Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The iron chain creaked above him as he swung back and forth. The rust on the top bar of the swingset had finally settled into the crevices and gathered a struggling seethe from the effort of moving back and forth. 

He kicked his legs forward, numb. He floated up and up until gravity pulled him back down and he curled his legs back in. Everything was static around him, the edges of his vision cloudy with white fuzz. He thought he could hear the sounds of crickets and the light buzzing of nearby lightbugs. They flew in and out of his vision, dusting over the park with its dull morning light. 

It was wet and dreary, the sun barely cresting over the iron fence surrounding the park. He didn’t know how he got there nor where he would go after, he just kicked his legs in and out in time with the creak of the swing. 

He felt smaller than normal, as though his body had shrunk. He tried to look at his feet when he kicked his legs out but they were as fuzzy as the rest of his vision. He could feel the rundown tennis shoes on his feet–the soles barely holding on–about as well as he could feel the cozy sweater he was wrapped up in. 

He hummed to himself, listening to the bugs and the constant creak of rust. He blinked for only a second before a flash ran past him. 

Then there was someone in front of him. Someone he couldn’t recognize—or see that well. He could feel it though—he could feel the way she made him feel. He smiled, a near grin, as he waited for her to come to a stop in front of him. She had hair down to her shoulders, brown in color, he thought. She had on a sweater similar to his own, only purple. Everything else was blurry—erased from his mind. 

He didn’t mind, though, her presence felt about as safe as the sweater around him. It wrapped him in warmth and settled the tingle in his skin he hadn’t noticed until it was gone. She even laughed upon her arrival and he knew the laugh was made to break him. It wormed into his ears and settled over his lungs, leaving his breath slow and steady. 

His legs stopped kicking from underneath him, and slowly he came to a stop on the swing. She waited for him, laughing about something before waving a hand for him to join her. She beckoned him off the swing, shouting out to him before running away. 

He could vaguely make out the words, “Come on!”

He hopped off the swing, chasing after her. There were woodchips and pebbles beneath his feet. Rubber tubing lining the edges of the playground as they rushed in and out of equipment. She ran through the bars, climbing up the ladder of the nearest slide. 

He ran after her, his own giggles leaving a gaping hole in his chest. He reached the ladder right as she crested over the top, she peaked down at him from the landing waiting with big eyes. He climbed after her, rung after rung until he met her at the top. She grabbed his wrist, leaving a burning feeling in her fingers place as she leapt onto the slide. He followed after her, hollering as they flew down the metal. 

His eyes shut for only a second and he was in a new room. The slide was forgotten behind them, leaving nothing behind but a bare wall. He furrowed his brow looking around the four walls. It was small, and something told him to remember. There were two beds, one on either side. Toys littered the floor, but at the same time it was completely barren. 

He frowned, calling out to the girl from before. He shouted, alone in the small room until she appeared. He sighed, letting her beckon him closer to the other side. There he found that pillows and blankets and cushions had been collected into a small fort off the foot of one bed. The multicolored monster of a castle laid out in front of him, decorated with old toys and a crudely colored flag. 

She crawled into the fort, holding the blanket door open for him. He followed her, and as the blanket shut behind him he found himself staring up at stars. The colorful roof of soft cushions turned into the blackened night sky. The girl beside him laid down, staring up at the stars and pointing out some with a single finger. She was talking but he couldn’t hear her. 

He frowned, listening to the silence speak to him. He sat beside her, staring up at the sky and tried to imagine what story she was telling about the many little dots. He curled his arms around his knees, feeling the wool scratch his skin but not seeing the red sleeves. He blinked his eyes for a single second. 

“Are you coming back?” He heard. 

“What?” Escaped his own mouth, quietly. 

“Are you coming back home?” He looked over to the voice, seeing the girl staring back at him blankly. 

“Home?” He asked, without a second thought. 

She nodded, “It isn’t fair.”

He didn’t say anything else.

“It isn’t fair.” She repeated. 

“What isn’t?”

“You leaving.” She said, blandly. “We didn’t leave.” 

He swallowed, his throat drying up. He opened his mouth to speak, a tiny noise escaping him before something crashed. It shook the fort, the sky quaking from the sound. He jumped in place, fingers digging into the grass beneath him, but the crash grew louder. Glass shards breaking somewhere below their feet. There was shouting, screaming and cursing. He could hear it below them, bubbling up the stairs and entering their four walls. In moments the little fort would disappear, fallen into the ground and with it the sky would collapse above them. 

His breath quickened, shaky, he spun around to reach out to the girl. They had to leave, they had to move, but she was just staring at him. Her eyes blank as she waited for his response. 

“You got to leave.” She spat, “I want to leave.” 

He tried to tell her that they had to leave. They had to get out of the fort before the stars fell, but she wouldn’t move. His chest heaved with everything his tiny body had. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn as she glared at him, curling into a hug. He begged with her but she sat still, unphased as the screaming and shaking grew. 

“I miss you.” She whispered to herself, no longer even looking at him. “And you won’t even find me.”

A pillow fell to his side and he jumped to his feet. He nearly screamed, but no sound escaped him. Instead, all he heard was the sudden cry of a baby far off in the distance. The shouting from below their feet was gone. The quaking of the world had stopped but the cries only grew. 

The girl sighed, finally standing up as the babies crying got louder and louder. His ears felt like they might bleed, his eyes burning with tears that begged to fall. It hurt—everything hurt to hear and feel. As the girl passed him, he tried to grab her arm, tried to pull her out of whatever trance they were in. She waved him off, walking off into the darkness closer to the baby’s cries. 

