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This island sucked.
The cabins were disgusting, crammed with filth and garbage. Duncan could barely get any sleep. Being stuck around those insufferable idiots only pissed him off even more. He’d been switched onto the heroes team, swapping teams with Courtney, since apparently he’d become a nice guy, and now these losers wouldn’t stop hovering around him, being all giddy like he actually belonged with them.
Duncan hated it. They acted like they were one big happy family in some beautiful mansion, as if they weren’t stranded on a miserable excuse of an island with a psycho host who’d happily tortured them if it got good ratings. They were just playing nice until the million dollars was theirs.
And of course they had to drag Duncan into it. He’s not one of them, and he never will be. Why couldn’t they get that through their thick skulls?
Duncan sighed, forcing the irritation out of his head. He was in the heroes cabin, and it was late. A quick glance around him told him everyone was asleep in their bunks. Almost everyone, at least.
Duncan shoved that thought aside. It didn’t mean anything. He was probably just in the bathroom or something. He didn’t like thinking about him.
Just remembering his existence always left a dreadful knot in Duncan's stomach. He hated being anywhere near him, he hated seeing him with that sickening chipper voice, he hated watching him smile like nothing was wrong.
He hated him.
…Then why the hell did he sign up for another season after seeing him in the previous one?
Duncan’s thoughts went silent.
He was terribly exhausted. He needed to get out of this shitty cabin before his own head drove him insane. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling around until his fingers brushed his lighter and pack of cigarettes.
He stood immediately, maybe a little too fast. A sharp pain stabbed through his head. His vision lurched, and the room tilted for a split second.
“Tch…” He steadied himself against the wall before staggering outside. The island was pretty quiet, and the darkness swallowed almost every sound. It felt strangely comforting, but not at the same time.
The ache in his head still pulsed, and his vision refused to sharpen. A cigarette would fix it.
Unfortunately, he’d have to go somewhere more secluded. Anyone could come out and find Duncan like this, and he refuses to let anyone see his unhealthy habits, or his weaknesses, or how pathetic he is, or—
He cut the thought off before it could go any further, and walked towards what he could make out as the direction of the forest. He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible just in case someone was nearby.
It was quiet. There wasn't much he could do to fill the silence besides lighting a cigarette, which he’d have to wait for until he found somewhere out of sight.
His mind drifted to the people on this island. Most of them got on his nerves in one way or another.
Gwen didn’t.
She was funny, confident, liked the same things he liked. She was everything Duncan could’ve wanted in a girl. Something fluttered in his chest.
He frowned. It didn't feel anything like adoration, or love, or excitement. It was something else. Something like.. uneasiness.
His pace faltered for a split second.
I love Gwen.
The thought came automatically, but it didn’t settle right. It felt rehearsed, a line he’d repeated so many times he’d stopped questioning it entirely. If he really loved her, why did being around her leave him feeling split in two? Why did it feel like he was trying to convince himself of something he should’ve known without thinking?
He thought about Courtney.
Courtney had always wanted to win. Every stupid little thing became a competition for her. She'd do anything to taste victory, even if it meant going to extreme lengths. Everything about her personality aggravated him so much, though maybe he took a little pride in it as well. He made her that way, after all.
He hates to admit it, but he doesn’t know what to think about her. Some days he hated her. Other days he couldn't tell if he really missed her or just missed having someone who challenged him. He wasn’t going to apologize for breaking her heart when she’d spent days trying to dictate who he was supposed to be.
Duncan scowled at the thought as he walked in the forest. He could faintly hear sounds, but he paid no attention to it. His mind was focused on other things.
He remembered how he convinced Courtney to let loose, to break just a few rules. Maybe that’s why she had become so harsh and obsessed.
The thought of Courtney trying to reshape him still got under his skin. It was a long time ago, but it still kept agitating him even now.
She wanted a version of him that fit neatly beside her, trying to take the only part of him he felt proud of, and reduce him back to his weak, useless self. It was so irritating.
He had done so much to fix that part of Duncan, after all.
Duncan froze.
His eyes widened, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. He ducked behind the nearest tree and peeked around the trunk.
Someone was lying in the grass with their back turned toward him. Long, dark brown hair spilled over their shoulders, and their clothes were unmistakable. It was Mike.
Or not. Duncan couldn’t tell. What unsettled him most was what he was doing.
Silent sobs wracked ‘Mike’s’ body. He shook so violently it looked painful, one hand clamped tightly over their mouth to smother the sounds. The other dug jagged lines into their arm before suddenly striking it instead. Again and again and again. Over and over and over.
Duncan watched in silence. He didn’t know what to do. His instincts told him to go over there, try and help ‘Mike’ calm down, ask him what’s wrong, anything. But another voice shoved that thought aside.
