The Tree House

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

She was kind of a weird girl. Preston could have laughed at the way she frowned and threw her plushie at the tree like it had insulted her. With a little smile he retrieved it, taking the time to inspect the weird thing. "To be honest, I don't know what it is. So I don't see myself getting any 'ideas'...What's it from? A movie or something?"

"Something like that," Shelby said quietly before taking it back, hugging the familiar figure to her chest like a small child. He watched her face, seeing an almost apologetic look when she stared at the toy. When she glanced up at Preston, he smiled at her and she looked away, dropping the plushie again. Poor plushie. You're too bipolar for it. He wanted to tell her teasingly.

"Stop that." She demanded. He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Stop what?" was his innocent question.

"Stop...looking at me like that. Like you actually care. Like I'm broken and you know how to fix me or something. Because you don't. You can't." She was trembling now, her croaky voice now shaky and unstable. Preston just stared at her for a second, more than a little dumbfounded.

"Shelby..." he took in a sharp breath and let it out, and shoved his hands back into his pockets where they belonged. "I'm not trying to fix you." He pulled his eyes up to meet hers and offered a little smile. "But I do think you're funny and adorable. And what's wrong with, y'know, just hanging out and not turning it into some big deal, anyways?" He leaned down to pick up the plushie again with one hand, holding it limply at his side as he faced her, shrugging. "Why are you automatically in attack mode around me?"

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

She didn't know why she felt so on edge all of a sudden, but her entire body tensed up as she watched Preston retrieve her plushie. She wanted to run at him and tackle him to the ground, anything to make him forget all about the whole thing and go home. Anything to distract him, anything that would allow her to keep her perfect little world undiscovered by anyone else. Because that's how it felt, watching him gaze at Al--it felt like he had invaded on a secret and ruined her world, and she wanted it back. Immediately she snatched it from him, hugging it to her like he would wrench it from her grasp at any second. Like she was protecting Al, even though she wanted it to be the other way around. The way it was before.

Or maybe you could protect me, if Al isn't going to.

Wait. What? No way. What am I saying? Mom and Dad said they would protect and take care of each other, and look what happened. And all of them were supposed to take care of Cassie, and they didn't...it doesn't work! The only one who can really protect me and love me and make sure nothing happens to me is myself. Myself, and Al. That's what this is all about. Right? Right? Isn't it?

But Al isn't here. And he won't be...will he?

And meanwhile, there Preston was, looking at her again.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked, all wide-eyed and innocent. As if he didn't know what he had been doing all this time.

"Stop...looking at me like that. Like you actually care. Like I'm broken and you know how to fix me or something. Because you don't. You can't." Shelby was shaking now, and she hated it. She was stronger than this. She wasn't weak and pathetic like Cassie or her stupid friends. She was better than this. Al wouldn't love her if she was shaking, would he? Would you?

"Shelby...I'm not trying to fix you. But I do think you're funny and adorable. And what's wrong with, y'know, just hanging out and not turning it into some big deal, anyways?" He bent over, picked something up in his hands. Al. Had Shelby dropped him again? She hadn't noticed it... "Why are you automatically in attack mode around me?"

With a sigh that sounded painful even to her ears, Shelby collapsed onto the ground, landing with a smack on her kneecaps. "I'm not," she tried to protest, but she sounded dead, defeated. "It's not just you. I'm--I'm not. I'm not broken, I'm not..."

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

"Shelby..." He relinquished a heartfelt sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm not trying to fix you. But I do think you're funny and adorable. And what's wrong with, y'know, just hanging out and not turning it into some big deal, anyways?" His smile started to fade when he picked up her plushie again, holding it at his side as he looked up at her. It was his turn for a question. His turn for an answer. "Why are you automatically in attack mode around me?"

Whatever he had expected in the back of his mind where he kept all the self-denial remarks and ideas, her reaction wasn't on that list of expectancies. She sighed in a way that seemed to tear at her own throat, a near-gasp sound that was promptly followed by her knees buckling as she fell to her knees. Preston instinctively shot forward, but hesitated before he actually touched her, and by then she had already settled dramatically on the grass. "I'm not," she argued, but she sounded dead, defeated. "It's not just you. I'm--I'm not. I'm not broken, I'm not..."

It's not just you.

Preston crouched down in front of her, bending down his tall frame so he could meet her eyes, close enough that he could have touched his hand on her arm easily. "I never said you were broken, Shelby," he told her. Preston shook his head a little, like the whole thing amused him, but his expression was serious. "You are weird, though. And, I dunno... it seems like you've given up on everything, like you've already lost when you haven't."

