October
And the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care
October
And kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall
But you go on
- October, U2

12th October 2010, 2:53 AM

"Whassthat?" Her words are slurred, and in the haze that he's in, he gives an owlish stare. She flings a palm in his general direction. "Arm."

He grins. Jesus, it seems none of the Perkins can hold their liquor. He stretches his legs, sighing loudly as the cold Memphis air whipped around him.

Her generally blue eyes are clouded, and her head is hanging to the side like a limp ragdoll, but the trace of victory's still there.

"Qualifiers-" He manages, sitting up. He stabs the air in front of her eyes with his finger, shooting her a pointed look. "Is-is just a step. Stepping stone. Cakewalk." He giggles to himself at the memory. "Cakewalk. You cheerleaders can be so cute."

A sobered confusion twists her face. "What are you-" The realization slowly dawns. "Cute. Cakewalk. Arm. Savannah." Her spine straightens, and her eyes turn black. "W-what did you do to her?"

He slumps on his seat, smirking. "Naw." He drawls, feeling the ground for the bottle. "I never'll do nothing to her, that one. Too precious." He muses, thinking about the hair that slopes down her shoulders, and Christ, those eyes-

"Daniel Hawthorne Patch Junior." Oh, no, not the full name. This won't be good. "You are not taking an interest in my possible new best friend. Not now, or ever." She leans over, giving him her best death glare. "Or when I have the legal power, I swear I'll put a restraining order on you. Got that?"

"Why?" He crumples his brow. "Babe, you know-"

"Three syllables, Dan." She warns, counting them off her fingers. "Cas-tra-tion." His Adam's apple bobs.

After three seconds of heated silence, he surrenders. "Fine." She shoots him a dirty look. "Fine. Really." He grabs an empty bottle to the sea-air, inhaling the bitter salt smells and proclaims, "From this point- I, Daniel Hawthorne Patch- will never, ever date cheerleaders, in risk of becoming a eunuch." He pauses for a moment, staring at her. "Well, eunuch is fine, actually."

The last thing they both remember is her reaching out to slap his arm, and him laughing.

So they got drunk after Qualifiers like good buds and passed out on the docks.

No big deal.

12th October 2010, 7:02 AM,

"-Crap." An angelic voice reaches to his skull, and in his blurred darkness, he smiles to himself. "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit." He yawns loudly and turns over on his back, his hand rubbing his abdomen lazily. It takes him five minutes to realise that his chest is bare. Okay- that's a little weird. But he wasn't too worried, he woke up in a bar with a purple sharpie-d forehead that had somebody's number on once. (Later he found out it was a man. Not good.)

A violent shake of his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. "Dan, you asshole." The aforementioned angelic voice hissed. "Get up." He groans and opens his eyes and closes them instantly, burning. What the hell?

Either he was dreaming, or he just saw his best bud in nothing but his shirt. "Dan." Her voice's in a shade of fury that reluctantly makes his eyes flutter open, but he shields his view, wincing.

"What happened?" There's a pounding behind his eyes and he wonders when everything got so bright.

He can practically feel her glare. "What do you think happened?" She retorts.

"You- you won Qualifiers. We partied. Then we went to the docks, at one AM. And then we got drunk." He states slowly, the memories fragmented and jarring. "And then-" He pauses, directly looking at her pained look.

No. No. He didn't... he can't be that stupid-

"Fuck." He states simply, echoing her sentiments.

"Indeed."

Okay, so they got drunk out one night and were so out of it, they -kind of, inconsequentially- had sex.

Yeah, no big deal.

21st October 2010, 3:01 P.M

"You cheeky bastard." Ah, Hurricane Marti. Looms twice a year, usually directed at Dan. "Do you crave suicide that much?"

He pauses midway in his construction, slapping his gloves out and staring at her sardonically. He squints in her glare, and pops his tongue in his cheek. "Yup." He confirms, turning around to tell his colleague to take five.

