You woke up the next morning with a migraine. Not a head ache, a complete migraine.

Sting wasn't there so all you could do was wait it out under your covers and hold your skull as tight as your could.

It eventually ended when you forced yourself out of bed to get pain killers, however, that was when your delicious dinner from the party revisited you in the bathroom.

It was only one glass of wine and now you were like this. You questioned how much people had to drink to get use to the stuff like Eileen.

You doubt anyone was at Eileen's level though.

"(Y/N)?"

You heard the front door open and close with a thud. Sting, who you were guessing was holding grocery bags, made his was to the bathroom after hearing you puke up just a little bit.

He knelt down next to you and began rubbing your back. His jacket was still on and his clothes and hair were wet from the snow. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You flush and nod, hiding your face from him so he could avoid the mess that was your puke.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You said and began standing up. Sting helped you to your feet and stayed next to you as you brushed your teeth.

"I bought some more painkillers and some food if you want a day in. I don't think we can go outside anyway. It's crazy out there." Sting walked you out of the bathroom and back to your futon.

You fell back down and he tucked you in. "How're you feeling?" He asked.

You smile faintly. "Like a million bucks."

He smiled back just as weak. It didn't matter if he was still cold and wet. You reached out to him and pulled him to lay down next to you. He did so willingly and snuggled in close to you.

"Don't you want me to make you something to eat?" He offered, saying it at such a low volume that it was almost relaxing.

Almost. The sound of eating food right now made you sick. "What if a throw up again?" You questioned with closed eyes. You were also afraid of opening them and seeing a spinning room.

Sting laughed. "You won't if you keep drinking water and take the medicine I got you."

"Ugh."

He laughed more and dropped the subject altogether, starting a new conversation. "How was your night?"

You thought about it. Regardless of how drunk you got, you remembered everything from last night. How embarrassing...

"It was good. Eileen was really cool," You told him. "She's on a whole different level."

"Yeah," Sting agreed. "She's insane, just like Erza. They're the kind of women I'm way too uncomfortable around."

That comment did make you open your eyes. "What? Are they too beautiful for your innocent eyes?" You joked but anyone could tell you were being jealous.

"No. They're just insanely strong, power women types that I can't keep a conversation with."

Your jealousy didn't leave, but you got what he meant. You could only wish to achieve the attitude and power Eileen has.

"How was your night?" You asked as you closed your eyes again, trying to regain balance in your own mind.

Sting's calm voice was replaced with excitement and energy. "It's was amazing! I wish you were there. My dad introduced me to so many amazing people. After Eileen, I met this one guy, scary as Hell, but really cool. His name was Elefseria."

"Elefseria?" You've heats the name before. "He's a lawyer right?"

"You know him?" Sting asked, confused.

"No, but my dad did. I've heard a weird name like that before. I remember my father saying the best lawyer in the world was a guy named, Elefseria."

Sting nodded. "Well, I guess he's a big shot lawyer, a perverted one too. He told me he's been working with my dad and that he'll need to be familiar with me if I'm going to take over my father's series."

It suddenly hit you. "What kind of books does your father write? I never thought to ask before now."

"Have I never told you?" Sting asks, quite shocked.

You nod, only barely. "Yeah, I don't think we've ever talked about it."

Sting grinned. His eyes began to sparkle as if he were a child just being given the 'okay' to stay up past his bed time.

"His books are called, 'The Tales of Ishgar' and there's like seven books in the series already. He's working on the eighth one now."

You all but shot up in your futon. "He's written seven books? How many is he trying to make?"

Sting shrugs. "I don't know. Each book is like an inch thick and he won't stop writing. He tells me that if the inspiration is there, he'll keep writing till he's dead."

You thought that was amazing. Someone having so much creativity in their heads to just smack a whole other world onto paper.

"I want to be that creative." You told yourself.

Sting obviously heard you and tried comforting you the best way he could. "You are. You just don't know it yet."

Were you? You haven't done anything in your life that really stood out as an accomplishment.

You complete assignments because it's what you're told to do. You use to do everything your grandmother and father said, all because they were in charge of your life. You even followed Sting's lead and made friends with his because you couldn't do it on your own.

Everything in your life didn't feel like your own. What you really needed was to make something, do something for yourself. Without your father, without your grandmother, and you hated to admit it, but without Sting.

You needed to form your own identity.

"I think I'd like to take that medicine now."

Sting lifted himself up to go get it. "Do you want me to give it to you mouth to mouth?"

"Funny."

You needed to talk to Sting and tell him you couldn't go to college with him in Crocus.

It didn't take long for the medicine to kick in and in no time you and Sting were eating and enjoying the radio he brought over from his house. He mentioned something about bringing over his TV but you felt that it would take too much space.

The snow wouldn't stop. Now it was falling in slow flurries with the dark night sky accompanying it. You weren't ready to go back to school tomorrow.