He held the plushie between them, inspecting it again before looking up to watch her eyes. "And jeez, if you like the plushie, just like the plushie, I don't care, just don't throw it." He offered it to her, a small smile playing on his lips, hope sparking in his eyes, praying she wouldn't retaliate in pride or anger and would just take the toy back. "I have to be honest, I'm a little worried that if you actually start to like my company you might start chucking me at helpless trees, too..."

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

God, what am I doing? I'm better than this, aren't I? So can someone please explain to me what I'm doing here? Why I'm acting so pathetic and so much like Cassie I want to punch myself in the face? Look at me! I've just babbled on like a crazy person, and then I fell. I'm better than that. I am. I can't do this. I can't let anyone see me this way--It's all your fault! Who asked you to come over here and trespass on my tree house, hmm? Who asked you?! Who said you could come over here and freaking shrug at me all the time, and tell me I'm funny and adorable?! Who said you could do that? Who?!

What gives you the right to ruin my perfect little world, Mustang Guy?

"I never said you were broken, Shelby," Preston tried to protest. Shelby didn't look up. "It doesn't matter what you said," she whispered bitterly. "I know you thought it. I know."

"You are weird, though. And, I dunno... it seems like you've given up on everything, like you've already lost when you haven't."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me."

"And jeez, if you like the plushie, just like the plushie, I don't care, just don't throw it." He held it out to her, but Shelby only glared at it. If you hadn't left me, this wouldn't be happening. "I have to be honest, I'm a little worried that if you actually start to like my company you might start chucking me at helpless trees, too..."

Now Shelby looked up, her eyes burning holes into his as she glared. "I think you should go now," she said coldly. "Come back for the filming, if you still want to." If I'll still let you.

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

"I never said you were broken, Shelby," Preston tried to protest.

Her bitter tone was cold and somewhat childlike. "It doesn't matter what you said. I know you thought it. I know." Preston had to resist rolling his eyes.

"You are weird, though. And, I dunno... it seems like you've given up on everything, like you've already lost when you haven't." It sounded so much cheesier when he said it. At least, to his own ears.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me." It was like he was hitting a brick wall with french fries. Totally useless.

"You make it kind of difficult," he said with a sigh, "And jeez, if you like the plushie, just like the plushie, I don't care, just don't throw it." He held it out to her, but Shelby only glared at it like it was poison he was trying to force her into drinking. "I have to be honest, I'm a little worried that if you actually start to like my company you might start chucking me at helpless trees, too..."

She sent him a chilling glare that could have peeled an onion into nothingness. He could feel actual goosebumps on his arms. You'd make a very good villain, you know that? "I think you should go now," she said coldly. "Come back for the filming, if you still want to."

Preston frowned at her in disappointment. "Fine, but I'm taking the plushie with me." He quickly hid it behind his back in case she tried to go after it, taking careful steps backward. "You know, as easy as it is to push everything away, it's actually really difficult to just deal with life where it is. I think that's what your problem is." He took a few more steps and smiled at her. He pulled out the plushie and looked down at it intently for a moment, trying to think of a good place to keep it. The dashboard of his car? "What show it he from, anyway?"

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

"I have to be honest, I'm a little worried that if you actually start to like my company you might start chucking me at helpless trees, too..." Preston said, obviously trying to act chummy, to make her laugh, something. Just like Kagayaki had claimed to. Just like Yukito had tried to do, and her parents, and Cassie, and her friends, and everybody else...it was the same thing over and over. She had heard all of it before, and she hated it. Couldn't they just see that she didn't want to laugh, or smile, or do anything that they felt she should be doing? Didn't they understand that she didn't want to? Couldn't they leave it at that, and just leave her alone for once in her life. That's what I want! I don't want to be stupid and happy and whatever it is you all want me to be, is that such a problem? I just want to be alone! I couldn't laugh anyway, not even if I wanted to. I've forgotten how.

"I think you should go now," she said, glowering at him. "Come back for the filming, if you still want to." I don't need you to be in it, or your stupid costumes, or your stupid optimism, or your stupid face, or anything...I don't need you!

"Fine, but I'm taking the plushie with me," Preston said with an almost disapproving look on his face. He backed away, Shelby never taking her icy gaze from his the entire time. "No, you're not," she warned. You'd better not.

"You know, as easy as it is to push everything away, it's actually really difficult to just deal with life where it is. I think that's what your problem is. What show it he from, anyway?"

