Young Writers Society

"Sounds like a good deal," Derik agreed. "I hear you're quite talented at it, too."

"I mean, I sure hope so!" Bo laughed. "Otherwise I'm out of a job when school's over and I've wasted four years of my life, lol."

Derik smiled slightly. Almost imperceptibly, but Jerica caught it. She grinned. He liked Bo. That was good. Derik kept talking, "Got any job prospects lined up? You graduate pretty soon, yeah?"

"Yeah, graduation is upon us," Bo said. "I have actually put in a bunch of different job applications already, testing the waters. There's at least five places that have got back wanting interviews and two I've already talked to that want me. Honestly I'm just trying to see what my best options are since it's looking like I have the privilege to be at least a little picky. There's this Thai restaurant I'm leaning towards because the kitchen culture there seems really friendly actually, which is pretty rare. And they're super open to talking through having reasonable and flexible hours. It just overall gave me good vibes."

"That sounds great!" Derik said, offering an actual smile this time. "Where is that? Nearby?"

"It's about 30ish mins away depending on traffic. Pretty far downtown a bit but not super far, nah," Bo said.

Jerica gave Bo's hand a squeeze. She, of course, only wanted the very best for Bo. But she really hoped that his best option -- the one he'd be happiest at -- would be that was nearby so that she could keep him around. And from the way he'd gushed at her after his interview, it seemed like the Thai restaurant was a solid option.

"Have we ever been there?" Derik asked, looking over at Rek, who shook his head. Derik looked back in the mirror at Bo. "Ah! Then I suppose we'll have to visit you sometime, if that's where you end up choosing."

Jerica eyed the side of Derik's head, a vague sense of uneasiness settling over her. He was being too casual. And far, far too cheery -- given the fact that she knew he was upset about the whole situation. He wasn't one to be distracted this easily. If he was pretending to have forgotten about how angry he was at her; then, well:



She bit her lip, looking between them, trying to gauge the vibes.

"That'd be awesome," Bo said with a small smile. "I'd be working in the kitchen so it's not like you'd get me as a server, but I'm sure I could pop my head out and say hi."

"And we'd get to enjoy the spoils of your effort," Derik commented. "Get to enjoy some of this legendary Andrei Robert Bo Petrov's culinary prowess."

Bo laughed at that.

"Depends what you order, but I guess I could let you know where in the kitchen I end up working so you can order something I actually make," Bo said.

"Sounds like a plan!" Derik said brightly. She was definitely in trouble. Enough trouble, it seemed, that he was going to wait for privacy to flay her. Would she and Bo get to stay in the same hospital room as each other? Or was her lecture coming soon? "I've been meaning to get up this way more. Especially feel like I should be up here, now that Jer's up here as well."

Definitely in trouble.

"Ah, that should be n--nice," Bo said, but his sentence started to waver, and Jerica saw his face twitching again. He scrunched up his right eye, shaking his head, but evidently to no avail. "Ah. Uh. Sorry. It's hurting again."

And, just like that, all of her worry about what was coming for her -- was suddenly gone, replaced by complete terror at what was happening to Bo. What was happening to Bo? She didn't understand. Did he have cancer? Or.. or... she was scared to Google the other possibilities. No, she needed to stay in the moment. To try to comfort him, however she could.

"How far are we?" Jerica asked, chest tight, as she looked up at Derik.

"I would think you knew how long it took to get to the hospital," Derik said dryly.

"Derik," Jerica snapped. This wasn't the time for jokes.

"We're close," Derik relented. "Maybe two-three more minutes? You hanging on back there, big guy?"

Bo was starting to slouch in his seat, and his normal friendly chattiness had disappeared as he squinted off to the side with a clearly pained expression and unfocused eyes.

"Uh, yeah," he said, barely audible. But he looked like he could throw up if prodded.

Jerica unbuckled herself and slid closer to him, brow knit together in concern. Derik glanced back at her, but decided against chiding her. That wouldn't be helpful. Jerica reached up to put her hand on his face. "You're burning up."

"Mm?" Bo hummed distantly. "How hot?"

"You're even hotter than usual," Jerica said, but her delivery was flat. She wanted to break the tension, but she was so scared.

Bo laughed weakly, but his expression remained pained. It looked like his right eye was starting to water.

"I feel accomplished," he mumbled.

"Oh?" she asked, voice barely more than a breath. So worried.

"I heard this line," Bo said, his voice still quiet and mumbly. "From a TV show. It's really corny. Wanna hear it?"

His right eye started crying, with big fat tears, and he kept his eyes squinted to the point they were mostly shut. Without waiting for her reply, he went on.

"It goes like: 'I can't wait to wake up tomorrow,'" he said. "'Because I get more attractive every day.'"

Jerica had started crying, too, but was actively refusing to let herself make noise with it. How had this week gotten so bad?

"Okay maybe it's more cheesy than corny," Bo said. "I don't know the difference."

"I think one's dairy and one's grain," Jerica murmured, desperately trying to cater to his sense of humor. Even though she was miserable.

Bo grinned slightly.

"Yeah. Maybe you should change majors. With that knowledge you could get a culinary degree too," Bo said, his smile having faded as he leaned his head back, letting out a shallow breath through his nose.

"You're so dumb." She'd basically crawled into his lap at this point, and now turned to face him fully, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug and burying her face in his shoulder, still crying. "You have to be okay. You have to."

Bo brought his arm around her shoulders and patted her head gently.

"Okay," he said quietly.

They turned into the hospital parking lot and Derik pulled right up to the Emergency Room entrance. Jerica finished sliding all the way over Bo and pushed open the driver's side door, leaning down to unbuckle him, like the overbearing mother hen she was being, taking his hand. "We're here. Come on."

All Bo did was hum in reply as he let her lead him out of the car.

She wrapped her arm around him and started inside.

Derik and Rek exchanged another look. At this point, her mental state was almost more concerning than her physical. Derik handed Rek the keys. He took them silently and went to park the car. Derik followed Bo and Jerica into the lobby.

The receptionist's eyes went wide as they landed on Jerica's sorry state, then she eyed Bo suspiciously, clearly thinking the two things were connected. "Let's get you into a room, miss."

"Not me." Jerica shook her head vigorously. "Him. He's blind!"

"I lost sight in my right eye," Bo said, his voice distant. "About fifteen... uh... accompanied by... stabbing pain. Nausea."

The receptionist looked at Jerica another long moment, still visibly suspicious, but slowly relented and turned her attention back to Bo. "Let's get you to triage."

Jerica was still crying, but was desperately trying to get herself under control as she escorted Bo to the intake area. A nurse waved her off as she began taking Bo's vitals. Another nurse stepped forward with a clipboard with patient intake papers on it.

Jerica took it, looking down at Bo. "I can--"

"Fill out your own." Derik stepped between her and Bo, and pointed at a nearby chair, giving her a stern look. "That's what you can do."

"I'm fine--" she started to argue.

"You made a promise," Derik interrupted. "No arguments. You set those terms yourself."

Jerica took a deep breath, everything within her screaming to protest. To try to make Derik see how much more concerning Bo's injuries were than hers. Her head hurt and her hand might be broken or whatever. Those healed. But blindness?

She eyed Derik. He had a dangerous glint in his eye. If she didn't comply, he would escalate things, right here in front of everyone. In front of Bo. That would be humiliating. Besides, she had set those terms. And Derik had gotten Bo to the ER as she'd pleaded. She sighed deeply and sank down in the chair opposite Bo, peeking around the nurse checking his blood pressure. "How are you feeling now?"

"Still not too great," Bo said faintly. "But I'm hanging in there. You?"

"I'm fine." She rubbed her face. "I've been fine." She looked up at the nurse. "Why can't he see?"

"We're going to find out," the nurse said, then turned back to Bo. "Let's get you back to an exam room. The doctor is ready to see you."

Bo turned to look at Jerica, but it was evident that only one eye was functioning. His right eye looked lazy, and didn't follow his left.

"Hang in there, Jer," Bo said with a weak smile as he reached out and gently patted her hand before the nurse pulled him away, and he was gone.

Jerica watched him go helplessly. The nurse turned her attention to Jerica next, taking her vitals. "And what you brought you in today?"

"A paranoid uncle," Jerica said sourly, sending a glare at Derik. He glared back even more fiercely, an authoritative dad-aura emanating from him. She caved first, and resentfully looked back at the nurse. "I got in a fight."

By the time they completed the intake and were ready to call her back, Rek had made it back inside, and all three were sitting in tense silence. Jerica had managed to get her emotions under control. She was still a hot mess on the inside and kept looking at her phone in case Bo texted her by some miracle, to let her know he could see again. But she had quelled the tears and was actively pretending that Derik wasn't angry. Even though they all knew that wasn't the case.

Well, maybe Bo didn't realize. He always saw the best in people. And he didn't know Derik's tells... And he hadn't heard how nasty Jerica had been to Derik over the phone earlier... and... how much she definitely had it coming. Whatever Derik decided to do -- she'd earned it.

All three of them stood when the nurse called her back, and, after a short argument, the nurse had grudgingly allowed Derik and Rek to accompany her to the exam room. If she'd known that was an option, she would be with Bo right now. But, she supposed it was probably just as well. If she consented to this stupidity, and the doctor informed Derik he was overreacting, maybe he'd calm down.

The nurse had her sit down on the exam table -- Rek and Derik sat in the chairs opposite her, silent as the nurse started asking questions. Jerica fielded all of the questions, trying to be patient. And then the nurse walked out of the room.

It seemed like she sucked all of the oxygen out of the room when she shut the door behind her. Instead of air, there was nothing but anxiety. She guiltily looked over at Derik. And, on cue, he stood and started towards her as soon as they were alone.

"It's not my fault!"Jerica defended, shrinking under his gaze.

"It is exactly your fault," Derik snapped. "Let me see."

Jerica reluctantly sat up a bit straighter, looking at his shoulder as he examined the knot on her head.

"I told you to stay out of it," Derik said, a clear edge in his voice. She swallowed hard. He continued, "And then you decided you'd go and put yourself in the middle of it."

"He was hurting my friend!" Jerica countered, looking up at him. "I couldn't just do nothing."

"That is exactly what you could have -- and should have -- done." Derik put his hand under her chin, grasp incredibly gentle and tender, despite the scowl on his face, as he looked over her bruises. "God, look at you, Jer!"

"He was hurting. My. Friend," Jerica emphasized.

"Right, yeah," Derik said sarcastically, picking up her right hand with equal care as he'd shown her face. "And you of course had to get involved because your friend is a helpless little girl that needs you to defend her, right?"

He knew full well it was James. Rek had spilled his guts. Rek always spilled his guts. She scowled at him. "It doesn't matter what his gender or his sex is. A friend is a friend. And I helped my friend. He. Was. Hurting. My. Friend."

"And then he hurt you." Derik's anger finally broke, the fear underlying it all poking through. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. It hurt. But she decidedly refused to so much as whimper. "God, Jer. You have to be more careful. You have to. You're not in grade school anymore. The bullies don't just leave a few bruises. He seriously hurt you."

Jerica couldn't really breathe. But she certainly wasn't going to admit that her ribs hurt so badly she couldn't bring herself to draw a breath through the strength of his embrace. But Derik seemed to realize as much, and loosened his grasp. He let out a shaky breath, putting his hand ever so gently on her cheek, as he leaned down and gingerly planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm okay," Jerica murmured, but it lacked the defensiveness and anger it'd held before. Now she genuinely wanted to reassure him. And, as much as she hated to admit it -- even to herself -- she wanted his comfort in return. She did feel like she was eleven all over again -- nursing her wounds in the school nurse's office after she, ironically, had beat up the school bully because he was terrorizing her friend.

The door opened and the doctor walked in.

Jerica flushed, embarrassed that the doctor had walked in on a private moment like this. Derik cleared his throat and awkwardly stepped away, sitting down on the literal edge of his seat as he nodded to the doctor.

"Hello Jerica," the doctor said brightly. She was a short plump woman with warm opal skin and curly black hair. "I'm Dr. Ada. Let's get you checked out, shall we?"

Jerica nodded silently, sitting up a bit straighter.

"What happened?" Dr. Ada asked, walking over to her with her stethoscope raised.

"I got in a fight," Jerica said sheepishly. "And I -- well I didn't lose -- but, I, uh... didn't... win? Either?"

"There are rarely winners when it comes to fighting, in my experience," Dr. Ada mused. "Breathe in deep for me."

Jerica took a deep breath, and the doctor listened.

"When did the fight happen?" Dr. Ada asked, moving the stethoscope to listen to Jerica's heart.

"Earlier," Jerica answered. "About noon, I guess."

Dr. Ada nodded. "Looks like you got hit on the head pretty hard. Can you tell me about that?"

