Hi, all.

I know the story hasn't been updated since last October (5 months, woo, I'm really good at this procrastinating thing). Anyway, I was inspired to reread and fix/finish the story... so here is the 12th chapter, revised, and there will be more to come. It's just that when I reread the fic I realized that this chapter didn't fit with the story.

I should be updating again some time next week, but this one's long-ish which I hope you guys like.

Enjoy, read, review, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to update!

They're squeezed shut. I could feel his body heat right next to mine. With my eyes closed, all of my other senses took over. The smell of pine became almost overwhelming. The feel of the smooth metal under my hands. The guitar in my lap. The air, now cool from the sun's descent.

I'm not sure what to think. I'm not even sure if I want to think. I'm scared beyond words of what's about to happen next.

When I opened my eyes, his were still closed. I wasn't sure how to read the expression on his face, which was twisted, contorted to show all sorts of signs. Fear? Anger? Hate?

No, he couldn't possibly hate me...

But maybe that was a possibility. I had never been more scared in my life than that one moment. In the silence, I could hear his labored breathing with mine. When he finally spoke, his eyes stayed closed, and he remained motionless with the exception of his lips.

"It's getting cold. You should go inside."

"Come with me," I replied. My voice came out childish and unsure, and I immediately cursed myself for it.

He opened his eyes and looked right at me. I could feel the way he looked at me. I wasn't sure if I'd shuddered out of fear or relief.

He shook his head slowly. "You go on in. Maybe make some cocoa."

There's an extended awkward silence as I leave. My footsteps nearly deafen me in comparison to everything else surrounding me. What was going on in his head?

Everything after that for a good hour or so was blurry. I made myself some cocoa, curled up on a couch and stared into space. When I finally took my eyes off a blank spot on the wall, a clock told me that it was 9:17. And Tommy still wasn't inside.

I still hadn't been thinking properly at the time, and I'm not sure what brought me back outside. But I left the warmth of the cabin, armed with blankets and a second mug of cocoa. Not really sure what it was I was doing.

There he was where I'd left him, pretty much in the same exact position. He was looking out into the horizon, as if anticipating the sun's rise at any moment. I sat back up on the hood of his car and wrapped us up in blankets. He took the mug in his hands without really looking at it.

"Maybe... this wasn't such a good idea."

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to answer that. He's kind of off in his own world, and it's as if he's not even talking to me. Has he been talking to himself?

He gives a shiver and there's no denying he's cold. I pick up the two blankets and wrap them around our shoulders, holding the ends together in the front with my hands. But as soon as my skin's in contact with his, the night's plans are shot to hell.

And he knows it, too. I hear him mumble some nonsense, something about a warning, some swear words tossed in, too. He's breathing gets uneven again, and my heartbreat pounds in my chest. I leaned my head onto his shoulder, smelling his neck. His body's so incredibly warm, and I'm suddenly overcome by loneliness. Have I been this lonely the whole time?

All I know is, I don't want to be lonely anymore.

"This wasn't a good idea, at all."

I lifted my head from his shoulder and he looked me in the eye. Had I said that out loud?

He's got too much on his mind, I can tell. His eyes are clouded over and he's not making any sense.

"What wasn't a good idea?"

His arms found their way around my waist, slipping my shirt a good inch or two higher and exposing my skin. His hands were a little cold from being outside so long. I want to memorize the feel of them.

He buried his face in my hair and groaned. The way he was acting made me nervous.

"...Let's go inside. You're going to get sick."

He takes a deep breath and composes himself. As soon as he stands up I regret the suggestion to leave. His hands drop contact with my skin and I'm cold. He picked up his mug of cocoa and jumped off the car's hood. I picked up the blankets and we walked silently back into the cabin.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I splashed my face with ice cold water a few times. Anything to calm myself down. Anything to get rid of the incredible tension we'd uninentionally built.

"This is crazy," I muttered to myself.

By the time I came out of the bathroom he'd lit the fireplace. The warmth and the crackling of the wood were welcoming. I took a moment to make a mental image of Tommy standing there by the fireplace, hands in his pockets and a warm smile on his face. It filled my heart, seeing him like that.

I stepped into the living room and made myself present. His smile didn't waver from his lips, but I saw it escape his eyes. My smile probably didn't do any better.

He stayed standing, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

"Come sit down, we should talk."

He shook his head firmly. "I'm fine. I think I should stand."

It relieves me that I'm not the only one who's unnerved.

He takes a deep breath. "This might take me a while. So just try and hear me out, okay?" I gave him a nod of consent and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. When he speaks, it comes out in a rush, like the breaking of a dam. And what he says is kind of unexpected.

"When I came back... I had every intention of doing anything to be with you. But I told myself on the airplane that I would take it slow, gain your trust again. And show you that I'm not as big of an ass as I was before."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I made myself swear I wasn't going to be stupid. And then I got back, I saw that it wasn't gonna be easy. I could tell you hated my guts."

I huff a little, and I'm about to tell him that he's still not forgiven. "No, wait, just hear me out. And then you can say whatever you want to me."

"Fine."

"I could tell you weren't ready to forgive me. And still aren't," he added. "But the thing is, Jude, you still don't understand why it is I left in the first place."

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed. We were back to this again. One of the topics under our list of Things To Not Discuss.