"FullMetal Alchemist. Give him back," Shelby said quickly, getting to her feet and taking a few steps toward him. "Now. I'm not kidding. Give it back." She reached for it, still glaring at him, mentally calculating how fast she would have to run to get away from him once she got her plushie back. What's your problem, anyway? I deal with things. I do.

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

"Fine, but I'm taking the plushie with me," Preston declared, a secret amusement in his eyes even as she glared at him as if he was the scum of the earth she walked on. "No, you're not," she warned. He just smiled, backing away with the plushie behind his back.

"You know, as easy as it is to push everything away, it's actually really difficult to just deal with life where it is. I think that's what your problem is." He pulled it in front of him and inspected it again. "What show it he from, anyway?"

"FullMetal Alchemist. Give him back," Shelby said quickly, getting to her feet and taking a few steps toward him. He backed away, smirking. "Now. I'm not kidding. Give it back." She reached for it, still glaring at him.

"How about this? No." He hid the plushie just out of her reach, laughing a little at her face. "You act like you're not used to being told no. I'm telling you now, you aren't getting Alchemist-guy back, because he's been abused by his mommy." He paused, then laughed again. "It is a he, right?" Preston backed up a quick few steps, involuntarily doing a quick grapevine with his feet and holding up a warning finger to her. "Wait. Listen. This poor little guy wants some love. And to keep his face off trees. So I'm adopting him until you get...I dunno.. therapy or anti-depressants or something." He shrugged.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

It was weird to be outside, she realized as she knelt on the grass glaring at Preston. She wanted to reach out and touch it, to lie on the grass and breathe in the fresh air for a while. She felt like the Phantom of the Opera, or Quasimodo from her favorite Disney movie, Hunchback of Notre Dame--like she had been shut inside for years and years without ever once seeing the sun. I guess it is kind of like that, isn't it? I've been inside so long...I don't think I've really once been outside since the day I met Aidousan at the restaurant, have I? It's so weird...'Out there, living in the sun...' Ugh! What am I doing? Focus here!

"What show it he from, anyway?"

She got up, brushing stray bits of grass from her dark jeans and advancing towards him a few feet. "FullMetal Alchemist," she said, not really caring whether he heard or understood the answer. "Give him back. Now." He responded only by backing away with that stupid smirk on his face once again. What is it with everyone I know and smirking? "I'm not kidding. Give it back."

"How about this? No." Teasingly, cruelly, he dangled it in front of her, daring her to grab it. Or punch him in the face. Whichever came first. "You act like you're not used to being told no."

To this, Shelby didn't respond, but her involuntary blush of shame would no doubt let Preston know he wasn't far off the mark. I can't help it if no one tells me no, can I? "I'm telling you now, you aren't getting Alchemist-guy back, because he's been abused by his mommy. It is a he, right?" To this, Shelby only rolled her eyes, lunging again to take back what was hers. And missing. Again.

Preston backed up a quick few steps, involuntarily doing a quick grapevine with his feet and holding up a warning finger to her. "Wait. Listen. This poor little guy wants some love. And to keep his face off trees. So I'm adopting him until you get...I dunno.. therapy or anti-depressants or something."

That did it. Shelby's face took on a look of pure rage, and she shoved him as hard as she could.

He barely even moved.

She muttered several curses under her breath, glaring at her twig-like arms in disgust. She had lost so much weight during her self-imposed exile that she couldn't even do much damage when she was angry beyond possible belief. This explains why lifting things is such a trial these days...I'm glad we don't have school yet, or I'd kill myself trying to pick up my backpack. If I chose to go at all, that is. "I do not need therapy. Or medicine. I'm fine."

She gave a frustrated sigh, like a babysitter dealing with a child who refuses to stop jumping on the bed and go to sleep. "Look. I'm not asking anymore. I'm telling. Give me my toy back. Please."

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

Did it make him super-weird to say he thought she looked cute when she was angry? Or maybe he just like irritating her from some schoolboy part of him, thinking that the attention was good for her, positive or negative, or just teasingly. She demanded the plushie back with all the command he expected of a rich girl.... though her voice still waivered in and out like a bad radio connection, a result of her slow self-destruction.

"How about this? No." He dangled it in front of her, daring her to grab it. Or punch him in the face. Whichever came first. "You act like you're not used to being told no." The flush to her cheeks was his only true response, and he realized he had hit the proverbial nail on the head. "I'm telling you now, you aren't getting Alchemist-guy back, because he's been abused by his mommy." He looked at the plushie curiously, "It is a he, right?"

