Next To You

Bruises

Valentine's day posed a new challenge for them. Heather felt like her grandmother was purposely dragging her to the gala to keep her away from Eoin. She tried everything she could to get out of it, but her grandmother saw through all her ploys.

She tried to be as invisible as she could, the gala just had to be love-themed, so the whole time she was missing Eoin. What made it worse was having to make it through another evening putting up with Gregory's unwanted advances.

"Just one waltz?" He asked her.

"Oh no, I'm not falling for that trick again," Heather stated firmly, recalling her grandparents' ball.

She stood around for most of the night, forcing small talk with the other guests. She couldn't wait for the night to be over. Then finally, they were heading home.

Once her grandparents had gone to bed, she snuck out to the bridge again. Eoin had left her a vague message to meet him there.

Eoin was waiting there for her with a rose in his hand. She smiled and peered around him, seeing he had set out a picnic blanket there with a lantern and a basket of goodies.

"I can't believe you did all this, but isn't it a little too cold for something like this?"

He grabbed her hand and led her over to it, "maybe, but are you really going to pass this up?"

She shook her head and sat down with him, "I can't be out too long, Connelly will notice I'm gone."

"Well then we'd better make the best out of what little time we have here," he pulled her close to him and pressed his forehead against hers, "Ms. Librarian, will you be my Valentine?"

"Yes, if you'll be mine," she smiled up at him.

"Always," he answered softly.

She blushed and snuggled against him as they kissed. The night was clear and chilly, but at that moment, the cold didn't bother her, because she had him keeping her warm.

On Monday, back at school, Eoin and Heather brought out the best in each other, everyone could see it. It was gym class, and several tennis nets had been set up throughout the gymnasium. It was pouring outside, so Mr. Hanna arranged an inside activity. With how athletic Eoin was and how competitive Heather was, it was an exciting match between their teams.

Mya was on Heather's team, and Eoin was on a team with another guy in their class.

"I'm going to take you down Flannery!" Heather shouted, right before she served the ball.

Eoin just smiled and held his arms open, "I'd love to see you try."

His partner raised an eyebrow at him, "you're not going to let her win, are you?"

Eoin chuckled, "of course not, she loves to be challenged."

Mya laughed as Heather hit the ball, her and Eoin's partner barely had to hit it because Eoin and Heather kept going back forth with each other. Before they knew it, class was almost over, and they were both breathing heavily.

Mya giggled, "has anyone been keeping track of points?"

Mr. Hanna came over with a clipboard, "what was the ending score?"

Mya shrugged, Eoin's partner shrugged too. Eoin was still trying to catch his breath.

Heather stepped up as she exhaled deeply, "12-12."

"So you ended in a tie?" Mr. Hanna was surprised.

Heather nodded, "doesn't that happen all the time?"

Mr. Hanna scratched his chin, "not for a while, but it's fine. Go freshen up."

He wrote it down on his clipboard and went to the next two teams. When Mya and Heather were cleaning up and changing, Heather turned to Mya.

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting to ask, how was your first date with Ivan?" Heather tucked in her shirt and zipped up her skirt as she waited for an answer.

Mya put her cardigan on and pulled her hair out from beneath it, "he was really sweet. He brought me flowers when he came to pick me up, then we ate at that new sushi place in the city. Afterwards, we went walking on the waterfront, it was so romantic. How was yours?"

Heather bit her lip as she felt her cheeks flare, "well... It started out unbearable, but Eoin surprised me later on."

"And?" Mya pressed, Heather said nothing, "really? You're going to leave me hanging like that? You're so cruel."

"I just feel like every time things are going good for us, something ridiculous happens," Heather whispered to her, reminding her what had happened the previous week.

"Heather, we talked about this. You will never truly be happy if you always expect the worst. Screw everything else, okay? Just enjoy it while you have it," Mya scolded her.

"I know, you're right. I just can't shake this feeling though, it's a very bad feeling," she shuddered.

"Just try to forget it, you always do this to yourself. Take a deep breath and let it go," Mya patted her arm, then walked out into the hallway.

Heather followed her shortly after. She glimpsed out the window, it was still pouring. She really didn't want to walk to town in it that afternoon, and she had forgotten her umbrella. She didn't want to bother Connelly either.