"I didn't leave to hurt you! You should know that."

"Well, you did, and it hurt, Tommy! It hurt really bad..." I realized that I was losing my guard and quickly hardened back up. I wasn't going to let him get to me.

"Jude, I left because I needed to. Because I know stupid things like tonight would have happened a million times, and I would have fought it afterwards a million times and I would have hurt you a million times. I couldn't keep doing it. I hated knowing I was the reason you ached."

He's turned to face the fireplace again, talking to the flames. I curl into a ball on the couch, bringing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around my legs. And I keep my game face on.

"It wasn't just the solo career I wanted. I wanted to stop hurting you all the time." He turned to find me staring off into space, trying to block out my feelings as well as him.

He sighed, maybe exhasperated, maybe tired. Definately frustrated. "There's so many things I need to tell you, Jude. There isn't enough time left in the world for me to explain."

"Then save your breath," I snapped. I swung my feet back on the floor and stood up. "The fact of the matter is, you did leave, and that hurt me worse than anything else you'd ever done. So thank you, so much, for only making things worse."

I made my way towards the hallway so I could get to my bedroom, but he blocked my way. "Just let me finish! Jude, tonight..." he sighed. "Could you sit back down?"

I glared at him before walking back to the sofa and falling back onto it. He sat on the other end, leaving a good two foot gap between the two of us.

Good.

"How many times have you gone on vacation, Jude?" he asked.

"What does this have to do with anything?" I'm really starting to get annoyed now. I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I'm feeling a million different things at once. And the fact that his voice was husky like he was about to cry, well, that just made things all the worse.

"Just tell me."

"I don't know, maybe four or five times."

He pauses for a moment to think before he speaks. "Then maybe you'll understand this. Going on vacation is like living a different life. You go somewhere you've never been before, meet people you've never met before, do things you've never done before. You're away from home, your friends and everything you know."

"When you're on a break away from your life, you can be whoever you want to be. And then you can return home and go back to your normal life. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember this part of you that you left wherever it was you visited. You know when you come back to that place, that a part of you is waiting for you, and you're ready to be whoever you want to be again."

"I guess you could call this a vacation. A break away from reality. We're on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, with nobody else around. You can be whoever we want to be. There are no restraints to who you are here." he finished.

I looked him in the eye. "So what you're telling me is that you kissed me because you know that when we leave it won't matter?" I knew that that wasn't what he meant, but I was still aggravated and wasn't going to let him off easy.

He didn't take the bait. "No. I kissed you because it's just you and me. Because your song moved me. Because I was stupid to leave a year and a half ago and now all I want is to be with you again. And no matter what stupid promises I made to myself about going slow with you, I'd be a liar to say I regret what just happened out there."

I'm silent. This is the most we've spoken in the two months he's been back. Or rather, the most he's spoken.

"You were right in that song. We always leave so much unsaid."

I leaned my head in my hand and scoffed, "Who says that it was about you and I?"

But the both of us know better. My guard is down, my emotions are running high and when I'm like this, I'm not much of a liar.

It's always hard to lie around him.

"Look at me, Jude." I stare at the wall for a few more seconds, gathering myself up before looking him right in the eyes. But nothing could have prepared me for what he said next.

"I've missed you. For nearly two years, I've missed you. I was scared of facing my problems, so I ran. What was I supposed to do? Date a minor in the public eye, risk hurting your reputation and getting myself thrown in jail? Was I supposed to just accept the fact that I fell for a girl seven years younger than me?"

He grabbed my hand, holding it gently. "That's why I left. But I'm back now, and I want to resolve everything I left behind. Don't think that all this time I forgot about you. I thought about you every single day. You were always on my mind. I've lived every day since I met you waiting for you to turn eighteen so that this wouldn't feel so messed up."

We share a moment of silence, one of a thousand since he's come back. I'm pretty much shocked into submission, so when he closes the space between us on the couch, I can't protest.

"Give me another chance, Jude. No more lies. Forgive me."

He's stupid if he thinks I don't want this. I'm stupid if I let myself want this.

"What do you want from me, Tommy?" I pulled my hand back and looked away.

He thought for a moment. "I'm selfish. I want so much. But I can't have it all. All I'm asking for is forgiveness. I want to get back in the studio with you on Monday and work to write amazing music together. I want to make you happy, and a star, I want everything for you. I want to be your producer and your friend again."

My heart sunk but I shook the feeling off. "And is that all you want from me?"

"For now, yeah."

Silence.

"And there's nothing else?"

"There is. But right now that's not something we should worry about. Right now we should worry about there being a 'we' at all."

My head is fogging over and I'm confused as all get out.

This is too much.

I could almost swear he was going to confess his love to me, or something. Part of me was hoping for it. The other part was relieved that he hadn't thrown so much at me. But still, he had kissed me, and now he was saying he didn't want anything else yet?

Here's to Tommy Q. He's as confusing as ever.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I heared finally reply.

I could see the dissapointment in his eyes, mixed with hurt. But none of it completely registered, because I still trying to understand his speech. Everything had been so blunt, so un Tommy-like that it was hard to believe any of it was true.

It could all just be lies. He could have become one hell of a liar while he was gone.

I walked back to my room in a daze, all the while feeling his eyes bore into my back.

I needed space. I can never think clearly when I'm around him.