Silently Keely stood stock still, her breathing rough and audible even in the quiet morning.

Fiddling with the strap of her bag that she had packed, she didn’t know what to do. Half of her wanted to sprint into the house, find her dad and then hug him. The other half wanted her to head in the complete opposite direction.

Confliction, confliction; why was it always confliction with her these days?

It was early in the morning; the cab she’d called from the airport was long gone, leaving her standing blankly in front of her dad’s house.

The place still looked exactly as it had every other time she’d seen it at four in the morning when she’d been unable to sleep or came home late. The trees around the farmhouse swaying gently, the moon giving a little light to her path and the barn from behind the house reflecting the light with the bright tin roof; it was the same.

In fact it was almost eerie that it could look the exact way she left it, down to her dad’s old truck parked in front of the house. How could this place be the way she’d left it, frozen in time, when she felt like it had been years? It felt like she was a different person.

She was a different person now, but oddly the same as well.

When she’d left here she’d been running, when she came back she was running too.

Trying to control the panic that was beginning to bubble in her stomach, she tightened her grip on her guitar case and stepped forward, pushing open the front door with the familiar squeak.

As she stepped into the house, the panic grew, becoming a firm ball in her throat, but she couldn’t get rid of it as she gulped, instead feeling like she was close to chocking. Kicking off her sneakers from the show, she moved further in, her wide eyes taking in everything. Even the way the raggedly old blanket was slung over the arm of the couch was the same, and it just worsened her panic.

There was not a sound in the house to indicate that anyone was awake, so she kept moving. Once in the kitchen she couldn’t help but notice the sugar container she and father waged a silent battle over was in the middle of the island. Before she would have instantly moved it back beside the coffee maker, but now she crept past, hoping to keep her feet muffled against the flooring. The bills were stacked on the counter, the photos in their same places on the walls, work gloves thrown carelessly on the table, a flannel jacket flung over the back of a chair.

It was almost comforting that nothing had changed, that everything was just the way she’d left it. But it was mostly terrifying for her.

Closing her eyes against the sight, she moved past down to the hall that would lead to the bedrooms. For a moment she paused outside of her closed bedroom door, but quickly turned away, heading deeper into the dark house thrown into shadows.

Tiptoeing closely to the door at the end of the hall that was left ajar, she pushed it forward with an awkward elbow, peeking her head inside. The light that the moon gave off was slanting through the window in an odd silvery glow, but it was enough for her to see the outline of the body covered in the blanket. The door gave a slight creak when she accidently knocked it further open with her arm.

Wincing, she watched as her father’s outline gave a grunt before rolling over in the other direction.

Heaving a sigh of relief she retreated back to her dark oak door.

Clenching her jaw Keely just shoved it open, it swinging open without a sigh. For a moment she glanced about, finding all her old concert posters were in place and the photos she’d left framed with a slight film of dust on everything in the room. But when she glanced to the wall, she saw empty shelves that had once been filled with records as she’d been getting them sent to her throughout the tour.

Just the sight made a queasy feeling protest in the pit of her stomach. Turning her gaze away, she let her bag hit the ground with a loud thump, pulling her guitar onto her bed before following it up.

Lying on her back with her eyes staring at the ceiling, she drew in a deep breath, but only succeeded in making her cough at the dusty air she dragged over her raw throat. Tears pricking the side of her eyes, she brought her gaze back to the roof after the convulsion.

Considering she opened her mouth, saying one word that came out almost like a question off her lips. “Home,” she whispered, meaning it to come out a regular volume, maybe to push away the lonesome darkness as best as she could. But it was barely audible, her voice worn out and shrivelled from the tour not to mention her shouting match just a few hours before.

At the thought of Seth’s desperate gold eyes, she felt the tears well up in her eyes, but this time from the simple ache that fell over her chest instantly.