After her last class ended, she waited in the doorway. It was pouring again. Eoin suddenly appeared next to her and opened an umbrella for her.

Heather gasped with a start, then looked over and smirked, "your timing is impeccable Flannery, as usual."

"No, I just noticed you didn't have an umbrella when you came to school today. My mom always makes me bring one, just in case," he said with a sheepish smile. "Not very cool, but oh well."

Heather laughed, "well then thank you Mrs. Flannery. Don't you need to get to practice?"

"Yeah, but you can borrow this if you want. I don't mind a little rain," he smiled sweetly.

Heather hesitated, "but what if you catch a cold?"

"Don't worry, if I do, it'll be just a cold, it won't kill me," he said with a wink. "I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if I let you go in the rain without an umbrella."

Sarah was walking down the hall when she saw Tristan leaning against the window sill, staring out, "um, Tristan, right?"

He glanced over at her, then back out the window, "yeah, what's it to you, nerd?"

Sarah stepped over to him and pretended he didn't just call her a name, "you love Heather Shannon, don't you? I've seen you with her, it's the only time you take your mask off and smile."

Tristan turned around and faced her with an annoyed expression, "did you need something? Or are you purposely trying to get on my nerves?"

Sarah stood straight and folded her arms across her chest, "I know I'm not the reason you're irritable. I just wanted you to know you're not alone, you're not the only one who has loved someone and not have that feeling returned to you. Perhaps you'd have a better chance if you were actually nice to people."

Tristan scoffed, "really? You're going to lecture me? how many people have asked you out? You know what, forget it, I've already tried that plenty enough before, it doesn't work. At least not for me." He started walking away, then paused and looked over his shoulder, "I bet if you put more effort into your appearance, that guy you love would take more notice of you."

"No, he wouldn't. I've already tried that, besides, I can tell he's in love with the girl he's with now."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look out the same window he was staring out of. He realized who she meant.

He turned to face her again, "look, I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I get it. Just don't go spreading around that I was nice to you. What's your name?"

"Sarah. And I get it too. It's easier to let people label you and make assumptions about you rather than trying to get people to notice and accept you," she let her arms drop to her side, "in my case though, he's my next door neighbor and my best friend, so I've already been accepted by him. But he obviously doesn't look at me romantically."

"I see how it is, you want your life to be a romantic comedy. The socially awkward brainiac and the popular boy next door fall in love and live happily ever after, am I right?"

Sarah smiled and shrugged, "it's what all girls want, secretly or otherwise. I guess that would make you the rebel without a cause, who falls for the good girl and sweeps her off her feet."

Tristan couldn't help but smile a little, "I guess we're both pretty pathetic in that way. So, I guess I'll see you around then."

Sarah nodded and watched Tristan walk away. He seemed really nice for the brief moment they talked to each other. She didn't understand why some of the others treated him so badly without even giving him a chance. People could be so cruel. At the same time, she wondered if there was more to the reason for his tough exterior than he was letting on.

Tristan got home right before Morrigan left for work. She didn't look very happy, he knew he was in trouble for something.

"Tristan, I got a phone call today. Why haven't you been going to tutoring?"

Tristan shrugged, "because I don't feel like it."

Morrigan sighed in frustration, "why can't you do this one simple thing? No one is asking you to perform open heart surgery here, Tristan. You need tutoring, your grades are horrible. Don't you want to do well in life and make your parents proud?"

He glared at her, "it doesn't matter, my parents are dead. Nobody cares if I get good grades or not, I'm just an inconvenience, right? You'll just send me away again eventually, so why should I even bother?"

Morrigan's eyes turned misty, "that's not true. I am sorry about before, but you have to understand, I only had you go so you would be taken care of. I promised your parents I'd always look out for you, and I know I haven't done a very good job, but I am just trying to look out for your best interest, Tristan. I promise, I won't send you away, but I still expect you to do your best in school."

She put a hand on his back as he turned away from her. She felt him wince. Out of concern, she lifted the back of his shirt and saw deep bruises all over him.

"Oh my god, Tristan... How? Who?"

He quickly pulled his shirt down and faced her, "it's nothing, just leave me alone."

He went into his room and slammed the door. Morrigan covered her mouth and cried. Something was definitely wrong. She called up her work and said she was going to be late coming in.

She cooked dinner and took a plate of food to his room. She gently knocked on the door, "Tristan, I brought you dinner."

