Their relationship was one tangled ball of yarn. One day they might sit together at lunch, share a cigarette around the corner from the school. Tom would help her with math, Guest would draw on his guitar. Another day, she would avoid him. As if those sweet words she would mutter to him in her half-sleep while they talked on the phone had never happened, as if she had never teased him about his accent.

It was always there. After all, they were both too loud, rude, misunderstood by anyone, but always adored by the team.

Guest was the one who hooked others with her words - deeply enough that it really hurt. The one who was hypocritical and arrogant, which even made her sick. Because no one wanted to see anything else but her beauty.

He was almost the same. Conflictual, overly hot-tempered, always arguing with everyone about everything. But in reality, Tom was softer. There was something bright and tender inside him.

Tom loved Guest. He told many people this, and showed it to her. He could do anything for her, even if that wasn't mutual. Guest didn't want to notice. He was trying to find a replacement. He just slept with anyone to relieve the nagging pain. But it was useless.

She didn't want to come, because she thought it was wrong. He insisted. Tom didn't want to leave her alone, with the weight of her family's problems. So now they were both sitting in his kitchen. There was nobody else. They were both sitting in his kitchen. Only them.

His voice hoarse in a quiet whisper.

A slight smile spread across his lips. She studied the pleasant warmth. Deep affection, perhaps.