I'll Be At Your [[Door]] Tonight** [Thundy]

I walk to the edge again, searching for the truth
Taken by the memories of all that I've been through
If I could hear your voice I know that I would be okay
I know that I've been wrong but I'm begging you
To stay, won't you stay

He was walking down the street, green eyes overcast with clouds darker than any thunderhead, making his way away from the book store that he had just ruined. (Well, it was only one corner of the store, but it was still destroyed.) He had held the tears back, hunching his shoulders and holding himself stiffly as he moved, letting anger burn in his gut like coals. Whatever happened to her, he would find it out. That book had whispered rumors about her death, and he had destroyed it. She couldn't be dead, and yet there was no other explanation for why he could not find her. (It wasn't as though she would leave without telling him. Would she?)

The memory of her anger, (hatred in a way,) because he had wanted to protect her in the obvious war that was starting to spread, filled him. It put out some of his fire, but the embers still smoldered. She had walked out on him then, left him with no more recognition except the slam of the front door. No word from her, or of her, had reached him since. He knew that it would take her some time to cool down, it always took a day or two when they had had their little arguments, but the time drew on with no sign of her. After the second week he started to worry, maybe she would never forgive him. Three weeks was where he had start to suspect something had happened. (Even Emery, even at her most enraged, would not leave him alone for three weeks, not without a word.) It had been then that he had started searching.

(Fruitless, pointless, exhaustive searching through which he found nothing more that fears, wasted time and haunting thoughts of lost causes.) His body gave up before he could make it all the way home sometimes, and still he had continued. His mind had told him to give it up after the first week, that he was pushing himself to hard for the slight chance he might actually find her. If she didn't want to be found she wouldn't be found. He may know her, but she knew a hell of a lot about him too. Maybe she knew more about him than he knew of her. (No maybes about it, she did.) He had never once been to her house, never once had her life in the Moreno family explained to him. (Meanwhile, he had spilled nearly everything about himself to her.)

Nearly, (there were still a couple things that he had kept secret,) but those things wouldn't help him find her. They wouldn't do anything more than sit in his mind and be weights that he could never quite lift. Like his sister, and how not only was she not around anymore but she had broken her promise to come back. Stuff like that wouldn't help him find Emery, (and it certainly didn't make him feel any better to be thinking about it.) Especially now that the question of her leaving him, (like his sister did,) bounced around in his mind. Except this time he hadn't gotten a false promise, hadn't even gotten a goodbye. All he got was the door slammed as she walked out. (And apparently, as she left him for good.)

He walked down the street, his walk odd compared to his usual casual stride. There was nothing casual about him right now. (There was only heartache, and longing and the terrible anger.) The coals in his gut burned slowly, ready to burst into flame at the slightest prod. And then there would be a wildfire on his hands. He couldn't even place the anger, there were so many things he was hating right now. (Not least of them being himself.) He should have gone after her, should have explained that it wasn't because he thought she was incapable but because he was incapable of living without her. He just wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to her. Now something had, and he had to scrape himself off the sidewalk so he would be able to continue even as he felt he was being left further and further behind.

Soon he found himself in a part of the District he rarely went to. (A place that he had been to only a few more times recently because of who lived there.) It had taken him some time to bring himself to ask someone where the Moreno's lived, worried the news might reach Emery and she would be angry with him for trying to spy on her life. (It didn't matter anymore though, she was gone one way or another.) Maybe he could find her and make up for every stupid thing he had done. Bring her back to him, because he missed her so desperately. He would rather have her screaming at him about how much she hated him than not be able to talk to her again. She was too important to him to just lose her so easily.

There it was, the place he had seen but never entered. The Moreno house, where his girlfriend ex-girlfriend? used to live. It was time to get some answers, and this was probably one of the best places to start. (Well, it wouldn't really be the start, but it was the start of something, that was for sure.) Stepping up to the door he paused a moment, a split second of fear telling him that he might not like the answer he got. Even still, he owed it to Emery, (to himself,) to try and find out. Raising a hand and clenching it into a fist he knocked on the door, hoping someone would come answer it, and his questions.

I wish that I could turn back time just to have
One more chance to be the man I need to be
I pray you'll understand if I could hear your voice
I know that I would be okay I know that I've been wrong
But I'm begging you to stay, won't you stay