Dragging in ragged teary breaths, she wiped away the tears that began to fall ceaselessly from her eyes alone in the darkness with her palms, but there was nothing she could do. Gasping as the tears spread, she rolled over, leaning her head against the plain black guitar case, resting her hand on top of it as she huddled closely, her body curving against it.

And with tears still falling from her eyes, she stared at the case through the sheen of tears, her throat and heart aching agonizingly in time.

But thankfully exhaustion started taking over, the past two days spent without sleep not to mention her only three hour sleep pattern a night for the past two months was catching up to her. With tears flooding from her eyes and pooling on the blanket that she didn’t bother to pull over herself, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Blinking herself awake, Keely stared into the black case confusedly.

Stretching her muscles that were tight and sore from huddling in a ball cuddled against a hard guitar case, she let her eyes travel around her.

Blankly she just stared around at the familiar room around her, running her hands over her eyes as if it would get rid of the image. Where was the blank hotel room that she was supposed to be waking up in? Why wasn’t there a door to her left that would take her to Colton’s hotel room and if she chose to pass through his, then into Seth’s?

When the throbbing started up behind her temples, she brought her hands up to them, falling back against the pillows with a groan.

And only when the pain shot through her throat did the events fall back into her mind.

Swallowing she covered her eyes with her hands, breathing in and out in short gasps as tears wanted to rebel against her once again.

Biting down on her lip to a painful degree, she rubbed her trembling hands briskly over her face.

I love you.

Just the thought of those words made her want to curl back in, letting herself sink back into the peaceful oblivion of sleep where none of this existed.

But she couldn’t even ponder the words deeply nor slip back into sleep because it was only then that sharp hunger pangs awoke in her stomach jarring her to the notion that she couldn’t remember the exact last time she’d ate anything. And in response her mouth opened, drawing in a sharp breath, bringing the realization that her mouth felt like sandpaper in its state of dryness.

Grimacing, she swung her legs around of the bed, finally breaking contact with her guitar. With a frown she realized she hadn’t even bothered to change out of the concert clothes she’d been wearing since the show, judging from the light shining in through the window, she’d been wearing them quite a while.

Picking at the hem of her loose white shirt and her shorts, she couldn’t help but think that they’d been soaked in sweat from her concert not to mention gone through her coughing up blood, so there had to be some speckles still on her clothes. And then she’d gone on a plane with them on plus slept in them. The poor clothes were taking a beating.

But instead of changing, she pushed up from her bed, frowning slightly when her legs shook slightly at the sudden pressure. There was no waiting around for her to get changed, her mouth felt like she’d been trudging through the Sahara.

Her oddly weak legs took her out the door where she peeked around the corner, searching for anyone in the halls before she shook her head at her own actions. Why did it feel as if she had to sneak around here? This was her home. If she felt comfortable anywhere, this should be it. Yet even as the thoughts passed through her mind and she began padding down the hallways, Keely couldn’t help but think this was one of the places she’d never feel one hundred percent comfortable.

Whatever she said, this wasn’t home for her anymore.

Wasn’t the saying home is where the heart is?

Before she could let her thoughts travel deeply in that direction, Keely hastily pushed them away, instead focusing tightly when she stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.

Leaning her palm against the doorjamb for support, she couldn’t help but pause even though her throat was screaming for some kind of liquid relief. But the fact that her dad was sitting at the table, his baseball cap pushed back awkwardly with a cup of coffee in front of him as he flicked through the newspaper absently was enough to bring her to a halt. It was obvious he wasn’t reading the paper, his eyes stayed focused in one spot while he swept through it.

Had anything changed even the slightest bit while she was gone?

It was as if Bellingham was captured in some sort of bubble, refusing to let itself change while the world sped on without it.

If she walked into her old high school wearing the uniform would anyone even notice the difference?