He chased after her, only now he was no longer giggling. He was crying, begging her to stop and follow him out of the darkness. She kept walking further and further into the black abyss that had been created by the earthquake that ripped apart their fort. 

She walked out into the abyss, and he saw as a crib appeared in his vision. There were blue ribbons placed around the edge of the bed, a small mobile of yellow birds hanging. Two hands were reaching out to grab at the little birds as the girl crossed over to the crib the cries grew louder and louder. 

He clamped down on his ears, barely wiping his eyes as the tears streaked his face. His nails dug into his skin with the force of his hands trying to keep the noise out. He curled in on himself, hunching over as if the noise pained him to stand. 

The girl, however, smiled at the babe in the crib. She delicately raised the baby out of the crib, rocking it in her arms as she mumbled something to it. She was faced away from him, and he couldn’t make out anything she said. As he stumbled forward, she slowly turned to face him. 

The baby in her hands warped from a soft blue swaddle with bright blond hair into a mess of brown hair and white long ears. 

He screamed.

He screamed as loud as he could as he saw the face marring the baby in her hands. But it continued to cry and sob in her arms even as she tried to soothe it. 

He yelled for her to throw it away–to get rid of the baby–to do anything, but she said still ignoring him. He screamed no at her for as long as he physically could. His legs crumpled underneath him until he fell to his knees. He sobbed into the void around them as she sung to it, rocking the baby back and forth like a swingset. 

The babe would never listen, it only screamed back at him—nasty red eyes staring into him. It didn’t matter, as he dared a glance up at the thing, that its mouth was twisted into a sick grin—it cried and screamed bloody murder. 

“No!” He cried into his hands, running fingers through his own hair. He pulled at the longer tufts in the back to check its color, reminding himself of the blond it was supposed to be. “No!”

The girl cringed, “Stop that,” She said to him, almost disgusted, “You’re scaring him.” He bounced the baby in her hands, but it did nothing to quiet the screams. 

“No!” His voice echoed in the void, until he couldn’t feel his lungs or heart any longer. Until all he was–was another voice in the abyss screaming without cause. 

He crumpled over his knees, resting his forehead against the ground of the black void. His tears soaking into the nothingness below them. His hands reached through his hair to grab at the back of his neck, protecting him from the falling stars above as the sky shook once again. 

The girl stood in the middle of the world collapsing around them, holding tight to the babe in hand. She stood unphased, shushing the both of them fruitlessly. 

Another voice shot through the abyss, “Girls!” 

A voice that chilled his spine to the core as he snapped up immediately. He knew that voice. He snapped his head around, clearing his tears away from his cheeks.

The void was gone.

He was back on the playground. 

He looked over and the girl was standing on the other side of the merry-go-round. She spun the circle once more, uncaring about the voice calling after the both of them. He choked on his sobs, taking a short step forward to the voice on the other side of the playground. 

The figure stood on the outside of the rubber lining, a green coat floating in the wind. The face was just as fuzzy as the rest of him, but he could make out the outstretched arms awaiting them. 

The voice called out a second time, “Girls!” 

He wanted to run. He wanted to leap into the outstretched figure, but his feet were rooted into the ground. He looked down, finding nothing holding him back, but he couldn’t lift either foot. A strained sound escaped him, and he saw as the girl finally noticed the figure. She grinned, running into the other’s arms. 

The hug shut, two safe arms clamped around her. He screamed, but his mouth was sewed shut and nothing escaped him. The figure did not wait, instead, he let go ushering her off without looking back. 

He tried to call out to the figure, tears falling once again as they left the park, leaving him rooted to the ground—alone.

_____________________________________________________________

The eraser left a grey mark on his paper as he scratched off another mistake. He couldn’t get the face right. 

It didn’t matter how many times he had tried that morning, the face wasn’t right. 

At first the eyes weren’t big enough–then they were too big. Then the hair was too curly, but also too straight. Her chin wasn’t that pointy. He couldn’t remember what was on her sweater. She had something in her hair, didn’t she?

He groaned, to himself as he erased his fourteenth try at her smile. 

His dream had left him waking up in a cold sweat that morning. It had taken him a long time to calm down once he’d woken up. B wasn’t around, and his cats had managed to get into their own trouble leaving him utterly alone. He never truly minded being alone in the mornings, unless he had had a nightmare. Which happened all too often according to BigB, but B was just a worrisome adult. 

After he stayed curled up in bed–or his makeshift bed–long enough for his cats to come, he had sulked to finish getting ready. It didn’t take much, after all. Without BigB around in the morning to force him into the bathroom to clean or eat breakfast, he could grab his bag and walk off for school. 

He would wait under the tree like normal, curled up in the safety of its harrowing limbs, tracing the vague memories of his dream. 

The nightmare wasn’t something that was new to him, in fact, he had been having them for years. B liked to tell him stories about when he was younger and he would come running into the bakery in the dead of night having woken from a fiery nightmare. Or how he’d scramble in the mornings to follow B around telling the tales of dreams he had spent with two siblings. He thought those were the worst.

As he grew up, he decided he would rather trade the fiery crashes for the mirages of his siblings. When he started calling them nightmares, the baker had questioned him, reminding him of how much he used to gawk about the dreams. But they were nightmares, he was sure about that from the way they left his skin prickled with goosebumps and his body begging to move. He knew because those same siblings were dead and all that remained were the contorted drawings he could muster up. 

He grit his teeth, scribbling out the face of his drawing for the third time. He had tried to draw the figure thrice already, but each time he had changed his mind about how she looked before he could finish. He knew she had to look similar to himself, that’s what twins were as B had explained, a mirrored image of himself. Only looking at himself in the mirror lately had become about as easy as peeling the keratin claw off a bird’s foot. 