Exams were this week and right after that would be Christmas. You weren't entirely sure how you were going to spend it, but there was no way you were going to a party.

"Hey," Sting said in the middle of dinner. "I think I'm gonna stop by my place real quick. There's some stuff I gotta get before tomorrow."

You weren't sure what he was talking about but you didn't mind. "Okay. Do you need help?"

"Nah, I think I'll be alright. Just call me if you need anything okay? Try to get some rest for tomorrow."

He finished his bowl and set the dishes in the sink before leaving. After waving goodbye you continued to eat at a slow and steady pace. The radio wasn't playing any music, it was in between where the host prattled on about issues and the latest tunes.

You listened on, not really paying attention, until you finished your meal and started the dishes. You turned on the sink and began scrubbing... and that's when you saw Eileen's card on the counter.

You did remember everything for last night — the show, the outfits, and Eileen telling you that you finally found something you were interested in.

Were you really? You liked the outfits, sure, but you couldn't possibly make anything so there was no point in calling and asking to meet Brandish.

That still didn't stop you from dropping the dishes, drying your hands, and picking up your phone to dial the number.

'So you're feeling better then?' Eileen said jokingly over the phone.

You chuckled. 'Yeah, I'm feeling fine. I actually wanted to talk to you about last night.'

Sting POV

I couldn't tell (Y/N) I was going back to talk to my dad. I don't know why I couldn't stomach telling her. She would understand — she out of everyone in this world would.

But she seems so sad lately. I didn't want her to worry about another problem that I wasn't sure was a problem yet.

"Hey there sleepyhead." My dad welcomed me with another mild insult when I walked in.

I was too tired to really come back with anything sarcastic. I knew my hair was a wreck from sleeping and not showering so I didn't take any offense when he said something about it.

"Wow, you look like a wreck. Trouble in paradise already?" He joked, rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.

I haven't been here in months. Not really. I've been sleeping at (Y/N)'s and it wasn't like my dad was here to put anything in that fridge.

"Lector's not here?" My dad asks and starts picking in the pantry.

I sat down at the table and ran my fingers through my hair. "He's at (Y/N)'s."

My dad eventually chose a cup of ramen and heated up the water on the stove. While he waited he sat across from me and handed me a tall envelope still sealed.

"You know, they really like you. They're willing to let you in early." He said in an actual parenting time.

I rub my eyes and groan my stress away. Not really though. My stress never seems to go away. "I know that."

He sat back and crossed his arms. "Then what are you doing?"

He knew what I was doing. For Christ's sake he's the only one that does.

"I told you, I'm finishing my last year with—"

"With (Y/N), yeah I know," He was starting to get short with me. He hardly ever treated me like an adult but now that my future was coming fast he wasn't having any bullshit.

"Sting," He started. "I really like (Y/N). I think she's good for you and for once I don't have to worry about you slacking off because of a relationship."

"But?"

"But, I need you to think about yourself for a minute. I know you want (Y/N) to go to college with you but what if that girl wants to go on and do something else?"

I frowned. "She already agreed with me on us going to Crocus together. We can finish off the school year and go at the same time." I felt the anger rising in the back of my throat.

"Sting, that girl is not going to follow you everywhere. She's going to have a lot of college opportunities, just like you, and she's going to think of herself first. She has to or you're both going to ruin the good thing you have going."

"We're not ruining anything! She agreed with me and that's our plan." This was fucking stupid. "I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. We know what we're doing and that's that."

The tea kettle began to whistle, giving us a minute to let the tension simmer down.

As he moved to pour the water in the cup and sit back down, I kept a tight glare on some notch in the table that's been there since Natsu challenged me to arm wrestle with him.

That was in junior high.

"What if (Y/N) doesn't even want to go to college?" He said after the break of silence.

I tried to keep calm. I tried thinking about how I would act if (Y/N) were here. "We were going to move down there and get jobs. I told her that if she didn't know what she wanted to do we could figure it out down there and she agreed to the idea."

She did. I wasn't lying or forcing her. She told me she agreed.

"A lot can change in a short time Sting." He made me take the envelope and stood up, taking the ramen with him to the front door. "Talk to her and call me if you change your mind."

He left me in that cold house alone. Again.

I don't even know where he's staying now that I'm not here. There was no point in even owning this house if he wasn't going to stay in it.

I took the stupid envelope and marched out of the house, making sure everything was turned off before leaving, like always.

I walked through town, ignoring the train and walking all the way to (Y/N)'s.

When I got back she was sleeping, leaving enough room in her futon for me.

Screw showers and pajamas. I lock the door, lock off my shoes, set my heavy jacket and the envelope on the floor and just fall into the futon with (Y/N).

"Welcome home." She whispered and covered me up.

I kissed those tired lips and with an exhausted breath I told her, "I'm home."