Shelby rolled her eyes skyward, and then tried to make a surprise leap for the toy. He was faster than her, and was able to keep it out of her reach. Just barely out of her reach. He moved back in a grapevine, warning off her attempts with a motherly finger. "Wait. Listen. This poor little guy wants some love. And to keep his face off trees. So I'm adopting him until you get...I dunno.. therapy or anti-depressants or something."

Her expression contorted into fury, her eyebrows furrowing at dramatic angles and her lips pursing and laxing in her feeble tries at gaining the toy back by force or quickness - neither of which she had. She was little more than skin and bones. He really wondered how she had managed it all the way across the yard. Would she have been able to crawl up into the treehouse, he wondered? What was the point of having a treehouse if you were too sick to climb it? Shelby realized her shortcomings and glared at her thin arms, verbally abusing them in some weird way.

"I do not need therapy. Or medicine. I'm fine."

"Of course," he said flippantly, "I can understand that. So take it from me."

She let out a frustrated sigh, but he knew she wasn't going to relent that easily. "Look. I'm not asking anymore. I'm telling. Give me my toy back." He didn't move. "Please."

"Please... now, there's a very fine word." He grinned, holding out the plushie, ready to whip his hand back in case she decided to eat the Alchemist-guy and his hand all in one bite. "Well, I guess I'd better go before you glare me into flames or something. It was nice talking to you. Y'know, and actually having you respond somewhat?" He shrugged, waved, and halted. "You know, you have a very nice treehouse. It's too bad it goes unused. I'll try and figure out some way we can use the angle for a scene in the musical or something." He waved again, still smiling like she hadn't even gotten angry at him. "Well, bye!"

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

It wasn't fair. The way he just seemed to know things about her without her telling him...without her hardly even telling herself. How could he do that, what right did he have to take one look at her and see through the facade that it had taken her months to build? It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be able to do so easily what others had tried and failed to do for almost a whole year. He shouldn't.

And maybe the bigger question is...why do I let him? Why? Why am I just standing there and letting you do this to me?

"Wait. Listen. This poor little guy wants some love. And to keep his face off trees. So I'm adopting him until you get...I dunno.. therapy or anti-depressants or something."

She tried to push him, but the person who'd succeeded in taking off the mask that she wore barely budged an inch. She glared, muttering under her breath as obscenities floated through her head. Gah! Why can't I just...gah!

"I do not need therapy. Or medicine. I'm fine." It was a feeble protest, although not said with any less malice in her voice. And yet Preston didn't even react, just continued to stare at her in that annoyingly persistent, nonchalant way. It's not fair that I'm stupid enough and vulnerable enough to let you do that to me.

"Of course. I can understand that. So take it from me."

Shelby let out a sigh and hated herself for doing it. In her mind, this was even worse than admitting defeat. "Look. I'm not asking anymore. I'm telling. Give me my toy back." He didn't move. "Please."

"Please... now, there's a very fine word." Finally, he held the plushie out to her with a beaming smile. Shelby took it warily, her eyes never leaving his just in case he decided to snatch it back. "Well, I guess I'd better go before you glare me into flames or something. It was nice talking to you. Y'know, and actually having you respond somewhat?" Involuntarily, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards into a small half-smile. "You know, you have a very nice treehouse. It's too bad it goes unused. I'll try and figure out some way we can use the angle for a scene in the musical or something. Well, bye!"

"...Bye," Shelby said distantly.

And then she did something stupid.

Something incredibly stupid. Something so stupid that even as she did it, she knew she would be beating herself up over it for days after.

She lunged for him again, until their lips met. She didn't know how long she kept them there...it could have been days, minutes, or only the briefest of seconds. And then she took off towards the house like she was shot from a cannon, slamming and locking the door behind her.

My first kiss.

Shelby has left the Tree house! <3 XD

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

He managed to get her to ask him somewhat politely for the plushie back. It was like she was surrendering a little of her stubbornness, as well as admitting how much she did care for the silly toy, whether it was embarrassing to her or not. Preston held the plushie out for her, grinning. She took it warily, her eyes locked on his like a stray cat tentatively reaching for what may be its capture or its dinner. At last, she took it.

"Well, I guess I'd better go before you glare me into flames or something. It was nice talking to you. Y'know, and actually having you respond somewhat?" Was that a bit of a smile playing a ther lips? He counted this already as a highly-accomplished visit. "You know, you have a very nice treehouse. It's too bad it goes unused. I'll try and figure out some way we can use the angle for a scene in the musical or something. Well, bye!"