Somehow that ghostly girl had opened a locked doorway into what he had buried away years ago, and it pulsed out into his veins from the delicate pages of his sketchbook. Of the little things he still could claim as his own, the velvet book was the only listed item. Distantly, he wondered if the swirled dedication on the first page was the name of the girl in his dream. 

He muttered names under his breath, holding the first sound at the edge of his tongue until one leaked out. “Meredith, Mercury, Melody—M…” 

As he did, he heard the tell-tale sound of Scar strolling up to his spot. The brunet sagged, hunched over his bag, limbs laying limply at his sides. Scar yawned, extending his arms above his head, stretching far too similar to Maui did. 

He continued to list M names, until Scar dropped to his side muttering out, “Morning.”

“Morning?” He replied, confusion lacing his voice as he retraced a circle. It took him a moment to recognize the belated greeting instead of another name. 

Scar chuckled, tiredly, settling beside him under the tree. 

He remembered when mornings were a silent blessing. A time that never quite felt real to him, as one part of his life died so the second could live. He could watch others arrive and tuck themselves deep down, locking away the key. The grey sky and foggy air creating a dreary backdrop to their descent. 

He couldn’t tell if he missed it or not. 

Scar would come in with the brightest smiles. He would stand tall, as if the threshold into their courtyard was the last barrier between someone he wanted to forget and someone he wanted to be. 

He spread the same way a wildfire did. 

Beginning with something small, he could talk enough for the both of them. It didn’t matter that the blond asked too many questions and pressed to learn more of their schooling. Scar would happily share it, smiling through his words and carefully picking each as he spoke. The same warmth that a campfire gave on a chilly night was what swirled the air whenever he talked. 

The campfire was safe, the blond liked to remind himself, so long as the rocks held in place and the trench around it was dug. The farther he placed himself away the safer; just close enough to feel the warmth. No matter how attractive the flames grew. 

Yet, all it took for the fire to begin its blaze was the movement of a single rock. A rabbit could come and steal the pebbles while you weren’t looking, leaving kindling along the way as it ran off. 

He hated when Sam interrupted his mornings. A silent agreement between the two that the soil beneath the lonely tree was sacred ground to both. Sam never cared about agreements, tearing through rules and creating his own games. 

So the rabbit would bundle up next to you, pretending that it loved the same warmth of the campfire. It would chitter beside you, laughing and thanking you for saving it from another cold night alone. 

And just when you grew comfortable, the rabbit would dig its claws into your skin. And all you could do was watch as the fire blazed on. The sparks would fly, ash would tickle your nose, until the fire burned too hot for a small campfire to maintain. 

Sam knew what the book meant everything to him. He knew exactly where to hit to cut deep. What words to say to make sure the wound would bleed. Which is why it rarely surprised him when the rabbit showed its claws, but he would let it do it again to feel the fur once more. 

Scar was braver than he gave him credit for. He was playful and gentle in a way Ellen never was. He was careful and calculated more than Dom had tried to be. He was clever and snippy unlike Salex. He was jagged at the edges where J had learned to become one in the crowd. He was braver than he had ever been. 

But even then, bonfires burn too bright until they light the leaves and twigs ablaze. The rabbit would trail the kindling between the trees, until the forest, the only safety that surrounded you, was burning to the ground. 

Scar was a wildfire.

Uncontrollable and destructive, but warm and needed all the same. 

Even where wildfires destroy, they leave behind fertile ground to revive.

Yuki had punched Scar.

He jolted back to reality, Yuki’s name already screaming across his tongue before he felt  nails dig into his arm. Sam latched on tight at his side, grinning with pride as he watched the fight unfold. 

He darted his gaze between Sam and Scar, knowing the wildfire was consuming.

Sam’s grip fell as quickly as it had arrived and the rabbit was hopping over to greet the blaze himself. 

“I don’t think we’ve officially met! I’m Sam!”

His legs shook beneath him, his eyes locked onto the sight of his other possession drowning in mud. He dropped to the ground, knees scraping against the roots of the tree as he picked at the end of one cover. The pages were soaking, riddled with dirt and leaves. 

Tears gathered in his eyes, as he brushed away the sludge of the page he had been working on. The girl’s face was completely covered in mud, leaking into the pages beneath. He traced his thumb along the remnants of the drawing, whispering any apology he could muster up. 

It was only as Sam opened an invitation to lunch to Scar that he snapped back to attention. His eyes wide, and face drained of all color. 

Scar frowned at him, his brow furrowed, “I don’t know,” He seemed to question, before the fire could burn Sam once more, “You going to punch me if I say no.”

He darted his gaze away from the conversation, turning back to his book. It was salvageable, he hoped. He would just have to get B to help him later, if he was in. As he tucked the book under his chin, hugging it tightly as if he could somehow muster up the feeling of arms around him, he caught sight of the paper Scar had spoken of.

It flipped in the wind, barely slid underneath his backpack. It hadn’t hit him when the boy said it earlier, but now he could help the goosebumps along his back. 

It couldn’t be, he told himself. 

They had all been destroyed, he told himself.

And yet, as the fire scorched on, he could see the familiar name stretched across the co-writer’s credits. 

His heart plummeted. He had never moved as fast as he had to snatch the paper out from under the bag. He crumpled the paper in his hands, tucking it into his own bag without delicacy. He zipped the bag, hearing Sam call out that name again. 

He spun around to see Scar staring at him. He blinked once, before jumping to his feet to check on the boy. “Oh–Oh my—are you alright?” His voice shook whether from the added weight in his bag or from the sight of the growing bruise on the other’s face he didn’t know. 