After he finishes, he realises that the deadeye that his bud's been sending him isn't really lessening. He tries confusion. "What, you don't like Tiger Lilies? I thought you always liked them."

She, very nearly, growls. "Yeah, Patch. Especially when, oh I don't know, they're being dropped to me five months before Valentine's in the middle of cheer practice in front of my whole team." She punctuates each stressed word with a –really painful- poke to his chest, and he stumbles backwards with each jab.

She stares at him expectantly. "They looked pretty." He insists lamely, almost blinded by her rage. Her nostrils flare.

"That's what Savannah said too." He winces. "Right after Lewis and Alice and practically the whole base stopped sniggering at me."

"Look-"

"You know what they think?" she snarls, "They think that I have a secret boyfriend. Since when did I have to hide about who I date?"

"I was trying to say sorry-"

"Sorry," She says, and he thinks it's not just about the flowers this time, "doesn't even cover this."

He swallows. "It was a mistake." His voice lowers, head instinctively tilting towards hers. "We got drunk and we did something we both regret. Come on," he coaxes gently, eyes boring into hers. "Can't we forget?"

Her eyes sharpen into diamonds, and her neck stiffens. "Is that the line you feed to all of your one night stands?" There's a bitter tone to her voice that surprises him, and he presses his lips to a thin line.

"Look." He catches her wrist, and she wriggles it away. God, their life is turning into a soap. Forbidden romance and all that. "All I really want is for you to forgive me." His eyes lock onto hers doggedly.

Yeah. Like the flowers didn't say that already.

"I'm not interested." She blurts out angrily, surprising both of them. "I don't want-" She stops abruptly, staring at him. "You don't want what?"

She huffs, and turns on her heels. "Nothing."

Okay, maybe he punched a hole into his wood after that, and neither of them talked to anyone else for hours.

It really wasn't a big deal.

12th October 2010, 4:51 AM,

She hisses as her spine crashes against the cold wall, her fists curling around his hair and their mouths fused together. There will be no thoughts now, just the feel of his hands against her skin and the sounds from their lips. He whispers iloveyou into the crook of her neck, fierce and hoarse, and neither of them will believe it. He'll say it again and again, onto the curves of her arms, against her breasts, on the juncture of her hips, and it's a prayer that no God or Goddess will answer. A prayer that she will never grant. She'll swear and curse and pant thisiswrong, but who are they kidding? The world ended awhile ago, and she's the only thing keeping him from annihilation.

Damn the consequences, he growls as his fingers dance down her inner thighs, damn them all.

She'd had no choice but to agree.

24th October 2010, 9:51 P.M.

Dan Patch is a dead man, he understands that very well.

Either way he makes his way to Beale Street, ordering at least three downers for liquid courage. The sad, sad thing was that as he stared at the swirls in his fourth, he realises it takes shape of the figure of a woman. A really familiar woman.

(And suddenly she's arching above him, her gold curls matted with sweat and excitement. When he thrusts into her, she moans and gasps and clutches his back tightly in her hands, carving half-moons and burning kisses-

The shot-glass almost cracks in his death grip, his teeth grinds. (-and now there's a really uncomfortable tightening of his jeans.)

Shit. Shit.

He shoots up immediately, desperate to pace around until his date comes. His teeth compress even more. Crap- his date. He considers faking diarrhoea, because nobody questions that anyway. A sink feeling weighs down his gut when he realises he can't do that, at least not to that girl. He was well and truly stuck.

He stares at the pool table some more, until his head rears and she enters.

Some of the tension melts away when he sees her dress, and he even manages a grin. That grin fades away however, when she enters.

Dan values his nether regions, he really does.

He just hopes to the Lord himself that Martie knows that.

"You told her I was a player?" He exclaims, his hands wringing the air. She rolls her eyes and picks up the 8-ball from the slot. "I'm sorry, it was a dumb thing to say." She intones, but her eyes say something else.

"Yeah." He states exasperatedly. "I'm on a date with half the squad." And her. He specifically chose that girl to avoid her.