"The bastard cheated," Jerica snapped.

"JERICA," Derik scolded.

"It's alright," Dr. Ada said with a small smile. "I try not to make judgment calls, but I won't stop Jerica... and you are, by the way?"

"Derik," Derik muttered. "The uncle. And guardian."

Dr. Ada raised an eyebrow, looking back at Jerica. "How old did you say you were?"

"Nineteen," Jerica muttered. "But... I don't mind if he stays."

As annoyed as they were with each other, Derik's presence still made her feel vaguely more secure. Dr. Ada nodded. "So... someone 'cheated'? How so?"

"I think it was a bookend... I'm not sure." Jerica looked past Dr. Ada, making eye contact with Rek with a silent question. He nodded. She looked back at the doctor. "It was a bookend."

Dr. Ada watched the exchange, looking at Rek. "You were present?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rek answered.

"And how do you fit into all this?" Dr. Ada asked coolly.

"I'm her cousin," Rek answered.

Dr. Ada nodded, eyes flicking between him and Derik. "I'm going to need to ask you to both step out of the room for a moment."

Jerica tensed but then thought about it a moment. She was pretty sure she'd heard this would happen, in one of the self-defense classes she'd taken. That the doctor would insist on talking to her alone.

"I'm not going anywhere," Derik said firmly.

"I must insist," Dr. Ada said, equally firmly.

"No," Derik said, glaring at her. "There's nothing you can't do with me staying here, unless you've got something to hide."

Jerica looked between them. "Derik, it's okay."

"It's not okay," Derik insisted.

"She thinks you did it, Derik," Jerica said flatly.

"I didn't!" Derik said, turning an incredulous look on the doctor. "I would never do that!"

"I know that," Jerica cut in, somehow now being the voice of reason. "And you know that. But she doesn't know that. It's good for her to check, if I was in danger. Just leave. You can come back after she realizes I'm telling the truth."

Derik gaped at her for a moment, then frowned with a 'hmph' and started towards the door. Rek also slipped past the doctor to get to the hall.

"You've been here before, because of this?" Dr. Ada asked coolly.

"No," Jerica shook her head, cringing a bit as it sent a pang of pain through her head. "I just took a class on keeping yourself safe, and they said this would happen... this is what's happening, yeah?"

Dr. Ada didn't answer that, but she did sit down on her stool. "Is there trouble at home?"

"No," Jerica answered honestly.

"Are you sure?" she asked calmly. "I won't tell either of them if you say yes."

"I'd be honest with you, if there was," Jerica said. "But there isn't. Neither of them would hurt me, ever. I'm telling the truth."

"Your uncle seems a little riled..."

"He's worried." Jerica waved away her concern. "I promise you he didn't do this. I got into a fight with my neighbor because I heard him hurting someone I care about and decided to get in the middle of it. I'm not being abused... just beat up. Once."

Well, it had been multiple times. Jerica had a lifetime of running her mouth and facing the consequences of it, at this point.

Dr. Ada nodded and pulled the door open, telling Derik and Rek they could come back inside. Derik was more subdued as he came back in.

"Did you lose consciousness?" Dr. Ada asked.

"No."

"Headache?"

"I mean, yeah," Jerica said. That seemed like a stupid question. She had a huge knot on her head. Of course she had a headache.

"Any slurred speech or confusion?"

"No." There was nothing confusing about what had happened, or what she felt about it all. Rek squinted at her, considering whether or not to call her on the lie. She had definitely been slurring her speech earlier.

"Nausea or vomiting?" Dr. Ada asked, taking Jerica's hand gently and looking it over.

Jerica hesitated, wondering what it would mean if there was. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. "No."

"You liar," Rek cut in. "You threw up three times."

Jerica grunted, frowning at him.

Dr. Ada jotted it down. "Any restlessness or agitation?"

"...No?" Jerica hesitated, glancing at Derik and Rek.

They both went:



"... yeah," Jerica admitted, looking back at the doctor. "I've been being... a little bit of a bitch."

"By which she means she's been sulking on the couch and refusing to speak aside from cussing at us," Rek elaborated.

"... yeah," Jerica repeated. She'd need to apologize for that. Eventually.

"Alright, I definitely think there's a likelihood of a concussion," Dr. Ada said. "And we'll need to see if your hand is broken. Let's take you for an x-ray."

Jerica was sulking like she was in middle school all over again, but grudgingly allowed the doctors and nurses to poke and prod her, and eventually walked away with the diagnosis of a concussion, broken hand, along with some domestic assault resources. She refused to go to the car, however, until Bo came out again.

After an agonizing hour in the waiting room, Bo finally stepped out. His expression in and of itself was telling: he looked defeated, and deflated, and he had a patch over his right eye. Normally he stood tall in a room, towering over everyone with his height, but somehow he looked small, with his shoulders slouched and drawn inward as he held one hand in his pocket and the other around a thick packet of papers.

Jerica was on her feet in an instant, all but running to him. She'd not managed to avoid a cast on her right hand, and it'd been agitating her for the full hour they'd been waiting, but now it was forgotten. "Bo-Bo!"

Bo looked to her with softened eyes, but he didn't smile. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and extended his arm, pulling her into a one-armed hug. She leaned into the embrace, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She cringed as that made her cast hurt -- and probably dig into his back -- and loosened her grasp a bit. But still had her arms wrapped around him protectively.

"Hey, Jer," he said quietly. "Nice cast. Sorry about your hand, though."

"Eh, I thought I deserved a souvenir, if I had to come," she said, trying to be light-hearted. But her joke felt flat. "What did they say about you?"

Bo glanced over at Rek and Derik, who were both on their feet now but still stood in front of the chairs in the waiting area, giving them a bit of space. Jerica could see Bo swallow nervously as he looked back down to Jerica, and he held his hand on her back, not quite pulling away from the hug fully.

"Well... at first, thought it might be an ocular migraine at first because of my symptoms," he started to explain slowly. "But after looking at it they're saying that somehow my optic nerve got severed. They kept asking if I did anything to injure my eye, but I can't that I recall. It's apparently a real uh, freak thing that doesn't happen often. But um, I guess the big news is that the blindness is irreversible. But otherwise, I'm okay."

He paused, glancing down at the papers under his other arm. The bottom fell out of Jerica's stomach as she looked up at him in horror. Permanent? What could she even say to that?

"I have prescriptions for some stuff. Drugs I don't know how to pronounce. One's a painkiller and one's for... I forget how to explain it," he said distantly. "They uh, gave me a bunch of uh, resources, for uh..."

He trailed off, still looking down at the stack of papers.

"Life with one working eye," he finally said.

There was another pause but he spoke up before she could say anything.

"I have to come back in, they said," he said. "Because they want to run some more tests to make sure it's not some other stuff but they ruled out anything life-threatening. At least, like, well, I mean they let me out for now... yeah."

Jerica's heart was racing, but a tiny sliver of self-awareness was screaming that her panicking wasn't going to do anything for him. It was him that felt bad. He didn't need to be comforting her fears. She nodded shakily. "Okay. We'll do that, then. We'll... we'll get you through this. Derik will give me money to buy our Lyft, whenever we need to come back."

She glanced at Derik, who nodded quietly, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"I uh, I called my dad," Bo added. "He's on his way and he'll be here soon. So he can help too. And my grandpa said he'd cover my ER bill."

"That's good." Jerica nodded, then hesitated. This wasn't at all how she'd envisioned Derik and meeting Bo's dad. In fact, she wasn't even sure she'd been envisioning them meeting in the first place. That seemed like pressure. "That's... good."

Well, they were about to see how it was going to go, anyway.

She heard a phone go off and immediately sourced it to Bo's pocket. Bo pulled out his phone, quickly picking up and putting the phone to his ear.

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear what sounded like Kazimir's muffled voice on the other end. "Yeah. Okay, yeah. We're just in the waiting--"

Bo stopped to look up as Kazimir came through the waiting room door with a visitor's wristband and his arms already extended as he rushed to Bo. Jerica stepped back at the last moment, realizing that she was going to get crushed between the two of them if she stayed in the way. But she didn't back too far away, staying probably a bit awkwardly close, but unwilling to be forced fully out of the picture.

Kazimir pulled Bo into a tight embrace, and Bo hugged him back, and they stood there for a solid minute, neither of them relenting or pulling away. Though Bo had lowered his head into his dad's shoulder, she could see his one visible eye tearing up. At that point, she realized she needed to butt-out, and took a few awkward steps away, glancing helplessly at Derik and Rek, who had both approached to a polite distance away.

Derik held his arm out to her in a silent beckon for her to come to him, and she walked into his arms, letting him hold her close even though she kept her gaze fixed intently on Bo and Kazimir.

Eventually, Kazimir patted Bo's back, and Bo did the same in return, like an unspoken cue to let go, and they pulled away, but Kazimir kept his hands on Bo's arms, looking him over.

"We'll figure this out, son," Kazimir said quietly, but just loud enough for everyone to pick up on. Jerica got the impression that Kazimir wasn't a good whisperer. "You're going to be okay."

Kazimir patted Bo's cheek with a surprising sense of tenderness for a man so tatted and burly, and then turned to look at Jerica and her family while Bo stood by, looking like he was just trying to keep back more tears.

"Jerica," Kazimir said with a grizzled smile. "Would be good to see you again under different circumstances, but still. This your old man?"

He gestured to Derik.

"Close enough," Jerica agreed, nodding to him with a weak smile as she stepped away from Derik's embrace. "Uncle. But he raised me. This is Derik."

Kazimir walked up to Derik, extending a firm hand to shake.

"Kazimir," he said. "Bo's father."

"Nice to meet you," Derik answered, giving him a firm shake in return. "Well... it would be. Perhaps we can meet again for real once our kids don't need the emergency room anymore."

"Yeah, hell of a way to meet," Kazimir said as he pulled his hand away. "Been a crazy last - what, day and a half? Two days?"

Kazimir looked back at Bo, who nodded.

"I don't know about you guys, but since these two are clear to go, I think we should go get some food," Kazimir said, reaching back to pat Bo's back. "You guys hungry?"

"No," Jerica muttered. How could he possibly be thinking about food, when Bo was dying?

"I'm kind of hungry," Bo admitted quietly.

Jerica relented. Well, that was a different matter entirely, then. If Bo was hungry, they needed to get him food. She took his hand in her not-hurt one. "Okay. We'll get you food."

"Has she eaten?" Derik asked, looking at Rek.

"Soup," Bo answered instead. "Just before this. But not much."

Derik nodded. It was exactly the sort of thing she was apt to do. He looked at her sternly. "You are going to eat." It wasn't a question. And they both knew it. Arguing was only going to make her look childish in front of Bo and Bo 2.0.

"Glad we can all agree on something so soon after meeting," Kazimir said with a smile that seemed to not quite the mood, but the way he said it seemed reminiscent of Bo's humor, just a little less... graceful? He and Bo had the same smile. Jerica was starting to see more where Bo might've gotten his sense of humor from - at least a little. "I was thinking Chick-fil-a or Mc'D's."

Jerica looked up at Bo, giving his hand a squeeze. She didn't care where they went. She wasn't hungry, so nothing was going to sound good.

"Chick-fil-a's waffle fries are better," Bo said. "From a purely objective opinion. Hopefully that doesn't cause a riot."

"Pretty sure they season their fries with crack not salt," Jerica said. Trying, and failing, to lighten the mood. At least her delivery wasn't there.

"Yeah, but don't tell the FDA that," Bo said with the first hint of a smile she'd seen since he stepped into the waiting room.

"Ain't no narc," she said, also forcing a tiny smile, glad to see that he was, as well.

"Perfect," Kazimir said. "Bo, you can come with me. I actually drove my car this time, are you proud?"

"You're like a real dad now, dad," Bo said, and the two of them shared a small smile.

"You three wanna meet us there?" Kazimir asked, looking mostly to Derik. Derik inclined his head, glacing at Jerica. "We'll just go to the one on 13th street."

Jerica didn't love the idea of having to part with Bo, but a small part of her monkey brain realized she needed to stop being so clingy. Kazimir cared about Bo as much as she did, if not more. She needed to give them a moment. She nodded, but still didn't let go of Bo's hand.

Bo gave Jerica's hand a squeeze.

"That ok, Jer?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, of course," Jerica said half-heartedly. She looked down at their hands, and, reluctantly, loosened her grasp. "Of course."

"Race you there," Kazimir said with another too-cheesy smile and a snicker before he and Bo turned to leave, exiting the waiting room doors. Bo paused in the doorway to give one last look to Jerica, meeting her eyes with a soft but sad smile.

She returned it, feeling like she had to muster every last bit of strength she had within her, to manage it. Then she looked at Derik. "Well, come on, then. We're losing the race."

