Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The car engine whirrs as the car practically glides down the road. Winnie glances over to Augustine, who is looking out the window.

The two haven't talked for months. Winnie's hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles becoming pale. He doesn't dare say a word, waiting for Augustine to speak up. The silence feels deafening .

"How've you been?" Augustine finally says, looking over to Winnie with a smile.

"Fine." Winnie murmurs noncommittally. 

Augustine simply hums in response.

"Hey, remember when you… uh, fell down the stairs?"

Winnie jolted, the car jerking before he quickly tried to regain control on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, when I broke my leg? Why would you bring that up when I’m driving?”

“Sorry, I just… was wondering if you were doing better now.” Augustine glanced back out the window.

Winnie looked over to him again. He sighed.

“No, my leg is still broken,” he says, his words dripping with sarcasm. “ Yes, I’m doing better.”

Augustine stayed silent after that.

Great. Winnie ruined something yet again. Typical.

Good going, Winnie Bosko.

He looked over to Augustine.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just… felt like it should’ve been obvious. I wouldn’t be driving if I had a broken leg. ”

“I know. You were just being really rude about it .” Augustine looked at Winnie with a serious expression.

“No, I wasn’t!” Winnie was quick to defend himself.

Augustine’s brows furrowed. 

“You were .” 

Winnie bit his tongue.

“Augustine, I wasn’t!–” He sees through the windshield in his peripheral vision, noticing that it’s snowing. In… July. He whips his head towards it, staring.

Augustine stares out the windshield, fascinated. Winnie only seems concerned.

“What’s going on?” Augustine murmurs, leaning forward in his seat.

Winnie’s lip twitches. He’s silent. He feels himself grow cold, though not from the raging blizzard that suddenly began. It was from his fear, which continued to grow. He felt his blood coursing through his veins, but it made no effort to warm him up.

“Win!” Winnie was snapped out of his thoughts by a tight grip on his shoulder. He looked over to Augustine. 

“Should we get out of the car or what?” Winnie grabbed Augustine’s arm, pulling it away from his shoulder reluctantly.

“I mean, if we wanna find warmth, then yes! It’s only getting cold here!” Augustine begins attempting to open the door, yet to no avail.

Winnie groans, turning to kick his door open. 

“There goes my car door.” He crawls out of the busted open door, Augustine quickly tumbling his way out of the car. He lands on his stomach in the snow, shivering.

“Hoo, I feel like if I’m out here for longer than five minutes I’m gonna get frostbite… Even though our outfits changed, I’m still freezing.”

“Our outfits what? ” Winnie looked down at his clothes. “What is going on?” He grimaced.

“As if I know! I’m just as clueless as you!” Augustine stood up as he brushed snow off of himself.

A distant roar could be heard. Augustine and Winnie both snapped their heads towards the source of the sound, and saw a horrendous silhouette in the distance. It only grew larger.

“Should we…”

“Start running? Yeah. Yeah, I think we should do that, Win.” Augustine grabbed Winnie’s wrist and began dragging him along, as he began sprinting.

“Quit dragging me, I can walk by myself!–”

Winnie stared down the disgusting creature as it came running towards them. He began panting, not sure what to do. He looked over to Augustine who was already looking at him. He had that stupid smile on his face, the one that signified he had an idea.

“I have an idea!” he began as Winnie rolled his eyes. “If we stomp on the ice below us–”

“Ice?!” Winnie interrupted Augustine.

“Winnie, listen! Oh, god– Wait, just go!” He sounded terrified as he grabbed Winnie’s wrist and pushed him behind him. Augustine began running as he pulled Winnie with him, across the ice. 

“Auggie?–” Winnie let the nickname slip out.

“...Auggie?” Augustine smiled, stopping in his tracks, his cheeks being dusted over with a soft pink. He then remembered where he was and began running again. “UH– No time to talk!” Augustine’s voice trembled. Winnie began running on his own, struggling to gain balance on the ice. 

He grabbed Augustine’s hand, as Augustine shuddered. His hands were cold. Well, everything was cold, but…

“Augustine, you’re getting frostbite!” Winnie exclaimed as he looked down at Augustine’s hands.

“Oh, well, that doesn’t matter right now!” Augustine continued running before he slipped and fell, Winnie sliding to a halt on the ice, before he too slipped. 

“Auggie–!” He cursed himself under his breath for letting the nickname slip out again.

“Winnie, just go!” Augustine cried before Winnie scrambled to his feet. He gripped onto the other’s wrist, desperately trying to pull him up.

“Don’t you do that, not now!” Winnie saw the creature approaching. There was no time, they were doomed. He froze.

“Winnie?–” Augustine’s voice trembled, before he cried out in pain. “ACK–!” His body went colder than before, if that was even possible, before he went limp. Winnie watched him get mauled and mangled by the creature. Blood splattered onto him. He felt sick . Augustine’s organs were being ripped out.

Pure white snow was stained by gore, like red paint being splattered onto a canvas. The creature that easily could’ve been ten times his and Augustine’s size combined looked up from the gaping hole it created in Augustine’s stomach. Blood matted its fur together near the front of its face. Faces? Whichever it would be considered. 

Winnie stepped back as the creature huffed and growled. He trembled intensely as he continued to stumble back, away from the creature. 

“...Oh, god. Run,” Winnie murmured to himself, before turning on his heel and sprinting as fast as he could. Then everything went dark. As if he died.

Chapter Text

Winnie woke up in the overthrown car.

“Hah… Hgk–” He groaned, remembering where he was. “Auggie?!” He couldn’t stop himself. His eyes darted around, swinging his head, before he looked at him. In the passenger seat. He didn’t look alive. Winnie began sweating bullets.

“Augustine…?” 

He reached over, trying to shake him awake.

“Auggie, wake up.” 

He was cold. 

“This isn’t funny, Augustine.”

Winnie’s voice trembled.

“Wake. Up.”

Augustine was motionless.

“I know you can hear me.”

Augustine was

“Auggie. I’m not joking around.”

He was

“Please, just… Wake up…”

Dead

He wasn't going to wake up.

Not now, not ever. Never again would he be able to wake up.

It was obvious. Why wouldn’t it be? Winnie realized what he was looking at. The top half of Augustine’s head was mangled, blood and gore splattered around the car. His eyes were still attached, but they hung down with the rest of his brain matter. Winnie felt sick.

Shards of glass from the shattered windows stabbed Augustine in every part of his body. Winnie felt sick. Why did Winnie survive? Why didn’t he die? Why did Augustine have to die? Why couldn’t he have lived?

“This is so– sick…and fucking..,twisted. Why? Why, why, why why why–”

Winnie covered his mouth, tasting blood on his lips. He looked at his hands, covered in blood.

“Jesus– Oh my god,,...” He inhaled sharply, feeling tears flood his eyes. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged out of the car by paramedics. 

“No–” He resisted, desperately reaching for Augustine. “Please,” he sobbed.

“Calm down, sir,” one of the paramedics said.

“You’re hurt,” said another.

“He’s alive, get him out! Save him! Save Auggie!” Winnie cried, shouted, but they wouldn’t listen. They strapped him down onto a stretcher as he attempted to escape.

“He’s not. He’s not alive, sir,” said the paramedic wheeling him into the ambulance.

Winnie stilled. He knew this, yet he didn’t want to believe it.

Stop it. You’re lying. Augustine isn’t dead. Auggie isn’t dead. He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead he’s not dead HE’S NOT DEAD

He simply began crying again.

He’s not…dead. He’s not…

He’s

…

He’s dead.

Winnie woke up in the blinding white of the hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed from above as he looked around.

“Where’s Auggie…?” he murmured weakly. He inhaled sharply as he turned his head, a burning pain in his neck.

“Auggie… Where are y…ou…?–” 

Oh, right. He died.

Winnie felt himself start crying again.

“No, stop it, don’t… don’t cry. Why are you crying?–” He reached up to wipe his eyes, even if it hurt like hell from the stitches and cuts all over his entire body. 

He managed to only get off with scrapes and cuts and bruises and Augustine was… mangled. A mangled corpse next to what could easily be the complete opposite. 

A nurse stepped in from behind the curtain that obscured his room from the rest of the hospital.

“Are you feeling alright, sir? Does anything hurt?”

Winnie looked the nurse up and down. He felt mindless.

“My heart hurts. I…” He stopped himself. “My body burns. The stitches burn.”

The nurse nodded.

“The pain medication in your IV should help with that. I can ask the doctor to bump up the dosage if it’s hurting too much, but we would have to take you off them sooner rather than later.”

“No, it’s… I’m fine,” Winnie murmured out.

“Would you like some time alone?” The nurse asked. Winnie simply nodded in response. The nurse nodded back, leaving the room quietly.

Winnie stared at the wall with his mind blank. Except for the branded image in his mind of Augustine’s corpse. 

“Stop thinking of it, stop. Why– Why am I like this?” He started crying again. “Stop crying, all you do is cry. Stop it.” He hiccuped, unable to stop them from flowing.

The image flashed in his mind. And then the memory of Augustine smiling in the car. The memory of him just smiling in general. Winnie let out a shaky breath. His eyes closed, despite his reluctance to want to close them. The image of his corpse was replaced by the image of his smile. From when they first met to before he died.

How did he manage to survive while… that happened to Augustine? His thoughts were cut short.

He woke up to the feeling of calloused hands stroking his hair.

He didn’t open his eyes.

“Augustine…?” he murmured, his eyes finally opening.

“No, it’s just me, kiddo.” His dad was sitting next to the bed.

“Hm.” Winnie closed his eyes again.

“I heard there’s gonna be a funeral for him in the next couple of months, if you want to go. You should be pretty much recovered by then.” Winnie opened his eyes, noticing his dad’s melancholic smile.

“Closed casket, I assume.” The image of Augustine’s corpse wouldn’t stop haunting his mind. He grimaced at the thought.

His dad hummed in approval. Winnie hummed in response.

“Dad, I… I miss him. It’s my fault he’s dead. I was the one driving, and– and then I crashed because I wasn’t paying attention,” he murmured, his voice strained and breaking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kiddo.” His dad continued to stroke his head, scooting closer to him. The chair let out a terrible screech.

“I wish it was me instead of him, why couldn’t it have been me–”

“Winnie Bosko. Do not say that. Not ever.” His dad held his shoulder tightly. Winnie felt the tears welling up in his eyes again. They flowed uncontrollably out of his eyes.

“I… I don’t want him to be dead…” Winnie cried softly.

“I know. Me neither, Win,” his dad hugged him gently, stroking the back of his head. Winnie didn’t hug back. He just went limp in his father’s arms.

Win.  

“That’s… Auggie used to call me that…” He smiled weakly as he remembered the countless times Augustine would call him Win, and how he would only call him Auggie occasionally as they grew older.

He closed his eyes again. 

He felt terrible for surviving.

He felt so, so terrible.

“Dad?” he murmured, almost inaudibly.

“Yeah?”

“When’s the funeral? Like…the exact date. I wanna know.”

Winnie’s dad sighed gently, pulling away from the hug.

“On his birthday. August 4th,” he said.

Winnie nodded.

“That’s kinda ironic.” He wanted to feel better. What he said didn’t help at all. It only made him feel worse.

A funeral on the deceased’s birthday, huh?

Shut up, you’re only making yourself sadder. Shut up.

He sighed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to that funeral.

Chapter Text

Winnie stared at himself in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of his closet door. The suit he was wearing was uncomfortable, and the collar felt like it was suffocating him. He shivered, enduring it. This was for Augustine, after all.

Do it for Augustine. Do it for Auggie.

He thought to himself, staring at his face in the mirror. He stared over at the elk plushie that sat on his bed. He gazed down to the floor, watching as his feet dragged him towards the bed.

He grabbed the elk plushie. It felt heavy in his hands. He held it close to his chest as his shoulders began to shake.

Deep breaths.

In… and out…

Hot tears burned his cheeks. He squeezed the plushie, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. He walked out of his room, plushie still in hand. Through the hallway, the kitchen, the living room…

The car revved gently in the driveway. He opened the back door and slid into the seat, staring at the bouquet of orange roses he begged his mother to buy when they were shopping for his suit.

A single rose was wilting.

