A/N: Heya, just a quick warning that this chapter talks a little about suicide, it's only like smidge though. I love you guys and I don't want anyone feeling uncomfortable by it. 

I NEVER KNEW how calming the sounds of birds could be. When I was younger, I use to, in a fit of blazing rage, blindly shoot at trees with a water gun and attempt to knock the birds out of the trees for waking me up. Now, I never wanted to hear another sound except the extremely soothing songs of the birds. 

David had rented out an adorable cottage in the woodlands outside of Seattle. And by adorable I mean fucking huge. This place had seven bedrooms and nine and a half bathrooms. I mean, half of a bathroom?  What kind of rich people bullshit is that? It was surrounded by large towering trees and I as I stood in the sprawling expanse of the back lawn, I carefully watch a squirrel scramble it's way up a thick trunk. 

The morning sun beat down and warmed me through the dusty red material of my sweater. I also had a cup of steaming hot tea in my hands and stood bare foot on the dewy grass beneath. 

It had been five days since I had left the hospital and two since Chase had been released. The cottage wasn't far enough to be fully alone as police officers have shown up here a couple times. I'm fine with most of it I just hate having to re-tell every fucking piece of detail to a new cop every fucking time. I hate even thinking about it. 

I've woken up screaming from my nightmares. Most of them go along the lines of my fear of Luke breaking out, tracking me down and slicing my throat while I sleep. Others are of him hurting my mom, or Chase, or Vera and Penn, or anyone else I hold dear to my heart. They've gotten better the past two nights due to sleeping next to Chase. He's usually awake when I burst from my sleep, breathless and frantic. He lulls me back to sleep in his arms despite his injured shoulder. 

I'm meant to see a therapist tomorrow at midday, and then after that I have yet another appointment with a clinical psychologist who I had met twice while in hospital. He's an old guy, extremely sweet but also super invasive. Between him and the officers, I always get the feeling that I'm the one being questioned; I'm the one at fault for all of this. And it's true. 

The french doors behind me open and I glance over my shoulder, watching as my mother brings out a tray and sets it on the large wooden table outside. 

"Your feet are going to get cold, Hayden." Mom explains as she glances down at my bare feet. I smile as I turn completely and walk across the grass and up the porch steps to her. 

"I like the feeling." I explain as I set my mug down on the table and examine her tray. Except, it wasn't a tray at all but a blank canvas and on top were a couple paints and paintbrushes. I frown, "Mom, did you buy all of this?" 

"Yeah..." She trails off as she sets everything out perfectly straight. I could tell she was nervous as her fingers stumble over each other; she also wasn't making eye contact with me, "You just haven't painted in a while—and I thought it could bring you some joy I guess. Maybe this a stupid idea. I just—I don't know what to do—I don't know how your feeling, what your feeling or even if your feeling Hayden. You don't talk to me Hayden. Or anyone else for that matter. " 

She collapses down into the chair behind her and places her head in her hands. I quickly crouch down below her and places my hands on the knees of her floral pyjama pants. 

I didn't know what to say, "Mom..." 

"I'm not a therapist but I am your mother. So I know how much you crave control and it breaks my heart to watch you attempt to control the uncontrollable." Mom explains as she pulls away the hands from her face and sniffles, tears falling down her sun-kissed cheeks, "I'm sorry to say but you can't handle this all on your own. You can't keep ignoring this nor can you keep bottling it up inside you. I'm scared shitless that you'll crumble under the pressure and I won't be there to help or to stop you from...from..."

"Mom, you know I would never do that right?" I could feel myself crying as I knelt before her. 

"I know, Hayden, I know that. But we're all so terrified because you don't talk to anyone!" She exclaims and I slowly realise how utterly fucking selfish I had been. I hadn't given a single shit about who else could be affected by this. "I'm sorry for raising my voice but I feel so hopeless." 