Derik snorted but followed her to the door as she started towards it. Rek trailed close behind, and they got to the car fairly quickly. Derik made no effort to drive quickly, however, despite Jerica's protests.

"Jer," Derik sighed at last. "Give Bo a moment with his dad. You've had me here the past several hours -- Bo's been on his own in an exam somewhere, getting told he's going to be half-blind for the rest of his life."

Jerica took a deep breath but nodded. He was right. He was always right.

"Everything is going to be alright, though," Derik said after a moment, tone soothing. "You've both been through hell. Neither of you is going to recover quickly. But you'll get through it. And you'll be at each others' sides while you do."

Jerica nodded again, not quite sure whether she was more relieved by the thought of getting to be over-protective about Bo, or by the knowledge that he was going to be with her as she recovered. But they'd get through it. Together.

By the time they got to the Chick-fil-a, Jerica was in a better headspace. Still anxious. And worried. And a bit scared, if she was honest. But her emotions were more stable, and she was glad that Derik was back to being a source of comfort rather than a disciplinarian. He'd gotten enough of a lecture in between her assessments to satisfy him, and was willing to call a truce. At least until she felt better.

Jerica sprang out of the car the instant they parked, before Derik even got the car turned off.

"Don't be needy," Derik reminded before she managed to get the door closed.

She frowned at him through the window but then forced herself to take a deep breath and nod. Don't be needy. She could manage that. She didn't want to smother Bo. And she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of his dad. Or Derik, for that matter -- but she'd had a lifetime of being absurd in front of him, so he was the least of her concerns. She forced herself to take a moment to compose herself, waiting for Rek and Derik to get out of the car, then strode towards the doors with them.

There was that old saying from Kung Fu Panda that went: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present. Bo, with no sense of irony, had always tried to live that way. Seizing every opportunity for what it was, finding joy in the little things, and not worrying too much about tomorrow that it stopped him from living in today. But sometimes in life - though not often - there were things that happened that made the present an unhappy place to be. And then there were other things, like today, that affected more than just the present.

Today, Bo learned that he was going to be half blind for the rest of his life, and that meant the rest of his life would look different.

Literally and figuratively.

It wasn't like he couldn't still do things, but like anything where you lost function of a part of your body, it meant he'd have to relearn many things. The doctors had tried to talk it through with him as calmly as possible, explaining how he would no longer have depth perception, and how that would affect more than he might expect. It would affect his coordination, and having a big blind spot on one side of his head meant he'd have to turn his head around more to be fully aware of his surroundings. He couldn't help but wonder how it would affect his future. On the drive over, he'd been talking about potential job opportunities, and while he didn't think the loss of half his vision would stop him from cooking, he did fear it would make him more prone to accidents.

And, well, they still didn't know the cause really. He knew the docotors were trying to explain in plain-speak that he wasn't dying, but he also knew that they were bewildered by it, and that didn't exactly give him confidence.

Regardless, there was no getting his eye back. At least, not the sight bit.

The moment he sat down in the passenger seat of his dad's truck, it all started to well up to the surface. It had been buildling slowly, ever since he went back to the exam room alone and was told in more ways than one to prepare himself for the worst.

He buckled himself in, and his dad pulled out of the parkinglot, getting them on the road. Bo hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until he finally managed to come out of the flood of thoughts in his head for but a moment, but he almost regretted doing so. His left eye started to water. Apparently, even his right eye's tear-ducts were non-functional.

"Hey," Kazimir said softly, reaching over to take Bo's hand, giving it a squeeze. "It's okay. Let it out, son."

Even though he knew he didn't need permission, for some reason he did. Bo took in a shaky breath, and the moment it hitched in his throat it all came flooding to the surface, and he started sobbing. His dad still held his hand firmly, driving one-handedly and keeping his eyes on the road.

Bo didn't know how much time passed before he looked up, the tears finally subsiding a little. But when he looked around, he started recognizing the streets and buildings, and he knew they were getting close to Chick-fil-a, which meant he'd need to pull it together, at least a little bit. He knew he had every right to cry in a Chick-fil-a given the circumstances, but he didn't want to cause a scene and have all that attention on him. Especially since he'd already be walking in with an eye-patch.

He sat up a little straighter, sniffing and scanning the car for something to wipe his gross leaking nose. Kazimir let go of his hand and popped open the glove box, pulling out crumpled Chipotle napkins and shoving them into Bo's hands.

"Here," was all he said, and Bo didn't respond because it was say someting or let his snot drip on his sweatshirt, and he chose not to allow the latter.

It took him a minute to blow his nose and for the flow of snot and tears to come to a stop, but when his face was finally dry he took in a deep breath and looked out the window, trying not to think too hard about what the next few days would look like in particular.

"So uh," Kazimir started, prompting Bo turn his head. "Is it too soon for a pirate joke?"

Bo stared at his dad for a moment before an ugly, cathartic laugh came out.

"Oh my god, dad," Bo said through the laugh.

"Listen I'm just saying," Kazimir said. "Think of how authentic your next halloween costume could be."

"Dad," Bo chided, but he was still laughing, and Kazimir knew as terrible as his jokes were, it was helping.

"Or you could be uh - the lightning god guy, right? I don't watch superhero movies. Who's the guy with the hammer?" Kazimir asked.

"Thor?" Bo asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah! Him!"

"Oh yeah, and then I can paint my face with the red facepaint like in Ragnarok," Bo said. "Or I guess, hm. That's before he loses his eye. But I guess it could still count."

"I mean, you're built like him already so do the details really matter?" Kazimir asked, looking over to Bo with a little shrug.

"For the true cosplayers, it does," Bo answered. "But I'm not that into cosplay."

"Costplay, costume, dressup, I don't know what people call it nowadays," Kazimir mumbled. "I get out of prison and people make money pretending to be comic book characters and whatever."

"I could work at Disney," Bo suggested.

"No you won't!" Kazimir said, lifting a pointed finger. "Unless it's at one of their restaurants then I will allow it."

Bo wanted to say something witty in reply, but the thought of his future and cooking made his brain a mess of too many emotions, and he couldn't come up with something fast enough before there was an awkward pause. And by then, Bo didn't know what to say to break it.

"Listen, uh..." Kazimir said slowly. "We'll talk more about all this, right? I'm going to stay in town with you for now and I'll give you rides to the doctor and all that. You don't have to worry about all that, and I'll be around to help you with anything. And uh, your pop was also talking about... maybe coming down to visit..."

Bo looked at his dad with raised brows.

"I told him to hold off though," Kazimir said. "Just, you know, with -- well I mean, he was planning on coming for your graduation anyway, so he was like 'I will just come early,' and I said 'I don't need you to come shadow us' and he said 'If you want my money you have to put up with me too,' and he bought a ticket so. He'll get here in a week."

Bo didn't really know if he had the capacity to navigate the tension between his dad and his grandfather, but he knew he couldn't convince Matvei not to come. He was too stubborn, and being the only grandchild he had, he knew he was going to want to be involved.

"Get all your poop jokes out before then," Kazimir added.

The suddenness of the comment made Bo snort, and lifted the mood just enough that when they pulled into the Chick-fil-a lot, he didn't feel quite on the verge of tears anymore.

Bo turned to Kazimir as they sat in the car for a beat, and smiled just a little.

"Poopoo peepee," Bo said straight-facedly.

"That's my boy."

They hopped out and made their way inside. As they made it to the entrance, Bo spotted Derik's car pulling in with Jerica and Rek. Content with their meaningless victory of getting there first, Bo got in line with his dad and the Ainsleys trickled in a few minutes after. They found a big booth in a corner for them all to invade, and once they all got their food and settled down, Bo's appetite was very much alive.

He started inhaling his first sandwich, sitting across from Jerica, who was looking resentfully at the food in front of her, with Derik periodically giving stern nonverbals to force her to eat a few bites. Kazimir sat back, idly picking at Bo's (or their) fries.

"You come down this way often?" Kazimir asked Derik.

"Can't say that I do," Derik said. "Perhaps I should... but, well, had a bit of a special circumstance this time."

He ruffled Jerica's hair, who turned a silent glare on him.

"Yeah, yeah," Kazimir said with a nod. "I understand."

There was an awkward half of a pause, but Kazimir picked it up.

"What do you do?" he asked, still looking at Derik. "Like, for money."

"You cam't just ask what people do for money," Bo said through a mouthful, to which Kazimir just smirked and nudged him in the shoulder for the indirect Mean Girls reference.

"Hah!" Derik smirked, looking between them before his gaze landed back on Kazimir. "I'm a sports consultant... help coaches look at metrics from their teams, figure out how to leverage strengths and train their players better. That sort of thing."

"Oh!" Kazimir's face lit up. "So you're part of the reason Jerica ended up as a sports star, huh? I've seen her play. She's really good."

Jerica flushed slightly, pleased at the praise, and shoved a waffle fry in her mouth.

"Thank you, I think so too," Derik agreed with a smile. "I suppose I helped her along, yes, but it's her own effort that's landed her where she is now... My influence... doesn't affect all people that way."

"By which he means me," Rek cut in, smirking. "Even the mighty Coach Ainsley couldn't make me like footballs better than music."

"Hey, nothing's wrong with that," Kazimir said with a little laugh. "I mean, hell, Bo took to cooking like a duck to water--"

"Not the clearest metaphor, but yeah," Bo interjected.

"And I suck at cooking," Kazimir said. "He clearly didn't get that from me."

"Just a burning hatred for hotdogs," Jerica cut in, giving the first smirk since they'd sat down. "From you, I mean."

Kazimir blinked, then looked over at Bo, and Bo blinked back, having uncomfortable Lordshire-flirting-with-his-father flashbacks.

"Hotdogs should be illegal," Kazimir said.

"That's a bit extreme but I won't fight you on it," Bo muttered between bites.

"I will still eat them though," Kazimir said. "If pressed."

"Crime makes everything better, am-i-rite?" Jerica asked, giving Kazimir a playful smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kazimir said innocently.

Bo flicked a nervous look between Jerica, his dad, and Derik.

Derik looked at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes, like he was trying to decide if this was a joke.

"I am a reformed and well adjusted citizen," Kazimir said before any decisions could be made. "I have a checkered past but it's in the past now. So ha-ha, very funny. No more crime."

"Jerica got arrested once," Derik said with a shrug. She flushed with embarrassment.

"She's fortunate she didn't have to do time," Kazimir said, but hesitated, looking to Jerica. "I'm assuming."

"Time would have been better than the months of chores I got from it." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides, I wasn't disorderly. That was a lie."

"That's what I said," Kazimir said, raising a waffle fry in his hand.

It was dangerously close to a 'that's what she said' joke and Bo was just relieved he didn't say that instead. He hoped it didn't read like a 'she said' joke though.

Jerica raised a waffle fry to cheers Kazimir's. "I'll toast to that."

"I'll fry to it," Kazimir said, before tossing the fry into his mouth.

Jerica hesitated, then made eye contact with Derik for a tense moment, and then plopped her own fry in her mouth as well. She chewed it a few times, expression looking like she was thinking of something bratty to say and then reconsidering it as she glanced between Kazimir and Derik.

"I'm far more disorderly now," she said at last, unable to keep the joke in any longer. She gestured at her battered face. "Wasn't even drunk for this one, though, so I didn't get arrested." She hesitated, looking at Bo. "You think I woulda got arrested, if there was a cop there?"

"...I'd rather not think about it," Bo admitted, trying not to imagine how disastrous it could've been if someone called the authorities, especially since he knew among them, the only ones loaded with cash were Daniel and Carter.

Would Daniel bail any of them out? He didn't want to think about that.

Jerica looked back at Kazimir. "There you have it; I should have been arrested." She nodded. "So, really, I came out on top of this all."

Derik snorted, which turned into a tired sigh. He rubbed his face but didn't say anything.

Kazimir hummed, pursing his lips and looking to Bo. Bo could sense that Kazimir was reigning himself in to try to be a better example.

"I don't know if 'on top' is how I'd put it," Kazimir said. "Maybe on bed rest instead."

Bo facepalmed.

"Or couch-sulking," Jerica offered. "Rather than bed-resting."

"Ah, right," Kazimir said. "Sometimes I forget you're all still kids."

"We're adults, dad--" Bo countered.

"Children," Kazimir butted in, turning to grab Bo's head on both sides, pulling it into his chest in an awkward embrace. "Even if you're taller than me."

Bo couldn't really return the head-grapple-hug, so he just leaned into his dad's chest, accepting it with a sigh.

"Okay," Bo said.

"That's embarassing," Jerica teased, smirking at Bo playfully before shoving another chicken nugget in her mouth. She seemed distracted enough by all the banter that she was forgetting she'd been sulking and refusing to eat.