Winnie took the rose out of the bouquet, dropping it onto the driveway through his window. As his mother entered the passenger seat, his father turned to look at her. He looked back at Winnie.

“It’s sad, buddy. I know.” He offered comforting words. Winnie sniffled, hanging his head down and hiding his face.

“No kidding,” he murmured, his voice breaking. 

Don’t you dare cry again. Don’t you dare cry in front of your parents. You’re weak. Don’t cry in front of them. Don’t show them how weak you are.

It felt like all he could do recently was cry.

Day and night, tears would stream down his face. He would be in the bathroom splashing water onto his face to calm himself down at least three times a day.

Everything was a lot. Everything was too much.

He sharply inhaled, holding back his tears as he lifted his head up.

“Are you alright, Winnie?” 

“I’m fine, Mom,” he dismissed her question as he looked out the window. 

His mother and father shared a look of what looked to be guilt. The car began to pull out of the driveway slowly. They seemed to have figured out that words of affirmation or checking on how Winnie was feeling would only tempt negative results.

He stared out the window, looking over at his neighbor’s house. Two boys played in the yard, smiling brightly and hollering loudly. He looked at the house on the other side of his own.

An orange car was parked by the sidewalk in front of it. It had a for sale sign on it. That’s Augustine’s car.

At least, it was.

He tried not to dwell on it. As the car he was in quickly passed by the vacant one, he bit the inside of his cheek.

He then tasted a wretched, metallic flavor. He opened his mouth and rubbed the inside of his cheek with the tip of his finger. It was stained red. He swallowed the blood that flooded his mouth. He felt like he wanted to throw up. He swallowed again, the blood still coming out. 

He reached for a water bottle in the front cupholder, opening it as he took a large sip. It was warm. He left the water in his mouth, tasting the blood mixing in with it. He swallowed it after a couple seconds, the metallic taste no longer prominent. 

For the rest of the car ride, he zones out. The only thing he’s aware of is the plushie in his hands. He runs his thumb along it, feeling it bury into the fluff.

He leaned his head against his seatbelt.

Winnie woke up when he heard his dad gently calling his name.

When did he fall asleep? That doesn’t matter.

He looked out the window, seeing the large funeral home the car was pulled up to. He reluctantly got out of the car, squeezing his elk plushie tightly. He reached to adjust his belt, feeling like it was suffocating him.

“You ready, kiddo?” His dad stood close next to him, patting his shoulder. Winnie took a deep breath.

No. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

“Yeah,” he murmured, not sounding convincing. Despite that, his dad moved his hand to his back, patting him along. They began walking. It was mostly a blur, until they entered the hall of remembrance. 

Winnie stared straight ahead, at the large casket. He bit his lip, desperately trying to hold back his tears. He walked to the front row, seeing Augustine’s mother. His own mother waved, and they began to talk.

“You wanna go up there?” His father gently asked, signaling towards the casket. Winnie nodded. His dad led him to the casket. 

Winnie gently placed his hand on the casket. He wondered if Augustine was even in there. He wanted to know, but he didn’t at the same time. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an effort not to cry. He opened his eyes and looked over to his dad, who had a couple tears falling from his eyes. Winnie leaned his head onto his father’s shoulder, swallowing thickly. 

His dad wrapped his arm around Winnie’s shoulder, patting him gently. Winnie felt tears falling down his face again. He was already used to the feeling of Augustine being dead. It had been months, but he still couldn’t help it. He buried his face into his dad’s shoulder, inhaling sharply. 

He hiccuped, quietly sobbing.

His dad rubbed his shoulder, offering comfort. Winnie didn’t listen. He could only think about Augustine. Why? Why was that all he could think of? It didn’t make him feel any better. It only made him cry. He couldn’t see him again, thinking of him only made it worse. 

He wiped his cheeks, feeling them more drenched than he thought. He lifted his head, wiping all his tears away.

He stumbled forward, resting his hand on the casket again. He hung his head down, tears still falling. 

“I miss you. I miss you so, so much, Auggie,” he mumbled. 

Winnie stared mindlessly as Augustine’s casket was being covered with flowers. He tightly held the bouquet of flowers in his hand, the plastic crinkling as he squeezed the flowers. He wiped his eyes, despite no tears falling.

He placed the bouquet onto the casket, trembling. His lip quivered as he stepped away, turning around. 

He looked at his dad and walked over, burying his face into his shoulder. His dad hugged him tightly.

The casket was slowly lowered into the ground.

Winnie didn't feel any tears falling, but he felt like they should’ve. It was as if he ran out of tears to shed.

He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. He couldn't even count how many times he had cried since Augustine died, even if he wanted to.

He looked back at the casket, watching it disappear into the hole. He stepped forward, watching as it hit the ground.

“Come back to me, Auggie. Or I’ll go to you,” he murmured, saying it as if it was a threat. He stared at the bouquet he placed on the casket. 

He turned away, walking to his parents car, unprompted. 

A friend of Augustine ran up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Winnie, hey. I’m sorry for your loss, man,” they began, “Auggie was a great guy.”

Winnie closed his eyes.

“Yeah. Auggie was great.” He pushed their hand away, walking to the car. 

He got into the back seat, laying across it. He stared at the ceiling of the car. He grabbed the elk plushie from the floor, dusting it off.

“Auggie, why did you leave me?” He hugged the plushie tight to his chest, feeling his heart pounding and dropping into his stomach. 

He felt like he was gonna be sick.

He got out of the car and ran to the nearest shrub he could find, leaning over it. He kept the plushie tight against his chest. 

He felt bile singe the back of his throat as it flowed out of his mouth. 

It burned. 

Everything burned. 

His throat, his eyes, everything. He wiped his eyes and his lips, stumbling back towards the car. He leaned against the door.

He sighed heavily. What was even going on? Where was he? Who are all those people? 

He shook his head, crawling back into the car. The car felt hot. He started sweating. He fanned himself with his hand. His dad opened the passenger seat door.

“What are you doing, Winnie?”

“I don’t know. It was too much,” he murmured. At least was telling the truth. 

“Do you want me to turn the A/C on?” His father reached to stick the car keys into the ignition.

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

His father hummed, turning on the car along with the A/C.

“We’ll leave soon, buddy. Don't worry.”

Winnie nodded. He wanted to but he didn't at the same time. He didn't want to leave Augustine, but staying at his grave would be too much to bear. 

“Auggie, why? Why, why, why?” he asked repeatedly, as if it was all he could say. “Why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me?” He sniffled, wiping his tears away. He tried to compose himself with deep breaths, only doing so after he realized the car was pulling away from the gravesite. 

He stared at the hole in the ground. 

Don’t look. 

Don't look. 

Don’t. Look. 

He closed his eyes. He might as well sleep again. It’s the only thing that keeps him from crying. 

Well, no. He only ever has nightmares of Augustine. Those made him cry. 

He can't do anything to stop himself from crying. He can't do anything. He wishes he could.

He wishes he could’ve saved Augustine. He couldn’t, though. But he can see him again, if he really wants to.

…

No. No, he can't. 

Don't let it spiral. Don’t make a butterfly effect. Don't do it. 

You’ll see him soon enough. Naturally. You don’t have to… do that to see him again.

Chapter Text

Winnie stared at the wall clock, each tick sounding deafening. He bounced his leg, looking around the waiting room.

It was practically empty, except for a couple people, one of them being his dad.

“You okay, Winnie?” his father asked, gently placing a hand on his knee, stopping his leg from bouncing. 

Winnie simply nodded, looking away. 

“Just a little nervous,” he murmured noncommittally. His father nodded, patting Winnie’s knee as he removed his hand. 

Winnie looked down at his shoes. 

Dirty, beat-up tennis shoes that used to be a pristine white, but are now gray with dirt stains. They felt like they were almost too small for his feet.

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, before snapping his head up to the door across the waiting room that opened with a loud creak. 

“Winnie Bosko?” called out a surprisingly young man, who was most likely his psychiatrist. 

Winnie hesitated for a moment before standing up. He turned to his father.

He quietly murmured, “I want you to come with me, please.” His father nodded, standing up from his seat and following close behind him.

The psychiatrist smiled and led Winnie down the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing above them. 

They entered a small, dimly-lit room that had a couch, a desk, and a couple chairs off to the side that sat between bookshelves.

“I’m Dr. Clairmont. How are you today?”

Winnie stared at Dr. Clairmont silently.

“He’s not much of a talker as of recently,” his father said.

“Ah, that’s alright. We can work things out,” Dr. Clairmont said, taking a seat at his desk. “So, you’re here for an evaluation, correct?” He turned to look at Winnie, then to his father. 

“Yes,” Winnie muttered, nodding his head slightly.

“Alright, great. We have a questionnaire we need you to fill out. Some questions are optional, those will be marked with an asterisk. Take your time. It’ll take us a day or so, but once your results have come through, we’ll give you a call.” Dr. Clairmont nodded and left the room.

“Do you wanna be alone while you answer it?” Winnie’s dad asked from the chair he was sitting in. 

Winnie shook his head.

“No. Don't leave, please.” Winnie looked over to his dad.

“I won’t. Don't worry.” He reached over and gently pat Winnie’s knee.

Winnie nodded, looking at the questionnaire he had. He swallowed thickly, reading through the introductory paragraph.

For each question, mark all boxes that apply with a check mark. Optional questions will be marked with a * at the end of the question. T    e   our t   e

Winnie reluctantly yet quickly answered the questionnaire, his own answers unnerving him. He shivered.

Most of it was a blur, him having zoned out while answering. He stood at the check-out desk as his father talked to the young man at the desk. 

Winnie looked up at him.

“Auggie,” he murmured. “Is– Is that you?” 

His father and the young man Augustine turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” the young man softly spoke. “My name isn't Auggie.” He looked confused.

“I’m sorry about him.” Winnie’s father gripped Winnie’s shoulder. Winnie stared at the man with wide eyes, feeling as though he would cry. 

He wiped his eyes. That looked just like him… 

The hair. The eyes. The skin. The body type. It had to be him. Right?

Right? Right? Right? Right right righ t right ri ght rig htr ight–?

“Winnie. Come on, let’s get going.” Winnie’s fathers words snapped him out of his thoughts. He nodded, staring at the man at the desk one last time. The man gave a wave as Winnie walked alongside his dad. He turned away and rushed slightly to be right by his father's side.

“That looked like him, Dad. That looked like Auggie, it had to be Auggie.”

His dad sighed, “I know you miss him, but that wasn't Augustine.” Winnie looked down at the floor. It… It had to be Augustine. 

He shook his head as he slipped into the passenger seat of his father’s car. He looked over to his dad who began to pull out of his parking spot. He stared blankly at the window.

A few moments passed. Winnie’s eyes darted around, taking note of all the cars.

“You know, Winnie, stuff like that is exactly why I booked that for you,” his father said. “Anytime you see someone with features like Augustine’s, it’s automatically him in your eyes.”

Winnie snapped his head over to his father.

“Dad, what are you–”

“He’s dead, Winnie. You need to get over it.” 

Winnie stared at him with wide eyes. He felt his upper lip twitch.

“Why… Why the fuck would you say that?!” Winnie shouted.

“You’re lucky we’re at a red light, or you could easily have had a repeat of what happened that day!” his father shouted back.

“Shut up. Just shut up!” Winnie felt hot tears begin streaming down his face. He sighed, staring out the window.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

Winnie sat in his bed, legs curled up to his chest. MDD and PTSD. All because of that car crash.

Winnie clasped his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned his head down, bringing his hands up to his face.

“Please, fix me. Fix me. I don’t want to hurt. I want to be normal. I want to be okay,” he murmured in between sobs. “Please answer me. Please.” He lowered his hands. 

His shoulders shook as he began to sob, tears flowing out of his eyes relentlessly, showing no signs of stopping or slowing.

“Please… I want to be normal. That’s all I want. Fix me.”

The sound of his door opening made him flinch. He brought his blanket up to cover his face and wipe his tears.

“Winnie?” his father softly said, walking over to sit on the bed.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Winnie spat through choked sobs.

“I know, but I wanted to apologize for the other day. I said some things that I shouldn’t have said. It just hurts me to see you think that so many people are Augustine.”

It was silent.

“Okay,” Winnie murmured. “Can you leave now?”

Winnie’s father looked at the wall.