He opened his door a c***k and peered through it, "if you're going to ask me a bunch of questions, forget it. I couldn't tell you anything, even if I wanted to."

Morrigan just gave him a sad expression and held the plate up to him, "I made your favorite. Please, let me in?"

He rolled his eyes and left the door open. She grasped the opportunity and walked in, setting the plate on his nightstand.

"Where's all your stuff?" She asked, attempting to have a conversation with him.

He pointed to a worn out box and suitcase in the corner, "I don't really have that much stuff anyway." He picked up his guitar and started tuning it.

Morrigan spotted the tattered notebook on the floor next to her feet, "are these school notes?"

He eyed her warily, then stared at the notebook in her hands, "no, just stuff I've been working on."

He didn't freak out on her, so she opened it up to a page with a folded corner, "are these songs? They're very well written. Would you ever play one for me?"

He glanced over at her, but said nothing. She closed it and set it down on his lumpy, warped pillow. She could tell just by looking at it that it had been through a lot of late night punching.

"Look, I realize things haven't been easy for you Tristan, but you can talk to me. I know I've never really said it, but I love you, like my own son, and the thought of anyone hurting you is just..."

She heard the front door slam, "Morrigan! I need to talk to you!"

It was her boyfriend, and he sounded drunk. She turned to Tristan and whispered, "stay in here."

He heard the shouting and ran to his door, swinging it open, just in time to see him grab her and hold his hand up. He was about to hit her.

Tristan dove in and shoved him away, "don't you touch her!"

"You little punk!" he took a swing at Tristan, knocking him into the wall. "That'll teach ya to stick your nose where it don't belong!"

Morrigan ran to Tristan's side and screamed at the man, "that's my nephew, you jackass! Get out of my house, we're done!"

He just stood over her and struck her face. She felt the blood trickle from the side of her mouth and ran onto the porch, yelling, "help! Somebody call the police!"

He grabbed her and threw her onto the sofa, "shut up! We're not done until I say we are."

Shortly after, sirens blared and flashing lights lit up the street as they pulled to a stop in front of her house. Someone had called them as soon as they heard the shouting.

The police came bursting through the door and pointed their guns at him. Morrigan rushed to Tristan's side again as he was coming to. He looked up as they arrested Morrigan's boyfriend and hauled him out.

An officer approached them, "are you two alright?"

Morrigan nodded, "a little banged up, but we're fine, thank you officer."

"It seems we've gotten quite a few calls about domestic disturbances for this address. I'm going to have to ask you some questions."

Heather was back at home in her bedroom. She was almost finished with her homework when her pen had run out of ink. She opened up her bedside table drawer to find another one.

"Wow, it's been ages since I've cleaned in here. There's got to be a pen in here somewhere," she thought to herself. As she was digging through it, she found a small wooden box and opened it, finding a guitar pick and a folded up photograph. Then in the same drawer she found the letters she had written for Tristan.

She put them in her school bag so she could give them to Tristan whenever she saw him next. She returned to her studying when she grabbed a pen from her desk.

The next day, after school, she hadn't seen him anywhere, she hoped he wasn't skipping classes again. She turned to Eoin and Mya, "have either of you seen Tristan today?"

"No, I should get going. I will let you know if I do though," he kissed her forehead and hurried off.

Mya shook her head, "sorry Heather, I haven't seen him either. Is everything okay?"

"I wish I knew, something just doesn't feel right," Heather decided she couldn't put it off anymore, she had to go to Tristan's house.

First, she collected his assignments. He hadn't given her an address, but she remembered the description he had given her. Connelly had caught up to her and stuck to her side, in spite of her protesting. She found the rundown neighborhood and went down all the streets, when she finally came to the last one. There was an old foreign woman sitting on a saggy front porch in a creaky old rocking chair.

Heather went up the walk and stopped right before the porch, "I'm looking for a Tristan Gallagher, he's about the same age as me, black hair, green eyes. You might've seen him with a guitar?"

The old woman looked her over suspiciously, then squinted her eyes in Connelly's direction. Then she saw Heather's uniform beneath her coat, reached out her withered hand and pointed with a bony finger, in broken england she answered, "boy lives there."

Heather followed the direction of her hand and then turned to face her again, "thank you so much."