"Only if you don't like hugs," Bo countered.

Kazimir goofily snickered and let Bo go, and Bo sat up straight again, tilting his head back and forth to briefly stretch his neck.

"So. Jerica," Kazimir said, and the way he said it made Bo nervous. "My son brags about you a lot but I like to hear people brag about my son. What do you like about him?"

Bo side-eyed his dad hard. Kazimir ignored him.

"Literally everything," Jerica said without hesitating. "He's nice and he's funny and he's an excellent cook and baker and everything -- did you know someone has to make croissants, you can't just get them from the bakery, and Bo knows how to do that? Incredible."

"He's also tall," Kazimir added.

Bo facepalmed again.

"And very strong," Kazimir added again with a little laugh, elbowing Bo in the side, but Bo kept his face shielded by his hand and didn't look up.

"And he's hot," Jerica said. She flushed a little, but had far more confidence in saying it this time than she had at the party.

Kazimir then looked to Derik, lifting up his hand like he was not-whispering-nearly-quiet enough as an aside.

"He gets that from me," he said. "And his mother. Both of us."

"Well, now you've just made this weird," Jerica said.

"I'm so sorry," Bo said with a sincere wearied sigh.

"Wait, why was that weird?" Kazimir asked, looking to Bo.

"'Cause you're not hot," Jerica said. Then she hesitated. "I mean... that was mean... but... no." She made a heart with her hands. Derik rubbed his face with both hands, looking utterly exasperated with Jerica. Rek choked on a laugh and took a long drink of Coke to try to hide his amusement.

Kazimir looked between Jerica and Bo, and Bo felt like he finally understood that Bo was embarassed enough to stop being weird. Or so he hoped. Kazimir flashed him a brief apologetic smile and helpless shrug.

"You know, it's probably because I saw Lordshire earlier this week," Kazimir said. "He's not the best influence on me."

No, that was worse.

Bo grabbed a few french fries and reached over, shoving them into Kazimir's mouth.

"You're not allowed to talk anymore," Bo said.

Kazimir bit down on them and said something completely incomprehensible. Jerica started laughing. Rek and Derik exchanged an uncertain look, like they weren't sure whether they were supposed to be amused or embarrassed.

"Yeah, that's better," Bo said with a little smirk, turning to his sandwich, trying to suppress a laugh too.

"So, uh, Lordshire, that's--?" Derik started, but Rek cut him off.

"No," Rek said, half-panicked, as if he'd said things about Lordshire that he definitely didn't want Derik repeating. "You're not allowed to talk anymore either." Derik raised an eyebrow. Rek visibly deflated. "Please don't talk about Professor Lordshire. It's just... he's..."

"I think he's funny," Jerica piped up. "And he likes rum." She glanced over at Derik, and also shrank a bit under his critical look. "I mean, just a hunch. I wouldn't know that, obviously, he just seems like he would, uh, you know? He'd -- these are good fries."

Kazimir said something no one could understand through his mouthful.

"Rek," Bo said, deciding to take a hard right in the conversation. "What's your opinion on the puppy bowl? It's like the super bowl, you know. But puppies."

Rek blinked at him, then glanced around the table, seeming equally uncomfortable as Bo was himself. "Oh, uh, it's a better superbowl no doubt. Much cuter."

"Well, it depends--" Jerica started to argue.

"We've already been through that," Rek said, narrowing his eyes at her. There was a tense silence, but Jerica smirked like she'd just won some inside battle. Rek sighed and turned back to Bo. "Big fan of puppies. Have you seen the little turtle and the hare races, where they pit bunnies and tortoises against each other and see what happens?"

"Yes," Bo said with his eyes lighting up a little bit. "And then the rabbits lose because they can't ever follow the path and it's just chaos. It's just people begging their pets to go one direction while they all flop around."

"Relatable," Derik said dryly, glancing at Jerica.

"Chaos is how I learn," Jerica said like she was quoting something.



"...I mean, I guess sometimes you act rabbit-like," Bo said to Jerica. "In a rabbit way."

"But I'm not furr--" Jerica choked, cutting herself off. She turned beet red and stared directly at the table.

Bo let out a laugh through his nose.

"I didn't mean it literally, Jer," he said with a small smile.

"Can I talk now?" Kazimir asked.

Bo looked at him with narrowed eyes, and Kazimir huffed, leaning back into the booth seat.

"Derik," Kazimir said, breaking the silence that only lasted a half a second.

Derik was still staring at the side of Jerica's head, expression somewhere between shock and disgust. He slowly pulled his gaze away and Bo could see that Derik's face was a little red, too. But he looked at Kazimir. "Kazimir."

"Hypothetically speaking," Kazimir said. "If someone my age were to want to get into sports again. What would be your advice?"

"Hmm..." Derik scratched his chin thoughtfully, looking him over. "You seem pretty fit. What's your background?"

"Russian," Kazimir answered.

"...Russian is a sport now?"

"He means the other kind of background," Bo clarified.

Kazimir blinked.

"Oh," Kazimir said. "I used to play hockey for a good bit, and I've kept up with it over the years. And football, but that was forever ago. Did some wrestling too. I've always stayed active though."

"You play football?" That was enough to get Jerica to perk up.

"Played," Kazimir said. "Back when I was around your age. Never was too great at remembering plays, though. But I was great when people yelled at me to do stuff."

Jerica narrowed her eyes at him, like she was assessing him. "You reek of linebacker."

"Still?" Kazimir asked.

"Once a linebacker, always a linebacker," Jerica said firmly. "Ain't none of y'all a match for my mad skills."

"Not with this back, though, am I right?" Kazimir said, patting his back over his shoulder. Bo just stared at him. Kazimir pursed his lips and deflated.

"Sounds like an excuse to me," Jerica said, clearly trying to trash talk.

"Wait until you hit your forties, then talk to me," Kazimir said.

"I'm not ever gonna be old," Jerica said.

"Not at the rate you're going," Derik said dryly.

Kazimir looked to Derik with a look that said: 'the audacity of this child,' but Bo knew he had no right to give that look. Kazimir was scarily similar to Jerica until he had Bo - or at least, that was his impression.

It was at that moment that Bo realized his dad and his girlfriend were weirdly similar in personality, and he didn't know what to think of that.

He looked down at his tray, realizing there was no more food left to eat, as he'd quickly plowed through everything he could nervously munch on during this trainwreck of a conversation - even though it had been funny at times.

"What time is it?" Bo asked.

"Showtime!" Jerica all but shouted.

"Is that a set-up for a joke or are you really asking?" Kazimir asked.

"Really asking," Bo answered.

Kazimir lifted his wrist only to look at a wrist and not a watch, and then reached into his pocket and looked at his phone.

"Uh, almost 8pm. Time really flew by, huh," Kazimir commented.

"No," Jerica disagreed. "Every last minute of this hellish day has passed by, slowly."

"Okay Quantum Leap," Kazimir muttered.

"Dad, no one's gonna get that reference," Bo said.

"I am allowed to reference shows from my era," Kazimir said.

"The fact that you're calling it your era really ages you," Bo answered with a little smirk.

"Careful," Kazimir said, flicking Bo in the ear.

Jerica looked between them, clearly having no idea what was going on. "Quantum era?"

"Now that sounds cooler," Bo said, pointing to Jerica.

"I don't actually know what quantum means," Kazimir blurted.

Bo glanced at his dad.

"...Neither do I," Bo said. "Not actually, anyway. Like, I couldn't explain it."

"It's... physics." Jerica sighed, rubbing her face.

"Ohhhhh," Bo and Kazimir said in unison.

"There's a reason I went into cooking," Bo added.

"I mean, you basically just chose tasty chemistry."

"I do like tasty science," Bo said with a little grin.

Jerica smiled at him. "Best kind of science... after fish, of course."

"Obviously," Bo said, leaning on the table with his elbow. He rested his chin in his palm, looking around at the other tables. It looked like it was emptying out, and a glance at the clock told him it was close to closing time.

The day had flown by.

It started to sink in again that he could only look through one eye now. Sure, he had been aware of it the whole conversation, but for just a second, it was like he'd been able to forget. He'd gotten caught up in the silliness of the embarassment, the weird comments, the food. He'd almost forgotten the context, but it was hard to ignore how the world felt just a little smaller, and how he had to hesitantly reach for anything in front of him, always over-estimating or under-estimating how far his cup was. Or even his sandwich.

"Well, uh," Kazimir cut in. Bo wondered how much of his thoughts had been transparent on his face.

"I think now's a great time to go head home and get some rest," Kazimir said, looking to Derik. "Don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Derik agreed. "It's been a long, long day for all of our kiddos."

"I'm not giving you the couch," Jerica announced.

"Well, lucky for us, I've got a big-kid job," Derik said dryly. "And I got us all a big hotel room. It'll be good for you both, I think, to get out of that dorm of yours for the night."

Jerica and Rek both hesitated, but then nodded. Jerica looked at Bo. "Will you be okay?"

Bo stared at Jerica for a moment, blinking.

"I... I mean, I'll be okay," he said slowly.

But in truth, he didn't know that was okay. He knew he would be eventually.

But at that moment, all he could see was half the picture.

Literally.

The trip to the ER had been a blur. All James could remember was his throat swelled so much that he'd been rushed to the back to get something shoved down his throat, and a shot of something to get the swelling down. At some point he'd ended up with a neck brace. A sturdy one.

They held him for a few hours until he stabilized, and finally sent him home with instructions for how to rest and aftercare.

The pain got worse before it got better, and it only got better after they gave him painkillers. Even still, it only made the pain more tolerable. It was still there, as a constant ache.

By the time he finally got home to sleep, his room was still in boxes. Evaline helped make his bed, and piled up several pillows up behind him to keep him upright, with proper spinal support like the doctors instructed. It all felt so dramatic, on the outside looking in. Even as Evaline tucked him in with a kiss on his head, so tender and so full of concern, he didn't feel quite there. It was like he was watching someone else live his life as the survivor of almost being killed by a man who had once been his best friend.

Because that was what had happened... hadn't it?

The moment Evaline left to go sleep on the living room couch and James was left alone, his mind went right back to the fight, hours ago. Pinned to the floor, with his wind-pipe pinched shut under the pressure of Carter's arms and hands. Pressure building in his head as the grip grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until he couldn't think anymore. He couldn't breathe. His vision went white. He desperately tried to throw him off, but he held back, and he didn't know why. A minute longer and he didn't think he would've made it.

Why did he feel like he deserved this? It crept up on him like a heavy wave, lapping up against the shore, pulling up and over him. Drawing him in.

He wished that Jerica hadn't interrupted Carter.

I would be better off dead.

The words rung throughout his head like a harrowing realization, one that glued him to his bed like he was buried under a ten-ton weight, unable to move. This wasn't like him, but it felt so familiar. So right, and yet so wrong, and the more he thought about it the more the heaviness clung to him, like a thick film, layering over him. He couldn't shake it off. He couldn't push it away.

What had he done to deserve Carter's hatred? It was a question he felt he knew the answer to, but it was like the thought was inaccessible, hidden behind a wall in his mind.

He pounded at it for what felt like hours, only belaboring the pain he was already in by adding on the mental torture he was putting himself through, digging at his memory until he finally succumbed to sleep.



James's eyes shot open, and he threw his legs off the side of the bed, shaking. He didn't know why he was trembling, but his breathing was shallow, and the pain of his swollen, bruised neck had returned at full force.

This had to be a drugged up dream. Or it was because of the pain. The pain woke him up. His subconscious was getting creative. That was why it all felt so real. Yes. There was a logical explanation for it all. Yes. A logical explanation.

James stumbled to reach for the prescription medication on his side-table. It was dark, and he couldn't find his glasses, or the light switch for his lamp. He fumbled, reaching at nothing but air until his hand hit something, and he heard the clatter of pills. He grabbed the bottle in his fist a little too tightly as his eyes blearily drifted to the clock.

It took him far too long to actually be able to read what the blurry blue numbers on the analog clock read.

3:21am.

When was the last time he took the painkillers? His mind felt like a maze of useless memories, and the dream still crammed itself at the forefront of his mind. Again, he tried to find the lamp, only to realize it had never been set up on the night stand in the first place. And he still had yet to find his glasses.

Defeated, he shakily got to his feet. He was lightheaded, and his steps felt disconnected, and unsteady, but he managed to find the door in the dark. Thankfully, the layout of his new apartment was the same as his old one, so he was able to trail along the wall with one hand along it keeping him grounded until he found the bathroom door.

There was a light switch.

He shut the door and flipped on the light, blinding himself at first before his eyes slowly adjusted and he squinted at the bottle in his hand, holding it up to his face.

Every 4-6 hours. Okay. He'd taken some around... 10pm? 11pm? So that was close enough to 4 hours, right? Good enough for him.