I know she's right. My fucking stubborn bitch of a subconious doesn't want to accept it; but she's right. I felt so....out of control. I use to think that my fears used to resolve around frogs that could one day take over the world and make humans their slaves—but it was control and loosing that control. The very thought of it had my chest constricting and my stomach fucking plummeting.

 Because if I'm not in control, then what am I? 

"I want to. I so fucking want to talk but I just....I can't." I mumble out as I stare up into her blue eyes. They weren't as bright as I remember. They were faded; like a pair of jeans that had been through the wash too many times. I sit down and hug her waist while my cheek lies in her lap, "I physically can't bring myself to talk about it let alone fucking think about it. And I don't—I don't know why....I think I need help Mom." 

"Hey, I want you to know that you are surrounded by so much love, that you are loved by so many, and that we're all here to help." She bends over and places her lips to my head while hugging me close to her. 

I mumble through the tears, "I'm so sorry." 

"Do not apologise, Hayden. There's nothing you need to be sorry for." Mom whispers as she strokes my hair. I continue to cry into her lap. I hadn't cried like this in so long. Even when I was with Luke, I never cried like this. These tears were full of frustration and rage and chaos and of acceptance.

I just let go of everything. 

We stayed like that for a while. I wasn't sure how much time had past when my tears finally stopped. The birds continued to sing through the silence we held and the sun gifted us with a pleasant warmth. 

Finally, I rock back my on my heels and wipe the tears from my eyes, "Where's David?"

"Well, he's gone to pick up some more bandages for Chase since he ran out last night and on his way back he's picking up a special someone from the airport." My mom grins as my eyes widen with surprise and excitement. 

I gasp, "Spencer's coming?" 

"Yup. He wanted to get on the first plane here when he had heard the news but we thought it would be better to wait until you were up for more visitors." Mom explains as she holds my hands in hers, "He's flying first class of course." 

"Of course." I laugh at the image of him in first class, sipping on whatever alcohol he could get from the gullible flight attendants, "I never thought I could miss his annoying ass this much." 

"He misses you too, Hayden." Mom smiles at me softly, "Also, I forgot to ask how Chase is doing. You would know more than me, I haven't really had a chance to speak to him yet. Everytime I've gone into give him his food he's asleep."

"I want to say he's getting better, but I'm not a doctor so I wouldn't know." I explain as I unwrap the plastic packaging from the small A2 Canvas and set it up in front of me, "But I am aware that he doesn't sleep when I sleep because he wants to be there when I wake up from a nightmare. I also think he's scared to leave me alone in my most vulnerable state. We're both fucking scared to be honest." 

"It's only natural. You two have been through so much more than the average teenager. I'm only thankful that he's in your life, Hayden. Chase...Chase is something else." Mom hums as I examine the colours of paints she had given me; white, peach, orange, cobalt blue and a pale teal. 

I grin up at her, "He's Everett." 

Mom laughs before placing her hands on the sides of her chair, preparing to stand, "Well, I'm sure you'd like to be alone right now so I should—" 

"No, stay." I stop her as she glances at me with big blue eyes. I stand up and move back to my chair. I pick up my paintbrush, "The lighting on you is perfect. Plus, I want to remember this moment." 

My mother only smiles and I could tell she was keeping her tears and emotions at bay. She settles back into her chair as I pour out a smidge of paint onto the mixing palette she had brought as well. I collect it with the tip of my brush before pressing it to the blank canvas. 

 ♤♤♤♤

After I had spent most of the morning basking in the warm sunlight and painting a portrait of my beautiful mother, I headed back upstairs to the room Chase and I occupied. I was quite not to wake him as I tip toed through the slightly ajared door. 

He lay in the middle of the bed on his stomach. The sheets were pooled at his hips, exposing the white bandages over his right shoulder-blade and some that went up and over his shoulder. The sun light floated in through the large windows over looking the forrest, creating a beautiful glow in the room. 

As quiet as possible, I make my way across the room and into the adjacent ensuite. As I close the door behind, my eyes catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked better. If better meant bruised, cut and exhausted; then yes. 

