"Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth, and love me like a sailor? And when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavour? I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my saviour."

Moving around nearly every other year was nothing new to Emily, but that doesn't mean she ever stopped hating it. Every time she just about got comfortable in a new place, her mom would be assigned somewhere else, and Emily would be pulled from her newfound safe-haven just to be put into an entirely different environment, usually with a whole new language to learn; thrown in the deep-end, per se.

To say that she'd gotten used to not forming bonds too familiar, or bonds too deep, would be an understatement. That was until you.

Italy wasn't as bad in comparison to times when her mom got relocated to countries in the Middle East, or ones in Eastern Europe, but she never expected it to feel this homely. Sure, a Catholic boarding school in Rome probably wasn't the best place for a 15/16 year old girl to start expressing herself, and rebelling a little bit, but she was making the most of a fairly crappy situation; she couldn't be blamed for that.

Unless, of course, you were Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss (Emily's mom), and always managed to find something about Emily to complain about, regardless of how well she tried to play her part, so she might as well give her something viable to complain over.

That being said, it didn't stop Emily from hiding behind the shy demeanour she'd spent her entire life being forced into, for several different reasons, on her first day there, at the start of the second semester, during the typical "Lets make you stand in front of a room of people you don't know, and make you feel even more out of place than you already do" stint, that every 'main' teacher she'd ever had (no matter the language), had made her endure.

Fortunately for Emily, though, you and your kind smile had made this one slightly more bearable. "Teenagers are the worst." You'd joked, after offering to share a desk with her, which made her laugh. The first real laugh she'd expressed in a while. "Don't worry, though; I'll keep an eye on you." Despite everything else that was going on, your reassurance made her feel somewhat wanted, on a level incomparable to the other people in her life.

A few hours later, at lunch, having been there since the beginning of the school year, you introduced her to your two best friends, of whom you made prior. "Matthew Benton, John Cooley, this is Emily Prentiss. She's new blood, and you're gonna look out for her with me." Was all you said to them; both boys of similar appearance and build, yet being nothing alike, looked equally shocked and impressed at your statement, but ultimately accepted without any objection.

Clearly, you'd gotten them both tightly wrapped around your finger, in a short space of time. Something that initially sparked Emily's attraction towards you. Over the following eight months (November to July), that attraction grew, as well as the bond between the 4 of you. Not just for her, but on your part, too.

Now, summer break was drawing near, and despite the challenges of internalised homophobia you'd helped Emily work through, that attraction built into a relationship, and you were both thriving in a relationship that neither of you ever thought was possible (though, that could be the butt-end of the honeymoon phase talking), and discussing plans for the summer on the floor of your shared dorm room.

"Wait, so you're not going home?" You questioned amidst your conversation, slightly confused, but giggling softly from the previous topic.

"Well, technically, I live here, so yes and no. But if you mean my real home, in DC, then no; I'm probably not gonna be going back there for a little while, yet." Emily answered, picking at the skin around her nails. "It's fine, though; I'm pretty used to it, at this point. What about you? You not going back to your real home, yet, either?"