A/N: This whole fic is based on "Empty Apartment" by Yellowcard. I've heard that I write Punk "well," and I enjoy writing him. Erm…that's about it. Oh, each chapter will start off with a section of lyrics from that song.

Call me out
You stayed inside
One you love is where you hide
Shot me down as I flew by
Crash and burn
I think sometimes
You forget where the heart is

Punk's POV

Home is where the heart is, right?

That's what I thought, at least.

I love my parents, I really do. They're the only reason I go back to my hometown every now and then. I mean, I like Chicago, but that city has some bad stuff that I don't like to associate myself with. That's why I moved out of the city and into a small suburb.

Like I said, I love my parents. But they're the reason that I'm standing alone in this empty apartment.

It breaks my heart, really. Well, my heart was already broken, but being here alone really takes the cake.

About a week ago, I went home to visit my family. I didn't bring my girlfriend, Kylie, along. Honestly, my parents creep her out. I don't blame them; my parents are quite the eclectic crew. Where do you think I get all of it from?

I sat across from my father in the dining room. My mother was busying herself in the kitchen, fixing lasagna for dinner. It's strange how being on the road all the time has made me realize that I've been taking my mother's cooking for granted my whole life.

My father had that stern look on his face like I had done something wrong. So, I asked him, "Dad, what's up? Did I do something to upset you?"

"Son, your whole choice of career has upset me," he sighed, clasping his aging hands together.

"But you got over that, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, I have. Son, I'm really proud of you, and I want you to be happy. I really do. I know that this whole wrestling career path is what you want and what you desire, but you're not sitting across from me right now so I can berate your choice of profession."

"What is it this time? My healthy diet?" I asked as a joke. My father damn well knew that I only drank Pepsi and only ate Taco Bell.

"No, it's your girlfriend. Where is she?" my dad asked without a hint of sincere curiosity in his voice.

I already knew that this was going to be bad.

"She had other things to do today," I said. It was true. Just because I don't have a life doesn't mean my girlfriend can't, if that makes any sense.

"She couldn't put them aside to come visit her potential in-laws?"

Ouch, that stung. My mother poked her head into the room, smiling warmly at me. They wanted me to get married, but I don't know if marriage is quite for me. Isn't love enough?

I didn't have an answer for my father.

"Well, son?"

"Dad, I—"

"No, Phil, I'm not done."

I shut my mouth.

"We, well, I don't think that Kylie is really the girl for you. Don't you think you need someone a bit more…Oh, I don't know…relaxed?"

"What do you mean, relaxed? Kylie is just fine!" I was starting to get angry at my dad. I know I shouldn't be, but this had to be going somewhere.

"Son, I'm just stating my opinion. And I think that maybe you should end things with her."

"Dad, I am not just going to break up with the girl because you want me to."

"Phil, I raised you to obey me. Just because you think you're some big, strong wrestler doesn't mean that you don't have to answer to me anymore. Trust me, you're still not too big and strong for me to bend over my knee."

Old-fashioned, much?

"Dad, I can't—"

"You can, and you will. Son, believe me. She's not right for you."