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When you and Jeremy were in the seventh grade.
Jeremy's pov
I heard a slight knock on my window and saw y/n. I quickly opened the window hoping my old man was asleep. She looked so beautiful, her (h/c) hair was in pigtails, making her look cute.

I opened the window and she jumped in.
"Man," she said with a disgusted look on her face "I could smell the booze at St. Markus street." She said, (St. Markus street was a few blocks away.)
I couldnt help but give her a small smile.
"Ye-yeah dad an-and mom celebrating you getting b-back with your family."

"He's not family yet," she said quietly shutting the window
"He's a stranger, if anything you're my family...You, Doll and Mike."

I felt a blush spread over my cheeks in the darkness.
"How's your mom?" She asked
She knew. She knew my mom wasnt drinking.
"Sh-she's been better..." i said sitting on my bed, i felt her sit beside me.
In all honesty I was afraid, mom has had cancer for a while now and if she dies...i...i dont know what would happen or how I would deal with it. I suddenly felt skinny arms wrap around my shoulders, then her head was on my right shoulder, her head on her arm. I hugged back holding back my tears. I seriously did not want my dad to hear.

"We'll go visit her tomorrow okay? The both of us. Doll and Mike too if they ain't busy." (Y/n) said softly her new york accemt coming out.

I nodded and breathed in deeply.
"Come on now it's nearly midnight you need some rest."
The new york accented girl said laying on my bed going under the covers, she thought nothing of doing this. With me. Just sleeping together not doing anything it meant so much more too me. Even her just being here. I nodded again and with a heavily blushed face i went under the covers with her, boldly taking her hand in mine, she squeezed it softly and through the faint moonlight comming through my window i saw her smile at me lovingly.

You guys never went to see his mom. She died, he couldn't tell you guys. He called it off saying that she was having a chemotherapy treatment that day.

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