Hayden looks...nervous.

It kept me a little on edge as he just took a deep breath and crossed the room. He leaned against the headboard as he sat in his bed, patting the spot beside him.

I slowly walked towards him, crawling on the bed until I sat beside his legs, facing him. I tucked my legs under my butt, waiting patiently.

Hayden presses his hands to his face, letting go of a breath before pushing them through his hair and looking back at me.

"Do you know the reason why I moved here?"

Guilt immediately flooded. I didn't. And Brooks tried to tell me something when I first expressed my hatred towards Hayden, but I dismissed him.

I didn't even wanna know that about him then.

And now, here I am, practically at the edge of my seat so he can tell me.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

"No," I look down to my lap. "I was so caught up in hating you, I never really got to know why."

"It's okay." Hayden says, way too understanding. "I mean, I just thought you were a spoiled brat who got everything she wanted. I guess we both jumped to pretty nasty conclusions about each other."

I snort, lifting my eyes back to his. "Appearances can be deceiving."

Hayden smiles for a moment before it vanishes. "Well, I guess to get to the point, my dad died."

I blink. Of course his dad died. It makes sense as to why he hasn't been around, or why Hayden's been hesitant to talk about him or bring him up.

"I don't want short and to the point." I swallow. "I want it all."

Hayden holds my stare for a long moment. I swear he could hear how loud my hearts beating in my chest. But he just nods.

"My mom and dad were madly in love." He smiles. "I swear, growing up, it made me wanna puke. They never seemed to let that spark die out, and looking back on it now, I actually admire that. If they disagreed, they talked about it. If they had a hard moment, they worked on it together. They just didn't give up on each other."

I smile. "That's very romantic."

Hayden smiles, a bit sad. "He would always tell me: Hayden. The way to keep a woman happy is to never stop chasing after her heart once you think you've won it. If it's real, she'll be worth it." Hayden laughs. "Then he'd tell me I'd get it when I got older."

His eyes search mine before dropping to his lap, shaking his head.

"Anyway. We were a really happy family. I had nothing to complain about, you know? My mom and dad were great, they provided me everything I needed. They loved me, supported whatever I wanted to do with myself. Taught me what I should know, corrected me when I screwed up." Hayden shakes his head. "We'd spend a lot of family time together. Honestly, I had it better than most."

My heart tugs a bit at that—his past tense use of had, that he no longer has that.

"I entered this local art contest thing and won, and my parents wanted to go out and celebrate. But me, being young and dumb and thinking I was cool, had plans to meet up with some friends and go pick up some girls they knew. Virgin-Hayden was excited at the possibility of..."

Hayden looks off towards the bathroom, away from me. I scoot up closer to him and press my palm to his cheek, gently turning his face back towards me. I could see the tears glistening his eyes, making his lashes wet. My heart ached for him, to take this pain away that he still was dealing with every day.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, Hayden." I smile, searching his eyes. "It's okay."

Hayden leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. He struggles for a moment before he lifts his head and huffs a breath.

"So eager-to-get-his-first-blowjob Hayden bailed on his parents. Even though all they wanted was to treat me out for winning, I threw in their face we spend all our time together and I just wanted to hang out with my friends. I could see the disappointment, but I didn't care. I left, met up with my friends, met a pretty girl and got my dick sucked for the first time and got my first feel of what a girl felt like. So what could possibly go wrong, right?"

Oh my gosh.

Hayden blames himself for not being there. I can see it, written all over his face. The anger, the self-hatred.

He blames himself.

"Hey," I grab his neck. "Don't. Don't do that."

Hayden looks at me, confused. "Don't do what?"

"Blame yourself."

Hayden's throat bobbed. He didn't say anything. But the tears he was holding back? They started falling as he looked down, hiding his face in his fists.

"How can I not, Lina?" Hayden asks, rather loudly. "How can I not blame myself? I blew off my parents to get a shitty blowjob and try feeling a girl up. My dad got stabbed because I was a selfish bastard. If I had went, I could've helped him fight them off. Two against two instead of two against one. I could've helped and instead I was selfish. I wasn't there!"

Hayden's practically screaming at this point. I worried that his mom would hear and come running up. But right now, my main concern was getting him to understand something very important.

"And if you were there, Hayden? If you did help him fight? Hell, you could be dead, too, for all you know."

"You're just trying to make me feel better." Hayden scoffs, pushing himself out of bed.

He has both hands against the doorway of his bathroom, deep breathing as I step behind him.

"I'm not. I'm stating a fact, Hayden. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you left," I shake my head. "Cause I really don't think your mom could've handled losing you both."