My cheek bone had turned a lovely shade of violet and spread up into left temple. Stitches had closed up the open wound on my head, the one caused by blunt force trauma from the rock. And the skin around my hairline was a sickly yellow. 

There were a few small scratches on my face from where the glass had grazed me though there was more on my arms, hands and legs. 

I turn on the water in the glass shower cubicle that could most probably squeeze an entire football inside. As I let the water heat up, I peel my sweater from my body, letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground and followed by my pajama pants and underwear.

As I step under the steaming water, my muscle instantly relax. I lift my palms up,catching a few droplets in my hands. I stare down at my feet, watching the water run between my toes. Dropping my head, it allows my blonde hair to become soaked under it's heavy pour. The strands of my hair were tangled as I run my fingers through them a few times before straightening my spine and enjoy the warmth of the water once more. 

My eyes follow the lines of the tiled wall, picking out every crack and chip, every bump and imperfection.

I think I've learnt to appreciate the small, insignificant details of everything. Because focusing on the details was the only thing keeping me sane during those eight days. Eight days. Holy shit, I always forget how long I had truly been gone. 

A rush of cold air enters from behind me, brushing up my legs and spine until it's replaced by the warmth of a body. I knew it was Chase as he stands behind me and pushes my wet hair over one shoulder. He then places his lips to the exposed shoulder and runs his mouth up and down the soft skin. My head rolls to the opposite side and my eyes flutter close. 

He places his hands on the curves of my naked waist and turns me around, my heels spinning on the wet tiles beneath. I hesitantly glance up at him through my eyelashes before staring at his chest, unable to maintain eye contact. 

"Look at me, Jones." Chase demands and I can't bring myself to do it. 

I begin to stutter and ramble, "If you—If you want the shower then I'll leave. I just wanted to warm up a little—" 

"Hayden." Chase stops me, keeping me planted to the ground, "Please. Look at me." 

This time I do. Slowly, my eyes trail up his neck, his chin, his lips and nose and finally locks with those harsh, hazel depths. They soften slightly—but only slightly. He was  pissed. 

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that you haven't so much as touched me since I was released from the hospital? You're not in the bed when I wake up and the only time we interact is when you wake up screaming in the middle of the night. You're never around when I go looking for you and—" 

I frown, "You're not suppose to get out of bed, Everett." 

"And you're not suppose to avoid me, yet here we are." Chase counters as I try to focus on the warm water running down my spine, but his close proximity was making my brain blur. Chase sighs heavily, calming himself before his temper got the better of him and gently runs the pad of his thumb over my bruised cheekbone. I mindlessly lean into his touch. "Talk to me Jones." 

"Do you blame me?" I ask as the question hangs out to dry in the tense silence around us. 

"What?" Chase frowns in confusion, "Shit, of course not. Do you blame yourself?" 

"Fuck yes! Look at you Chase. You have a bullet wound in your shoulder that wouldn't be there if it wasn't for me." I explain as I gesture widely to his shoulder, "You wouldn't be in pain if you had never met me..if hadn't blown up the school cafeteria...if i hadn't....that fucking pancake." 

I lean forward and press my forehead to Chase's chest. I close my eyes as what I think was a tear slips from my eyes. I was soak with water from the shower head raining down behind me that I couldn't really tell the difference. Chase keeps his hold on my waist, the heat from his body more soothing than the water. 

I let out a pathetic sniffle, "I'm sorry." 

"You need to stop apologising, Hayden. No one knew what Luke was going to do and no one could control that. Okay?" Chase reassures. I pull back and stare up at him to see him smiling down softly, "I know this is going to sound fucking sappy as shit but I would take a million more bullets for you Hayden. No hesitation. Over and over again if it meant you were safe. We're in this fucking shithole of a world together. 

"You're right. That was really fucking sappy." I manage a chuckle and feign a cringe as Chase laughs at my reaction. 

He brushes a strand of wet hair behind my ear, "There's my Jones." 