Still unsure if she found this to be a good thing or an awful one, Keely stepped forward, making sure her footsteps were loud enough to gain his attention, she headed straight for the sink. Even though she knew it would probably have been a good idea to greet him, she refused to speak until she had wetted her mouth. It was enough that her voice had gone to the point she could barely speak above a whisper any longer, she didn’t need to starve herself from water when her lips were almost painfully chapped.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard silently she quickly flicked on the tap, letting it fill up in front of her eyes before chugging it back in a few gulps. But the moment it was done, her mouth dried instantly. Frowning she filled it up, guzzling back the water greedily. Why on earth was she so thirsty?

When the dreadful burn in her throat was quenched somewhat, Keely once again filled up the glass before heading back to the table.

Awkwardly she pulled out a chair, getting it hooked on the leg of the table, having to push it in again before pulling it out straight this time. Embarrassed she sat down, crossing her legs tightly in nerves as she stared down at the glass between her hands, feeling her father’s silent gaze on her the entire time.

“Hey dad,” she whispered awkwardly, her rough voice bumping over the words as she kept her gaze focused on her hands.

“Hi Keely,” he replied, his voice patient.

Biting her lip, she brought the glass up to her lips, sending him a quick look from beneath her lashes before averting her eyes again. Tapping her knuckles onto the plain wooden table, she chewed on her lip. “Well,” Keely finally spoke, her word hanging in the air awkwardly, “I’m home.”

“I see that,” was his simple response.

With the words fogging up the air between them, Keely started awkwardly tapping her foot, but when she realized it was a NSR song that her foot was subconsciously going along with, she quickly halted the movement.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the thought of one of those boys in particular, she drew in a shaky breath. Was it going to be this hard the whole time? Would just the thought of him make her want to break down weeping for no apparent reason? It was irrational. She wasn’t that person; she didn’t do things like that.

Thinking that the reason her dad was silent was he was waiting for her to explain, she let out that breath raggedly. “I…” she trailed off. How did she explain everything that had happened?

“I know,” her dad answered quietly, “I saw it on the news.”

Instantly the relieved sigh escaped her lips, but it made her wince at the rush of crisp air against her throat. “Good,” she replied coarsely. Standing up on her legs that were getting stronger after their brief weak spell when she’d first awoken, Keely headed back towards the sink.

Dumping the glass into it, she returned the cupboard, but this time snagging a mug out of it. Thankfully the coffee pot was filled and she hastily made herself a cup before the hunger pains panged angrily, reminding her of the churning stomach. Frowning she placed a hand on her stomach, but didn’t linger long on the thought, instead pouring herself a bowl of cereal from the boxes that were still on top of the fridge where she’d left them.

Balancing the bowl in one hand and sipping coffee with the other, she made her way slowly to the table in silence.

It wasn’t long until she’d dug into the bowl of cereal hungrily. It felt as if she could have polished off the entire box on her own, and had managed to work through it such a systematic hurry that she didn’t notice her father’s incredulous look on her until she was drinking the milk from the bottom of the bowl.

Placing the bowl on the table, she hastily wiped the milk that remained on the top of her lip off, sending him a questioning look. “What?” she asked, picking up her coffee cup with a refill of both things in mind.

“Since when do you drink coffee?” he returned with a puckered brow.

Returning the look, Keely finished off what was left. “Since when?” she said incredulously. “I’ve always drank coffee.”

“No,” he disagreed adamantly, shaking his head. “You would drink lattes and stuff, but you’d never just drink straight coffee.”

She was about to argue the point, but then she realized something as she frowned down at her empty mug. He was right. Every day at school she’d have a chai latte in habit and she always made her dad coffee at home, but she’d never been one to drink it. It hadn’t been until New York that she’d started drinking it almost religiously and developed an undying love for it, it had been Seth’s habit rubbing off on her.

At the thought of him, she felt her stomach jerk uncomfortably, the food resting in it protesting loudly. Rubbing her forehead wearily, she brushed her bangs back away from her eyes, turning her gaze towards the glass door that led to the back porch.

