Matt came over later on. He seemed happy again.

“Good?” I asked him.

“Good.” He kissed me passionately, and pushed me up against the wall.

“Hello.” I murmured against his lips.

“Hi.” He whispered back, his voice catching on the single syllable.

I pushed him into the living room, closing the door behind us both. He moved onto the sofa, bringing me with him when he sat down.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a pathetic argument, and I don’t understand why we fought anyway.”

“Because I was being a bitch.”

“Well, there was that…”

“Hey!”

“You admitted it.”

“Yeah…” I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. I don’t know why you put up with me sometimes.”

“Because I love you.”

“I love you too.” I smiled. Everything was easier when Matt was around.

I didn’t have to worry about anything; it was easy to forget I even had a family sometimes. The band was my family.

“What are you thinking about?” He was always wanting to know what I was thinking about. Telling him was easy too.

“Just… like, how you guys are now my family.”

“’You guys’?”

“The band; your parents. Josh’s family. Everything.”

“Don’t you miss your family at all?”

“No. I don’t need to. They were crap parents. The people I have now are so much better for me than they were.”

“Okay. So what you’re saying is that everyone’s adopted you.”

“Yeah. And I like it. I don’t even speak to the parents anymore. They just gave birth to me.”

“Harsh.”

“They were harsh to me. I don’t need them. I’ve done perfectly well by myself for the last few years. I don’t need them to look after me anymore; I don’t need them in my life. End of it all.”

“You never actually told me what happened with them.”

I sighed, “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… like when my sister was about 7, I looked after her. I was 13. I cooked for us, ironed her school clothes, walked her to school every morning. I had really crappy parents. They didn’t do a good job of raising us. I had to look after myself and my 7 year old sister. It was hard, you know? I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have my Nan. She was good to us. She helped me when I needed it. She taught me everything I know. She isn’t even my real Nan. Well… wasn’t. She died when I turned 15. It was hard losing her. It meant I was fully on my own.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“You didn’t deserve it.”

“Who does deserve to have terrible parents?”

“Nobody. And I’m sorry you did.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have you now.”

“You’re full of cheese.”

“I know.”

I felt empty inside. It was the first time I’d opened up to him about my parents.