you visit, you should bring this young lady too," Mr. Jenkins winked at me, prompting the two of us to laugh. "It's a shame Michael won't be joining us."

My breathing stopped.

"Um, speaking of Michael," my tone morphed into seriousness mixed with uneasiness. "Have you seen either him or Mrs. Clifford?"

"They left," Mr. Jenkins declared.

"What do you mean, they left?" I questioned.

"Vacation or something," he shrugged. "I heard yelling and some commotion outside - it woke up the Missus and I. So I took a gander out our window to see both Michael and his mother hauling luggage out of the house and into a car around three in the morning."

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"Oh dear, maybe a week ago?" Mr. Jenkins scratched his head. "Listen you two, I have to go inside. Every time I'm outside for too long the Missus starts to think I've left her for that broad down the street."

Mr. Jenkins chuckled, shaking his head. He gave both Gwen and I one last hug before bidding us a goodbye. The two of us watched as the old man walked up the driveway and into his welcoming home.

"He's sweet," Gwen smiled, "I'd love to meet his wife too."

"That'd be difficult," I mumbled.

"Why?" Gwen questioned, confusion laced in her tone.

"His wife died about eight years ago from cancer," I informed, causing Gwen gasp and hold a hand to her heart.

"Awe, poor thing," she mewled.

"Yea..." I wasn't really responding - I was more concerned about Michael.

Without uttering another word, I jetted away from Mr. Jenkins' driveway and back to Michael's. I walked passed the car to the fence that led to the backyard. Gwen trekked behind me, a slew of questions bombarding me that I didn't feel like answering. Once at the wooden gate, I reached over, tapping my hand in searching for the metal latch. Once I felt it, I pulled the lever, the familiar click filtering into my ears. I pushed the gate open, and walked into the backyard.

Gwen's questions finally ceased, only quietly observing me as I observed the overgrown vegetation around me. I stood before the glass back door, my eyes trailing the area. That's when my vision landed on a ceramic frog on the corner. I kneeled down, picking up the decoration and shaking it. The sharp clanking sound made me smile slightly as I stood up.

"Stand back," I turned my shoulder to glance at Gwen who did what she was told. I threw the ceramic frog against the cement, causing it to smash into tiny pieces.

"Calum, what are you doing?" Gwen shrieked behind me.

I didn't answer her right away, only stepping up to broken frog. Among the shards of ceramic, was a gold key and when I picked it up, I flashed it in Gwen's direction.

"The key for the house?" Gwen guessed.

"Yup," I nodded, noticing an expression on Gwen's face that I wasn't so sure why she was sporting, "why do you look so surprised?"

"I had a feeling we were going inside Michael's house, but I thought we'd be breaking in - not using a key," Gwen confessed, biting her bottom lip in guilt.

"I'm not surprised you think that," I told her, putting an ease to her pretty mind, "I do have a history of breaking into places."

She and I were both thinking the same thing - our first encounter. The night Michael, Ashton and I broke into the Outreach Center to deface that stupid place, was the same night I dropped my wallet only for Gwen to find it. The rest you could say, was history.

I stuck the key into the knob, turning it till it clicked. Once unlocked, I opened the door wide, walking inside first with Gwen following right behind me. I flipped the switch, the light turning on in the living room. I shivered from how ghostly everything seemed to be. It was empty yet full - an eerie hallow feeling at every corner. Everything was right where it was supposed to be. Magazines on the coffee table, photographs of Michael on the wall, and even a half-empty cup of water on the countertop. Everything was in place except for the two people who normally inhabited the abode.

"Let's go up to Michael's room," Gwen said, taking a few long strides down the hall towards the staircase.

I only nodded in response, grabbing her hand again as I led her from the bottom story to the carpeted steps. I flicked on another switch, a yellow glow cascading around us as we ascended to the top. We walked through the hall to the far left room where I so often spent my time in. The door was slight ajar, and when I pushed it open I half-expected Michael to be sprawled on his bed playing with a guitar and a blunt hanging off the edge of the side table.

But he wasn't there.

It was an empty. Bed unmade, clothes on the floor, and a packet of cigarettes on the dresser only claimed the room as its own. Gwen turned on the lamp, as the two of us investigated the room in silence. I picked up random trinkets, my mind trying to discover some kind of clue as to where Michael could be.

"He really did leave," Gwen spoke.

I turned my attention to the things on his dresser to the girl in front of the closet, whose attention was with the hangers on the pole. No clothes hung from them, only the silly school uniforms hung neatly inside.

"Let's go," I urged, tired of it all. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"Wait, we should still try to find--"

"--find what, Gwen?!" I snapped. "He left! Michael fucking left me! We were supposed to stand up to Fiora together, but I guessed he pussied out; probably too scared. He's a dick for not saying anything!"

I shouldn't have lost my temper, not after Gwen being so understanding. She didn't deserve any of it and I was guilty for being such a jerk.

"I really doubt Michael left without leaving some kind of clue," Gwen grumbled.

I could tell that she was a little hurt by my angry outburst, but she tried not to show it. Instead she turned away from me, taking a step towards the nearly empty closet. She dug her hands in the pockets of Michael's school uniform. First in the jacket pockets and then in the khaki pants.

"What are you looking for?" I asked her.

"Michael seems like the type to hang up his Sex Pistols shirts instead of his school uniform," Gwen muttered, continuing to search through each article of clothing.

"True..." I agreed, still unsure of what was brewing inside Gwen's mind.

"So why would he hang up his school uniform so neatly? It's the only thing that's out of place in this room," Gwen explained.

When I opened my mouth to speak again, I immediately stopped when Gwen turned around with a grin on her face and a folded piece of paper in her hands. My eyes darted from Gwen to the note in her fingers, my jaw dropping from utter amazement. She unfolded the parchment and handed it over to me. I gazed down at neatly penned letters. Two words. One name:

PJ Kendall.

//

Ah! Finally an update! I'm so sorry for the lack of updates lately but I've been ridiculously busy with life and school and stuff. Anyway, I do hope you liked this chapter! Yes, Michael has fled Sydney but to where? And who/what the hell is PJ Kendall? You'll find out all the answers in future chapters.

And speaking of...

So I've planned about 40ish chapters for this story. And with 32 chapters down, that means there's about 10 more chapters left till the end of this story! Oh my!! Thank you all so much for being a part of this crazy ride! Thanks for reading this story, for commenting, and for voting! I appreciate it all so much! <33