“Yeah. I love you, Winnie,” he said, standing up and leaving the room. In response, Winnie simply hummed noncommittally. 

Winnie dropped the blanket from his face. He inhaled shakily as he wiped tears from his face, getting up from his bed. He staggered to the bathroom down the hallway, closing the door and splashing water onto his face.

He sniffled as he turned the faucet off, water dripping from his face and the edges of his hair. 

He stared at himself in the mirror for what felt like forever. His face began to distort. It twisted into a spiral little by little. A figure behind him eventually appeared. 

“Auggie?” He whipped his head around to look, but there was nothing there. 

He shook his head, grabbing the hand towel on the counter, wiping the water off of his face roughly. 

He stared at himself in the mirror again. He felt a shiver run down his spine once more as he left the bathroom.

He checked his phone. 7:33 PM. He sighed, setting his phone down as he rolled over onto his side. He grabbed his elk plushie and held it tightly to his chest. 

“Goodnight, Auggie,” he murmured to nobody. He shut his eyes tightly. 

Chapter Text

Winnie sat in the cafeteria of the school, looking around. Everyone was gathered around a table in the cafeteria or a bench in the commons, contrasting him, who sat alone. He sighed, murmuring unintelligible nonsense to himself. 

The bell rang, a passing period beginning. He checked his phone. 8:00 AM. He sighed, standing up as he grabbed his bag. He began walking down the hallways, putting earbuds in. 

He turned on his and Augustine’s playlist, turning the volume up as much as he could without hurting his ears. It was enough to relatively block out the crowds around him. 

Suddenly, someone came running up to him as they threw their arm around his shoulder with a loud and obnoxious laugh.

“Ey, Winnie Bosko, right? Auggie’s friend?” Winnie turned his head to look at the person. It was a young man, who looked to be the same age as him. 

“Uh… Yeah?” Winnie was visibly uncomfortable, but the other boy seemed to not take notice.

“I heard what happened, too bad I couldn’t go to his funeral,” he said. Winnie gritted his teeth.

“Yep. A real shame.” Winnie turned his head away.

“It’s good that you got off fine though! Say, you wanna be friends?” The young man held a hand out for what Winnie assumed was a handshake. Winnie took a deep breath.

I really want to say no.

“Sure.” He reached to shake his hand.

“Nice, I’m Grayson.” He grinned brightly. “See you, Win!” Winnie almost physically recoiled at being called that. He sighed, shaking his head. 

“Why did I say yes?” Winnie groaned, looking down at his schedule.

Room 234. He looked at the numbers on the doors he was at. 143, 144… Turn around, and upstairs. He turned back, going up the nearest flight of stairs. 

“Room 234… There.” Winnie walks into the classroom, going to the emptiest spot he can find. He drops his backpack onto the floor and shoves it underneath his desk. He looked up at the board, seeing what was projected onto it.

Welcome to Ms. Cyr’s classroom! Sit wherever is comfortable for you! Today you will need: a pencil and a notebook/lined paper. Materials can be found at the back of the classroom to the left of the bookshelf.

Winnie sighed and leaned his head down, resting it atop his arms that folded over each other on the desk. The bell rang once more, ending the passing period.

A bright voice rang out as the door clicked shut.

“Hello everyone! It’s so great to see all of you!” Winnie lifted his head up. Ms. Cyr, he assumed. She went to the front of the classroom and began rambling on about the ‘get to know you’ activities she had planned for today.

Winnie leaned his head back down and chose not to participate. He couldn’t care less. 

Suddenly, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

“Excuse me?” said a soft voice. He looked up, seeing the teacher. “Hi there, what’s your name?”

“Winnie Bosko,” he murmured, lying his head back down.

“Great, thank you. If you could, I’d like you to try and participate in these activities I have planned,” Ms. Cyr said. Winnie hummed in response, slowly sitting up. She nodded and set a paper down on Winnie’s desk.

It was a grid with different activities written in them. At the top of the page, there was text.

‘Walk around and find someone who did one of these activities over their summer break and get their signature!’

He read each box as someone walked up to him.

“Can you sign my paper? I’ll sign yours.”

He hummed and handed his paper over, taking theirs. He signed a random box, handing the paper back as he received back his own.

After repeating that same sequence countless times, the activity soon ended and Ms. Cyr switched to a slide that told everyone to write at least a paragraph about themselves and things they liked. Winnie sighed and stared down at his blank piece of notebook paper. 

As soon as he heard the bell ring, he crumpled up his paper, and tossed it into the trash as he left the classroom.

Grayson approached Winnie in the hallway, throwing his arm over his shoulder. Winnie violently flinched, wanting to throw the other boy’s arm off his shoulder.

“Win, where are you headed?” Grayson asked with—what looked to be—a fake grin.

“Uh… Pre-calculus. Why?” Winnie gripped the straps of his backpack.

“No way, me too! What teacher?”

“I don't know. Haven't met them yet,” Winnie murmured, turning his face away from Grayson.

“Mine is in room 176, what about you?” Grayson looked down at Winnie’s schedule that he gripped tightly. He tugged on it slightly to get a better look.

“Yeah. Me too.” Winnie crumpled his schedule and shoved it into his pocket.

“Cool! We should sit together, if there’s no assigned seats,” Grayson suggested. Winnie sighed defeatedly yet silently.

“...Sure,” he murmured, as if he was incapable of saying ‘no’. Why couldn't he say no to this guy?

Winnie rushes out of the classroom, desperately trying to get to the cafeteria and lose himself in the crowd. Anything to get away from Grayson. 

That obnoxious bastard, he thought to himself. He eventually found an isolated table near the back of the cafeteria, practically collapsing into the seat.

He dropped his bag to the floor next to his chair and sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

At least this part of the cafeteria was quiet, but it would be easy to spot him if Grayson looked the right way–

“Yo! Win! You were walking too fast for me to catch up, hah!” Grayson trotted over, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Oh. Sorry, I guess?” Winnie leaned back as far as he could in his seat as Grayson sat across from him.

“Good thing there’s two seats, eh?” Grayson chuckled.

“Yep, good,” Winnie said, hoping the disinterest in his voice wasn’t noticeable. 

“You're a good kid, Win. I’m not. I’m one of those ‘troublemakers’, y’know?” Grayson suddenly switched the topic.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I may or may not have acted up in Mr. Boucher’s class, and he didn't know who did it. Could you take the blame, please? I’d be in your debt for life !” Grayson began pleading.

This guy definitely isn't using me.

“What did you do?” Winnie murmured. 

“You didn’t see it? I threw one of those paper darts right at Mr. Boucher!” Grayson shouted, a little too loud for comfort.

“Be quiet, or a staff might hear. I’ll… Mm, whatever. I’ll take the blame.” Winnie leans his head down on the table.

“Cool! Thanks, Win!”

Winnie groaned.

“Can you quit calling me that? I hardly know you, and I hate that nickname!” Winnie suddenly slammed his hands on the table.

“What? But Auggie called you–”

“Don't talk about him! Don't call him that!” Winnie slid out of his seat and grabbed his bag, storming off. Some of the other kids around stared at him or tried to suppress their giggles. He couldn't care less.

He soon found another isolated spot and threw his bag over, sliding into the wobbly seat. It creaked and groaned as it slid across the floor slightly from Winnie’s sudden weight on it. Winnie leaned over the table.

He wasn't hungry. He would wait for lunch to end for now. He hoped he wouldn't have any more classes with Grayson. If he had to hear his voice again, he would probably get in serious trouble on his first day. He’d prefer if that didn’t happen.

Winnie practically collapsed into his bed, staring at his phone. Suddenly it began ringing, and an unknown number appeared on his screen. He reluctantly answered it.

“Hello?” Winnie murmured.

“Hey, Win!” Winnie felt himself grow cold as he heard that obnoxious voice once again.

“What kind of sick game is this to you?"

Chapter Text

Grayson began speaking gently.

“Listen, Winnie, I just wanted to help you out. I’ve heard you’ve been going through a lot since the crash, and–”

“Shut up. Stop talking about it,” Winnie hissed.

“Why won't you let me help you?” Grayson’s voice took on a tone that sounded unfamiliar. It sounded like concern, or sincerity. 

Winnie paused for a moment, his mouth opening, but no words coming out. He took a moment to breathe and recollect himself.

“I don't need help. I appreciate the concern but I don't think you could help in any way,” Winnie quietly spat, trying to keep himself calm, “and just so you know, you haven’t been helping.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Grayson said, his voice signaling a wince. Winnie silently scoffed.

“Bye,” he murmured, ending the phone call as quickly as he could. The sound of the call ending sent a shockwave of relief through his body, and he was glad to hear it.

Winnie sat up from his bed, running a hand through his hair. Grayson. Grayson, Grayson, Grayson. 

He made it worse, not better. 

‘Win’ makes it worse. ‘Auggie’ makes it worse. Everything makes it worse.

“I don't want it to be worse. I don't want it to be worse. I don't want it like that,” he said to himself. It was only getting worse, though. There were no signs that showed he would get better. Not soon. Winnie sighed as he leaned over to his bag that was thrown onto the floor next to his bed.

He pulled out his pencil bag, blindly fishing his hand through it. He grabbed his small, handheld pencil sharpener. He tossed it to the floor, setting his pencil bag down on his bed. He stood up from his bed as he stared down at the sharpener. He inhaled sharply, lifting his foot up and then stomping down on it, hearing the weak plastic crack after only a couple stomps. 

His face practically lights up as he hears the crack. He kneels down, scooping the now broken sharpener in his hands. He watches as the blade—screw still attached—falls into his palm. He removes the screw by twisting it from the body. It unscrews enough for him to pull it out. He picks it up in his other hand along with the plastic.

Winnie shoves the sharpener blade into his pocket, curling his lips inward in an attempt to hide his smile. He feels a rush of adrenaline as he ushers himself into the bathroom. He tosses the screw and plastic into the trash bin, leaning over the sink as he looks at himself in the mirror.

He reaches into his pocket, tightly clutching the blade in his hand. He slowly opens his hand and looks at it as if it’s worth more than he could ever imagine. He swallows thickly and holds it between his index finger and thumb. He feels another rush as he looks down at his wrist.

The blade he holds is his brush, the skin he has is his canvas, and the blood inside is his paint. He will stain his canvas with paint, using nothing but his brush. He rolls up his sleeve.

Blood drips into the sink bowl as water runs from the faucet. Winnie pants heavily and runs water over the slits on his wrist. 

They won’t stop bleeding. He doesn’t mind. He watches as blood continues to seep out and gets washed away by the water from the faucet. He gets some soap on his fingers and gently rubs it along the cuts.

He sharply inhales as he does so, scrubbing his wrist slightly. He doesn’t want to get infected, he just wants this relief. He washes the soap away with the harsh stream of water.

He zones out, and next he knows, the blood has stopped. He wipes his wrist with a paper towel, only water being picked up. He throws the paper towel into the bin. He clutches the blade in his hand again, rolling his sleeve down and leaving the bathroom. He wanders back into his room casually, as if nothing happened.

He grabs his phone and carefully peels the case off, placing the blade inside of it as he presses it back on. He stares at his sleeve-covered wrist, feeling something other than that rush. 

He feels guilty. Why did he do that? It felt right, but now it feels wrong. Now, he feels guilty.

He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

Why, why why WHY?

The word repeated over and over in his head. He wanted it to stop. He tried to silence his thoughts. They didn't shut up.

“Why did you do it?” asked a familiar voice. Winnie’s head shot up and he saw him. 

“Auggie? Auggie, I– I’m sorry…” He felt tears fill his eyes.

“Why would you do that?” Augustine’s words weren't being said in concern, but instead anger.

“Please, forgive me,” Winnie pleaded, reaching out slightly. He watched as Augustine’s face distorted into a marbled pattern of red and black. His eyes began to glow white. 

“You did it because you deserve it. You deserve to hurt. You deserve to bleed. Do you remember it? Do you remember what you did?” Augustine’s voice faded into a high-pitched ring in Winnie’s head.

Winnie closed his eyes and covered his ears, tears now streaming down his face. 

“No, I didn't… Auggie, I didn't mean to… Please, believe me, Auggie,” Winnie sobbed quietly. “Forgive me, Auggie. Please.”

