I Found You, Something Told Me To Stay - (Jason/Zacky) Version Two.

Chapter One.

Hey, guys! Hope you're all well!

So in case you didn't see my message, I'll explain what I'm doing here. I lost all inspiration to write anything a couple of months ago, and there was a lot of stress in my life and I just couldn't focus. But things are starting to get better, and whilst reading through I Found You, Something Told Me To Stay, I realised that it's my most favourite story I've ever written, and I knew I'd enjoy writing it differently! So, it's the same storyline, just written differently, and this version will probably be quite a bit longer than the other one because I have so many ideas that I really want to fit in!

I really, really hope you enjoy this, because I certainly enjoy the idea of writing it!

Please vote and comment, tell me what you think!

Enjoy!<3

**

It felt like I was the only person awake in the entire town. Walking the dark streets, my scuffed shoes dragging along the cobbled pavements and making a distinctive sound that echoed through the empty neighbourhood, I seemed to be whipping my head round in all directions with the paranoia that I was being followed. I had no reason to believe so, as I'd not heard a single sound during my walk home, apart from the ones that came from my shoes and my light breathing, but the need to feel protected always seemed to linger over me.

As the sky was threatening rain, it was a light grey colour much different from its usual pitch black, which caused the tiniest bit of light to be cast down on everything. It made it a lot easier for me to turn into my street without walking into the sign or falling into someone's bushes, and in my exhausted haze, I somehow managed to make it to the bottom of the street where my house stood, without falling to the floor and going straight to sleep. I was desperate to collapse into my bed, and I couldn't have shoved my key into the keyhole quick enough.

Most of the lights in my house appeared to still be on when I pushed the front door open and stepped into the hallway, despite it being well past two AM. From the living room, music was quietly playing through what sounded like a radio, and it took only that for me to realise that I wasn't going to be able to just go upstairs to bed. I suppressed a groan and kicked my shoes off, slowly walking over to the living room door. Just as I expected, my thirty-four year old mother was passed out on the sofa, and an empty bottle of vodka stood on the coffee table next to an ashtray filled with butt-out cigarettes. I couldn't stop a sigh escaping my lips.

Having been working overtime all week at the twenty-four-hour diner that I'd now worked at for over a year, the tiredness was starting to catch up with me. I needed my sleep much more than my mother did, as she did absolutely nothing at all, but I always ended up having to put her to bed. My dad never spent the night at home anymore, so it was only me that could do it.

I stared around, feeling completely exasperated. I had absolutely no clue of what my mother had been doing in her drunken state, but three cardboard boxes—of which I had no idea where they'd come from—had been placed on the floor by the sofa and looked as though all three of them had been thoroughly rifled through. It was only as I turned around that I noticed that the cupboard under the stairs was wide open, so I could only guess that the boxes had come from there.

I edged towards the sofa and placed a hand on my mum's arm, shaking her vigorously. There was no response at first, which only caused me to shake her harder, and she eventually began to stir and murmur to herself, trying to turn her back on me and curl up tighter on the sofa.

"Mum." I sternly acknowledged her, in absolutely no mood for her to be difficult. "You need to go up to bed. Come on."

I didn't expect an audible response, but she ignored me completely, and I only grew more exhausted and annoyed.