"...Bye," Shelby said distantly. Something in those few seconds between glaring and goodbye, Shelby changed a chord. They were playing in a different key when she leapt forward. As he automatically braced himself, like when she'd tried to shove him into submission before, he didn't really expect to feel her lips against his. Woah...where did that come from, Rich Girl? He laughed to himself when she finally pulled away, racing off to the house as if it was her only sanctuary, where she could take that stolen kiss and hide it.

"That was unexpected," he said aloud, hesitating with one finger reaching upwards as if to touch his lips. Then, he raced over to the door where she'd vanished, trying the knob and finding it locked. Darn. She had to make an excellent and surprising exit. Preston took a step back and looked up at the many windows of the house, half-expecting to see her thin form peering out at him like a ghost. His heart, delayed by the circumstances, started to race, and he beamed up at the house, still laughing. It was like he'd won a month-long marathon at last, and he started to run down the street at full-tilt.

Because kisses meant she liked him, obviously.

Preston has skipped off into the sunset

[Elda Forever]

OOC: Post is puny... >.< But it still loves you! BIC:

Preston Brailsford

When he put the car into park in front of the Wright mansion, he stopped for a moment and looked up at the empty house. A homes that he knew Shelby had never 'at home' in, at least not in the way she should. “Well, we're here,” he declared, unbuckling and clambering out of the car, though he wasn't exactly sure why they'd come here. Shelby had said she wanted to talk, and he was more than willing to listen. So he'd come. He lead the way, choosing the rope ladder over the stairs for the simple reason that it felt more secretive to wriggle his way up. It felt strange, coming up here again. He was sure it had been ages since they'd been in the treehouse together, though it had been one of his favorite haunts when they first got together.

“Been awhile, hasn't it?” he chuckled, leaning out one of the windows to look out below. It was dark, but there was plenty of moonlight shining in, and he smiled and leaned both elbows on the windowsill. “I always wanted a treehouse like this when I was little..” He turned to meet her eyes, “So...talk to me, Shel-bell.”

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

Despite it being February, the air outside maintained a warm, muggy quality as Shelby and Preston made their way to the familiar tree house, Shelby steadfastly trying to avoid looking at the mansion that she had once called home. It had been vacant since December, when her mother had gotten arrested and placed in jail, and now it's darkened windows seemed to her to be eyes watching her in the dark, following their every move. She wondered what she would find if she were to go in there now, if it would be decrepit and covered in dust on the inside or as pristine as ever, old habits dying hard even in an empty house. In the long run, it didn't matter--the last thing Shelby wanted to do was open those doors again, reenter that life, turn on the lights and reveal what had once been her reality. It wasn't worth it, and there was no need to. Not tonight, maybe not ever.

The moon illuminated the yard, but she still stuck close to Preston, keeping a grip on his hand that was maybe just a bit tighter than usual. She told herself that part of it was to be sure that they wouldn't get separated again when they needed to talk the most, that the only purpose was to anchor her to him so neither of them would be tempted to run away again. In reality, though, she knew it was because she was scared. She hated herself for it--what seventeen-year-old is still afraid of the dark?--but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't talk herself out of her fear. Like Cassie and her fear of hurricanes, it seemed like something that couldn't be changed, simply because she had lived with it for so long. It was part of her identity now, the way the darkness seemed to press in around her, crowding into the corners of her vision and making it hard to breathe. If he knew, would he laugh at me? Or would he tell me that it was okay, just like he said that it was okay to cry? What will you say to me once you know all of the things I've been keeping to myself for so long?

He lead the way up the rope ladder and into the tree house, Shelby following as she made the journey up that she could do in her sleep. The wooden rungs felt comfortable and familiar in her hands, as if welcoming her back from her long absence. A tiny smile appeared on her face as she hoisted herself up and onto the hard wooden floor of the tree house, the feeling of safety that she'd gotten in there as a kid rushing back to her as she looked around. The tree house looked exactly the same as ever--Cassie's drawings all over the walls, that sturdy old wooden crate near one of the windows that had served as everything from a table for tea parties to a home for fairies, even a few discarded toys and dolls here and there, their formerly bright colors now dingy and faded from so many years outside. It's like I never left. Like nothing ever changed at all.

“Been awhile, hasn't it?” Preston commented with a chuckle as he leaned out of one of the windows, his elbows resting on the windowsill. Shelby gave a nod, her own tiny giggle accompanying his. "Tell me about it."

“I always wanted a treehouse like this when I was little..”