“No. Why would I ever forgive the person who killed me?” Augustine spat, his voice barely overtaking the deafening ring that echoed in Winnie’s ears. Then it was silent. Too silent. 

Winnie opened his eyes. Nobody was there. Augustine wasn't there. 

“What?” Winnie hesitantly murmured, looking around. He wiped his tears away with his sleeve, staring at the floor with a stiff body.

I’m going insane. Let this be a dream. I need to make this stop. I can make it stop.

Winnie ground his teeth together. He suddenly hears a knock on his door. He flinches and quickly turns on his phone, acting like he was on it this whole time. 

His dad opens the door.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” His dad walks in and sits down on the bed next to him. 

“Mhm,” Winnie hums softly.

“I got the medicine that you were prescribed. Zoloft, I think. I’ll leave it on your nightstand for you. Only one a day, okay?”

Winnie nods, watching as his dad sets the bottle on the nightstand. His dad pats his shoulder, leaving the room and shutting the door with a quiet click.

Winnie looks over at the orange bottle filled with small tablets. He grabs the bottle and shakes it around. He could put these to use.

He looks at the window, noticing it’s dark outside. He turns off his bedside lamp, checking the time. 10:24 PM.

He sighs, turning his phone off and setting it on his nightstand. He turns onto his side, covering himself with his blanket. He closes his eyes and has to use more effort than he would like to actually fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Winnie wakes up in a cold sweat, almost falling out of his bed from the way he shot up. He pants slightly, taking in his surroundings to ground himself. He buries his face into his hands and sighs heavily. 

He feels his grainy sleeve rub against his wrist as he takes a deep inhale. It rips a sharp exhale out from his lungs. He peels his sleeve away from his wrist, staring at the new and—relatively—faded scars that reside on it.

He feels the muscles in his chin contract and distort his mouth into a frown, as tears threaten to sting his eyes. He wipes his eyes, refusing to let tears spill out again. He doesn't like crying. It’s all he ever does, though.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he blinked back non-existent tears. He turned to his phone that sat on his nightstand and checked the time. 6:32 AM. 

He grabbed his bottle of Zoloft and shook a single pill into his hand and placed it on his tongue. He swallowed it as he closed the bottle, setting it back on his nightstand. He stood up, staring back at the bottle for a brief moment, before reaching out for it.

He freezes, shifting his hand to the side to grab his phone. He shoves his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, walking out of his room quietly. He—almost mindlessly—walks into the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet of the mirror, grabbing the bottle of Aspirin that sits in front of everything else. He stares at the bottle with glassy eyes. He grips it tightly, before shutting off the bathroom light and leaving.

He opens the back door with a small creak, shutting it slowly and quietly after he steps onto the patio. The grass crinkles underneath his feet as he walks to the side of his house. He opens the doors to the basement, walking into it.

It’s dark and dusty inside. He flips the switch, looking around. A TV with various game consoles near it sits at the middle of the back wall. He plugs the Nintendo 64 into the TV, turning both the TV and N64 on.

“This was Auggie’s,” he says blankly to himself. He stares at the strip of tape crudely attached to the console.

‘PROPERTY OF AUGUSTINE ORLOV!!’ It has a doodle of a bear next to it. 

Surprisingly, Winnie feels like he won’t cry for once. Instead, he smiles. He grabs the controller and stares at the most recently played game. Super Mario 64. 

Winnie remembers how Augustine was never good at the game. He always had to help him with almost all of the courses. Even so, he wasn’t much better than Augustine. It was a good memory. They would always laugh when they were younger when Augustine failed, even if it made Augustine mad.

He opened the game, looking at the save files. The first was named “Auggie.” Second, “Winnie.” Third… “Augwin.” They played together on that file, switching the controller every course. There was no fourth file. He opened it, seeing the familiar beginning cutscene.

He tested out the controls, making sure he remembered them all. He murmured to himself.

“Can I have a turn later?” Winnie heard a voice next to him say. He snapped his head over to his side, seeing Augustine smiling at him.

“...Yeah. Of course you can, Auggie,” he murmured back hesitantly.

He set the controller on the ground and walked back over to the lightswitch, flipping it off. The TV had enough light. He sat back down on the cold floor, picking up the controller. He stared at the bottle of pills that sat next to it.

“What’s the Aspirin for?” Augustine asks.

“Oh, I’ve just… I’ve been having headaches recently,” Winnie says, obviously lying to not only himself, but Augustine, too. His best friend.

Augustine stays silent. Winnie sighs and focuses his attention on the TV in front of him, the colors and poly’s all blurring and blending together.

Soon enough, his gaze shifts back to Augustine next to him. For a split second, he swears he can see that marbled pattern on his face.

“You were always better than me at this, hah!” Augustine says, looking over to Winnie with a smile.

“Not really, you’re exaggerating. And I try my best in front of you, too,” Winnie chuckles in a coy manner. Augustine sighs. Winnie feels like it sounds happy, or maybe longing. He doesn’t comment on it, focusing back onto the game.

It’s silent for too long, aside from the music and sound effects from the game.

“You haven’t been having headaches,” Augustine says, breaking the silence.

Winnie looks over to Augustine, who is already looking back. Augustine has a look of what could be best described as betrayal on his face.

“A– Auggie, listen, I…” Winnie blanks. He doesn’t know what to say. “You’re not real. I know you aren’t. You’re dead. And… I miss you Auggie. I really do miss you.”

“Winnie, you don’t have to do this–”

“Shut up! You’re not real, you’re just… in my head!” Winnie cuts Augustine off with his shouts. His voice lowers. “I don’t want to keep missing you. I want to see you, Auggie. I want to see you again.”

Augustine stares at Winnie with wide eyes as he opens the bottle. His face contorts into a grin as that marbled pattern appears in the corner of Winnie’s eye.

“I see how it is. You don’t care about anyone else, do you? Only me. That’s so selfish of you, you know?” Winnie hears the echo of Augustine’s voice in his head again.

He pours a few pills into his hand, putting them into his mouth. He painstakingly swallows them without any water.

“I told you to shut up, didn’t you hear me?” Winnie says, his voice shaking as if he’s about to cry.

“I did, but why would I do that? You don't deserve to have anyone who actually likes you, or even listens to you!” Winnie sighs, continuing to swallow the pills dryly, paying no mind to what ‘Augustine’ is saying. The hallucination scoffs, before disappearing after the next time Winnie blinks. 

After Winnie takes about 50 of the tablets, he feels his stomach turning. He feels nauseous. Far too nauseous. He covers his mouth and turns away from the N64. 

He vomits onto the cold floor. He feels like he might pass out. He feels like he’s dying. Good.

Chapter Text

As Winnie painstakingly vomits and desperately tries to swallow more of the aspirin, he swears he can see a figure in the corner of his eye. 

Get out of my head. I’ll be there soon, Auggie. Don't pester me here.

Next thing he knows, he’s laying on the floor, confused, his head feeling light, and feeling like he’s going to pass out. His ears ring and his vision blurs. He hardly feels like he’s conscious.

He feels someone grab him and lift him into a sitting position, but he can't make out anything they’re saying or who they are. 

“Auggie,” he almost silently breathes out. He feels like he’s going to vomit again. He leans into whoever’s holding him, his eyes closing. He doesn’t know if he’ll open them again. He hopes not.

Even so, he does. Somehow. He feels like he shouldn’t. He feels like he’s choking. 

…

He is. 

A tube is placed into his mouth and down his throat. He closes his eyes for what feels like a split second, but in reality, was probably closer to an hour. Maybe multiple. He’s breathing again. He doesn't want to be.

He looks over his surroundings, seeing his dad sitting by the hospital bed. He’s staring at the floor, and he looks almost angry.

“Dad…” Winnie’s voice breaks as he speaks up. His father immediately looks up at him, his eyes widening. He reaches out to grab Winnie’s hand.

“Why? Winnie, I thought you were doing better. You told me you were doing better,” he murmured. He held Winnie’s hand tightly, one hand over it and one hand under it. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Why did you do that? I thought I was about to lose my son,” he said, his voice breaking.

“I’m… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you,” Winnie blinked back his tears. “I just… I miss him, Dad. I miss him so much.” Winnie’s father stared at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

“Winnie, that’s not a reason to… to end your life.” His dad squeezed his hand tighter. Tears began to fall from his eyes. “I’m glad I walked in when I did. Otherwise, I don’t know if you’d still be here.” Winnie looked away, sighing.

“How long was I asleep?” he muttered, changing the topic.

“A couple hours here. At home, I’d say 5 to 10 minutes,” his father quietly responded. A nurse knocked on the door and entered the room.

“Winnie Bosko? Hi, I just need to ask you a couple questions. Can you please step out for a moment, sir?” the nurse turned their head to Winnie’s father. He nodded, giving Winnie’s hand one last squeeze before standing up and leaving. Winnie stared up at the nurse nervously. The nurse took a seat, looking back at Winnie with a calm and reassuring look.

“Are you gonna ask why I did it?” Winnie turned his head away. 

“Yes, and then a few more. Once you’re discharged from here, you’ll be admitted to a mental hospital.” Winnie didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t want to go there. He needed to, but he didn’t want to.

“I did it because… it sounds stupid. I miss someone. Someone who died. I’ve also been hallucinating them, and… I just wanted to see them again. The real one.” The nurse nodded.

“That’s not stupid. In situations like yours, there’s a lot of people who say they miss a late loved one. You’re not alone.” The nurse smiled sweetly.

“Mmm. I get that a lot. The ‘you’re not alone’,” Winnie sighed.

“I’d expect that. Let’s continue, okay? Do you have any scars from self injury?” Winnie hesitates and stammers, before simply showing the nurse his scarred wrist. The nurse nods. 

Winnie’s eyes dart around, before his vision becomes unfocused. He zones out and switches his brain on autopilot, answering the questions almost unconsciously. Before he knows it, the questions are done and his dad is back in the room.

“Dad. I’m sorry,” he murmured underneath his breath. 

“Winnie, don't. Don't apologize.”

“Why? Why not?” Winnie stared at his father. He felt tears pricking the edges of his eyes. “I hurt you. I scared you. I hurt myself, too. I should apologize for that. I should apologize for everything that’s happened.” He felt the corners of his lips curl into a frown as he inhaled sharply and shakily. He reached up to wipe his eyes.

His father reached out and placed a hand on his head, gently running a hand through his hair. 

“I know you did that. I know. But you shouldn't have to apologize for that. Just… please tell me when you're feeling like that again. Okay? We can go do something fun next time, if that’ll take your mind off of it.”

Winnie stared at his father for a brief moment before tears started uncontrollably streaming down his face. His father stepped closer, hugging him tightly as Winnie continued to sob in his arms. Winnie wrapped his arms around his father in a more gentle manner, though mostly from feeling weak.

“Thank you. I’m…” He paused, sighing as he did. “Thank you,” he repeated. His dad stepped away, looking at Winnie.

“I love you, kiddo. Know that,” he gently said as he pat Winnie’s head one last time.

“I love you too, dad,” he responded quietly.

Winnie quietly stands in the lobby of the mental hospital. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to be here. He stared at the floor, trying to get himself to zone out. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact he would be here for who knows how long.

He clasped his hands together for a moment. He mumbled incoherent words as if he was praying.

I want to be normal. I want to get out of here. I don’t want to be here.

The next thing Winnie remembers is sitting in the bed of his room. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable. He doesn’t like it, but it’ll have to do. 

He sighed to himself, “I don’t want to be here. I want to be with Auggie. Why did I do that?” He rubs his temples, lying down in the bed. He looks around, staring at the walls and the ceiling.

He closes his eyes. He rolls around restlessly, yet can’t seem to find a comfortable position. He can’t sleep. He sighs and groans quietly, standing up and pacing around his room.

He hums to himself, imagining songs from the playlist him and Augustine made. He wants to cry at the thought of him, but he also wants to smile. Just like how he did when he saw Augustine’s N64. 

He bites the inside of his lip as he sits back down. He lies down, closing his eyes. He talks to himself, but comes up with responses that Augustine would say, as if he’s talking to Augustine. It puts him at ease for some reason. Normally, it wouldn’t.

His mind blanks as he falls asleep after talking to nobody for what felt like hours to him.