Her eyes automatically found the space on the porch where she used to always play her guitar and sing. Almost immediately the dull burning in her throat intensified, tears pricking her eyes. It felt almost out of body, like it had been a different person. A different person that used to sing to her mother, having no idea of the truth that the man sitting across from her had hidden for years, a completely different child that had by chance been singing when Maureen had saw something in her no one else had before.

And what good was it now?

Pressing her lips in a straight line, she shook her head, not wanting to deal with any of the things running through her mind right away.

With a clenched jaw, she turned her gaze back to her dad who was staring at her with a confused expression. Should she ask him about everything now? They had so much they needed to work through, so much the two of them needed to get straight.

“Did you tell Joe I’m home?” she questioned, losing all her nerve.

Although he still looked quizzical, her father just shook his head, raising his coffee mug to his lips. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

Nodding, she ran her finger along her lip thoughtfully. In fact, she was pleased he didn’t say anything, she liked the idea of a surprising him. The theatrics of being a performing musician were getting to her, but she didn’t mind one bit.

“I’m going to see him,” she decided abruptly, standing up.

It didn’t matter that she was still in her concert clothes; she wanted to see her best friend. She needed somebody who she trusted absolutely at the moment. Keely knew he wasn’t going to be able to make her forget Seth for a while because she doubted anyone could do that at the moment, but Joe was the next best thing she could get.

However she hadn’t even managed to pull open the sliding door before her dad’s voice called her to a halt. “He’s not there, Keely.”

Confused she felt her brow draw together as she swivelled around to him. “What do you mean?”

“He’s at school,” he answered patiently.

“It’s Sunday,” Keely chuckled throatily, “Why would he be at school?”

Sighing, her dad rubbed his temples, knocking his baseball cap even further back. “It’s Tuesday afternoon, kid. He’s going to be out of school in a couple hours. You’ll have to wait until then.”

Sending him a distrustful look, she felt her hand fall away from the door handle. “No, it’s Sunday afternoon. I got home early this morning.”

“You’ve been sleeping for days,” he replied, sending her a bluntly honest look.

Then it fell together. The stiffness when she’d awoke. The weakness in her legs when she’d first stood up. The angry thirst in her dry mouth and the hunger pains. “Oh,” Keely answered stupidly, “Well, I’m going to go have a shower.”

Turning away from him quickly, she headed to her room, digging through the bag of clothes she’d grabbed from her hotel. It had been in a rush when she’d been fleeing the city, throwing all her things into it at once. But that was only what she’d had in her hotel room; she had bags and bags of things still in the storage place in the bus that Maureen had promised she’d have sent to Bellingham.

At the thought of her tour bus, Keely had to hold back the tears again that were just brimming to pour out. Hadn’t she cried enough? Apparently her tear ducts didn’t agree. And the thought of the tour bus where Seth was just a stone’s throw away wasn’t helping matters.

Hastily snatching up her clothes, she headed to the shower, turning the heat until it was almost blistering. And it wasn’t until she was standing beneath it when she finally let the tears pour out again, covering her mouth with her trembling hands to muffle the noise while the burning water brushed the tears away from her eyes with her forehead leaning against the slick tiles for support so she didn’t simply give way.

By the time she exited the bathroom, she’d hidden most traces of the crying fit. The shower had done its job, whisking away with the layer of grime that had covered her skin since the show and helped take down the red tinge that developed in her skin after a crying fit. Her eyes were a bit swollen, but she doubted anyone in this town would be able to tell the difference anymore. Or maybe they’d just think she was high, if they believed anything the press said, it was plausible they believed it even if those rumours had died down months before since New Year’s.

Leaving her hair loose and her bangs hanging shaggily in front of her eyes, Keely shimmied into a pair of jeans that had a tear on her knee on one leg and then one on her upper thigh on the other. And with a casual Bombay Bicycle Club v neck, she pushed her dark aviators onto her face, ready to leave.