His heart pounded against his chest as Scar laughed it off, the fire contained into its circle. And yet, he could feel it growing in his own chest as it died in the other. A thousand questions running through his mind, and none that Scar could answer.

“What were you thinking!” He snapped, his words meant for someone else and yet pointed at Scar all the same. He wiped his book off once more, desperately trying to hide the rapid growing shake in his fingers. “That was so stupid! Never–Never get in Yuki’s way.”

He wasn’t even sure if Scar’s words were reaching his brain, all he could think about was the name on that newspaper. His body and voice knew where he was, snipping back at the brunet easily. But his mind was playing the same memories over and over again. 

“Seriously, you shouldn’t just go along with this. He is not your friend!” Scar snapped. 

He flinched, sneering, “He is my friend.” 

Sam was as much of his friend as any of the others. 

They liked to act like they were better than him, but they were all the same. 

They were all liars–backstabbers–

“Friends don’t ruin each other’s work. Friends don’t punch each other!” Scar pointed to his growing black eye, before motioning to his arms.

He flinched, sighing. He didn’t know what friends did at that moment. All he knew was what his friends had done and what hell they were raising. 

“Let it go, Scar.” He sneered, something deep inside of him hoping the other would let go of more than just this conversation. 

“No! Why would I let that go? Why does everybody just seem to let it go?”

“Well, you’ll figure it out eventually, right?” He could’ve laughed at the statement, knowing what the other had started digging up. He grimaced, jumping to add on, “Seeing as you just decided lunch plans were the best option!”

“You eat with them.” Scar scoffed. 

And in that moment, he saw something–someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. He saw someone he wished he could see in the mirrors every morning. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the burning tears in his eyes, “Don’t be like me.”

He wiped his eyes once before brushing passed the other before the tears won his merciless fight. He had barely made it into the building before the walls broke. He slid against the wall, until he could curl into his knees. He buried his head covering his ears. 

The fire would rage on, contained as it was, every pebble could fall away eventually, no matter how many he put back. 

He could hear it crackling behind his ears. The flames reached higher and higher until they touched the grey sky. There was shouting, screams and crying mixing into the cacophony around him. Between his own sobs, he could hear Sam’s laughter to his right and shouting to his left. He clamped his hands onto his ears as voices grew overwhelming.

There was ash in the air around him. He could smell it. He could feel it on his skin, coating his arms in the darkness he had become familiar with. He knew what the smell of burnt paper was like, just as he knew what it was the bitter taste on his tongue. 

The tile floor beneath his feet felt softer. Slowly, his hand reached out to the floor, brushing across the spiny contact. Between his fingers there was grass bending upon contact and crunching as he gripped the dirt. 

He snapped his head up, watching as the fire blazed in front of him. The bonfire reached high into the sky mirroring a few trees that begged to touch the sky. The grey, foggy morning had become darker from the ash and soot that carried in the wind. 

His classmates stood rigid in horror and awe at the sight. Sam laughed, giddy as ever. He hopped from one foot to the other, pulling on their peers arms as they stared in disbelief. 

J and Dom were somewhere in the crowd, heads down and hiding. Salex stood close to the front of the crowd, the fire reflecting in green eyes almost mesmerized. 

And poor Ellen, tears trailing down their face mixing with the blood. They had tried to hide the injury with their hair but the blood and bandages made it impossible to miss. 

They should have known it was coming, he tried to reason with himself. 

Should’ve known what would’ve happened when they were found out. 

There was nothing that could get past him, not even hidden messages and secret codes in a school newspaper. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all.” The principal called. He never needed to raise his voice, the other thing he competed with was the crackle of fire. He stood beside Ellen on the other side of the fire, both hands gripped tightly on that cane. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man.

“I do not tolerate misbehaviors.” He snapped, glaring at Ellen. “We have rules here that are expected to be followed. And as such, furthermore, there will be no clubs or groups of any kind.”

It gained almost no reaction. Ellen’s gaze snapping up to look at the man was the only movement in the crowd. 

The principal ignored them, sneering at the herd, “I expect you all back in class by next period.” He paused, “I’m sure you’re aware of what waits for you otherwise.”

He had swallowed, squinted his eyes shut as the man slunk back into the building. When the door finally closed behind him, the herd rushed out. Students running away from the bonfire that spread to the sky. Others ran towards it, their last attempts to salvage some of the hard work they had put forth. A few stood in shock, even as tiny sparks landed on their skin and clothes. 

Slowly they all dispersed, scared to hear the bell ring without the safety of their classroom surrounding them. 

Sam sighed, happily, rocking on his feet as he watched the fire. “Well, come on, Taurtis!”

He stayed frozen in place, watching as Ellen fell to their knees in front of the fire.  

“Go on without me.” He muttered back.

“What?” Sam laughed.

“I want to talk to them first.”

Sam grimaced, looking back at Ellen, “Why?”

“I–” He needed a good lie, he sighed, “The article was about me, Sam. I just—I want to talk to them.”

Sam furrowed his brow, before the pieces connected for him. That sharp grin splitting across his grin, “Oh! This’ll be fun! Come on!”

He grabbed his wrist starting to pull him over to Ellen himself, before he tugged back spooking the other. Sam turned back confused. He sighed, rubbing his wrist where the other had grabbed him, “Just me, Sam. I want to talk to them alone.”

Sam frowned, “That’s no fun.”

“I’ll tell you about it at lunch, okay?” He offered.

Sam squinted at him, before agreeing, “No leaving out details!”

He let out a breath as Sam skipped off to class. He turned back to Ellen, watching as they tried to pull burning sheets out of the blaze. Each time their hand jutted back as the fire burned them. He shuffled over, quietly, before sitting beside them. 