He tossed a pill down his throat, straining for a moment to swallow before it eventually went down.

Now he just had to wait for it to kick in, and maybe he could get some sleep again.

With a sigh, he grabbed the sides of the sink and leaned forward, putting a large portion of his weight on it as he attempted to lean forward and failed, as his neck brace forcefully held his head upright. Instead of looking down into the sink, he was forced to look at his face in the mirror.

God, he looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was sticking up all over the place, and the bruises from his neck were visibly dark blue and purple, reaching all the way up to his chin. He hadn't had a chance to take a good look, but his face was all scratched up. Finger-nail-like scratch-marks lined his cheeks and forehead, and a good half of his face was bruised, centered around his eye.

He stared at himself for a good long moment, taking it all in. The damage. How long it would take to recover. To feel normal again, if he ever would - and he knew he wouldn't any time soon.

And then it hit him. He still hadn't told his family yet.

Panicked, he patted his sides, feeling for his phone somewhere in his pockets. He thought for a moment that it was back in his room, but then he saw it set on the sink. He hadn't even remembered putting it there.

He picked it up and went to his messages, looking for Larrel's name, expecting it to be up at the top with his most recent messages. But... it wasn't.

In fact, after scrolling and scrolling, it wasn't anywhere in his message history. It wasn't anywhere in his phone. Not in any messaging app, not in his contacts. Not in any social media or any possible alternative. Larrel, Petrus, his mom, his dad... all of them were missing.

Had Carter gotten a hold of his phone somehow?

James panickedly set his phone down, face down on the edge of the sink as he grabbed the edges of the sink again, leaning. Stress and anxiety welled up in his chest as he tried to think of alternative ways to get a hold of his family to let them know what happened, but again, his head was forcefully angled to look into the mirror.

His eyes drifted past his neck this time, flashes of the dream returning like another glimpse of horror.

He stared at his shirt, trying to logically explain away the illogical desire to check to see if the scars were still there - as if they ever were. But finally, he caved.

Gingerly, he pulled at the collar of his loose t-shirt, revealing his collar bone.

For a split second, he was relieved. But the relief was short-lived when he found himself staring at the very same scar he'd seen in his reflection in the water.

Dumbfounded, terrified, and convinced he was still dreaming, James panicked and tore at his shirt, messily ripping it around his neck brace and over his head, throwing it to the side.

Wide-eyed, he stared at the scars all over his body. Not just one or two. Many. So many. More than he could count. He looked down at himself, scraping and picking at the skin, trying to figure out if it was all just an illusion. A hallucination, or a dream. Maybe he'd taken too many painkillers on accident.

But when he turned around and caught a look at his back in the mirror, he froze completely.

Three, massive parallel scars ran diagonally down his back. He didn't even pay attention to all the others.

He reached over his shoulder, poking at the thick, discolored scar tissue in horror.

No. No. This couldn't be happening. I'm dreaming. I'm still dreaming. I'm still dreaming.

Trembling, he flipped off the bathroom light and opened the door and then sloppily stumbled out of the bathroom and into his room, tears flooding his eyes as he hurriedly retreated under his covers, pulling them up over his head. Hiding from this dream. Hiding from himself. Hiding from everything.



He couldn't handle it.

And maybe that was because it was the truth, and the truth hurt so much more than this fairy tale of a lie.

No. I can't think like that. I can't fall apart. I have to keep it together. Hang on.

Nobody needs to know.

Daniel’s back hurt.

He groggily opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, rolling his shoulders in a poor attempt to relieve the tension. He must have been sleeping on something. A pillow, an oddly folded blanket, the Nessie plush he had gotten when he went to Scotland a few years ago—whatever it was uncomfortable.

He sat up. His clock said it was 3:33 in the morning. The number felt ironic to Daniel for reasons his half-asleep brain couldn’t really process. He rolled his shoulders again. His back still hurt and felt heavy when he thought too much about it.

He turned so his feet were dangling over the side of his bed. In what almost seemed like instinct, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and opened up the camera app. He looked behind him on his phone’s tiny screen.

He let out a soft groan when he saw the large, leather-y wings behind him.

Not again, he thought.

And then Daniel paused, because holy shit he had wings.

He moved his shoulders. They moved with him. He reached a hand back to touch them, and he felt his fingers running against their edge. They were like devil or bat-like. Large, too. Daniel had a sneaking suspicion he could fly with them if he wanted to. It didn’t seem real seeing them, but Daniel had always wanted to find cryptids. That meant things like spontaneously growing a pair of wings could be a thing, right?

He got to his feet. He started for the door. Then he hesitated, hand lingering on the doorknob. Should he tell someone? What were they going to do if they found out? They weren’t like Abigail and they weren’t like Benji-

Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know an Abigail. He had probably met some before. It was a name that people had. But he didn’t know an Abigail in a personal way. Not in the kind of the way that would make his chest ache with phantom pains, and not in the way that made him want to tear up.

He turned back to his bed, blinking away the tears. He couldn’t let James see his wings. He wasn’t sure why, but there was only one person that he could trust right now: Benji. And it wasn’t just because Benji and him were dating, or because they had shared this apartment for the entire semester so far. There was something more. Something he was forgetting.

How much had he forgotten?

The door swung open.

Daniel spun around, heart racing. He was terrified it would be James standing there. But it wasn’t. It was Benji, darting inside of the room and shutting the door behind him before Daniel could even really register he was the one who had just entered. He had a blanket draped on his back-

Daniel’s eyes adjusted to the darkness more. It wasn’t a blanket. It was wings. A different kind of wings than Daniel’s own, but wings all the same. And Benji’s eyes didn’t look normal either, now red instead of their usual brown.

Daniel looked at his wings, looked at Benji’s wings, and then weakly said, “I guess that’s why we’ve been feeling off.”

Benji gave him a look that said now wasn’t the time, but actually said, “...I guess we don’t have to worry about giving James a rash.” Which was a bad joke, but Daniel just gave a tiny little smile at it anyways.

Benji stood in front of the doorway for another moment and bit his lip. “I…I thought you would be safe.” Benji furrowed his brow. “Like I…I knew you’d be in a similar situation.”

“I felt the same way,” Daniel agreed. “It felt right.”

“We can’t tell James,” Benji said.

Daniel nodded. “But how could we hide it-” He paused, an idea coming to him. “Baggy sweatshirt.”

Benji gave him a look. “You think we could hide wings with a sweatshirt? You could see the lump underneath it!”

“You could do it with hidden right in thou sight,” Daniel said, almost instinctively. The air felt warm when he said that, even though the words weren’t really tied to anything. It felt almost…magic.

Did he know magic? Was magic a thing that he had somehow forgotten? How had he forgotten about something like that?

Benji gave him another long, hard look. “...We need to talk about this tomorrow when we’re more awake,” he finally decided.

“Agreed,” Daniel said. “We get through class and wait until James isn’t in the apartment. Then we can figure out what this means.”

He hesitated again.

“Want…Want to stay in here the rest of the night?” Daniel asked. “I could give you one of my sweatshirts. I have Netflix on my tablet, too. We could watch Supernatural together.”

Benji faltered and glanced back at the door. Shifting his wings so they were tight against his back, he nodded. The two sat down on Daniel’s bed together, wings brushing up against each other as they started the first episode. Daniel still felt so wrong, but at least sitting here with Benji felt right.

Evaline already knew the answer, but it didn't stop her blood from boiling when she received confirmation from James. Carter did this. She didn't even have to vilify him. He did this himself.

He was the villain.

Evaline was aware that James was unable to talk and had trouble breathing, but she needed him to hear what she had to say first.

"James," she said steadily, eyes piercing through his so that he knew he had her full attention. "Carter is not your friend. He did this to you. He ruined your life. He nearly killed you. His actions are unforgiveable. Right now, you should only care about yourself. But I'm here to help. We can't change the past, but we can remember it. You can get through this. We can get through this. Okay?"

James weakly nodded, and he silently choked back a tear, but then decided to audibly let it out, one hand covering his face while the other held his throat.

Evaline's heart sank at the sight. Maybe she was a bit too harsh. "I'm sorry," she whispered gently.

She daintily set her hand on top of his knee to rub her thumb against it, but suddenly James violently grabbed her wrist, his skin as white as a sheet. His eyes were bulging, his lips quivering as he tried to pass the words along his shaking lips.

Evaline. Evaline, he mouthed, but was unable to say out loud.

Suddenly she felt everything at once. He felt so near yet so far, and the next seconds felt painfully long but also scarily short. The room was hot and cold, dark and light, loud and quiet.

What was it? What was this? What was happening?

Before he could attempt to utter another word, James flopped over to the ground, violently convulsing like a fish out of water. Evaline felt frozen as she watched, too stunned to move, but also feeling paralyzed by an unknown force until one second, two seconds passed, tick, tock -- and James had stopped convulsing. Had stopped moving. He was eerily still. The room was eerily still.

"... James?" Evaline breathed out, barely audible.

Sharp pains ricocheted through her body like a warning as she took a step forward to be closer, kneeling to be closer, holding his head to be closer.

"James," she said louder, trying to turn him around so she could see his face. "What's wrong? James..."

A loud screech was heard on the other side of the wall. There was a thud and muffled voices, but through it all, Evaline could hear Bo's weeping voice, begging Jerica to wake up.

And at that moment, Evaline finally managed to get a look of his face. She finally saw it. She saw his cold, lifeless, limp face with all life and color drained out of it. His empty night eyes stared back up at her, his mouth slowly agape.

Evaline felt like she had been sucked into a black hole. Her mind went numb and empty and blank, and time seemed to pass by so slow, she felt her heart stop. Or maybe her heart did stop. She didn't know. She didn't know. She didn't know.

She wasn't in control. She couldn't make decisions, couldn't think, couldn't move. Or so she thought. She was moving, fumbling and stumbling towards the door, panic lacing the edges of her otherwise empty void of her mind.

No. No. This wasn't real. This wasn't real.

Evaline felt detached from her body as she opened the door and glanced at Bo and Rek towering over Jerica, still begging for her to wake up. Or so that was what she thought she heard and saw. Evaline only registered blurs, visually and auditory. Nothing else was coming through. Nothing. There was nothing.

Where was Elias?

Why was that her only thought? With James in the room, and Jerica also... why was she worried about Elias? Where was he? Could he help? Was he helping?

Evaline nearly tripped as the hallway blurred out of focus. Why couldn't she see? Was that smoke? Why did she not smell it? It smelled metallic. It smelled like blood.

And then, where she thought she passed Carter's room, stood Elias, hands crossed with a sinister toothy grin.

She blinked once, twice, then realized that wasn't Elias at all.

"Did you miss me?" Carter teased.

No.

No.

No.

Evaline felt the room spin, mixing into shades of black and white as it enveloped her very being into the void. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening.

There had to be a way.

There had to be a solution.

There had to be a way to try this again.

"Man, that was a lot of work. These old muscles are really getting worked on today. So, who's ordering the 'za?" Elias said.

Evaline wasn't following the conversation. She couldn't follow. Her heart was beating in her ears and she still saw white. Where was she? Where was James? What happened to Carter? And that vision... was it a dream?

That dead bird... that did happen to her. That felt real. It happened when she was just a kid. Why did it feel strangely far away? Why did it not feel real?

"Aren't you vegan?" Benji asked instead.

They were back in Benji and Daniel's apartment, minutes before they all ran up the stairs to witness the fight.

"I once witnessed him order a dozen chicken nuggets," Daniel said with a scoff, then paused. "With Nugget the chicken on his lap, no less."

It didn't matter. That didn't matter.

That meant...

That meant...

Evaline didn't care what the others thought. With her heart still pounding against her chest, she stormed out of the room and sprinted up the stairs, the image of James's lifeless eyes still burned in her mind.

She didn't know what was happening. Maybe this was real. Maybe this wasn't. Either way, she was hellbent on making sure that James and Jerica were not going to be part of Carter's villainous plots.

After going up the last flight of stairs, Evaline made the sharp turn into the hall then tore open the door.

And there, in the middle of the living room, was James, prone on the floor while Carter leaped on top of him, slamming his elbow into the center of James's back.

Ordinarily, Evaline would have been more strategic. But with lives at stake, all of that was thrown out the window, and she couldn't rely on any plan.

"Stop!" she yelped as she threw herself towards Carter, trying to pry him away from James.

Carter whipped his arm out at her, throwing her off of him as he violently grabbed at James's face. James managed to spin around and grab Carter's head in return, his fists digging into Carter's hair, yanking Carter's head away from Evaline.

She knew that James, even in desperate times, was trying to protect her. But didn't he know that she was trying to protect him?

