Happy Anniversary.

39. Paint You Wings.

Holy crap guys this is the last chapter. This has been my baby for over a year and I can't believe it's done. Thanks to all my readers, especially the ones who stuck with me through my mini-hiatus. Much love to every one of my readers.

Epilogue will be up sometime in the next couple of days!

The smoke pricked tears in my eyes and burned the back of my throat, but I was determined to not let these go to waste. Jack had stopped, and he was getting rid of them so he wasn't tempted. He told me less than an hour ago that they were in the trash, and as soon as I could I retrieved them and his lighter from his jacket, sneaking out back while he was in the shower and laying on the snow dampened grass. The past week hadn't been bad by any stretch, but I was stuck in a rut - one I felt like I could never get out of. Maybe that sounds a bit over dramatic, but this was just...different to any other emotional ditch I found myself stuck in. It was more like a well, really, one with no means of escape and a soundproof cover. It was a slow suffocation that drained your lungs so subtly that you didn't realize it until it was too late to backtrack. The damage was done, and all I could do was take the aftermath as it came.

Letting the lit cigarette drape from my right hand fingers, I crossed my arms over my body, free hand tugging its sleeve down further. It didn't take Jack long to realize I had relapsed (more than once) when I started refusing to take off my clothes for him, both inside and out of the bedroom. "I thought we had a deal. You don't if I don't." That was a shitty compromise on my part, as I knew while making it that I couldn't hold up my end of the deal. However, Jack had, thankfully. He was having a much easier time getting clean off of every addiction of his. After the first few days of us being home, he realized his parents weren't getting to him, and he calmed down significantly. Stress mostly able to dissipate, he could go back to focusing on his recovery. School was a lot less of a problem for both of us as well, as all of our teachers were willing to work with us. Mr. Carlile even set it up so he came over once a week to help us with things we didn't totally understand. Often, Alan tagged along with him to fill us in on the gossip Rian, Cassadee, and Zack tried so desperately to stay out of, therefore keeping us out of the loop. Also, the day after we got home, a nice woman carrying homemade cookies showed up on our doorstep. A therapist, one that neither Jack nor I was too fond of quite yet, but she was growing on us. Maybe her bringing us food was some sort of positive mind trick that made us like her, whether we wanted to or not.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't heard the back door open. "Alex, why are you out here?" Jack asked me from the porch, bringing back my senses. I was quick to stub out the cigarette in the grass, although he almost positively saw the smoke curling around me, if he didn't smell it.

"N-Nothing, I'll be b-back inside in a minute."

He sighed, and suddenly he was sitting beside me, holding up my - his - pack of smokes between us. 

"Doesn't seem like nothing." I couldn't tell is he was more amused or disappointed. "You know, you could have just asked for them."

My eyebrows drew together. "Aren't you, like, upset?"

Once again, a sigh left his lips, more distressed than last time. "I mean, sure, but it would be a bit hypocritical of me to stop you, wouldn't it? Also, I'm your boyfriend, not your parent. I think if your mom walked out here instead of me, you'd be having quite a different conversation." He threw an arm around me, leaning his head against mine. "I'd love it if you'd support me in this and I wish I would not have to smell smoke on your lips every time I kissed you, but I know I can't stop you." My heart stuttered. Was this him giving up on me?