“You’re going to burn your hands like that.” He whispered.

Ellen glanced back at him. He winced, their eye looked worse up close, congealed and darkened blood running down their cheek. 

“All—All of my work.”

“I know.” He sighed, “I–I told you…”

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t—” He huffed, hitting himself in the knee, “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear. It’s just—you…you had to have known.”

Ellen crumpled, shoulders sagging. He had never seen them cry before, he never saw them break down farther than they had that day.

He had never been sure of what to do at this part, he remembered thinking. There was always the aftermath that they loved to ignore, but he saw it. He knew the fallout. He knew the families that were destroyed, the lives that were wrecked. 

And in the end, there was nothing he could ever do to make it up to them. 

He was simply another robe, another eye, another forgotten piece. 

His fingers twitched, his body begging for him to repeat the same ritual he did every time. He sighed, scooting closer to them. He felt Ellen flinch underneath him as he wrapped his arms around them. He buried his nose into their blazer’s shoulder, squeezing as tight as he dared. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I’m not very good at this part.”

“What?” Ellen sobbed.

“I’ve never been good at this part.” He repeated.

“You’ve done this before?” Ellen asked, voice raspy from crying. He smirked to himself, even deep into their hole, Ellen was still the same journalist. He nodded, slightly. Ellen froze beneath his grip, “Did he—has he done—”

“Yes.” He answered, without knowing the question. He let his arms fall, scooting farther away from the other. He glanced over to the fire, “There has to be others. I’m sure…I’m sure if you ask around. You might find–”

“Optimism is not a good look on you.” Ellen chuckled, wetly. They shook their head, “He rounded up every edition he could find. I don’t think there’s any left out there. There’s nothing left. I have nothing left.”

“Not even at home?”

Ellen flinched, squinting their eyes shut as tears spilled, “I have no more home.”

His heart broke with them then, knowing exactly what that meant. Knowing that in the sky there were currently two smoke trails dancing against the grey sky. 

Carefully, he reached his hand out to them, offering. They smiled, taking his hand as they sniffled. 

He shook as he spoke, unsure if he could even voice the words. “You should take it as a compliment.”

“What?” Ellen snapped.

“Your eye.” He explained, vaguely. He swallowed, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prick up as he spoke about the man he vowed never to speak of, “He only does that to those who scare him.” Ellen’s brow furrowed painfully, “He’s scared of you. He’s trying to break you, because he knows you can beat him.”

He let out a quiet breath, as the fire grew further into the sky, “Don’t let him.”

The blaring alarm in his mind jolted him back into place. His head knocked against the wall behind him. For just a moment, he gave himself the reprieve of sitting alone in the hallway. He let himself sink into the ugly tile flooring, fingers digging into the grout between each mosaic piece. 

He had every intention of walking to class. When he finally stood up, chucking his bag over his shoulder, he nearly continued on his way. But there was a burning feeling in his stomach that he had to quell, one he knew that he knew staying near Sam would only stoke the flames. 

He turned on his heels, ducking his head down as he walked towards the library. They were never too hard to find. At least one of them was always in the library at this point, if not all of them. He was surprised they hadn’t pulled the attention of the principal with their constant meddling in the library. 

The door to the library was already cracked open, the dim light bleeding out into the cafeteria. He shoved open the door, hearing as their whispers went silent at the sound of the door cracking. He kept his head down, kicking the door closed behind him. His eyes burned as he fought back the tears that were welling up.

Ellen was still packing their things into their bag when they saw him. Their hands paused over the stack of cards and zipper on their bag. Salex stood beside them, bag already on her back as she waited. 

Dom was still sprawled out at one of the tables, his first period free meant he spent the whole time hiding out in the library. His legs kicked up on the table as he downed thermos after thermos. J was gathering his books, shooing the others' legs off the table when they came too close to his belongings. 

They all froze at the sight of him, before glancing down to what he had in his hand. He saw the moment Salex winced, wilting in on themself. When Ellen sighed, dropping their bag and turning towards him. At the same time, Dom sat up ducking his head down and J glared back at him. 

He tried to open his mouth to speak but no words left his tongue. They died in his throat as he fought back the anger to scream and yell at them. 

“Are you going to say something, or just stand there and be mad?” J finally said, earning a smack from Dom. 

“You lied to me.” He muttered, tightening his hold on the newspaper. 

“Yeah, we did.” Ellen stated, firmly 

Salex jumped in place, panicked hands escaping her to placate the other, “We’re so sorry!”

J rolled his eyes, “No, we’re not.”

Salex ignored him, stepping forward. She sputtered out apologies, her panic leaking from her voice, “We knew you wouldn’t agree and then you didn’t agree. And we just knew we had to do it soon or else…”

As she trailed off, he had to force himself to glance up at her. She stood next to him, her hand hovering over his shoulder. He grimaced, flinching away, “You asked me.” He huffed, louder, “You asked me! And I told you no.”

Salex winced, pulling her hand back, “I know.”

He blinked back tears, rubbing away the ones that had already fallen off his cheeks. He felt like he was going to boil over, that his body would explode if he didn’t move. He fisted his hands, hitting the sides of his legs to get out some of the feeling. “You told me what I said mattered!” He squinted his eyes shut, as he landed a heavy blow to his thigh, “That I get a say in this!”

“And you do!” Salex interjected.

“You got outranked.” Ellen added, plainly. 

“Outranked?” He muttered, pausing his onslaught to his skin. 

“I knew this wouldn’t work.” Dom muttered, burying his head into his hands. 