A thoughtful look came over Shelby's face as she crossed to him, sitting down on the old crate and looking up at him. The soles of her purple Converse made little scratching noises against the layer of dust and dirt that covered the wooden floor, and she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with her foot. "I used to come up here all the time when I was a kid," she said quietly. "It was my place. I mean, sure, all three of us came here to play, but Jake was so much older than Cassie and me that he didn't really care about it too much by the time I was old enough to come up here. And Cassie was here a lot too, obviously--all the little drawings, those are hers--but not like me. It was just a tree house for her, a place to come and play for a few hours. But for me...it was like a sanctuary, you know? Whenever I was upset, or angry, or scared, this is where I would go every single time. It didn't matter what was bothering me, coming up here helped. It was quiet, and familiar, and safe, and nobody bothered me. I could think up here. I could breathe. Sometimes I even ended up sleeping up here because they would forget about me and I wouldn't ever want to walk back to the house all alone in the dark...it was just the perfect place to go to get away from everything, and to think, and to be angry and cry or whatever. It was perfect. It's my place."

“So...talk to me, Shel-bell.”

Shelby let out a sigh as a billion different things flooded into her head at once. Talking was something that was going to be far more easier said than done tonight. Where would she even begin? There were so many things she had to say, and she didn't know if there would ever be enough time to say them in. "Oh my God, I don't even know where to start," she admitted. "I'm sorry. I should have planned this out more, shouldn't I?"

She looked at her feet for a second, trying to collect her thoughts. "I...the reason I got so mad at you for drinking...ugh, I'm not doing this right. Okay. When...when my mother got arrested..." She gave an angry sigh then, shaking her head. "I can't say this right. I'm totally screwing this up. Just...give me a place to start and I'll talk. Ask me a question or something. Anything you want to know. Just don't make me start, because we'll be here all night before I figure out how to say what I want to say, and how to start saying it." She met his eyes then, giving him a faint smile. "I'm sorry. I should have known I was going to be terrible at this...but it really means a lot that you're willing to listen anyway."

[Elda Forever]

Preston Brailsford

“Been awhile, hasn't it? He murmured, leaning out the window and looking out at the dark yard before them. There wasn't a single light across the entire property save the moon that glowed gently down, reminding him of the past. Preston couldn't see very well at the back part of the property, but he'd wanted to explore back there many times before. Maybe they could wander back there tonight. It had been her house, right? Didn't her family still own the place? Otherwise, this could be considered trespassing, though Preston doubted anybody cared one way or the other if a couple of teenagers were sitting in an abandoned treehouse talking.

"Tell me about it."

He wanted to. A sensation and need rose up in his chest that he wished he could express aloud, but nothing came to him. It was more of a feeling, a state of mind, than anything. Looking out on the ground from the treehouse, seeing the shadowy grass blowing silently and the eerie windows of the Wright mansion, of thinking about walking through the yard in the dark. He let out a sigh and looked around the small building they'd found refuge in. “I always wanted a treehouse like this when I was little..”

He felt Shelby's eyes on his face, and she came to sit next to him next to the window. Of course, she didn't kneel on the dirty floor with him, but sat on an old crate nearby. His smile faded a little at that, because he realized that he wished she would come over and curl up in his lap, so he could wrap his arms around her. But he supposed coming to sit near him was okay. She traced her shoe through the dust on the floor, and he waited at the window, crossing his arm on the sill and resting his chin across his overlapping arms. He started to hum a little tune he'd heard on the radio earlier that day, but stopped when Shelby began to speak.

"I used to come up here all the time when I was a kid," she said quietly. As she spoke, he moved away from the window and turned to watch her, his eyes trying to pick out her face in the dim light. "It was my place. I mean, sure, all three of us came here to play, but Jake was so much older than Cassie and me that he didn't really care about it too much by the time I was old enough to come up here. And Cassie was here a lot too, obviously--all the little drawings, those are hers--but not like me. It was just a tree house for her, a place to come and play for a few hours. But for me...it was like a sanctuary, you know? Whenever I was upset, or angry, or scared, this is where I would go every single time. It didn't matter what was bothering me, coming up here helped. It was quiet, and familiar, and safe, and nobody bothered me. I could think up here. I could breathe. Sometimes I even ended up sleeping up here because they would forget about me and I wouldn't ever want to walk back to the house all alone in the dark...it was just the perfect place to go to get away from everything, and to think, and to be angry and cry or whatever. It was perfect. It's my place."

Preston smiled at her, “I get what you mean...I think we all have places like that. Even if it's not always a physical, you know..kind of thing. It's still your place. A refuge.” He watched her face for a moment longer. “So...talk to me, Shel-bell.”

Shelby let out a sigh, and took a moment to try and collect her thoughts. Suddenly she said, "Oh my God, I don't even know where to start. I'm sorry. I should have planned this out more, shouldn't I?"