Hayden turns to me, his eyes dark and dangerous. He steps towards me, making me take a step back. "Really? So she could handle seeing the love of her life stabbed once for trying to help her, and once more just to make sure he couldn't get back up and fight them? She could handle being beat around before they heard someone coming? She could handle watching my father bleed out, helpless, with no way of saving him?"

My back hits the door to his room. Hayden looks angry, and with every step, I can see it burn deep within him.

But I know it's not directed at me.

So I push. "Yes. Because she did survive." I take a shaky breath. "There's scars, but she survived. And she did because she had you."

"Bullshit," Hayden mutters, turning away from me.

I shake my head. "Do you know how much I blame myself?" I try to blink rapidly to blink away tears. But it's no use. "What if I didn't wear a short skirt? What if I just locked my door? What if I was strong enough to fight him off?"

Hayden turns back towards me, his eyes wide. "That's not the same, Lina."

"But it is," I angrily wipe my face. "Because you're blaming yourself for the actions of others, just like I do. We can't control what other people do, Hayden. We're not God. We don't know the evil intentions people set out with during the day. We just can't control everything. And we sure as hell can't blame ourselves anymore because of what someone took from us. Did to us."

I take a step, grabbing hold of either side of his face. "You're not to blame, Hayden. You were a kid. You didn't know any better. The people who did that to your dad? They knew better. You didn't. So hear my words loud and clear," I bring him to my eye level, staring deep into those gorgeous green eyes. "It's not your fault."

Hayden's bottom lip trembles. And then, he breaks.

Hayden broke down crying, legs giving out as he dropped to the floor in front of me. He cried, and it broke my heart, because I know exactly how he feels.

And I'll be damned if I let him continue on this road of self-hatred.

I kneel in front of him, cradling his head to my chest. I hold him to me, stroking his back gently. He finally clutches onto me, holding onto me for dear life. And as he cries, I just stay quiet, being the comfort he needed.

Dawn was breaking once Hayden finally settled down. He was controlling his breathing, still against my chest, as I still played with the hair on his neck. I felt him look up at me. So I looked down, smiling at him.

"Feeling better now?"

Hayden straightens himself out, looking at me. His eyes are red and swollen. I frown as I wipe his final tear from his cheek, smiling at him.

He stares at me for the longest time. And as squirmish as I felt, I stay calm, cool. Not moving a muscle.

Then he lifts his hand, cupping my cheek. His thumb gently caresses my skin and I lean into him, placing my hand over his.

"I don't deserve your kindness."

That made me frown. I shake my head, sighing. "Yes you do, Hayden. You really do."

Hayden doesn't reply. He just grabs my arms, gently guiding me towards him. I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook as he leans back, brining me to his lap. His hand is gently rubbing my back as I pull back to look at him.

"You never told me you painted."

He shrugs. "I gave it up after..." Hayden clenches his jaw. "I felt guilty every time I tried to sit in front of an easel. So eventually I just stopped."

I quietly wait for him to go on. And with a heavy breath, he does.

"That's when I started causing trouble for my mom. I hung around the wrong kids, wanted to get into as much trouble as I can. I'm not even sure why, I just did. I thought if I could...I dunno, maybe cause physical trouble, it'll help the pain."

I reach out, grabbing his hand. I lace our fingers together and squeeze, assuring him that he's safe. That I'm not going anywhere.

"It didn't," he sighs. "And when the cops picked me up for some shit, it broke my moms heart. And it broke mine to see how much I pushed her after so much heartache already." He shakes his head. "So we made a deal: I'll stay out of trouble if she helped me get out of the hellhole I was in. I couldn't stand being around the people I'd chosen over my family."

"And then you came here."

"Yeah," he inhales. "Met Brooks."

I sit up, looking at him. "I didn't know, I'm such an asshole." I shake my head. "I was so mean to you and you were just—"

"It wasn't undeserved. I instigated. I pushed. I..." he lifts a shoulder. "I liked knowing I could get under your skin. I knew you felt something that night between us, I just wanted to see how long you'd live in denial."

I blush, looking away. I lean my head on his shoulder, our thumbs circling each other. "Are you any good?"

Hayden chuckles. "According to my parents, sure."

"I'd love to see something you made."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," I smile, looking up at him, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I think you underplay your talent."

He scoffs, tightening his arm around me. "Be careful, baby. You sound like you're actually starting to like me."

I knew he meant it as a joke, but that made my whole stomach flip.

Cause now, as he strokes my hair and rubs his thumb over mine, I feel it. When he looks at me and smiles, I feel it. When he's vulnerable and scared, I feel it. And even when he's demanding and controlling, I feel it.

I'm actually starting to like Hayden.

A lot.

And that thought? It's scary as hell. Cause this is supposed to be just a casual fling. I'm sure that's still how Hayden sees it. And I had to be the dumb one, catching feelings.

Shit. This isn't going to end well.

A/N

^ me

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