There wasn't any use in being physical with Carter. There was no point in dragging her loss out any further. Instead, she used his momentum from throwing her off of him, and crawled towards the very same bookend that Carter had used on Jerica previously.

Carter seemed preoccupied with James, and after smashing James's face with his fists - after which, James seemed stunned and unresponsive for a moment - Carter gripped James's neck with both hands at full force, digging his thumbs in.

It took everything in Evaline's power to not impulsively come in and whack him without aiming at anywhere specific. Instead she firmly gripped on to the bookend, channeling her anger to sneak behind him and --

WHACK.

Right at the back of his head.

Carter froze for a half of a second before he swayed and fell on top of James, going limp with his hands still around James's neck.

Remembering how much his chokehold had previously affected James, Evaline quickly pried his hands away, grunting as she was just barely able to push Carter away from his body so he was laying next to him instead.

"James. James. Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," Evaline said quickly, not hiding the despair in her voice as she inspected his neck.

James's face still looked a little blue as he gasped for air, taking in thin, heaving breaths. He let out a wheeze that sounded like it was supposed to be a word as he turned his eyes to her, focusing on her face.

"We need to go," she said urgently. "Please. Can you walk? I can help you get up."

Although she asked, she didn't wait for his response, already trying to heave him up, first by his head and then his shoulders until he was able to sit up and then stand up. But the moment she got him to his feet, two arms came from behind, around her neck. Before she knew it, she'd been pulled to the ground, hitting it hard as Carter's foot stomped on her ribs.

It was weird. Evaline had always been more sensitive to pain, but it was like she had been so overstimulated with the physical and mental pain, her nervous system decided it would be as empty as her mind.

Like a bottomless black hole. An empty void, devoid of feelings, thoughts, and pain.

That didn't stop her from hurting, though.

Above her, James had engaged with Carter again, and before she knew it, they'd become entangled with flying fists again, and this time it was James who took Carter to the ground. But James's victory didn't seem to last long. Still struggling to breathe, she saw out of the corner of her eye how James collapsed in pain as Carter kneed him right in the throat.

Coughing, James tried to push himself up, but Carter got on top of him, this time with his knee right on James's throat, putting all of his weight on him.

No.

No.

Not again.

𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻.

"Man, that was a lot of work. It's a good thing I trained from bootcamp. So, who's ordering the 'za?" Elias said.

It was happening again. She had another try, and she wasn't going to mess it up again. Because...



"That was tiring, but I've done a lot worse. Who's ordering the food?" Elias said.

But still she failed, again and again and again. Evaline had exhausted all the strategic moves, from trying to team up with Jerica and the others, to getting a hold of police or another third party, to even trying to reason with Carter herself. It all ended up the same.

James and sometimes even Jerica, dying explainably or unexplainably. She didn't know why. She didn't know how. It just happened.

And she had to see it over and over in the span of the ten minutes, again and again and again, until she had memorized every little detail.

But it was no use. She still failed, again and again, no matter what she changed or what she did.

What was this? What was happening? Was this a nightmare? Why did this feel so real?

"I'm pretty tired. Are you going to order in?" Elias said at the beginning of another loop.

Evaline felt herself fraying at the edges. She was spinning out of control, losing her mind and unable to control herself. She had to do it. She had to save James.

But for once, she didn't know what the future looked like. She didn't know what to do. How many times had she done this? How many more times could she change things? Would it even change anything?

I can still change things, she swore to herself. I need to rethink this. I need more information. I need more people. I can still do this.



In a determined daze, Evaline stepped out of the room again, thinking of other angles she hadn't considered yet. There was one person she could call who was usually involved in everything but currently wasn't here.

The phone rang once, twice, then picked up.

"Hey Evaline, what's up?" Mel's sunny voice said on the other end, none-the-wiser.

Evaline dove right into it. "Mel. How far away are you?"

"Uh, well, I'm at the salon," she said as the background music started to fade. It sounded like she stepped outside to talk. "So, like... twenty minutes? I'm at work, though. Why, what's wrong?"

Mel was too far away to cause any rift in the seemingly-predetermined timeline. But maybe she had knowledge she could offer. It was unlikely she'd talk to Mel again in the future, so it didn't hurt to ask.

"Say you're stuck in situation that involves someone you love, but no matter what you do, you always end up losing," Evaline said. "What do you do?"

"Hmmm," Mel hummed, entertaining the thought even though this was a grossly oversimplified question to what was really happening. "We can't change the past, you know. And you don't have to remember it, either."

Evaline felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. "What do you mean?"

"Just forget about him," Mel said casually.

This didn't sound like Mel. But it was also her voice. Was this her? What was real anymore?

"Forget about all of this. I know you, Evaline. You'll keep at it until you lose yourself. So just let go, and you'll save yourself a whole lot of heartache."

"But... how... I don't understand what you're saying," Evaline spat out, feeling her heart race again. "You're saying I should just... let this happen?"

"I know a guy who can help," Mel continued. "He looks like a shady guy, so we nicknamed him Shadowman. Just behind his back, though. Want me to pass your info to him?"

Evaline hung up. The conversation was not only unproductive, but it was getting too eerie. It felt out of character for Mel to say something like that.

But Evaline didn't care. She didn't have time. She only had time for one thing only, and that was to save James.

"I passed your info to him," Mel's voice came through the phone anyways, even though Evaline had already hung up. "He'll gladly help you move on. You just have to forget this ever happened."


Evaline awoke in darkness, her heart racing against her chest. She quickly sat up straight, rapidly blinking to see through the darkness and figure out where she was.

She was back in Benji and Daniel's place, but this time, she was alone. There was a blanket on top of her. It was dark... what time was it? She looked at her watch. 3:45am.

What was this? Another loop? Why was this different? What happened?

She tried to remember. No. She was forgetting. What happened? What did she forget? What couldn't she remember? Why didn't she remember?

Evaline dug her fingernails into her scalp, crumpling her hair into little balls as she willed herself to remember. Remember. Remember. What happened? Carter fought James. Carter found Jerica. Jerica and James... died? No, that couldn't be true. No. She went to the ER with James, didn't she? And saw Jerica was okay, along with the others? She told James she refused to leave him alone tonight, didn't she?

Why did she think he had died? Why did she have vivid memories of him dying?

What was real anymore?

Evaline didn't know. She didn't know.

And it was driving her insane.

Almost maniacally, she threw the blanket off her and rushed to James's room, not bothering to be quiet or even knock before she slammed the door open and turned on the lights.

Jerica was in a field of wildflowers -- daisies and Queen Anne's lace coming up to her waist. It was a nice day, the sun warm on her face as a gentle breeze made her dress billow next to her legs. She looked down and saw that she was holding her Dolly in her hands -- and this time it was the full doll, not just her head. That was nice.

She heard gentle laughter and looked ahead. It was the Royal Picnic! Her whole family was there! She saw Mama -- the most beautiful woman in the entire world -- sitting with her legs crisscrossed, grinning at one of her aunts-in-law. Papa -- the only man in the world that could have possibly deserved Mama -- was sitting in a ring of his brothers and cousins but had his hand reached out behind him, holding Mama's hand as they otherwise pretended to be completely enveloped in their respective conversations.

"Mama!" Jerica grinned and ran toward her as fast as her little legs could carry her. "Papa!"

They didn't hear her.

"Papa!" She kept sprinting towards them. "Mama! It's me! It's Jerica!"

They ignored her.

And then. The woods darkened and the Grivekian soldiers came swarming out of them.

Jerica's stomach lurched and she tried to run faster. "MAMA! PAPA! SOLDIERS! LOOK!"

But they didn't look. Jerica hit an invisible wall and pounded against it as hard as she could, screaming at the top of her lungs, but they weren't looking at her. Weren't looking at the soldiers. Didn't see anything at all.

Mama finally made eye contact with her, half a moment before the soldier ripped her throat open with his bare hand.

"MAMA!" she screeched, dissolving in a puddle of tears.

Rek gasped as he heard Jerica scream 'Mama' -- eyes flying open. He wasn't sure where they were. But he knew what this meant. It was the picnic dream. Jerica's oldest foe. It was weird -- it was almost like he hadn't heard her have it before? And yet, he'd definitely heard this before. They'd been here many, many times in the past.

There was blood everywhere. The soldier morphed into Lord Biryn. And then suddenly they were in her room back at the palace. The flashes of color. The sheer panic. The physicians' corpse bleeding out in the corner of the room from where she'd accidentally driven his nose bone into his brain.

Rek threw the blankets off himself and sprang to his feet.

They were sparring. Lord Biryn wanted her to keep going. She didn't want to. She was tired. Sore. Sweating. She just wanted a cookie and lemonade. She threw her sword down and looked up at Biryn petulantly, stomping her foot.

"Don't disarm yourself in front of an enemy." Biryn thrust his hand towards her abdomen, meaning to punch her in the gut. But he'd forgotten to put his sword down first. "Little whore."

Pain ripped through her entire core and she screeched. The blade felt so hot as it tore through her. And then blood gushed out of the wound. Suddenly her face felt so, so cold. Her head felt so light.

Blood everywhere.

She screeched again.

Derik was out of bed now, too. He'd taken the side of the bed further from Jerica's, with bed, Rek sharing the bed with Derik but closer to Jerica. Derik went for the light switch. Rek went for Jerica's bed.

"Hey!" He grabbed her shoulder, trying to wake her.

Her right arm flew towards him, elbow locked, and slammed into his collarbone. He'd expected this... somehow? He didn't know why. But he rolled to the side, onto the bed, as Jerica tried to throw him off her.

"It's me!" Rek said.

Jerica's head was too muddled to understand what it all meant. The only thing she was sure of was that she was in danger. There was an assailant coming at her. And her hand hurt so, so badly -- proof that she'd been attacked.

She got to her knees, swinging her left fist towards where Rek lay, unable to see him in the darkness.

Rek saw the movement and something deep within him knew what she was about to do. So he slid to the side and wrapped his arm around Jerica's as she swung, flipping her over his body and onto the other side of the bed as he tried to pin her arm. "It's me! Jer! It's Rek!"

He grunted as she struggled against him.

Derik finally found the light and flipped it on, revealing the absurd sight unfolding before them. Rek was flat on his back in Jerica's bed, doing his best to pin Jerica's limbs even as she flailed in an attempt to get away from him.

"AINSLEY!" Derik bellowed.

Jerica and Rek both stopped struggling in an instant, something deep within their monkey brains snapping into place. It was Derik's voice. He was their commander. War Lord. They had to obey. They were in trouble. They weren't supposed to be fighting in front of their men.

But... there were no soldiers there. Including the three of them.

It only took a few moments for Jerica to finally process what was happening. Her entire body was coated in sweat and was trembling; her hand felt like she'd punched a brick wall. Again. Even though she knew it'd only been Rek's chest. And she was heaving for breath as if she'd just run the entire field to score a touchdown.

Rek released his grasp, and she rolled off him, panting. She scrubbed at the tears on her face.

Derik looked at her sympathetically. "The picnic?"

Why did they all know what it was? Had she really had that dream that many times in the past? Had this reaction happened so often they'd all come to expect it? What did it even mean? They weren't royalty. There was no picnic.

And why did they think Derik was a War Lord? It was absurd.

Derik was also unsettled. Ainsley? He never called them that. The only time he ever called Jerica, Ainsley, was when it was appropriate in terms of sporting events. If everyone else was going by last names, he'd call her that, too. But it was rare. And never Rek. Why had he known that was what was going to stop them both in their tracks?

Jerica's shirt had ridden up and she awkwardly grabbed it with her left hand to jerk it back down -- then stopped short as she saw the long, thick scar stretching from her right hip to her left side, above where her love-handle would be if she any measurable amount of body fat.

Where the fuck had that come from?

All three of them gaped in stunned, horrified silence. That wasn't supposed to be there... was it? A name echoed in all of their minds: Biryn. What did it mean? Who was that?

Jerica dropped her shirt, too confused to process what it meant. She rested her left arm across her abdomen. She sat on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes. "Where's Akie?"

Akeno was the only person who could make her feel better when she felt like this. Derik was a mother hen that fretted over her if any little thing ever happened to her. Rek wasn't nearly as bad, but he still looked like you kicked his puppy if you let him see how upset you really were. She had to be strong for both of them. For everyone. The only person she could let take the burden from her was Akie, and she didn't know where he was.

"Who now?" Rek asked gently, sitting down on the edge of his bed, across from her.

She opened her eyes, her brain getting stuck for a moment. She didn't know who it was. Her... boyfriend? But that was -- "Bo."

"He's with Kazimir," Derik offered, also sitting down on the bed he shared with Rek. "Back at your guys' dorm."

"Oh." She wiped the rest of the tears away from her face, forcing herself to take deep breaths and get herself under control. She leaned back on the bed, willing herself to stop trembling as she slid back under the blankets.