Ellen glared at the other boy, before turning back to him, “It’s democracy.”

He grimaced, snapping at the other, “It’s my life!”

“It’s all our lives.” They jabbed back, stepping away from the table to match him. 

“I will not sacrifice his life for ours!” He shouted, stomping his foot down. 

“You won’t.” Ellen stated.

He groaned, “You don’t know that!”

“We deserve freedom. Away from this prison to go home!” Ellen sneered, cutting her hand through the air. They took a single step forward, a long finger pointed at him, “You would get to go home.”

And that was the nail in the untimely coffin, wasn’t it? Because what was there to go back to? His siblings were dead, long gone by now. His parents were nowhere to be found, probably in the same boat–or graveyard–six feet under. And once he was out of this mess, he doubted B would put up with him for much longer. He’d be completely alone. 

It wasn’t even a fair statement, he knew. As much as they loved to rave about what all he could earn back by escaping, he knew they were just as hopeless as he was. Ellen had no one left…not after that night at the bonfire. Salex, he wondered if her family would last much longer. Dom’s home had been destroyed, forcing his family to make do with shelters. J liked to think he could make something of himself once he left, taking all he’d learned with him, but he was as hopeless as the rest. 

“To what?” he snapped, with a venom in his voice he rarely had. “Where are you going to go? My family is gone, Ellen.” He chuckled, darkly, “You talk all about what you’ll do when you get out, but where are you going to go?” He watched as the same thoughts crossed all their minds, before steeling themselves. Salex at least had the decency to look guilty, and Dom was still trying to drown out their voices. He sighed, muttering out, “Sam is all I have left. He’s my friend.”

“He is not your friend!” J shouted back at him.

“He cares about me!”

“He saw a dying kid he could take advantage of.” Ellen sneered, and for a moment he thought he felt spit land on the tip of his nose. The words cutting deep over old wounds he hadn’t yet healed. He glared at them, blinking quickly while they stared unfazed. 

“Stockholm syndrome.” J sighed, shrugging his shoulders. 

He looked back over to the boy, “What?”

“Stockholm syndrome,” He repeated, plainly, “ When a captive or victim becomes so infatuated with their captor, they won’t leave. They mistakenly love the person slowly wishing for their demise.”

He flinched back at the statement. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Sam was scary sometimes. He could be mean, and he could be manic but he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t wishing for his downfall, he was his friend. He had gotten him out of so many tough spots. He was no prisoner or captive or whatever J wanted to call him. 

“You have Stockholm syndrome.” J finished, “That’s why you're outranked.”

Ellen sighed, rubbing their temples, “You can be pissed off at us all you want, but you won’t change our minds.” 

He froze, looking between all four. Salex’s lowered head, watching her feet with intrigue. Dom burying himself in his hands, holding his thermos close by. J staring at him with enough frustration it should’ve burned. And Ellen glaring into him as if he was nothing but a spec of dust in the way. 

And all the while he could feel an extra set of eyes that had been looking on. He knew they were there the entire time, he just couldn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledgment. He knew the moment he saw her he wouldn’t be able to contain the angry words he wished would spew out already. Instead, he lowered his head, never looking at her as he spoke, “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Lizzie whispered.

He shook his head spinning on his heels to glare at her. His finger already finding the edge of her chin as he spat out every word, “No, you’re not! You came to me after I talked with Salex to see if you could convince me otherwise. And when you didn’t you told them to do it anyway! All for some stupid debt you’ve made up in your mind. Stay out of my life!”

The words were falling from his lips before he could even think.

“If—If I ever see you again,”

He knew he would regret them later.

“I will tell Sam you’re still alive.” His breath was all that could be heard in the room, “And we both know how that will end.”

_______________________________________________________________________

He liked to think that the moment the bell rang, marking the end of gym, that his classmates ran out just to get away from Rowan. And not for the reason he knew to be true, that their legs responded to the sound before their brains could, scuttling off in different directions like a bunch of cockroaches. 

His own legs were familiarly killing him by the time he heard that shrill sound echo throughout the gymnasium. And the only reprieve he gained from it, was that lunch followed immediately after. But today his legs dragged for a new reason, as he dreaded what would happen as soon as he entered the cafeteria. He hadn’t been able to wrangle Scar out of his split second decision from the morning.

So as he pulled himself down the hallway outside of the gym, leaning against a wall for support, he was almost happy to hear a voice stop him. 

It was only after it spoke that he wished he’d sliced his own ears off. 

“Some friends you got.” 

“Shut up.” He spat. 

He didn’t need to turn to see who it was. He could tell by the wispy sound of the voice, the way it echoed in a vacant room, warped and fragile. 

If he did look up he knew what he would see, too. 

Nothing.

Not at first, at least, instead his eyes would stare into the blank space until the cracks formed lines and colors filled in. Even then he’d still see the bench they sat beneath and the wall they leaned up against. He’d see the black hair and familiar blue shirt but it was crackle in his vision, glitching like a broken video. 

The thing scoffed, “I’m just saying.”

“I don’t need you to say anything. Why are you even here?”

“Better question is why did you make me be here?” It grumbled, he felt something cold graze against his shoulder sending a shiver down his spine. Then the voice warped into something new, under the crest of his ear, he could hear the mimicry of Lizzie’s voice. “What you say matters! It always has, and everyone here will always abide by that.”

“Stop it.”

It hummed, a sound he could hear moving from one ear to the next, until its voice sounded close to J’s. 

“Oh, don’t you understand! You’re allowed to say no!” It mocked, and he heard Lizzie’s voice return, “That’s right! You’re our friend, and we always listen to you!”