Chapter Text

Winnie looks around nervously, before sitting down at an empty table. He stares at the food on his tray. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing; it looks like school food. Neither of them look appetizing. To be fair, hardly anything looks appetizing to him, especially as of recent.

He picks at it, taking a small bite of it and chewing it slowly. He glances around, looking at the small groups or couples of people talking and laughing softly.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here?” 

Winnie looked up, finding the source of the voice. It was a tall, brown-haired man. His eyes widened for a moment.

Brown hair, blue eyes. He looked like Augustine, but not only that. He saw himself in those blue eyes. What are the chances? Even though Winnie could only see one of his eyes, the other covered by hair, he felt like the other man’s eyes were burning through his own. He blinked himself back to reality.

“Um, yeah, I don't mind,” he muttered, looking back at his tray. 

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully, sitting down. As he did, he brushed some hair out of his face. Winnie’s eyes glanced over to him. His eyes widened as soon as he did and he snapped his head over.

“Your eye,” he said underneath his breath. The boy looked over to Winnie as he began to speak.

“I was born without my left eye. I get looks and comments like that a lot, so, there’s one more person to add to the list,” he rested his chin in his palm.

“No, that’s– I wasn’t… I’m sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just… shocked. I’ve never seen something like that,” he practically whispered, his eyes wide. He looked mesmerized.

The other boy’s eyebrows raised. He glanced over to Winnie. He looked almost…shocked. 

“That’s a first,” he muttered to himself. He stared at Winnie for a moment longer before holding out his hand. “I’m Leo, and you?” Winnie paused for a moment before reaching out to shake Leo’s hand.

“Winnie,” he says almost cautiously. 

“Nice to meet you, Winnie.” Leo smiles brightly, a sudden change from his earlier demeanor. Winnie stares at Leo for what feels far too long. He shoots his gaze back down at his tray.

“So…” Winnie desperately tried to divert his attention from what just happened. He felt himself growing embarrassed. 

“You stared at me awfully long there,” Leo teases, laughing. Winnie turns his face away, groaning as he feels his cheeks heat up from even more embarrassment, if that was even possible at this point.

“Shut up, or I might regret talking to you,” Winnie says, obviously not meaning it. Leo laughs more, sounding as if it’s the best thing he’s heard in years. The laugh sounds contagious, and there’s no doubt when Winnie starts laughing softly as well. He looks over to Leo, who calms his breathing and wipes his eyes.

“You’re funny, you know?” Leo says, as if it wasn’t already obvious to Winnie that he thought so. He places a hand on Winnie’s shoulder. His eyes look down at Leo’s hand for a brief moment, before looking back at his face.

“I can tell you think so,” Winnie smiles, still laughing softly. “I don’t understand why, though.” Leo tilts his head.

“You don’t find yourself funny?” He looked more confused than ever. “Then why are you still laughing?” Leo’s demeanor quickly changes again; he’s now smiling and pointing at Winnie. He starts laughing again, and Winnie covers his mouth in a futile attempt to stifle a sudden laughing fit. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he was this happy. 

Maybe I won’t be too upset while staying here, Winnie thinks as he continues to laugh with Leo.

“Well, emphasis on the maybe,” he murmurs shakily, curled up in his bed. He hadn’t gotten any sleep. No matter what, he couldn’t. He doesn’t know why. Probably because he can’t stop thinking about Augustine. He was supposed to get out of bed over 10 minutes ago, but he doesn’t want to. 

But we can’t all have what we want. He sits up, his elk plush slipping out of his hands and back onto the bed. He slowly gets out of his bed, walking towards the door. He wipes his face, his eyes puffy. He takes a deep breath, his hand shaking as he slowly opens the door. He hangs his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

He gets his breakfast, and sits down. He stares down, only seeing his tray, the table, his body, and the floor. He sees someone sit down next to him, and recognizes their voice as they speak.

“Hey, Winnie. You okay? Tired?” Winnie looks up at Leo, his face red from crying just earlier. Winnie simply nods. Leo frowns and suddenly wraps an arm around Winnie, scooting closer to him.

“What are you doing?” Winnie asks, though doesn’t refuse the touch. He leans his head onto Leo’s shoulder.

“You got something on your mind?” Leo quietly asks, gently rubbing Winnie’s arm.

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a beat.

“You wanna talk about it?” Leo looks at Winnie, speaking with a sincere tone. Winnie simply shakes his head, burying his face into Leo’s shoulder. Leo hums, leaning his head on top of Winnie’s. “Can you at least eat your breakfast? It might help.” Winnie nods, lifting himself up from Leo’s shoulder. He slowly begins to eat, chewing even slower.

Leo offers comforting pats on Winnie’s shoulder as he refocuses his attention on something other than Winnie eating, probably to make him feel less uncomfortable while he eats, even if he doesn’t feel that way. 

Winnie glances at Leo and stares at him for longer than he should. He feels his cheeks flush before refocusing on his food in front of him. He sighs silently.

Why do I feel like this? Winnie thinks, asking himself many questions about what he’s feeling. He doesn’t think the feeling is unfamiliar, but it still feels strange, in a way. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about it. 

But he still does.

Is it because he looks like Augustine? Is it because he’s nice? Is it because he cares? Is it because he’s admirable? Why? 

He sighs again, looking back at Leo for another brief moment. He looks back at his tray, not even noticing he ate all of his food until now. His eyes widened slightly, before nudging Leo.

“Hm? Oh, you finished eating. Good job,” Leo unnecessarily praises Winnie for the miniscule task.

“I’m not a child, you don’t have to hype me up,” Winnie murmurs.

“Sorry, sorry!” Leo laughs slightly. Winnie smiles at his laugh, looking back up at him. Winnie still has that feeling.

Chapter Text

Winnie silently lied in his bed, his hands resting over his torso. He stares at the tile ceiling, thinking back on his days in the wretched place he’s in. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? 

Most of the days, he only clearly remembers one thing. Well, two. He remembers two things. He remembers crying. Sobbing, even. But other than that, he remembers Leo. What’s so special about him? He’s just a random guy, but… He looks like not only Augustine, but also Winnie himself. He can see both himself and the person that meant practically everything to him.

Maybe that’s why he’s so attached to him. But what if it happens again? What if Leo ends up like Augustine? 

“I don’t know if I’ll survive,” he murmurs to the thought, seriousness lying beneath his melancholy laugh. He sighs heavily, continuing to stare at the ceiling. He thinks for a moment. 

Right. He’s leaving today. No wonder the room feels empty; everything is packed away. He stands up, grabbing his bag, and wandering out of his room. He stares down the hall, seeing Leo.

“Hey, Winnie!” Leo calls out, walking towards Winnie. Winnie smiles.

“Hi, Leo,” Winnie waves, timidly, as usual. 

“Aren’t you leaving?” Leo asks, putting his hands behind his back as he slightly leans forward. 

“Yeah. I’m glad to be out, but I’m gonna miss you,” Winnie reluctantly admits to the other man. Leo smiles, yet pitifully attempts to stifle it.

“I have an idea, hold on,” Leo says, rushing to his room. He comes back with a piece of paper and a pencil. He holds the piece of paper against the wall, writing on it. He rips it in half, giving the written-on piece to Winnie.

“What is this?” Winnie asks, looking at the numbers written on the paper.

“It’s my phone number. Here, write yours down on this piece. I’ll call you when I get out. Promise.” Leo smiles, handing the blank paper and pencil to Winnie. He takes them before sloppily writing his phone number down, using his hand as a (evidently bad) surface for the paper. He hands the paper with his number on it back to Leo, along with the pencil.

“I’ll see you around, Winnie,” Leo says with a smile that has an air of melancholy behind it.

“Yeah,” Winnie responds, staring at the floor. “I’ll see you around.” 

It’s silent except for the distant chatter in the cafeteria or around the hallways. Leo looks down at the ground for a moment, before looking back up. He suddenly reaches out, wrapping his arms around Winnie in a tight hug. Winnie flinches, yet quickly hugs Leo back. 

He buries his face into Leo’s shoulder, his nose and eyes still visible. He feels his cheeks warm up, most likely growing red, or at the very least, a soft shade of pink. He murmurs something unintelligible, causing Leo to pull away.

“What was that?” he asks, pulling his hands away from Winnie at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“I…I’m gonna miss you, Leo,” Winnie responds quietly. He waves, turning on his heel and quickly walking towards the lobby. Winnie bites the inside of his cheek. He covers his cheeks with his hands as he walks, feeling like they’re obviously red at this point.

Winnie notices his dad entering the lobby and almost immediately shoots up from his seat. He steps closer, pausing in front of him, before hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Winnie’s dad pats his back.

“We talked about the s-word.” Winnie chuckles softly at his dad’s words.

“The s-word?” he replied, a smile evident in his tone.

“Come on, kiddo,” Winnie’s father said, pulling away and placing a pat on Winnie’s shoulder. Winnie leaves, following behind his father. The air is cool, and it pushes his hair back slightly. He looks back at the doors for a moment, hoping he would see Leo waving him goodbye, but of course, there’s nobody there.

He turns back, rushing to his dad’s side. As they reach the car, he slides into the passenger seat. He pulls the crumpled piece of paper with Leo’s number on it and holds it tightly by the sides. He held it close to his chest as he looked out the window.

Winnie’s dad sees the paper and begins to curiously pester Winnie about it.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?” Winnie doesn’t know what he’s referring to for a moment, before realizing after seeing his father’s gaze. “Oh, it’s my friend's number. They want to keep talking.”

“Is it a girl?” Winnie’s dad asks in a teasing tone. He doesn’t know, does he?

“No, it’s not a girl,” Winnie groans, simply playing along with his dad’s antics. 

“Right, right,” he chuckles.

“But, seriously, it’s not. His name’s Leo,” Winnie says as he looks down at the number on the paper. His dad hums in a surprised tone.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that. I thought you were finally trying to get a girlfriend, haha!” Winnie’s father laughs teasingly.

“Yeah,” Winnie mutters, looking out the window. He’s put off by the fact his father’s teasing of a partner stopped when he mentioned a boy. Despite it, he brushes it off. After all, he’s never told his dad that he’s bisexual. It’s not common knowledge that he is, either.

Why is he thinking about that, anyway? It’s not like he likes Leo like that, right?

But anytime he thinks about him, he feels his stomach tie into a knot, or butterflies form and flutter around relentlessly without pause. He always feels better when around him. He always feels happy. Something he’s hardly been able to feel for months. His cheeks get warm when with him, whether they’re interacting or not. 

He can’t stop thinking about him. It almost hurts. Why? Hell, it’s unsettling to think about at times. 

The car comes to a halt in the driveway, and Winnie grabs his bag, slipping out of the car. He stares straight ahead, his mind still racing with thoughts of Leo. God, what is going on? Why can’t he stop thinking of him?

As soon as he gets to his room, his movements slow. He leans forward, falling face-first into his pillow. His bed feels like heaven compared to the one he had been using for what felt to be far too long. 

He misses Leo. He wants to see Leo. 

God, no. Stop thinking about him. What is this? 

Winnie sighs heavily, not wanting to think about Leo anymore, any longer than he needs to. He covers his face with his hands, groaning. 

I need to stop.

But why? 

Why does he need to stop? He doesn't need to stop.

Despite this, he eagerly awaits a call or a text from that same number he received. He knows he won’t get either anytime soon.

He sighs as he sets the slip of paper on his dresser. His eyes linger on it for far too long.

What will he say when he gets that call or that text? He doesn’t know. He needs to know. He needs to know every possible scenario or else he feels like he’ll die. He doesn’t want to mess it up. He can’t mess it up.

Off he goes again, overthinking any interaction he can ever have. He can’t help himself. He wants…no, he needs everything to be perfect. He can't afford to lose someone like him. Whether that ‘him’ is referring to someone like Leo or Augustine, he doesn't know. They could be used interchangeably, in this sense.

He lies down in his bed, gripping his phone tightly, staring at the screen. The screen is bright. It almost hurts his eyes. Yet he continues staring, as if he’s expecting a notification.

He remembers how he used to wake up early to watch his phone and wait for Augustine to send his daily ‘good morning’ text. He learned that Augustine always sent that text (on weekdays) around 7 AM. So, he set his alarm for 6:45 AM. He could wake up and be ready for the text, so he could respond immediately. He thought it was sweet, Augustine sending him that text every morning. 