"I think I will punch you in the face..." I grin cheekily as I snake around the back of Chase's neck and pull his face towards mine, "But with my lips." 

"That sounds like a great thought." Chase smirks before closing the distance between our mouths. The kiss deepened instantly as all the tension over the past month comes to the surface. The invisible cord wrapped around my stomach tightened and every brush of Chase's skin against mine added fuel to the wild fire of emotions swirling around inside me. 

Everytime we kissed it would take me back to the first time we kissed, up on that roof top as the sun was setting around us. I found it odd how easy I could let go wHEN I was with Chase. How his very presences relaxed me. He constantly reminds me of the limitations of my control over my own life, and I love it. Chase kissed me with so much passion, as if he was never going to kiss me again. 

My hands run over his shoulders and his arms, feeling the muscles coil and tense under my touch as he lifted me. I wrap my legs around his hips and feel my back press against the cool tiled wall. I could feel him bare between my legs and in the heat of the moment, I press myself against him. A deep guttural groan echoes from the back of his throat and the vibration causes me to moan against his lips. 

One of his arms kept me steady while the other tangled itself in the wet strands of my hair. I loved these types of kisses; the type where we were so passionately just grabbing at each other because we couldn't possibly get any closer. It was intense to say the least. 

I'm not sure when, but we somehow made it to the bed. I wasn't even sure if the water had been turned off. I was completely, utterly lost within Chase. Our hands slipped over the wet surface of our skin, our hair drenched the white sheets beneath and our bodies became so beautifully intertwined. Chase lips were on my neck, on my shoulders, on my breasts, they were everywhere. 

Our hips met with each powerful thrust as I run one hand down Chase's back and the other gripped the bed sheets above my head. My back arches up into his chest as Chase's lips brush over a nipple and I realised that even his breath against my skin was enough to tip me over the edge. 

We were breathless and our soft, raspy whispers filled the glowing the room. I look up through hazy eyes to see Chase staring down at me, his wet hair falling down in front of his face and I feel him slow his pace. 

He frowns down at me, "You're crying." 

I hadn't realised, but he was right. I was crying. Again, surprise surprise. 

"I'm just so happy." I smile softly as i reach up and smooth my hand down his jawline, "You make me so fucking happy, Chase Everett." 

Chase only smiles down at me before I bring his lips back to mine. His pace picks up more as we mutter each other's names, over and over and over again. I wrap my legs around Chase's hips, locking him in before we both explode in a euphoric storm of bright colours and fizzing electricity. 

We lay there for a while, in the aftermath of our love making. We both lay on our stomachs, Chase facing away while I had one arm draped over the small of his back. I rest my cheek against his skin as I slowly trail my fingers up and down his spine. When his breath shallowed, I knew he had fallen asleep. And I was about to fall asleep too if the door didn't swing open. 

"No need to fear, your favourite motherfucker is here!" Spencer exclaims loudly as the door slams back against the wall. It was loud enough to fucking wake the entire continent of Africa and Asia combined. Chase jumps awake beneath me and I arch my back, sending a sharp glare over my shoulder. Spencer's eyes widen, before he sniffles and wipes away a fake tear,  "Well, would you look at this. My little girl is all grown up. I'm so proud."  

"Spencer!" I exclaim as I launch a pillow in his direction. 

He then chuckles as he begins closing the door. His stupid smirking face peeks around the wooden slab, "I want all the dirty details, Hayden!" 

When he leaves, Chase was quietly chuckling and I lay back down beside him. 

"I didn't know Spencer was coming." He mutters against the pillow. 

I place my lips to the skin of his back and chuckle, "Well, you do now." 

ooof, that was a heavy chapter. i had to end it on a high note. 

if you're ever feeling like the world is literally a steaming pile of shit and you don't want to be in it anymore, i want you to know that you are loved and that you can message me anytime you want. i'm not a therapist, but i am a great listener. 

remember the next chapter is up on inkitt!