She ran down the walk and approached a house with a busted up chain link fence. The gate was set off to the side, the grass was brown, and the smoky blue colored paint of the house was peeling off. It was a small house, probably only two bedrooms, which was in dire need of repairs.

As she reached the front door, she could see where the doorway had been busted from a forced entry, she became anxious as she knocked. The door slowly creaked open and she was greeted by a familiar pair of green eyes. That was all she could make out in the dim lighting of the house.

"Tristan?"

His eyes widened in surprise, "Heather? What are you doing here?"

"I noticed you weren't in school today, so I came to see how you were doing," she answered softly.

Tristan opened the door wider, then saw Connelly standing at the edge of the porch, looking around dutifully. The gloomy lighting of the day rested on his face, there was no mistaking the ugly bruise on his jaw.

She let out a horrified gasp, "Tristan, what happened?!"

He played it off like it was nothing and looked down at the floor, "oh, this? No big deal, I guess I just don't know how to mind my own business sometimes."

She put her hand up to it and gently touched it, "have you been icing it?"

The touch caught him off guard and he grabbed her hand and held it away from him instinctively. He saw the alarm in her expression and let go.

She held it to her chest and rubbed it briefly, she realized she shouldn't have done it, he was obviously shaken up still. She glanced over at Connelly, who was staring Tristan down now.

"I brought you your assignments. May I come in?" She asked as she pulled a folder out of her bag.

"Sure," he stepped to the side and let her pass through.

He waited for Connelly to come in, but he wasn't budging from the porch step. Heather turned around and smiled, "uh, he probably won't come in. He likes to be in a spot where he can see everything around him, it is his job."

Tristan shrugged, "suit yourself then." He closed the front door and stood there awkwardly with his hands in his jean pockets, "my aunt is at work, and I'd offer you something, but we really don't have much of anything around here anyway."

"That's okay, I really can't stay too long. But I do want to talk to you," she pulled the letters out of her bag and placed them with his schoolwork, then she held it out to him.

He grabbed it from her and gazed down at it, "talk to me about what?"

"Well, since you've been here, there's just a big difference from the Tristan I used to know, even more so lately. I guess I was just wondering, what happened to you?" She asked sadly.

He set the folder down on the table and gave her a sidelong glance, "crap happens, people change, Heather. Or I guess I should say, some people are able to overcome trials easily, but I'm not one of those people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that after everything we've been through, things always seem to work out for you. You have a ton of people who care about you, you don't have to worry about owing people, going hungry, or looking over your shoulder for the next person who wants to beat you up, just for the heck of it. Me, I'm just a nobody, I don't belong anywhere, I don't have friends to come and save me every time I get into a bad situation. You want to know what happened, fine, my aunt's jerk of a boyfriend came over here last night, in a drunken rage, and tried to hurt her. Me, being the i***t I am, got in the way, I'm sure you can figure out what happened next, you're the genius after all. On top of that, I've been having trouble with some upperclassmen at school, harassing me and ganging up on me. So, there it is. Happy now?"

Heather was fighting the urge to cry. She didn't know what to tell him, she had been a horrible friend. She quickly reached his side and turned him to face her.

She put her arms around him and hugged him, "I'm so sorry, Tristan." She sniffed as she looked up at him, "I do care about you though, if I would've known what was going on, I'm sure there is something I could've done to help you."

His heart was thumping, he wanted to hold her there, but Eoin Flannery had somehow gotten into his head, and reluctantly, he pulled away from her, "no, no one can help me. I think you should go now."

Heather stood there stubbornly, "what? That's not true. Tristan..."

She reached for him again, he folded his arms and averted her gaze, "please Heather, just go."

"Okay. I hope you'll come back to school though," she said as she opened the door, "goodbye Tristan."

As she shut the door behind her, Tristan collapsed onto the sofa and put his arm over his face, wondering why he kept pushing her away, but then he knew. It was because being around her hurt him too much, because he knew she'd never be his.

Heather stood there, and just looked at his house. She was determined to show him that she could help him. She gave a defiant nod and Connelly smirked knowingly. He looked around at the neighborhood again, a feeling of anticipation lingered in the air. Changes were coming, he sensed it, and by the way Heather carried herself, she had sensed it too. It was unclear what type of changes they would be though, and that was the frightening part of it.