He snaps himself out of reminiscing, staring back at his screen. Even though he’s done thinking of it, he can't help but think that he’ll receive a text from Augustine. Maybe a ‘good morning’ one again. Even though it’s evening. Maybe he slept through the day. He’s been known to sleep often. But it’s okay. 

The thoughts of Augustine flood his mind. He closes his eyes, and the image burned into his retinas flashes through his mind.

No, not again. Not this again. He can't think of that again.

His eyes immediately open and the image fades from his mind after what feels like an eternity. He can taste the blood on his lips again. He can feel the paramedics dragging him out of the car. He can feel the IV in his arm. 

Stop, stop, stop it. 

His phone dings. His eyes snap to the notification. It’s from his dad, asking if he wants anything to eat. He shuts his phone off, setting it on his nightstand. 

He turns to lay on his side as he reaches into the bag he tossed onto the ground and pulls out his elk plushie. He holds it tight against his chest, closing his eyes. He blindly reaches for his blanket, throwing it over himself. 

He hopes for a notification from Leo when he wakes up.

Chapter Text

The notification has been residing on Winnie’s lock screen for at least a minute. Winnie doesn’t know how to feel. The notification he’s been hoping for, PRAYING for. And yet, here he sits, frozen, without a thought in his mind.

“What do I do?” Winnie manages to push out, although he’s only talking to himself. After all, there’s no one else to say that to, is there?

He swipes on the notification, opening it with shaky hands.

‘Hey, it’s Leo! I’m so glad I’m finally out and we can talk! Are you doing anything this week?’

Is he doing anything? Right, he has school. But it’s the week of the semifinals. His birthday is coming up. So is Christmas. Maybe they can meet on his birthday? His fingers shake as he types out a response. A long response. Longer than necessary. 

‘hey, I'm pretty busy this week with school and my semifinals, but my birthday is this coming saturday! i’d love to meet up then if you’re able to! :)’

He stares at it for a moment before pressing the send button. Leo’s definitely gonna hate him for typing like that. He doesn't capitalize the things he needs to, he doesn't capitalize anything . He uses stupid emoticons, and–

‘That sounds great! Where do you wanna meet? I’m good with just about anything in Weyburn! :)’

“Oh my god,” he mutters shakily. He stares intensely at the emoticon. It’s as if Leo is mirroring Winnie. “Oh my god?” Winnie’s mouth slowly warps into a smile. Such a small act brings such a big smile to his face. He feels his cheeks warm up as the shaking in his hands seems to dissipate. 

Leo lives in Weyburn. Winnie lives in Weyburn. This is perfect. He thinks of the places he could go in Weyburn. There’s a nice little coffee shop, and a park. They might be able to hang out by the lake that Winnie started learning to ice-skate on. That would be nice.

He feels himself grow jittery at just the thought. He gently kicks his feet to release some tension that had been growing. 

‘what about meeting at jubilee park and going to the coffee shop down the street? we could hang out at the lake by jubilee too, later, if youre up for it!’

Leo reacted to Winnie’s message with a thumbs up. Winnie smiled as Leo responded with a simple agreement. He holds his phone to his chest and leans back, landing on the mattress with a gentle thud.

He feels his eyes well up with tears again, but he keeps that same smile on his face. 

“Are you proud of me, Auggie?”

The last question on his last semifinal, done. He sighs as he leans his head down onto his desk. He waits for the bell to ring, he just wants to leave. His thoughts and breathing slow, but as soon as he feels like he’ll fall asleep, the bell rings. He darts up, grabbing his bag and leaving the classroom at a brisk pace.

His eyes glance around the hallway for a moment to fill empty space in his mind. He glances at a few people who pass by him. He locks eyes with someone, and before he can look away in embarrassment, he recognizes them. His eyes widen and he almost freezes in his tracks. The person’s eyes widened as well, matching his reaction.

“Win…nie?”

“Grayson,” Winnie replies with a sour face. Grayson looks almost scared. He shoves his hands into his pockets and begins walking away quickly. Winnie blinks in surprise, watching Grayson as he rushes away. Winnie’s eyebrows furrow, but he pays no mind and walks out of the nearest exit of the school. 

What the hell was that?

He shakes the thought from his head. Leo. You get to see Leo tomorrow. Think about that. Winnie sighs as he walks down the sidewalk, zoning out, and then back in every couple of minutes. He walks into his house, dropping his backpack by his bed. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. 4:32 PM.

He sets his phone down and closes his eyes. He needs rest for tomorrow, right? He almost instantly falls asleep.

“Ugh,” Winnie groans as he stretches. He managed to sleep for… 6:55 AM. Over 14 hours. He checks his messages. 

‘Good morning Winnie!’ from Leo. He feels his cheeks heat up as he quickly shoots back a simple ‘gm!! :)’ 

They agreed to meet at 9 AM. 

“Nothing better to do than count the seconds.”

And the hours pass by as if they’re said seconds. Winnie only notices this at 8:50. He’s gonna be late. He opens his messages with Leo once more.

‘hey leo im gonna be late sorry!’ 

‘Me too, it’s fine! I fell back asleep, I just woke up five minutes ago!’

Winnie rushes to get dressed and do his hair and brush his teeth and…everything else he can to make himself look pretty.

He sprints out of the house, running down the sidewalk and to the park. He gets there by 9:15 AM, panting and leaning over his knees. He falls down onto the ground, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Winnie? That you?” Winnie shoots up, looking around. Leo is walking up to him. “Hey, it is you!”

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I’m really out of breath,” Winnie mutters through pants. “I ran all the way here.” Leo laughs, offering a hand to help Winnie up. “Thanks,” Winnie says, pulling himself up.

“Do you wanna go ahead and get some breakfast at the cafe?” Leo offers. Winnie nods, smiling brightly. Leo smiles back, grabbing Winnie’s hand and begins walking across the street to the nearby cafe. Winnie feels his heart beginning to pound in his chest. He silently admires Leo.

“Oh, you’re wearing an eyepatch. It’s blue, I like blue. Blue’s my favorite color,” Winnie rants. Leo giggles, looking at Winnie.

“Yeah? I don’t know what my favorite color is, probably blue as well.” Winnie smiles at that. As they walk into the cafe, the warm air from the heater hits them immediately. Leo checks them in and follows the waiter to their table. Winnie slips into the seat across from Leo.

Oh, god, this feels like a date.

Winnie calms his racing thoughts and heart.

Their cafe breakfast ‘date’ ends quicker than Winnie would have liked, but at least it doesn’t feel as much like a date. As they walk back to the park, Winnie notices someone sitting on a nearby bench.

No. Not him again.

It’s Grayson. Grayson doesn’t seem to notice him, too absorbed in his phone. Winnie sighs in relief. Winnie tries to forget about him and looks back at Leo. They hang out at the park, doing mindless things like talking, messing around, nature watching, playing at the playground…

“Leo, get out, you’re gonna get stuck! Do not go in the baby swing!” Winnie grabs Leo’s wrist and pulls him away from the swingset. 

“You’re no fun!” Leo playfully whines. He speeds back to the swingset and immediately jumps into one of the normal swings, immediately going higher than he thought he would. He grips the chains tightly, yelping for a brief moment.

He slows himself down as Winnie joins in, going on the swing beside him. Winnie gently and slowly swings back and forth, watching Leo as he continues swinging high. Winnie slowly blinks as he watches him. The sun is setting at this point. Winnie feels at peace. He looks across the playground, seeing Grayson staring at him.

He feels fearful as Grayson slowly begins walking towards him. Winnie stands up from his swing, causing Leo to slow down and stand up as well.

“Winnie, tell me why you lied. Tell me why you lied to me,” Grayson practically demands.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Winnie turns away and begins walking back out to the field. Leo looks at Grayson. Grayson looks back, scowling.

“What’s your problem?” Grayson says, his voice laced with venom.

“Sorry,” Leo mutters out an insincere apology, walking away and going back to Winnie’s side. Leo is silent for a moment. “Who—”

“Do you wanna go to the lake?” Winnie asks, changing the topic before Leo can ask anything.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Leo shoves his hands into his pockets, feeling slightly uneasy.

It’s silent except for the quiet chirp of crickets. Leo stares out at the frozen over lake. The moon reflects off of the ice and provides a decent amount of light. Leo looks over to Winnie. The light of the moon is enough for the two to see each other’s faces, even if it’s still relatively dim. Winnie is glancing over at Leo. His eyelids are heavy.

“You look tired,” Leo says, scooting slightly closer to Winnie.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… 8 PM? I’ve been up since 7 AM. I normally get tired around this time.” Leo hums in response. It’s quiet again. “Well, you can lean on my shoulder, or something—”

Leo stops talking when Winnie shifts to lay his head in Leo’s lap. Leo’s cheeks flush as he mutters, “I guess that works, too…” Winnie closes his eyes.

Leo stares down at Winnie’s face, the moonlight slightly illuminating it. Leo’s fingers tangle into Winnie’s hair, gently brushing through it. He can’t stop staring at Winnie. Winnie sighs gently.

“Thank you,” he says, opening his eyes.

“Huh? For…what?” Leo replies, confused.

“This,” Winnie simply replies back.

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.” Leo goes silent again. He feels his cheeks burning up and his heart pounding in his chest. Winnie suddenly sits up.

“I should…probably start heading home,” Winnie says, breaking the silence.

“Home… Yeah. Yeah, you can go.” Leo scoots away. Instead of standing up, Winnie sits there for a moment. He looks at Leo silently for a moment.

“Leo, I…” Winnie’s words trail off. He leans closer towards Leo, his eyes glance down at Leo’s lips. Leo can clearly see Winnie’s eyes as they dart down. Leo lifts a hand to Winnie’s cheek, leaning in as well. Winnie freezes up.

Chapter Text

Leo freezes up just as Winnie did.

What am I doing? What is this?

As soon as he begins pulling his hand away from Winnie’s cheek and backing away slightly, he hears a voice behind them.

“Oh, so you’re a faggot now, huh, Win? ” Leo pulls away from Winnie as quickly as he can, snapping his head over to the voice.

“What did you just say? Who even are you, and what’s your problem with Winnie?” Leo retorts, tensing up.

“Wow, Win. Didn’t even bother to tell your boyfriend my name? Well, then, I guess I have to do everything,” he mocks, leaning forward. “It’s Grayson.”

“He’s– He’s not my boyfriend,” Winnie says, quick to defend himself. Grayson smirks, tilting his head and leaning against one of the trees of the small grove that obscures the lake from the rest of the park.

“Not your boyfriend, huh? Then why were you about to kiss him, hm?” 

“Shut up,” Leo mutters, standing up. Grayson looks over to Leo as his smirk grows wider. He pushes himself off of the tree.

“Sorry, what was that?” Grayson cups a hand around his ear in a clearly sarcastic manner.

“I said shut up,” Leo repeats in a louder voice.

“Make me,” Grayson spits back at Leo.

“Leo, just stop,” Winnie pleads, reaching out to grab his hand, even if he can’t reach. Leo seems to completely disregard the plea, still focused on Grayson.

“I will,” Leo responds to Grayson.

“Yeah? And how are you gonna do that? Are you gonna kiss me like you did with Winnie, you fag?” Grayson sneers.

Leo charges towards Grayson, lifting a clenched fist and punches him in the jaw. Grayson holds his jaw and stumbles back to gain distance from the other man.

“No, I’m not.” Leo turns on his heel, walking back to Winnie. 

“You fucking bastard, get back here!” Grayson shouts, running up and tackling Leo onto the ground. He wraps his hands around the other’s neck, beginning to strangle him.

Before Leo can process what’s happening, his hands are already gripping and clawing at Grayson’s arms and hands. 

Winnie, help me. Winnie, please, help me. I don’t want to die here. Not by the hands of this scum.

Barely catching sight of Winnie after attempts of flailing out of Grayson’s grip, he sees the blank look on Winnie’s face. He looks back up at Grayson, spots forming in his vision. He chokes out unintelligible whispers and groans. He reaches for Winnie’s general direction weakly, hoping he can snap Winnie out of whatever trance he’s in.