He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He held back how badly he wanted to rip his hands into the thing and tug out its vocal coords. He wanted to grab its slimy, twisted wisp of air and tie it into a knot leaving it locked in some classroom. 

“I can’t even imagine a world without you!” Salex’s voice cried, before Ellen’s voice topped it off, “We want to help, don’t you understand? We’re your friends.”

“Your saviors.”

“You have us to thank.”

“How dare you be mad at us.”

“We didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“After all, you don’t want to end up like me, do you?” 

He gasped at the voice that whispered in his ear, wincing. His eyes snapping up to the bench without permission, but even that he saw nothing. 

He gritted his teeth, “Stupid, idiot.” He grumbled, pushing himself away from the wall. He stumbled into the cafeteria. He ignored the shaken look Salex gave him, and the questioning frown from Ellen. He walked over to the lunch line, grabbing his tray and set himself right next to Scar in line. 

Whether it was on purpose or not…that was for only him to know.

______________________________________________________________________

Scar must have been a terrible influence on him, he thought. He knew better than to argue with Sam, so why did he think he could get away with it this time! He was lucky enough that Sam hadn’t sought him out after the lunch period had ended, but that luck was sure to run out as soon as the last bell rang. 

Which was why he followed Scar out to the bus stop. At first, he thought the other would berate him with questions, but Scar’s rambles barely gave him enough time to breath let alone question him. 

Half of the things he talked about had to have been made up, but he liked to think Scar was telling the truth. 

He waved goodbye to Scar as the boy hopped up the bus steps, before disappearing behind the yellow metal. He could barely make out the grin on the other’s face behind the tinted glass as he waved back. 

The bus crackled to life once the other was seated towards the back, and he couldn’t help but jump in his spot. The rumble of the engine sending a ripple of fear down his spine. All he could do was hope that yellow metal stayed unscathed from the tree branches, and the tires never veered off the road. The memory of a single old bus careening down a hill flashing in his mind as his stomach floated at the feeling. 

He swallowed, squinting his eyes closed as his own screams echoed in his ears from nearly a year ago. 

The bus pulled out of the vacant parking lot before rounding the corner back onto the abandoned mainstreet. 

He dropped his hand to his side, brushing the sweat onto his pants. 

“Taurtis!” 

He felt his back straighten at the name, turning around to face Sam as he stomped up to him. He quickly plastered a smile, pulling his shaky hands behind his back. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam paused right in front of him, his arms crossed as his foot thumped on the pavement. He nodded to the street where the bus had vanished, “Is he gone?”

He nodded once.

Sam pouted, “Boo, I wanted him to see this. Come on!” 

Before he could refuse, Sam had already grabbed his wrist and pulled him to walk beside him. His mind raced with possibilities of where Sam was dragging them off to. As soon as the last bell rang, Sam liked to disappear as quickly as he appeared. He could hardly find the rabbited eared student anywhere near these halls unless he had to be. According to him, ‘the school was only fun for so long’. 

And he liked it that way, so long as Sam was entertained somewhere else he was free to go home. He could run off to the abandoned buildings along mainstreet and find odd jobs. He could spend time with BigB in the bookstore, or just sit alone in his alley with his cats. 

Spending more time with Sam in the school felt like punishment enough. 

He hated to think what Sam had actually planned. 

“Where are we going?” He asked once they reached the back halls of the school. 

“You’ll see!” Sam grinned, bouncing on the back of his feet. “We’re going to have fun.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, Sam’s fun was never anything good. 

“Just like real friends do!” Sam added on.

He nodded once again, slowly as Sam reached the end of the hallway where a dirtied grey door stood. It was still charred from an out of control bonfire, ash coating the usually white paint. Sam hummed to himself, pushing the door open into the back courtyard of the school.

It was rarely ever used. The grass had mostly died, burnt back and had never grown back. A few surviving trees lined the chain link fence that surrounded the area. If he looked very closely he could find the small hole in the fence he used sometimes as an easy escape route. 

But what caught him by surprise the most, was the crowd of students that had gathered in the area. He wondered how Sam had managed to grab the herd so quickly. They rounded the back door in waiting, faces and bodies melding together into a monstrous watching monster. He could only make out Yuki standing in the center of their semi circle, a sharp smirk cutting across her face. 

“What are we doing?” He whispered to the brunet beside him. 

Sam smiled widely, his hand digging into the interior pocket of his blazer. His mouth dried at the action, knowing exactly what laid beneath the tan fabric. He choked out, “Sam.”

Sam shrugged, his fingers wrapped delicately around the hilt of the knife. “Just a little friendly competition, yeah?” He twisted the knife in his hand, pressing the tip to the pad of his thumb. Sam squinted his eyes, leaning closer to the other’s side, before whispering, “Come on, Taurtis. You love this game.”

The threat laid beneath the words and he knew that. A simple prod in the right direction—that if he declined…there would be consequences. 

His eyes trailed down to the knife Sam held, before a shaky breath left him and he was agreeing. 

Sam’s grin widened, and lurched forward. 

He barely had time to jump out of the way, gasping for air as the knife was thrusted towards him. He carefully opened one eye, without realising he had closed them, only to see Sam holding out the knife to him—hilt first. 

“You want—You want me to take it?”

Sam cocked his head to the side, “That’s how we play, isn’t it?”

He frowned, his hand shaking as he took hold of the hilt. It felt wrong in his hands. Heavy like the memory of a friend’s grasp. Rough like the dirt roads and upturned soil they used to bury bodies. As if the knife encased his palm, locking the door behind and crushing his bones with every squeeze he gave. 

“Ready?” He heard Sam shout over at him.