“Naw, it's fine, Shelby,” he reassured her quietly, smiling at her softly, “Take your time.”

"I...the reason I got so mad at you for drinking...ugh, I'm not doing this right. Okay. When...when my mother got arrested..." She gave an angry sigh then, shaking her head. "I can't say this right. I'm totally screwing this up. Just...give me a place to start and I'll talk. Ask me a question or something. Anything you want to know. Just don't make me start, because we'll be here all night before I figure out how to say what I want to say, and how to start saying it." She met his eyes then, giving him a faint smile. "I'm sorry. I should have known I was going to be terrible at this...but it really means a lot that you're willing to listen anyway."

“Hey, I get it...” he told her, giving a little shrug. “I'm not so great at it myself.” He looked straight forward, letting out a sigh as he tried to figure out the easiest place for her to start. “Start with your mother. I mean...I don't know her very well, but what is it exactly between you two?” It sounded confusing when he said it like that. But what he wanted to know was if she hated her mother, and what exactly it was that she'd done to make her hate her. Or if there was just an on-going argument there that he didn't understand. He drew one knee up to his chest and rested his wrist on it, leaning his head back up against the wall. “Are you still angry at her? Your mom? Or Cassie, for...for leaving?" It was what he'd suspected, but never said aloud, and he wasn't sure if it was alright that he had now, despite Shelby saying that she wanted to talk. Maybe he was just supposed to listen to her for now? Perhaps that would be best..

[The Phantom of Paris]

Shelby Wright

She never would have admitted it out loud, but she loved the way he didn't question her as she explained how special the tree house was for her, why she had chosen it for their place to talk. He didn't interrupt, his facial expression didn't change. It was like he understood, and that was more comforting to Shelby than he could have known. "Whenever I was upset, or angry, or scared, this is where I would go every single time. It didn't matter what was bothering me, coming up here helped. It was quiet, and familiar, and safe, and nobody bothered me. I could think up here. I could breathe. Sometimes I even ended up sleeping up here because they would forget about me and I wouldn't ever want to walk back to the house all alone in the dark...it was just the perfect place to go to get away from everything, and to think, and to be angry and cry or whatever. It was perfect. It's my place."

Preston smiled up at her, and Shelby was suddenly struck by how strange it was that he was on the ground. She felt like a queen with her subjects kneeling at her feet, and that wasn't what she was going for at all. “I get what you mean...I think we all have places like that. Even if it's not always a physical, you know..kind of thing. It's still your place. A refuge.”

Shelby gave a soft smile, knowing what he meant immediately, what his refuge was. "Basketball and theatre," she said quietly.

He watched her face for a moment longer. “So...talk to me, Shel-bell.”

She gave a sigh, looking down at the floor once again. Everything was spinning around her head like a tornado that she was helpless to stop, her thoughts too scattered to even hope to piece them together again. The problem wasn't that she didn't know what to say, but that there was too much to say and seemingly never enough time to say it in. On top of that, she was scared. She was scared to open herself up like this, to be this vulnerable in front of another person. Wasn't that what her depression had been about? Closing off the world so that they couldn't tell that she was shattering on the inside? This was the opposite, and she wasn't sure hot to handle it. Without her permission, her heart sped up in her chest, and she fidgeted a little as she sat there, one hand involuntarily going up to fiddle with the zipper on her hoodie. "Oh my God, I don't even know where to start. I'm sorry. I should have planned this out more, shouldn't I?"

She knew she was right, but he didn't seem to mind. “Naw, it's fine, Shelby. Take your time.”

But it wasn't fine. Shelby knew that. They'd come up here to talk, not watch her stumble over her own tongue and play with her sweatshirt. She had to talk. She had to let him in. She wanted to, despite all of her stupid clinging fear, and she would if it killed her. "I...the reason I got so mad at you for drinking...ugh, I'm not doing this right. Okay. When...when my mother got arrested..." She gave an angry sigh then, shaking her head. "I can't say this right. I'm totally screwing this up. Just...give me a place to start and I'll talk. Ask me a question or something. Anything you want to know. Just don't make me start, because we'll be here all night before I figure out how to say what I want to say, and how to start saying it. I'm sorry. I should have known I was going to be terrible at this...but it really means a lot that you're willing to listen anyway."

“Hey, I get it...I'm not so great at it myself.” He looked straight forward, letting out a sigh as he tried to figure out the easiest place for her to start. “Start with your mother. I mean...I don't know her very well, but what is it exactly between you two?”