“Just give up, man,” Grayson taunted, “there’s no winning here. Your poor, little boyfriend doesn’t look like he’s planning on saving you.”

Leo weakly swipes a hand at Grayson’s face in an attempt to make his grip falter, but to no avail. He feels tears form in his eyes as his vision proceeds to darken. His body feels heavy, but especially his head. It feels like a headache if something heavy were to be inside his skull other than his brain.

Please, I don’t want to die. I don’t…want to die. Not here. Not now.

He continues to grow weak. He simply falls limp and accepts it, not trying to fight back. Grayson tightens his hands, waiting for Leo’s eyes to grow heavy, before letting go with a grin. He quickly stands and speeds away. 

As soon as Leo notices Grayson’s hands are gone, he takes in a deep breath of air. He tries to breathe slowly, but with the fact he was refused any air for what felt like hours, it’s hard not to take it quickly. He now feels light. The quick breathing doesn’t help with the lightness. He rolls over onto his stomach, looking up at Winnie.

It’s silent except for Leo’s labored breathing and a small sniffle from Winnie. Winnie’s lips suddenly curl downwards into a frown as his eyes fill with tears.

“Winnie, woah, hey,” Leo mutters, weakly yet quickly moving to Winnie’s side. “Stop it, what’s wrong?”

Between sobs, Winnie manages to choke out, “I just watched you… I watched you almost die in front of me, to the hands of a man I hate. I didn’t even try to save you.” Leo holds Winnie tight, gently stroking his hair.

“It’s okay. I’m still here, and I’m fine. Winnie, I’m fine,” Leo reassures Winnie as he soothingly strokes his hair and rubs his back. Winnie’s chest heaves as he’s held in the other’s arms. He buries his face into Leo’s shoulder. His tears are guaranteed to leave a wet spot on Leo’s shirt, but they both could care less than they do.

Winnie lifts his head from Leo’s shoulder, looking at Leo.

“You need to go home, Leo.” Winnie gently pulls away, wiping his tear-streaked face. “Please, go home.”

Leo stares at Winnie. He doesn’t know if he feels rejected or relieved. He simply nods, standing up and waving a short goodbye before briskly disappearing into the trees. He enters back into the main grounds of the park and quickly heads back home.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t feel like this. What would Dad think? If I liked a boy, what would he do? What would he say? Would he act like Grayson?

Leo attempts to clear his mind, but the thoughts continue to nag him, even from the back of his mind.

“I don’t like boys. It’s wrong for boys to like boys.” He looks up at his house that has now come into view and quickly rushes towards the front door, just wanting to get inside. He sloppily tosses his coat onto the coat rack and makes his way to his room, ignoring his dad’s questions of ‘how was it?’ and ‘did you have fun?’.

Stop thinking. Just stop thinking.

He sits down on his bed, gently landing and bouncing on the mattress. He grabs a pair of pajamas from the dresser across from his bed and quickly changes into them. He runs his hands over his face with a groan as he flops face-first into his pillow.

He lifts himself up, kneeling on his bed. He clasps his hands together.

“Dear God, please fix me. Fix the feelings I’m having. Get rid of them.” He shuts his eyes tightly as he drops his hands. 

I’m not supposed to feel like this. No, please. It’s not right, please, fix me. 

He begs to nobody. He wants to be fixed, to be normal. That’s all he needs right now. To be fixed. He needs someone to fix him. 

“I’m sorry, Dad, you’re disappointed. I know. I’m sorry, God.” He feels hot tears streaming down his cheeks, as he quickly wipes them and then proceeds to wipe his eyes, lying down in his bed. He lies on his side and stares at the wall before closing his eyes.

He drowsily begs in his head the same thing over and over: “Fix me.”

Chapter Text

Winnie sat in the grass, staring out at the ice. It was 1 AM. He hadn’t moved from his spot, not once, nor had he attempted to sleep. 

A soft drop of rain lands atop his head, and he begins to hear the soft patter of rain on the iced over lake and the trees. He closes his eyes as oddly warm tears begin streaming down his face. They long to be cold raindrops landing on his cheeks, but they never will be.

His hair slowly begins to grow heavier, along with his clothes, the rain soaking into both of them. He closes his eyes and curls his knees up to his chest, before burying his face into his knees.

He shivers in the cold rain as it pours from the clouds, yet stays still. He doesn't care enough to find a warmer or drier spot. 

He wants to scream. He needs to scream. But he can't. He feels like he has no mouth. It’s painful.

Help me, he wants to say, I need help. But to no avail. He feels like he’s encased in ice. He feels frozen, in the sense that he’s cold and still.

He can hardly tell what’s happening in his surroundings anymore. He doesn't know if he can even tell. He lifts his head up slowly.

Maybe he should’ve taken more pills. Maybe he should’ve laid on his back when he threw up. Maybe he should’ve–

His thoughts stopped when he heard an umbrella open right over him. It had to be a hallucination, right?

“Auggie, please. Not now,” he murmurs. Even though he can hear the rain falling on the umbrella and the fact he’s no longer feeling the rain on him, he wants to believe it’s a hallucination.

“I’m not Augustine.”

That’s not Leo. Leo doesn’t know who Auggie is. Leo doesn’t sound like that.

Winnie turns his head to look at the person standing behind him.

“Why are you still here?” Winnie looks up at Grayson, who is already looking down at him.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left by now. I’ve been watching you sulk for the past hour. Are you not tired?” Winnie sighs, looking back down at the ground.

“I am,” Winnie responds in a blank voice.

“Then why aren't you going home?” Grayson asks, scoffing with a laugh.

“Go away,” Winnie murmurs, closing his eyes. Grayson takes notice of Winnie closing his eyes.

“Don't fall asleep now, come on. Get up,” Grayson says, nudging Winnie with his foot. 

“Why are you acting so nice all of a sudden?” Winnie asks through gritted teeth.

“Can a man not offer an act of service?” Grayson nudges Winnie again with slightly more force. Winnie stands up quickly and pushes his way past Grayson. In a silent response, Grayson quickly reaches to grab Winnie’s arm.

Winnie tugs his arm away with a frustrated growl. Grayson tilts his head with a raised eyebrow, that cocky smirk still on his face.

“Are you obsessed with me or something?” Winnie asks, his eyebrows furrowed and knitted together.

“Hah, as if,” Grayson replies condescendingly. 

“You can't be saying that when you practically stalked me all day, watched me sit here for an hour, assumingly checked the forecast—otherwise you wouldn't have had an umbrella, and also, oh, I don't know, found my phone number without me ever telling you.”

Grayson stares at Winnie with wide eyes, the smirk wiped off his face.

“You're just proving you’re mentally ill, y’know that? Most of that never happened.”

Winnie turns his back to Grayson. 

“Right, and Auggie didn't die,” he mutters underneath his breath. He continues walking away, Grayson now silent and non bothersome for the moment.

Winnie stands at the edge of the road, freezing as he stands on the edge of the sidewalk. A car passes by uncomfortably close to the curb. He watches as it passes by, before looking down to the concrete underneath him.

He debates on stepping forward before turning and continuing his walk down the sidewalk. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, rain droplets landing on the screen. He wipes the screen off with his sleeve every now and then. 

He slowly swipes up on his home screen, checking for any notifications. 

‘No Older Notifications’

Despite it, he opens the texts between him and Leo. His fingers hover over the keys as he stops in his tracks. His fingers tremble slightly. 

‘i’m sorry’

Winnie sends it with a shaky thumb. He looks around before shoving his phone back into his pocket, walking a bit quicker down the sidewalk. 

I just wanna go home, let me go home.

He turns down corner after corner before finally reaching his house, walking inside quietly so as to not wake up his parents if they’re already asleep. He enters his room and closes the door silently. 

He leans his head against the door with his hand still on the door knob. He feels tears in his eyes, stinging them as if they don’t already hurt. He rubs his eyes as he walks over to his dresser.

He lays his head down on top of it, hardly even wanting to move anymore. If he could, he would just stay here for the rest of his life. 

Despite the thought, he changes into his pajamas and lies down in his bed. He rolls onto his side and covers himself with his blanket. He stares at the wall, sighing, although it’s more of a yawn. He closes his eyes as he attempts to hold back tears.

“I’m sorry, Leo. I love you,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to his face to cover his mouth. The tears that threatened to pour earlier are back, and instead of simply threatening, they begin falling from his eyes. He wipes them away, trying to get rid of them as fast as he can. 

He shoves his face into his pillow until he feels no more tears. He flips his pillow over and lies his head back down on it. He lies on his back, his stomach, both sides, tossing and turning. He feels uncomfortable in practically every way.

He feels out of place. Not just in his bed, but everywhere. Anywhere he goes, he feels out of place. 

His thoughts dart around in his mind, most of them ending before they can even finish from how fast new ones come up. 

“Please don’t hate me, Leo. I can’t lose you.”

Chapter Text

Winnie covered his ears as his phone rang, interrupting the little sleep he got. He reaches blindly for his phone, staring at the screen. He immediately shot up as he read Leo’s name on the screen. He stares blankly at it as it rings before hesitantly accepting it and putting the phone up to his ear. It’s silent.

“You there?” Leo says quietly. Winnie lets out a quiet hum in response. “Why did you apologize?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I did something wrong,” Winnie murmurs, his voice trembling.

“You didn’t,” Leo says, offering comfort, but to no avail. The thoughts in the back of Winnie’s mind that tell him he did something wrong only grow, so he must’ve done something wrong. Was it when he tried to kiss him?

“Sorry,” Winnie murmurs again.

“Stop, I should be the one saying sorry,” Leo says with an odd tone of authority.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“Then neither of us should be saying sorry,” Leo says, his attempt at a compromise. It’s silent for far too long.

“I love you, Leo,” Winnie says with a tone that sounds as if he’s smiling.

“Cut it out,” Leo almost shouts, fear evident in his voice. The next thing Winnie hears is the click of the call ending.

Winnie’s smile immediately fades as he lowers the phone from his ear. He lets out a melancholy laugh, which sounds more like a scoff. His eyebrows knit together as he grips his phone tightly. His knuckles turn white as he holds his phone. He feels like the phone might shatter in his hands. He takes a shaky breath as he trembles and holds back his tears.

He sets his phone down on his nightstand as he grabs his bottle of Zoloft. He shakes the last tablet onto his hand and places it on the back of his tongue. He sets the bottle down and grabs his water, taking a large sip to get the tablet down. He shakes his head quickly after he swallows. 

His eyes sting as he yawns, partly from little sleep, partly from wanting to cry. 

“Don’t do it,” he whispers to himself. He looks down at the ground. He picks up his phone and scrolls through his contacts, before landing on Grayson’s. He sighs deeply before pressing the message button and slowly typing out a message to him.

‘why did you call me that?’

He presses send and sits down on his bed, staring at his screen. He immediately notices it was read almost as soon as he sent it.

‘I dunno man i was just really out of it i’m sorry’

‘it’s okay. can we talk?’

Winnie sighs after he sends that message.

‘Over text or in person?’

“Why would you ask me that?” Winnie murmurs.

‘in person’

“Why did I say that?!” Winnie scolds himself.

‘K i can meet you somewhere or something. What you wanna do?’

‘ill meet you at the park in a few’ 

Grayson replies with a simple thumbs up emoji. Winnie sighs and changes into the easiest outfit he can. He flattens out his hair before leaving the house with a deep sigh. 

Winnie stands on the sidewalk next to the park.

What am I doing?

Suddenly, someone grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Boo!” They shout playfully. Winnie immediately tenses up as he attempts to stifle a scream by covering his mouth. He whips around and pants as he stares at Grayson who has a smug smirk on his face.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Winnie says, his body untensing.

“Calm down, you said you wanted to talk, not argue,” Grayson says, waving his hand dismissively. “Come on, let’s go grab a bench, hm?” Grayson signals his head towards a nearby bench. Winnie sighs as he shoves his hands in his pockets. They sit uncomfortably close on the bench. Grayson puts his arms on the back of the bench, looking at Winnie. It’s silent.

“You gonna talk or just sit there?”

“Sorry,” Winnie murmurs. “Uh, so… I want you to promise me something.” Grayson nods in response. “Promise you won’t act like you did last night. With the whole…thing.” Grayson gazes away.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what I was doing. I think I was jealous for some reason.”