Martie huffs. "Look, the girl was homeschooled, okay? Her parents raised her like veal." He groans and rears his head to the sky. The universe has a personal vendetta against him, he swears. "The group thing is how her church used to handle dates."

"Look, the whole gig you want me to set up tonight, I'm gonna need a bigger backseat." She punches his arm, staring at him pointedly. "Alright, behave. And don't hurt Savannah." He grabs her hand again- a habit he really has to break someday- and stares at her some more. She scrunches up her brow. "What?" Her lips are pursed and goddamn it, he would've said something stupid like I won't hurt her and silence her with his lips or along those lines but his sense tells him it's counterproductive.

Then suddenly his date giggles aloud from the table, and he blinks and lets go.

"Nothing."

29th October 2001, 3:42 PM,

"You goddamned females are all the same-"

"Oh, females. You call me a female, don't you? At least I'm not one of those cheap two-cent whores-"

"Any of those would be three times better than you!"

The door slams shut and he fumes as he rushes out the garage. His mind's on auto-drive while he forces the doors open and whirrs the car engine. A thousand vulgarities are in his mind, and he's positively burning fire in his eyes. He revs the accelerator, muttering to himself. He's so consumed by his rage that he doesn't see the girl crossing until the last minute, and his eyes widen tenfold. Rachel's car is suddenlytoofast as it rounds the last curve approaching the girl, and the amount exerted against the brakes halt the vehicle millimetres away from her left leg.

The girl's eyes are wide, emerald green, a type of defiance in them that makes him think the car stopped at her will.

He curses again, quietly as he bolts out of the car to the teen, examining her for any injuries. "Are you alright?" He asks breathlessly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know where I was going, and Christ, I had something on my mind and I didn't-"

"I'm fine." She cuts in calmly, a kind of quavering courage in her. "I'm really fine." He stares as she blows a strand of her gold curls away, as if she hadn't brushed with death at all.

"Right." He says slowly, staring at her still. He extends his arm, crouching to her height. "Right. Hi, I think introductions were lost. Dan."

She smiles coldly, and doesn't take his hand. "Pleased to meet you. Martie. Thank you for not killing me."

"You're welcome." He grins, and then finally notices the blare of horns and honks behind him. He straightens. "You want a lift?"

Her lips curl a little, and he knows it's genuine. "Least you can do."

29th October 2010, 8:52 P.M.

He grins as he faintly traces the date on Savannah's calendar. "You had the gall to ask me out after that." A voice sounds behind him, as if she read his mind. He smiles wider.

"And you had the nerve to say no. I'm not used to that word." She scowls at him, plopping on her bed opposite him. "I was what, fifteen? It would've been illegal." He crosses his arms, a smirk playing at his lips.

"What would've been illegal?" Savannah asks innocently as she enters the room. "Dan here's remembering our anniversary." Martie retorts dryly, shimmying her track pants out. "Of when we met. He tried to run a car over me."

His girlfriend looks at him, awed. He shrugs modestly. "Long story. I'll tell you later." She beams and bends over to pick her bag, and he admires the view and shakes his legs absently.

He barely catches the flicker of annoyance in the baby blues when he diverts his gaze to her. "Where're you guys going?" Their friend questions casually, head propped on her pillow and eyes directed to her textbook. Beneath the casualness is a subtle stiffness in tone, which could be only interpreted and meant for him.

Savannah opens her mouth to reply, but he beats her to it. "Frat party." She cocks an eyebrow, and leisurely flips a page. "Oh." He's getting irritated, and it leaks into his tone as he reaches for the door handle. "Wanna come?"

"Yeah, Marti, you need a break from all that studying. All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl." Savannah giggles wildly, swaying her hips. He half-smiles as she catches his gaze. God, he loves cheerleaders. "Come on. Lewis is there." Her voices dips into stage-whisper, and her friend rolls her eyes.

"Yeah. Probably making out with Alice as we speak. Now if you can excuse me, I have a ten-page essay to look at." Her eyes scream get-her-out-of-here and he picks up on the message. He begins to unceremoniously shove her back out of the door.

