AN: Ok, so this was originally planned to be a two-shot, but I'm thinking that there will be three chapters. This one is pretty short, but I feel as if it stands better alone than it does when paired with the third chapter. I've had this written for a while, so I'm editing it as I go and I'm trying to make sure that each part feels complete. Although this is short, I feel that it stands alone well, and is a "complete" chapter.

As a side note, I apologize for the formatting errors in the first chapter of this story. My computer has been acting up and I hope that all of those problems have been fixed in this chapter.

For those of you who have been reading, I thank you, and I encourage you to review if you love it, or even if you hate it. In my opinion, any feedback is good feedback, and I'm open to any and all kinds. I'm not writing to please anybody, so I'll keep writing if one person reviews or if one hundred people review.

So, without further interruption, here is part two!

"John? Are you ready to talk?" Claire asked. She was hesitant as to what he would say. She had never seen him cry before, and she certainly never had thought that she would ever see him cry. He always seemed so strong. Claire could easily recall times when he had shown up to her house, beaten and upset. She would put him back together, but she would cry, of course she would cry. It was so hard for her to see someone that she cared about so much in so much pain. He would kiss her tears away and hold her, telling her everything would be ok, that everything was fine, even when they both knew that when John would go back home, the whole cycle would start over again. Claire knew that she wasn't the one getting beat, she was fine, her home life had been improving, and her parents were trying to rebuild their marriage.

Claire waited for an answer. But the only response he gave was to hold her tighter, burying his head further into the crook of her neck. And Claire just kept holding him, because she had missed holding him, she had missed him so much. And finally, Claire didn't know how much time had passed, but he lifted his head, stray tears still running down his face. Claire responded the only way she knew how, the way he had taught her in those moments when he had been strong and she had been weak. She kissed every last tear away, holding him tighter after each sniffle.

xxxxx

John knew that Claire wanted to know what had happened. He was sure that she could gather that his father had hit him, but he knew that she wanted to find out why he was so adamant on the fact that she had lied to him.

John knew that she was helping him the same way he had helped her when she cried. He didn't cry in front of anybody, but to be with Claire wasn't to be with just anybody. Claire was his soul mate. At this point, to him it was a fact. The sky is blue. Claire is my soul mate. Grass is green. Claire is my soul mate.

But at this moment, John wasn't ready to tell Claire why he was crying. He just wanted to be nestled in her arms. He wanted her to run her hands through his hair, and whisper to him that she loved him.

But wasn't that the problem? John thought to himself. She didn't love him anymore. What was he thinking? Just because she had helped him, didn't mean that she loved him. Just because she had started crying, didn't mean that she loved him. Claire was an emotional kind of girl. She would watch the news and tear up when they would talk about the deaths of people she had never even met, never even heard of.

Slowly, he started to pull himself away from her. Until, finally, they were two separate people, both sitting there, with tear stained faces and a longing for what they each could not have- each other.