He barely looked up to see Yuki had handed the boy his own knife before the girl was shouting the beginning of the match. 

He yelped as Yuki’s voice triggered some glint in Sam’s he hadn’t seen in months. He fought back the right to scream, as his friend pummeled into him knocking him to the ground. He couldn’t see the students behind Sam’s body as he landed atop him, but he could hear their shrieks and gasps. 

Sam’s lips twitched into a sharp grin, as his eyes sparkled with the same unfiltered rage he spent every day trying to avoid. 

The knife stabbed into the ground next to his ear, cutting the tiniest piece of cartilage with it. He yelped, struggling to shove the boy off him in retort. However with each shove, Sam had pulled back earning another lurch forward where the knife reached closer to his skin. 

“Sam! Sam, what—what are you doing!” He screamed, kicking his leg up into the boy’s crotch to get him off. Sam fell off him with a thump as he scrambled away, his back brushing against the legs of the onlookers. 

He pushed himself off the ground, breathless as Sam straightened himself back up. He could see as Sam’s eyebrows rose and his smile twitched upwards. He blinked back, confused until he felt the sticky substance run down his cheek. He brought his hand to his ear, wincing as the pads of his fingers met blood.

He stared at the blood running between the crevices of his fingers, ignoring Sam’s fisted hand that came rushing towards his stomach. He folded over his stomach, as he watched the knife glint in the afternoon sun. On instinct, his arms rose, earning twin slashes across the healing skin. 

Sam’s grumbles resounded in his ears, cursing at him. “You really think he wants anything to do with you. You’re just a lousy little freak I got off the side of the road.” There was a hand grasping the collar of his shirt, as spit spewed onto his chin. “I’m your friend! Say it.”

“What?” 

“Say it.” Sam spat, “Say I’m your friend, in front of all of them.” He gestured the knife towards the herd of students, who shrunk back at the acknowledgment. “Say it, Taurtis! They’re all watching you!”

Later on, he would wonder why that gained the reaction out of him that it did. He would question why such a little word would pull him out of that trance. But in the moment none of that mattered, instead all he knew was he was being watched. And to be watched he needed to entertain, he needed to do right—to be good. 

He swallowed once, his eyes landing on the knife that still laid innocently in his hands. He glanced back up, Sam was still waiting for his response, his eyes glaring into him.

Instead, he shot forward, tackling the other to the ground. In the back of his mind, he knew that the stinging in his arms was coming from new cuts that were lining with blood as Sam spasmed underneath him. But all he could focus on was the feeling of the knife in his hand as he slashed once across the boy’s shoulder. 

His blazer ripped, slicing through cloth and skin revealing the bloody flesh underneath. He vaguely wondered if the watchers were enjoying the show. He wondered if blood was what they wanted this time rather than the fire they so liked to set ablaze. 

Sam was snapping at him, words spewing out like curses but they floated past his ears, unheard. He brandished the knife once again, scratching against the boy’s arms, before landing into the soil beneath them. 

The knife buried into the ground, as Sam grimaced, kicking a leg into the boy’s side. He winced, knocking himself off the other, his chest heaving. The pinpricks of tears began to burn under his eyes. He laid his head against the dead grass beneath him a mockery of a pillow to comfort the pounding headache he had gained. 

He looked up, spotting Sam rising beside him. The other boy glowered down at him in disgust, his knife still pressed in his hands, clenched tightly. 

And for a second, he accepted it. He relished the air in his lungs and the ease in his body, knowing what would come next. He let his limbs sink into the soil, becoming one with his new friend. His eyes shut.

And he waited.

And his world was quiet. 

He could just barely hear the echo of chirps far off in the distance.

And he felt his lips curl, as the tears finally won over their fight.

The chirps grew louder, almost ringing in his ears. A beautiful song that only he could hear.

Before he felt something press against his side, as someone above him grumbled. 

“This isn’t fun.” 

He squinted one eye open, looking on as Sam pouted. The boy above him, pressing his shoes into the other’s side until he earned a wince. Yet, even that gained a grimace from the other, how huffed, “I’m done. I’m bored.”

He barely had enough energy to push himself up on his elbows as Sam turned on his heels and walked off. The crowd of students parted for him with wide eyes and shrunken forms. Yuki glared back at him, before following after the rabbit ears that disappeared into the herd. 

He glanced back at the students surrounding him. They avoided his eyes, shrinking farther upon themselves than they had. He heaved, his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. He glanced over to the side, finding the knife he’d used still stuck in the ground.

Then a foot was in his frame of vision, kicking the knife away. He watched as the feet of students scrambled back as the knife slid their way, spreading blood as it went. 

It was the first foot though that he was able to recognize, if only because of the black boots. He hadn’t even moved his head to look up at them before they were kneeling beside him. 

“Are you alright?” They asked, quietly. 

He didn’t have the courage to answer them, not after how he had acted towards them that morning. He squinted his eyes shut, as tears escaped them. “I’m sorry about lunch.” He managed. 

Ellen shrugged, “I can handle it.” He felt something press against one of the cuts along his arms, with a quick glance he could see the damp towel they had brought with them. “I can’t say I expected that from you though.”

“I don’t know what I was doing.” He whispered, glancing back towards where the students were dispersing. A few stopped, darting their gaze back to the two before sprinting off. 

“Now or at lunch?” Ellen asked.

“This morning.” He sighed, staring up at the sky. 

“Hm?” They prodded, wiping away the rest of the blood along his arm. 

“You were right.” He muttered, swallowing back a sob. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Ellen paused, the rag laying in their lap as they waited for him to finish. 

“Do your plan.” He sighed, “Just don’t let anything happen to him.”