Rek watched her, then stood up and walked around the other side of her bed, and laid down on her left. She cracked an eye open to glare at him -- then had to open her other eye, too, with how swollen her face was. "This is my bed."

"Our bed, now." Rek crawled under the blankets and snuggled nearer to her.

"Fuck off," she spat, closing her eyes. Her breathing was so shallow now. Labored.

Rek slid his arm under her neck. "You first."

Derik watched them helplessly, then sighed. He had questions and was perplexed and bewildered. But this all felt like a bad dream. Maybe he'd be able to sleep it off. His kids didn't seem to need him. At least not for now.

He flipped the light off.

Jerica lay tensely, eyes closed tightly, brow furrowed into a scowl. Rek forced himself to be calm next to her -- to be her grounding force, rather than to build her anxiety. He wrapped his fingers around her shoulder.

She hesitated for another moment longer, then rolled towards him, snuggling close. She took a shaky breath, feeling very, very small. Like she'd just gotten her ass thoroughly beaten by Biryn. Again. And was in pain. And afraid. And exhausted.

She wrapped her right arm around him, letting her cast rest on his ribs, and rested her head on Rek's shoulder. His arm under her curled around her, keeping her pulled close, and he had his left arm also embracing her.

They laid in silence, ever so slowly drifting to sleep, while Derik laid awake in the dark, anguished, as he listened to their breathing. It was the best gift he ever could have wanted. His kiddos were here, and, mostly alright. Sure, Jerica had taken a thorough thrashing -- but it was almost like she'd had much, much worse happen to her in the past. But he somehow couldn't recall.

It was a weird night -- that's the only thing he knew for sure.

Distant voices.

... broken... surgery... Who's fault was it again?... still investigating...

A disappointment...

Carter was partially conscious, only grabbing onto a few passing words.

Dissapointment.

It came from the voice of his mother. Cool and calm. Distant and detatched, like she didn't even really care enough to be disappointed. She was inconvenienced, sure. But you had to be invested to be disappointed, and she hadn't been invested in him in years, if she ever even was.

He felt a chill wash over him like a cool breeze blew into the room. It reminded him of home. The biting cold of the winter months. How it pierced through your clothes, and bit at your exposed skin, drowning out all warmth and sucking out the water from the air, forcing it to collect on the ground in inches and inches of snow. It reminded him of frozen icicles dripping off the roof, peeking into view of his window where he stayed bundled up by the fire.

He could remember when his parents would come home late at night, their coats coated in a thin layer of snow but the rest of them polished. They'd spent another night dining with the king. They'd spent another night hunting down people like they were predators. They spent another night at a public execution.

He could never tell the difference. They always came back the same, with placid smiles, talking about the mundaneness of the day like nothing had happened. They were as numb to death as they were numb to feeling, and the problem was they all liked it that way.

A burning rage welled in Carter's gut as he started to come to. Everything hurt, but lucidity hit him like a slap to the face.

All of this was wrong. All of this was so wrong.

He rapidly sat up, feeling a tug on his veins as a needle pricked the crook of his arm. Fuming, he ripped the IV out of his arm.

I can fix this myself. He didn't need their godsdamned medicine. He had medicine himself.

His eyes shot around the room and he saw a nurse hurrying over to him, but she was the only one. She must've been keeping watch, but that was perfect. She was alone.

"Sir, I need you to lie back down," she said, glancing at the door. She seemed calm, like she'd had troubled patients before. He realized she was likely going to call for help. For someone to restrain him, and force him to lie down if needed.

Carter didn't sit back down, but instead reached out and grabbed the collar of her scrubs in his tightly bound fists, dragging her closer to him. Breathing ragged, he reached out with his other hand, grabbing her wrist in a locked grip as she attempted to reach for him and push him away.

He felt for her pulse. He counted the beats. She was nervous. Afraid.

Her pulse was racing.

"Thank you for your help," Carter said, his words crisp and clear.

And with her still in his grip, he pulled at her pulse. He felt for her energy - her life force - and he started ripping it from her body, dragging it into his own. She let out a pained gasp, but he could feel his wounds starting to close up. His swelling going down. His body being restored.

He stopped when he felt he was back to normal, and finally, let go.

The woman - still alive - dropped to the floor in a heap, her breathing erratic.

Carter slipped his legs off the side of his hospital bed and walked past her, leaving her there. She was disposable, anyway. It was all coming back to him, now, and he was confident. He knew.

This couldn't be real. None of this was real.

A sense of giddiness grew like warmth in his chest at the thought.

That meant there were no real consequences, right? He couldn't be too sure of that, but he knew he had to hold his cards close.

He stepped out of his hospital room, and proceeded to walk right out of the hospital, back "home."

The weekend seemed to go by in a blur. Ever since Elias helped James move out and then witnessed the fight between James, Carter, and Jerica, things have been feeling... weird. It was like someone had stuffed every hole in his face with cotton, so it was hard to hear, to speak, or smell, to talk, to breathe. But most of all, his brain felt like one big cotton ball.

Cotton... what a funny word. Cotton. Cott'n... Caught 'em?

"Hey man, you okay?" Bo asked.

Elias felt like he was lagging. He registered Bo's words too late and slowly turned to him, just now realizing that he was sprawled on the couch with Nugget on his chest. He had been rhythmically petting Nugget to the point that, one, she fell asleep, and two, it was like he did it so smoothly he meditated himself away.

"Oh, yeah man, I just spaced," Elias said with a sheepish smile, slowly sitting up. His back was killing him for some reason, but he couldn't remember why. Maybe it was from helping James move out. "What time is it?"

"It's like, 11pm almost," Bo said, pausing as he looked at Elias funny.

Justified, because Elias definitely thought it was the morning. How many days passed since that fight? One? Two? Zero? Time was starting to feel like a social construct, really.

"Are you sure you're okay, man? You've been a little more... absent lately," Bo said softly.

"Yeah man, it's all good," Elias said with a nod, offering a little smile, but it felt forced. He focused his energy on petting Nugget instead, ruffling her feathers. "It's been a weird weekend, you know, with all the stuff that's going on. And it's midterm week, and there's this one class I need to pass to graduate, so I've been trying to focus. My doctor prescribed me a different Adderall pill and I think it's been making me all spacey instead of focusy."

"Ah. I get that," Bo said, scratching the back of his neck. "Might be worth mentioning to your doc if it keeps up like that."

"Good idea. Maybe I can get a different prescription again." Elias glanced at the kitchen, the gnaw of hunger lightly tugging his stomach. "Say, uh, you cooking anything?"

"... I've been stress baking, Elias," Bo said flatly. "Did you not notice that our fridge is overflowing with cakes?"

"I haven't opened the fridge since I stopped buying groceries like a month ago."

"Huh," Bo hummed faintly.

His eyes then fell to Nugget in Elias's lap.

"Been baking a little less though since Nugget stopped laying eggs," Bo said quietly. "'Cause now I have to buy 'em."

Weird. Elias looked down at Nugget, but she was fast asleep. Just the thought of a nap made him want to yawn, and he did yawn, and he felt the tug of time pull at him again. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe the medication really was messing with him. Or maybe he was just...

At work?

Elias looked at the clock. 6am. Saturday? No, Sunday. No... well, he didn't actually know. He didn't feel his phone when he patted his apron pocket and then his back pocket, so he must have forgotten to bring it. It wouldn't be the first.

People hardly came by during a weekend early morning shift, so Elias took the time to perform mindless tasks, cleaning the coffee makers and even brewing a fancy cup of joe himself. His coworker -- what was her name again? -- leaned up against the counter and chatted away, but Elias hardly paid attention to her. For once, he just didn't have the energy to socialize.

Instead, Elias zoned out and started to pour the cup of hot coffee into his mug... until she said something that caused a ripple of panic through his chest.

"We're doing drills today. It'll be painful for you," she said nonchalantly.

Elias couldn't explain the drop of his stomach or the impending doom he felt in his gut. He couldn't explain why it had scared him so much, that his hands shook and he missed pouring the coffee into the cup, instead scalding his other hand. And most of all, he couldn't explain why the scalding blister-festering burn felt only like a minor ache.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" she said with worry, eyeing his hand with shock.

Elias just now caught her nametag. Sami. That didn't sound familiar, and she also looked like a young teen, but also he knew that this was the least of his concerns right now.

"W... What did you say?" Elias asked instead with a shaky breath. "Before that."

"I said that the fire drill today will be painful, but oh my god, your hand is probably on fire and painful," Sami said as she turned on the faucet for cold tap water. "Do you need like, a first aid kit or something? At least run your hand under the water!"

Sami ended up fussing over this so much that she called the manager over, and since the shift was running slow anyways, Elias was dismissed for the day. As he was walking back towards his car, he poked through the bandages that he wrapped around his arm, poking and picking at it until he suddenly felt the urge to take it off, one layer at a time.

He expected to look into an ugly, puss-filled, pink and tender sore spot, but instead was faced with his normal fleshy hands.

It was like the burn had never happened.

Did enough time pass that he already healed? Elias thought this was minutes after walking away from the coffee shop. He was starting to lose track of time...

Bo's words rung in his head: "Might be worth mentioning to your doc if the medicine keeps up like that."

And before he knew it, Elias was next in line at the pharmacy, getting... a new prescription? Did he change it? He didn't set up a new meeting with his doctor. It was like he was on auto-pilot, and this was what he was supposed to be doing, but he had no idea what he was really doing.

Like usual, he told the pharmacist his name so they could identify him, and after some shuffling in the back, the pharmacist returned with a small paper bag. A receipt was stapled on to it that detailed what it was, but Elias didn't recognize it. He was no doctor, but he did know his drugs, being a nursing student and all. Instead of the latin name of the drug, they were just... letters. It seemed like gibberish.

"What's this?" he asked with a raised brow, staring at the incomprehensible letters.

The pharmacist smiled gently. "You asked for it last week. Did you forget?"

The walk back to his car felt like a daze. Elias was ready to drive back to the plaza, but when he sat down and spaced out again, he then noticed that he already was at the plaza. The lack of understanding of what was happening around him should have made him feel uneasy and anxious, but Elias just didn't care. This weirdly felt normal, and on the bright side, he didn't feel stressed with midterms and the drama of his friends.

But it did feel... wrong. He couldn't explain it. It was like he was trapped in a life he didn't want to live, but lived it anyways, just coasting by. Everything felt like a distant memory, and he had never felt so far removed from everyone until now. The weirdest part of it all was that he didn't want to do anything about it, which felt so unlike him.

Elias stared at the mystery drugs on the passenger seat. Maybe it was best to not take that, and to lay off on any more pills for now.

With a sigh, Elias finally left his car, taking every step slowly, trying to really live in the moment instead of letting life pass by like the rest of the weekend.

When he finally reached his apartment, he was glad to finally be able to smell the stress-baking cakes Bo had been making, but the feeling went away when he saw Bo whirl around at his arrival with the saddest frown he had ever seen on him.

Elias's eyes gravitated down to Bo's arms. He was cradling Nugget, who appeared to still be sleeping, but Bo's words said otherwise.

"Elias," Bo said lowly, his one functioning eye dropping to the floor. "... When I checked on Nugget today, she wasn't breathing."

Elias stared at Nugget, knowing what Bo was saying. Nugget, their silly companion from the beginning of the year, had died today. Elias knew that they gave her a good life, but somehow, he had this sinking feeling that he had accidentally caused this.

And he didn't know what to do. He couldn't just undo death.

With a heavy weight in his chest drowning him, Elias wordlessly turned back around and shut the door behind him, rushing out of the building.

The breeze felt extra chilly tonight as Morri laid under his blankets trying to sleep. He had remembered cracking the window open a bit but it was as if someone had turned a fan on and placed it directly towards him. He sat up in bed to take a look at the window, only to see rain heavily pouring outside and lightning striking on every corner. Suddenly he felt a bit dizzy.

Morri threw the blankets off of himself and walked over to the window. As he got closer he could hear the shouts of people who seemed to be just below him. The wind grew louder and stronger the closer he got.

Something isn't right.

As he finally got out to the window and peered out, what was usually a quiet suburban street had not turned into a large wooden floor surrounded by darkness. It wasn't just rain that was splashing down around him, it was... salt water??

"MAN THE ROPES!!" a man shouted from below.

Was he on a ship?

"SHE AINT GONNA HOLD UNLESS WE TURN" another yelled.

Morri looked off into the distance to try to make out what he could. Grabbing on to the window pane to stop himself from rocking from side to side as the boat swayed, he could see waves crashing down all around them. Waves the size of which he'd never seen before.

A knock behind him caused him to spin around. His bed was gone and he was in a wooden room lit by only a fire on the wall, standing across from a young boy who was soaked from head to toe.