Winnie snaps his head over to Grayson.

“What? Um, whatever. So, uh… Leo called me this morning.”

“Is that the other guy?” Grayson asks.

“Yeah. He called me. It was a really short call. It ended with me saying ‘I love you,’ and he said ‘cut it out’ before ending the call. I don’t know what to do.” Grayson looked at Winnie with an oddly sympathetic face.

“I’m sorry about that. Really. If it makes you feel better, I love you…as a friend.” Winnie looks over to Grayson.

“Right. As a friend. I feel like Leo doesn’t even like me. Even as a friend. I feel…stuck. He was one of the best people I’ve met. At least, it felt like it,” Winnie mutters, just loud enough for Grayson to hear.

“Well, I guess he wasn’t what he seemed. I’ll be better from now on, so you can talk to me whenever. Promise. Alright?” Winnie looks at Grayson hesitantly. He then nods.

“Alright. Can I… Can I have a hug? Please? Just this once.” Grayson laughs.

“I doubt it’ll be just this once,” Grayson says, before gently wrapping his arms around Winnie.

This feels like a trap. Why would he be suddenly nice after last night? This doesn’t feel right.

“Do you promise me you’ll be better?”

“I already said promise, numbskull,” Grayson says with a playful, ruffling Winnie’s hair.

Winnie immediately pulls away.

“Ah– Stop. Don’t do that.” Winnie fixes his hair.

“My bad.” 

“Either way, I just… I kinda wish I could go back in time. I wish I hadn’t told Leo I loved him,” Winnie says.

“Well, at least you know now that he wasn’t good for you.”

Yeah. Not good for me.

“I should go home. That’s all I really wanted to say,” Winnie murmurs as he stands up. Grayson quickly stands up and grabs Winnie’s wrist. He holds his other hand out, offering for Winnie to take it.

“Want me to walk you home?”

Winnie stares at him before hesitantly nodding and taking his hand.

“Don’t be so hesitant, Win,” Grayson says. For once, he feels relatively okay with the nickname ‘Win.’

Chapter Text

“Winnie, please. I didn’t mean it.” Leo’s leg bounces as he sits on his bed. He has his phone up to his ear, trying to call Winnie. The phone rang for a few seconds before sending Leo to voicemail.

“Please. I don't know why I said that, just…answer me, please.” Leo lowers the phone and ends the voicemail with a sigh. He grips his phone tightly. “I…I love you, too,” he chokes out.

Leo stares at his phone, as if waiting for something. He closes his eyes as he starts feeling tears wet his eyelashes. He feels his phone vibrate and he immediately opens his eyes. He feels himself freeze temporarily before answering the call. The call from Winnie. He inhales to speak before getting cut off by Winnie.

“Do you even like me?” Winnie asks. 

“What?” Leo is stunned for a brief moment. “Of course I do, you're…my friend.”

“Then why— I just…” A quiet and muffled sob can faintly be heard from Winnie’s side of the phone.

“Winnie, please. Don’t cry,” Leo says, an undertone of desperation showing through the subtle cracks of his voice. It’s silent. Quiet mumbling can be heard from Winnie’s side.

“I talked with Grayson today,” he says, barely audible.

“ What? ” Leo’s voice is suddenly sharp and cold.

“He said sorry for what he did. I just…thought you should know that.”

“Why were you talking with him after last night?”

“I don’t know. He said sorry and that he wouldn’t act like that again. He promised,” Winnie’s voice shakes as he explains the situation.

“Whatever,” Leo scoffs.

“Leo– I don’t want you to get mad at me again. He promised .”

“You can’t seriously believe that. Don’t you remember what he did? What he called us– No, what he called you ? What he did to me ?!” Leo’s voice cracks through his anger.

“I remember, trust me, I remember, but… He was better. He said he wouldn’t do that again. He was nice to me. He explained the whole thing. I think he was just…unnerved to see me.”

“You’re making a bad decision, Winnie,” Leo says.

“Please trust me. Just this once?” Winnie murmurs. “I want to believe he can be better.” Leo scoffs before ending the call. He wants to throw his phone on the ground, but he restrains himself. He takes a few deep breaths, thinking about his situation. 

“How can he do that? He almost killed me, and Winnie just forgives him because he promised ?”

He feels tears form before he wipes them away. He opens his messages with Winnie.

‘Give me Grayson’s number.’ 

‘ok’

Without another comment, Winnie sends Leo Grayson’s phone number. Leo immediately goes to send Grayson a text message.

‘What are you doing to Winnie? Why are you being nice all of a sudden? What are you doing to get him on your side?’

‘Who are you’

‘Leo.’

‘Ohh it’s you. Yeah i’m not doing anything to him i’m literally just talking to him. He came up to me first tbh’

‘Why would he come up to you?’

‘Well he came to me and complained about you so i don’t know if he even really likes you anymore cause he said you hurt his feelings’

‘I called him earlier. I’m mad at him because of this whole situation with you, but otherwise, we’re fine.’

‘K well you’re not good for him. Idk what else to tell you’

I’m losing my mind. This has to be fake. This is a dream. It has to be. A really bad dream.

‘Speaking of coming up and talking, I want to talk to you. In person.’

‘Sure you do’

‘Meet me at Jubilee.’

Leo powers off his phone and walks out of his house in clothes that are, at the least, a little presentable, but he could care less. He rushes down the sidewalk with a huff, feeling ready to punch Grayson once more with no remorse.

He sits at a bench with his arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. He lowers his head, looking down at his feet.

“Where is this mother…” His words trail off as he sees another pair of feet approach in front of his own. He looks up and sees the dreaded face of Grayson. He inhales deeply before sighing, having to hold back the urge to kick him to the ground.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Grayson’s voice shows no room for anything funny. His face is blank yet dead serious at the same time.

“I kinda just wanna punch you at this point,” Leo says, leaning against the back of the bench.

“With that posture you aren’t. And you wouldn’t dare, not here,” Grayson rolls his eyes, teasing Leo with a flat voice.

“I would.”

“Do it, then, you won’t,” Grayson taps Leo’s leg with his foot. Leo huffs before standing up, pushing Grayson slightly back in the process, before punching him in the shoulder weakly. Grayson’s brows furrow as he gently rubs the muscle, before straightening himself out.

“There, are you happy now?” Leo says, his words having a slight bite to them. Grayson rolls his eyes again.

“What did you even wanna talk about?” Grayson says, gently pushing his way past Leo to sit on the bench.

“Winnie. Why are you talking to him?”

“God,” Grayson laughs, “I didn’t know you were that obsessed with him.”

“You told him to lie to me, didn’t you? ‘Cause from what he told me, he said you were doing better.”

“Aren’t I? I haven’t strangled you again, have I?” Grayson grins in an almost wicked manner. Leo sighs loudly as he bites the inside of his cheeks.

“I really wish you would just shut up,” Leo mutters through gritted teeth.

“You sure do love playing the victim, huh?” Grayson says, looking at Leo. Leo’s entire body grows tense and he feels like he’ll catch on fire out of rage. His fists shake slightly as he turns his head to look at Grayson.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Leo says with a forced smile.

“Y’know what? Listen to me for a second. If you quit acting like I’m manipulating Win or whatever and you quit sulking and acting like I’m the worst person in the world, I’ll be nicer. Deal?” Grayson says this with an oddly serious face as he holds out a hand for a handshake. Leo looks down at Grayson’s hand with a suspicious look. He firmly grips Grayson’s hand and shakes it hesitantly.

“It’s gonna take some getting used to,” Leo murmurs. Grayson smiles as Leo shakes his hand. He pulls his hand away and takes his other hand out of his pocket to stretch for a brief moment as he stands up.

“Glad we can start seeing on the same terms now,” Grayson says, that smile still on his face. It looks genuine.

Chapter Text

Grayson watched Leo as he left the park, the smile on his face fading into a look of disgust. He scoffs before pulling out his phone. He fumbles with it for a moment, almost dropping it to the ground, before gripping it tightly. He opens his and Winnie’s messages, quickly beginning to type.

‘I talked with Leo and we’re on good terms we should all hang sometime’

‘maybe’

‘But where though’

‘idc’

‘K I’ll ask Leo’

‘ok’

“What’s up with him?” Grayson says with a sneer. He shakes his head dismissively before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“I really wish I killed that guy when I had the chance. He wasn’t stopping me.” Grayson thinks back on it as though it was a fond memory. He smiles as a sadistic feeling flows through his veins.

Leo mentally curses himself. Why is he agreeing to any of this? His phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s suddenly in a group chat with Winnie and Grayson.

‘Win do you think it’d be alright if we all hung out at your house tomorrow’

‘sure’

Leo types out a response, almost shaking with anger.

‘I’m up for it!’ 

He wouldn’t be surprised if the fake excitement in his text flew over Grayson’s head. He seems stupid enough to fall for it.

‘what about 2pm?’

‘Cool I’ll see ya there’

‘Same!’

Leo shuts off his phone with a growl. Grayson is up to something. He can see through that pitiful façade.

Or maybe it’s his rage. Is Grayson genuinely trying to make up for what he did? But this fast? This easy? Why? Why would he do that? Leo bites his lip harshly. A metallic taste suddenly fills his mouth. He releases his lip from his teeth and rubs his thumb along it, blood pooling onto his thumb.

He stares at his now red thumb as his face drops. 

Not again. I’m not going back to this.

He spits onto the sidewalk, most of it red and bloody. He continues walking, the blood from his lips leaking into his mouth. He tries to ignore it. 

Winnie sits on his bed, his hands tightly gripping tufts of his hair. His legs bounce as he stares at the floor. He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. He’s scared. 

He lets go of his hair with a hand, just to now tightly grip his phone, staring at the messages on it. They’re both gonna be at his house. Tomorrow. He turns his phone off and sets it on his bed, standing up. His hands shake as he leaves his room, slowly dragging himself to his parents room.

Winnie’s dad is in the bed. He looks over, noticing Winnie in the doorway.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He says, waving his hand, signaling for Winnie to come over. Winnie walks to the side of the bed, fiddling with his fingers.

“Uhm, I have some friends coming over. Tomorrow. Uh, yeah. That’s… yeah,” Winnie murmurs awkwardly as he steps back. His dad stares at him for a moment, before nodding.

“That’s alright. Thanks for telling me,” his father focuses his attention to his nightstand, looking at the calendar. “Make sure they’re gone by 10, I don’t want you staying up too late.” Winnie nods, quickly leaving the room. He sighs as he enters his room, collapsing face first into his pillow. He groans loudly into it.

What is he doing? Why is he letting those two into his house?

It doesn’t matter. No backing out now. Even if he wishes he could.

Maybe he should just cut them off. Both of them. Maybe that would be better. For him to not have any more relations with either of them. He feels like it would be better. He would be happier. He would be happier without them.

He lifts himself off of his bed, grabbing his phone with an insane fervor. He opens the groupchat, his hands trembling. He starts typing an unconscious rant, hardly knowing what he’s trying to say. Half the words are misspelled, there’s no punctuation except for the full stops in random places, letters and spaces are doubled, maybe tripled, from his shaking hands.

When did I type that? I didn’t…

I wouldn’t say that.

He wouldn’t say they made his life horrible. He wouldn’t say he’s better than them. He wouldn’t say he has to cut them off first, so it doesn’t hurt when they inevitably cut him off.

How long did I type this for?

The text fills the message box, and he has to scroll for at least a few seconds to see the entirety.

What the hell?

He selects the whole message, pressing the backspace. It’s all gone now. All he remembers is the last thing he typed. 

‘I’m blocking both of you.’

Perfect grammar, oddly formal. Did he have to get his point across like that? Was there even a point to this message that would’ve taken him hours to type if he was consciously typing it? Who knows? Certainly not him.

Grayson is in his room. He stares at the outfit he laid out. Tank-top and basketball shorts. Sure, it’s the middle of Winter, but that’s the idea. Loose and cold clothing, that way he can borrow a hoodie and gloves. It’d be perfect. He’d get away with it.

The rush was exhilarating, first of all. And he wouldn’t have to worry about him getting in the way anymore. Winnie would be focused on him. He sits on his bed before leaning over himself. His mouth contorts into a sick grin. 

He’d have Winnie all to himself.