A/N: Wow, I've been getting tons of views overnight! Thanks so much guys :) I'm soo sorry about the time gap in updates! I've had writer's block like nobody's business.

I used to come here... when the world closed in and got so small I couldn't breathe.

I'd look out at the ocean, and I'd think... "Yo, douchebag, high school counts for jack shit."

Violet had given up on walking a few blocks back, made Tate carry her on his back, and laughed while she covered his eyes, insisting on verbally directing him. It was when he felt his foot sink into a mixture of soft sand and pebbles that he assumed they reached her secret spot.

"You can put me down now", she sighed and took a drag of salty air to fill her lungs instead of nicotine laced smoke. Waves crashed into each other beyond the shore. Skillfully, Violet walked past the splintered and rugged rocks towards a decomposing lifeguard tower that was obviously long-forgotten with a brine-battered, chipping roof. She reached her thin arms above her head to wrap her hands around the railing. Knuckles white from the strain of pulling her own weight, she swung her legs to the floor of the tower's deck. Tate stumbling to keep up, left a blood-stained nick on his wood-abused palm. Slowly, she drew his hand, by the wrist, to her lips as they began to slightly part. Kissing away the red and the pain, she pulled herself into his warm lap. His scent wafted from his chest as she buried her chilled, numb, red-tipped nose against the worn fabric of his shirt, against the bone in his chest. Home; she was home with him in the most terrifying sense. It sailed through the marrow of her bones, into her veins, to her heart, pumping and circulating through her small body. Tate enveloped her more than he could ever imagine. Neither could escape if they wanted, they were intertwined with each other now; they were one.

It was time for her surprise. Violet leaned backwards and fumbled her hand around under some old drift wood and rocks hidden within the door of the tower. When her hand emerged, a small glossy, wooden pipe with a large bowled end lay in her fingers along with a slightly salt-rusted tin that once held mints. They constructed a small beach fire and laid beside the waves on an old blanket, the two types of smoke dueting down their lungs, scratching and tickling on the way back out. As the night grew nearer, hand-in-hand their vision and thoughts grew more blurred.

My heart is broke

But I have some glue

Help me inhale

And mend it with you