"Aw, Marti, there's plenty of cod in the sea, you know that. Bye!"

She smiles then, small and sad and a little odd, and it haunts him for hours afterwards.

It will only take one more moment like this, one more spark, and it will ignite a fire neither of them can stop.

(And now, they're not pretending that it's not a big deal.)

30th October 2010, 3:52 PM,

"Leprechaun."

"Teeny bopper."

"Boorish loaf."

"Overachiever." Her eyes widen, and there's some laughter in them.

She sniffs, almost insulted, and slumps in her seat. "I'm offended."

The cup stills in his hand in midair, and he gazes at her dryly. "That's a first. Does that mean I win?"

Her reply is sharp, cutting. "No. Truce." She demands, and extracts her hand like it's the most difficult thing to do. He gladly takes it, and kisses it slightly before he lets go. Her blush stains her neck and the roots of her hair, and her jaw hangs open. "Illegal, Dan." She reminds him, swallowing. He smirks to himself victoriously, still staring at her. "What're you, sixteen?" He teases, slurping up his coffee.

"What're you, thirty?" She shoots back confidently, and he clutches his heart, pained. "Oh." He cries out, and she bites back a grin. "Don't hurt me like that, darlin'. I'm not that hopeless." She gives him a dirty look. "Yet." He adds sheepishly. His eyes focus. "But really, I'm only three years older than you. I've seen men older than me date girls your age."

"Dan." She warns, her cheeks clenching. "Have you forgotten Rachel? Melanie? Trudy? Oh, sorry, was that Trudy or Mindy? I don't know, I clearly remember a heel-mark on the left side of your face last week-"

"I'll go exclusive." He blurts out, and that silences her for awhile. He pauses, but then nods to himself. "If... that's what you want. No Trudies or Melanies."

She doesn't look at him. "Just you and me, making out while the sun sets here. Is that so bad?" He pleads. Her head snaps back, her gaze slithering across his face.

Then a vibration rocks the table and she jumps and fumbles for her phone. "I-I gotta go. Wanda's calling." She stutters as his eyes tighten.

He knows.

He's seen it in her eyes, her smile, Jesus fucking Christ, in her very breath, and he's been an idiot to be so blind.

And now they don't have to pretend anymore.

31st October 2010, 8:51 PM,

He shows up on her doorstep, his jaws clenching and his heart pounding.

Her mom's been conned into taking their neighbour's kid trick-or-treating so she can hand out the candy, so she's just the only person in the whole house. (But you know, it's not like, he pried it out of Savannah or anything.)

Something hardens in her eyes when she swings the door open to see him. "Trick or treat?" He offers meekly, and then lamely, oh so lamely reveals what's been hiding behind his back.

Her eyes shine. "It's Halloween. Valentine's six months away." She states, but pushes the door wider. She lets him in, and he gratefully shrugs away the coat and passes the bouquet to her.

"Yeah. Christmas seemed nearer, so I got poinsettias for you." She smiles a little and puts it on the table, thankfully not in the trash.

They sit by the window, silent and solemn, watching kids and their parents move down the street, costumed and smiling. The doorbell rings downstairs every two minutes, followed by a murmur of voices and a child chirping, thank you!

She rests her head against the windowpane. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her breath fogging up the glass.

He's not quite sure what that's supposed to mean, but his mind is screaming now, now or never, Daniel Patch, but he scratches at his back and says, "Yeah." And then, while he's looking at her, at her goddamn hazy eyes and then back at the flowers on the table and then back to her again, something snaps in him.

Before he knows it, he's kissing her and she's kissing him and he's forcing her to say it because he's saying it a thousand times already and then when she moans it to him, half-crazed and half-raspy and completely sincere, the whole world fades to her.

"I love you."

Or maybe something was set free.

A/N: I know people, please pelt me with several rocks for this but I just melted when I saw Matt in the first eppie. Hope I started a revolution :)