Can we start with an easier question?

The way they were sitting still wasn't working for her. She had chosen her spot so that she would be able to maintain eye contact with him, watch his face as they talked, but this was ridiculous. She wanted them to be equals, especially after their breakdown at the party--all the comments about her money and her neighborhood. How could they see each other as equals if she couldn't even sit next to him? Slowly, she slipped off the crate to sit beside him, leaning up against the wall with her shoulder touching his. Sure, now she couldn't see his face as well, but it was worth it, in her mind. "Do you remember when you met her over the summer?" she asked. "Remember what she said about me not being pretty enough or whatever? Comments like that...all those little jabs...those didn't just appear out of nowhere when the drinking did."

Shelby drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping both arms around them. "This is really awkward, but, um..." she looked down. "She didn't want me. I mean, she barely wanted Cassie, but I was really...unexpected. And not in a good way. From what my dad tells me, my mom was so mad that she didn't want to have me at all. I mean, ending up with three kids when you only wanted one must suck, but..." She sighed again. "She didn't want me. And she's been reminding me of that my whole life. All those little comments about never measuring up, or being ugly, or being unwanted, those just got enhanced when she started drinking. All I've ever gotten from her is just a list of reasons why I'm not good enough, why I've been a disappointment to her since the very beginning. But...I dunno. It's not just that. It's all of it. Cheating on my dad, letting her boyfriend attack Cassie and not seeing it until it was too late, letting the drinking get so bad..."

But there was more to it than even that. Shelby was just too afraid to tell him.

“Are you still angry at her? Your mom? Or Cassie, for...for leaving?"

Shelby looked up, her eyes widening in awe. She shifted a bit so she could see his face better, although she didn't like moving away from him so quickly. "How do you do that?" she whispered. "How do you know me so well that you knew what I didn't want to say?" She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. "Yes, I'm angry at Cassie. It sounds horrible to say, right? How can I be angry at someone for living their life? It's just...Cassie and I used to be able to tell everything to each other. We were best friends. And I know--" she took another deep breath--"I know I can say anything to you, too. I know that. It's just...it's like Cassie's got this new life that she doesn't want me to have any part of, you know? I've met her roommate exactly once, when I helped Cassie move in. I haven't met any of her friends at school, and Cassie hasn't made any effort to include me in what she does. But at the same time, she makes no effort to be a part of my world either. I mean, she visits, what, once every two weeks? She comes over, has dinner, plays with the baby and sees my dad, we watch a movie and she goes home." Her gaze hardened then as the tears came back, anger fighting for dominance over the overwhelming sense of abandonment she felt. "And then, after all that, she thinks she has the right to keep tabs on me and run the life that she's made it clear she wants no part of. I'm sure you saw what she said on formspring about us." Her face grew hot, and she was grateful for the first time for the dim light that hopefully hid her blush from Preston's view.

"And even at home, I don't feel like I belong there. It's like I don't really belong anywhere. My dad's a basket case since the fire and Ilaria is worse, all she does is go shopping. I'm like a ghost there, or a glorified babysitter. And even the little girls are getting sick of me being there. Everyone is." The faintest of smiles crossed her face. "Except Chloe. Chloe still loves me."

She looked at him again, one hand reaching out to take the one he had resting on his bent knee. "What you said earlier...you think I'm this privileged girl who's just had everything handed to her her whole life. And you're right." Her voice broke then, but she kept going. "But that doesn't mean anything, because deep down I'm still just the little girl that nobody wanted, that nobody thought was good enough. Except you." The tear slipped down before Shelby could stop it, catching her by surprise--she hadn't even felt her eyes well up that much. But she didn't stop it, nor the one that followed. "You came in and tried to convince me that everything I'd grown up being told was a lie, that I was beautiful and talented and special and that's why I couldn't care less about the money thing, because you said I was beautiful and you believed in me and you were there when no one else was and I know that this isn't what we're supposed to be talking about right now, we're supposed to be talking about my mother but I don't care because you were the first person in my entire life who's made me believe that I'm worth it. You made me believe in myself and you made me fall in love with you and--"

She stopped suddenly. "I love you," she whispered, her voice almost sounding disbelieving to her own ears. "Never in a million years thought I'd be the one to say it first, huh? Oh my God. I love you. I love you and it's okay if you're not ready to say it back, because...because it doesn't matter." As another tear slid down her cheek, she brought up one hand to touch it to make sure it was really there before starting, inexplicably, to laugh. "Look at me. Look at me. I'm crying. I'm crying for the first time in two years and I love you, Preston. I love you."