"Captain! What are going to do?" The boy shouted.

"Ca- captain? Who are yo-" Morri had to stop and catch his balance as the boat violently shook around them.

"The wave is gonna get us! They're only getting bigge-" The boy stopped, looking wide-eyed out of the window.

Morri spun around quickly, feeling his heart sink as a wave the size of what he could only describe as a mountain faced them. The screams from outside became muffled as Morri felt himself freeze in place. As hard as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to speak or to move. He simply stood staring at the water slowly creeping up towards them.

As the boat shifted upwards, ready to be flipped and tossed around, Morri couldn't help but lift his lips into a soft smile as the water...

... splashed over his face.

He shot up from bed and rubbed his face furiously.

"What are you doing, I've been calling you all morning!" An unfortunately familiar voiced said to him.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought." Morri said, wiping off the last bits of water from his face that he could.

"Are you trying to be late for the show?" Lordy asked him.

Morri sighed and looked up at him, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

James would've jumped out of his bed when the door slammed if his head didn't feel like a million bricks. Someone had entered the room beyond the blanket shielding his face, but he didn't know who, why, or even what time it was. Ever since he'd returned to bed, time had stopped moving, and he was just waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

He slowly pulled the blanket down from his face and started in the direction of the doorway where the silhouette of a person stood. Based on the shapes and sizes of the only three people that were supposed to be in his apartment, he realized it had to have been Evaline.

Faintly, he could hear the sound of her breathing heavily as if she'd just run a marathon. But without his glasses on and the lights out, he couldn't make out her expression.

Then the lights flicked on, and James was momentarily blinded.

Before he could even truly react, she was already marching towards him, and before he knew it, she was standing over him, staring intensely at him before reaching out to cup his face, but not in a romantic or tender way. Her hands slid from his cheek to his forehead, like she was just trying to touch him.

"If this is real, tell me something only I know," she said cooly.

James, in every way, had no idea what was going on, but it was clear that Evaline was having some kind of episode, and he did not know what triggered it. If that was the case, then both of them were having a very bad night, and he did not feel equipped to help her as was probably necessary considering he was still very much full of painkillers and - frankly - wasn't feeling too grounded in reality either.

He was going to keep his body covered. He hadn't expected Evaline to come in in the middle of the night. He hadn't covered himself up after he'd tore his shirt off, and he didn't know where anything was packed away in his room full of boxes in the dark. That, and getting anything on over his neck brace was more work than his panicked mind had allowed him to even consider.

He didn't respond right away, because he had to pause to think.

Scraping far back to the time they first met, he plucked out a memory. A detail he didn't share with anyone else. One only he and Evaline knew.

"On the first day we met," he rasped, his voice still weak. "I took you to lunch. I ordered lasagna. You ordered the pesto cavatappi. We spoke French. It was nice."

Her grip around his face weakened until she pulled away. She was silent at first, but slowly, she let out a muffled laugh, leaning against the dresser beside his bed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, still laughing.

"Sorry for waking you up," she said in a sudden empty tone. Evaline faced him again, the seriousness returning. "And your... injuries. Carter did that."

It was phrased as a sentence, but she said it like a statement.

James was worried.

He reached out towards her, his fingers brushing her forearm.

He was afraid to leave his bed. He didn't know if the scars were still there. They shouldn't have been there at all in the first place, but he felt if Evaline saw them in full view, it might make whatever spiral she was experiencing worse.

"Evaline," he said softly. "What happened? Did you have a bad dream?"

He could see that it was still the middle of the night on the clock. It was getting close to 4 am.

Evaline hesitantly brushed her fingers back against his before instead deciding to take it, holding his hand instead. Her frown softened, and it was clear she was still on guard, but at least she was becoming more grounded.

"I just want to know what happened," she said almost pleadingly now. "That's not too much to ask, is it? What happened to you, and everyone else, and -- that's all I want to know. I just want to know that you're really, truly okay. I want to trust what I hear and see. That's it. That's really it."

James felt like he missed something.

They hadn't had a conversation like this before, and yet she was pleading as if they had. Like she was more than frustrated - like she was at the end of her rope. Somehow, at some point in the middle of the night, she'd lost sight of what happened in the past 24 hours to the point where she was doubting all of it.

It made him want to ask again: what happened? But he had a gut feeling that they would both be hearing that question differently.

He squeezed her hand.

"We were moving, yesterday," James said calmly. His voice still hurt, but he pushed it out. "Out of my old apartment with Carter to this one, with Benji and Daniel. We'd brought everything in and I left to go check on my room by myself one last time, to make sure I didn't miss anything. Just as I was about to leave, Carter came home. We argued. He attacked me. Jerica and Rek overheard next door and Jerica intervened, pulling Carter off me. You, Elias, Bo, Daniel, Benji... you all came up just as we knocked Carter out. Jerica and I were hurt badly, but we both got medical assistance. I went to the ER. You came with me. Jerica broke her hand. And... later that day Bo lost sight in one of his eyes, unrelated to the fight. But we're-- we're going to be okay. I'm okay. I'll recover. The doctors said so."

Evaline patiently stood still, still holding on to his hand. A few moments after he finished, she then let go and moved back towards the door, closing it and then turning off the lights. It became increasingly hard to see in the dark, but James knew she was close when the other side of the bed sunk a little from her weight.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" she whispered in a wavering voice.

James felt the strength of his voice waning, but he pushed it once again to reply in a weak whisper.

"Yeah," he said, sliding towards the side of the bed to make room for her.

She silently slid under the blankets, but without warning, she ignored the room he made for her and instead snuggled close to him, perching her head on his shoulder and extending an arm out for a hug to be closer. James couldn't turn to his side with his neck locked in place, but he slid his arm underneath her, bringing it around her back.

Evaline didn't say anything for some passing moments, staying still and letting the silence fill the air.

But then James felt his shoulder getting wet, and after she sniffed, he realized that she was silently crying.

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered when it became obvious she couldn't hide in the dark silence. "You're recovering. I -- I don't want you to say anything. You're right, it was just a bad dream. Maybe I'm overreacting, I don't know. But it felt so real, and I didn't know if it was real or not, especially since -- especially since..."

She held him a little tighter.

"I'm just glad that I can be here now. With you. Even if this is another dream," she finished weakly.

James wanted to tell her that it wasn't a dream, but something about saying that didn't feel right in his gut, and he didn't know why.

It was almost like it wasn't true.

But that was crazy.

Right?

It was morning. The class was starting. Why had any of them shown up to class, being as they were? Half of them were on painkillers or had just been to the ER. And yet, there they were, in their usual seats, sitting in a classroom in the cursed early hours of the morning. None of them could even really remember how they got there, but they'd rolled out somehow, making it there just in time.

It was Professor Lordshire's class, and for some reason, the classroom was uncharacteristically quiet and sober as they waited for their professor to show up.

Something felt different.

Something was off.

Bo didn't really know why he showed up to class. If anyone had an excuse to skip class, it was half their friend group, but somehow, he made it there. He could barely remember the morning and getting ready. Everything was disorienting. He kept bumping into things. The whole world felt lopsided, and he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get used to it.

He sat with Jerica and Rek in the back. Elias, too, though he hadn't seemed present for the past few days. It seemed like everyone was going through it.

Bo had to focus and refocus his eye a few times to find people in the room. Why were so many people wearing hoodies over their faces? Why did none of these people feel familiar anymore?

He did see James and Evaline, but James wasn't in the front like he usually was. He was sitting more in the middle, near the edge of the classroom. Out of character for him.

He thought he saw Daniel and Benji walk in, but he lost track of them, and as Bo scanned the room, who he really found himself searching for was Carter.

Would Carter dare to show his face to class?

Bo's eyes landed on a small guy sitting all the way up at the front of the class. Hoodie up, drawstrings pulled tight around his face. Sunglasses. And the small bump of a bun under the hood.

It looked like Carter, but he was clearly trying to hide.

And he should.

Bo wasn't quick to anger, but if Carter so much as looked at James or the Ainsleys, he couldn't make any promises.

For once, Benji and Daniel both sat in the back together.

It wasn’t exactly something they had verbally decided on. No one had given them odd looks when they entered the room. Daniel didn’t know how his magic—magic he didn’t even know existed until last night—was able to hide their wings so well, but it did. He also wasn’t entirely sure how Benji and him had gone the entire morning without talking about the night before. He couldn't really remember the morning, but Daniel assumed that was because he was so distracted.

They had made the decision to really talk about it after class. That part wasn’t really surprising. But he still couldn’t believe neither one had tried to subtly bring it up on the walk over, or bring it up now when they were sitting so far away from everyone else.

And something still felt…off. Like he was forgetting something important. Maybe his wings had just appeared overnight. Maybe Benji’s had, too. But if they were new, why did their weight feel so familiar? Why did this feel so right? Daniel had spent the entire night thinking about how odd it was that he had apparently completely forgotten how to use magic. How he had a set of wings that he must have seen before, but couldn’t remember ever actually taking them out. How there was a woman named Abigail that had to be important to him, but how he couldn’t remember anything about her except the pain in his chest and her name.

Why weren’t things adding up?

What was he missing?

Daniel lowered his head on his desk with a soft groan. His head felt so heavy. He didn’t want to be in class right now. He didn’t know why he had even come in. When he put together what had happened to James with what had just happened last night, Daniel thought that he had a pretty good reason to skip.

Benji suddenly pulled Daniel’s hood over his head.

Daniel raised his head up. He started to push his hood back. “Why did you do that-”

“Don’t,” Benji hissed, putting a hand on Daniel’s head to keep the hood from moving. “You have horns.”

“What!?”

“They just appeared a second ago,” Benji said. His voice was barely above a whisper. “No one was looking at you, so I don’t think anyone saw.”

Daniel slipped a hand underneath his hood and ran it right over where his head felt the heaviest. Benji was right. There were horns there. They felt like a pair of ram’s horns. Daniel was also startled to note that, like his wings, they felt familiar. The spell he had put on his hoodie must have been keeping the horns from appearing present to anyone looking at him right now, but they were definitely there underneath the hoodie.

Daniel drew his hand back.

“I feel like there’s someone I’m supposed to call right now,” he said, lowering his head back down onto his desk. This was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

As Lordy strut to class, Morri following closely behind him, the overwhelming sense of misplacement followed him around. Things that would have seemed normal to him just a few weeks ago suddenly made him question how he ended up the way he did- here in this school, with this job, in this town that no longer felt like his own. The way of living felt more and more foreign by the minute and he couldn't help trying to piece together the why.

He and Morri exchanged glances, both understanding that today wasn't going to be like any other.

"I hope you're not having a change of heart." Morri said with a sinister smile.

Lordy shot one back, "Oh no, I'm not sure why but I feel like I've been waiting for this moment for longer than I even realize."

They continued silently for a few more moments before they arrived at the classroom door. They both stopped for a moment before they entered.

Lordy turned his head to Morri, "In case we don't have a chance to talk about it later, I enjoyed whatever little time we shared in this world."

Morri nodded at him, "Don't lose hope just yet. Our little test isn't quite over."

Lordy gave him a small chuckle before he stepped through the door. As he walked in, he looked around at everyone, took in all the faces that stuck out to him. it was only now he was realizing that he didn't even recognize the majority of the class. It was as if they were just put there to fill up space.

Once Morri close the door and walked passed Lordy to take a seat, he couldn't help but notice how unnaturally quiet it was. It was almost as if this room was all that existed anymore. The normal buzzing from the hallway and bird from outside seemed to be gone, and all that could be heard were the sound of his students moving around in their seats.

"Sorry I'm late class, I had to walk my fish before I stepped out for the morning." Lordy said walking over to his desk, tapping his cane on the floor as he did.

"Oh and I had all these dishes in the sink," He shook his head, "I mean they weren't going to fold themselves."

Morri grinned at the confusion flowing around the room.

"Not to mention I got pulled over for running a green light," Lordy sighed, "I never did like cops you know? Oh and worst of it all my wallet started ringing but I couldn't answer it because I was in the shower."

At this point Lordy was sure everyone was about have aneurysm.

"Now some of you probably think I'm crazy, right?" Lordy began pacing back and forth in the front of the class, "Statistically, it should about fifty percent of you thinking yes, and the other fifty thinking no. So let's perform a little experiment, shall we?"

Lordy stood in front of where Carter was trying his best to hide, looking like a wannabe computer hacker from a TV commercial, "I'm going to do something, and half of you are going to be proven right. Either I'm a genius who's just yet to be fully understood-"

Lordy raised his cane, with the bottom freshly sharpened into a deadly point, and with one swift motion jabbed it straight through Carter's chest, "Or I'm just fucking insane."