Don't go. It’s a trick. Get close and he’ll tear you apart.
It wasn’t really Mike. Duncan knew that all too well, more than anyone.
…So, why? Why would he do that to himself? Duncan swallowed. Leaving him alone there felt wrong, cruel.
Who cares? He made his choice. Let him deal with it. Besides, since when were you the hero?
His thoughts kept chasing each other in circles until he couldn’t tell which ones were his anymore. A tightness spread through his chest—something like fear. Or guilt, maybe. His head had begun to pound. The muffled sobs kept coming, louder and louder. So did the dull thuds of his fists striking his arm.
Duncan took a deep breath, and slid away from the tree, taking a step back as quietly as possible. then another.
It’s not my problem.
He turned around and continued walking.
Five steps.
Six.
Seven.
The sobbing didn’t stop.
“…God, damn it.”
He dragged a hand down his face before turning back towards ‘Mike’.
“I hate this.”
Duncan began to walk forward, closing the distance one careful step at a time. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to startle ‘Mike’, but he couldn’t hide how every step sent the grass rustling beneath his shoes.
Shit.
Duncan ducked behind the nearest tree, but it was already too late. The crying stopped. one hand hung frozen in mid air before it could strike his arm again.
‘Mike’s’ head jerked up. He quickly pulled his sleeves down, scanning the trees. Duncan knew exactly who it was now—his hair was a mess, and his bangs were pushed low over one eye.
It was Mal.
His face was streaked with sweat and tears, and his eyes were red and glassy. For a second, he looked stunned and out of it, like he hadn’t quite realized where he was and what he had been doing.
Then his gaze locked onto Duncan. His expression twisted into something horrified.
Duncan froze. He couldn't find his voice, so he just stared back. He didn't know what expression he was making, but it probably wasn’t good, seeing how Mal's shock quickly collapsed into anger.
“Go away.” The words felt tight, forced through visible discomfort.
Duncan flinched. “But—“
“Get out!” Mal snapped. “What do you want!? Stop watching me! I don’t need your pity!”
Duncan took a step back. He didn’t want to upset Mal any further. He was terrified. Terrified of pushing him to his limits. He hated how weak he seemed right now, curling into himself just from the sting of a few words.
And yet, he still didn’t leave. He couldn’t explain why, so he just stayed where he was.
Duncan’s mouth opened and he spoke without thinking.
“…What the hell was that?”
Mal’s face quickly grew more irritated, and he scowled.
“I told you to leave.”
Duncan hesitated, then he let out a small, uneasy laugh that didn’t really sound like a laugh.
“Yeah, I heard you. You're not exactly subtle.”
Mal’a glare sharpened immediately. “You didn’t see anything,” he said flatly.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Mal’s jaw tightened. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding.
“You weren’t supposed to see anything.”
“Yeah, well. It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to relax.”
“I don’t care. Leave.”
The words were sharp and firm, but something felt off about them. There was barely any anger in it, and it didn’t reach his eyes. It felt automatic and strained.
Duncan stared at him. He couldn’t tell if Mal was still shaking or just holding himself too still.
“…You were just—“ Duncan stopped himself. Saying he was breaking down didn’t feel safe to say.
Mal’s expression darkened instantly. "Don't," He snarled.
Duncan went silent. For a moment, neither of them moved. The forest felt louder than before, but between them, it felt tight and suffocating.
Mal’s hands flexed at his sides, like he was deciding whether to attack or leave.
“You’re not telling anyone,” he finally said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Duncan let out a short breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Like anyone would believe me anyway.” That earned him a suspicious look, Mal’s eyes narrowing. Duncan hesitated, then quietly and softly added something else.
“…I’m not trying to hurt you.”
Mal’s expression faltered, just for a second. It wasn't anger, but it wasn’t relief either. Something more complicated, and gone too fast to name. Then he returned to his cold expression.
“Leave,” Mal said again. The word carried more weight, but oddly, it sounded softer. Duncan didn’t move right away. He looked at him for a moment, before finally nodding.
“…Okay,” Duncan muttered.
He turned to leave.
“Sorry.”
The apology slipped out before he could stop it. Duncan's eyes widened slightly. Behind him, it was silent. He glanced back.
Mal was still there. The anger and wariness had disappeared from his face, and in its place was something Duncan couldn’t quite make sense of—his expression had loosened, and the tension in his shoulders eased up just enough to notice.
Then it was gone. Duncan looked away first. He started walking again, slowly, one step at a time.
The look on Mal's face when Duncan had apologized stayed in his mind. He didn’t look like the ruthless and manipulative person Duncan had always known him to be. He instead seemed surprised, maybe a little happy, as if no one had apologized to him in a very long time. Duncan frowned.
He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.