SITY: chapter three

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NOTE: This time, it's Olli's POV

Someday, we'll look back on this.

Then we'll laugh nervously and change the subject.

I was content to just sit there and listen while yet another one of my therapists blabbed on about good work ethic and listening in class, but no. They had to make me participate in the discussion as well. I'd heard more than enough behavioral speeches in my time to know that talking about the problem would get you nowhere.

Which is why I'm now hiding under the loose floorboards in Derek's closet.

I heard feet walking above me, murmured voices, and the opening of a door.

"Seriously, Olli isn't in here. I don't know where the freak has pissed off to." I heard Derek clear above me.

"We will find him, Derek. And when there's a will-"

"There's inheritance money?" I heard Derek drawl and forced myself not to laugh. That guy can be such a smart-ass. And I should know. The first thing he ever said to me was, I don't have an attitude problem, you have a perception problem. "Look, he's not here, OK? Go ask Jay-Jay or Lithium."

The door closed, the footsteps retreated, and then the door opened again. Light crept down as Derek lifted the floor boards, reaching down a hand to help me out.

"Where the freak has pissed off to? You have such a way with words." I said,stumbling past him into his room.

He grinned and shut the closet door, "I try."

I laughed, flopping down onto his bed. His room was a carbon copy of every other room in this place; a single bed, chest of drawers, desk. He'd just made it his own by the scorch marks from where the curtains used to be.

"Shove over," He muttered, pushing me to the side and climbing up next to me. "Do you have any idea how much shit you're going to be in when they find you?"

"What if they don't find me?" I let myself tip sideways so my head was on his shoulder. "Run away with me Dear."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. We can go to Paris and work as underpaid kitchen hands."

"It'd be great."

"I'm sure it would be Olli." He stretched out his arms, wrapping one around my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow, "Smooth move. Trying to pick me up?"

He looked down at me, an impish grin spreading across his face, "Would you agree? I'm thinking about trying it out on Jay-Jay."

I laughed. "That poor kid is confused enough without you shoving your nose in." I said, getting a vivid visual of Dear trying this exact trick on Jayden. The kid would have a heart attack.

"It was probably just a phase," Dear commented, "Now that that Jacobs kid has left, he might start on Lithium."

"Lithium would kick him eight ways to Sunday," I said dryly. "Your narrow view on the subject disappoints me Dear."

He at least had the decency to look confused. "What do you mean?"

I didn't look at him, choosing instead to gaze out the window. He had one of the fourth floor rooms, on the side facing the park. I saw a couple of boats on the pond. "What do you think of the new kid?" I asked, not entirely changing the subject.

"The anorexic? He's an asshole."

I sighed, "So are you Dear."

"Yeah, then why do you put up with me?"

Did he seriously just ask me that? After all the times I'd seen him break down and scream and cry and just plain lose it, and all the times he's saved me from therapists and smoked with me on the roof and kept me sane, he's asking me why I put up with him. I thought it was rather obvious.

"You're my best friend Dear. It's my job."

"I woulda quit ages ago," He mumbled under his breath, resting his head on mine.

"Maybe that's the difference between us," I replied, intertwining my fingers with his. "Though I never would've taken you to be a quitter."

I saw him flash a grin out of the corner of my eye. "If I was a quitter, I wouldn't be here."

I laughed, "That's true. Sad, but true."

I looked away from the park, focusing on the scorch marks that stained the wall. Derek had been in here two weeks when he set the curtains on fire. They'd replaced the curtains, only to have them turn to embers again. After that, they'd never put new ones up, telling him that that was his punishment for burning them. He'd been in a bad state back then. Nobody thought he'd get better. Turns out me screaming at him did some good.

"What are you thinking about?"

I glanced up at him, "Hmm?"

"You looked a little lost."

"Oh, it was nothing. Just remembering times when things weren't this good."

He nodded and I knew that my words had just propelled his mind back, most likely to life before he was put in here. I'd been told the story, though I suspect it was never the full one; Derek has this way of over-looking details that he doesn't like. Either way, there was never any clear reason why he loves fire the way he does. It's like his oxygen; he doesn't know why he needs it to survive, he just knows he needs it.

There were reasons for my little "problem" but they're probably better left unsaid.

"Before, you changed the subject without answering my question." Derek said softly, head still resting on mine. He must've been getting a sore neck, but he didn't show it.

"What was the question?" Never let it be said that I don't know how to procrastinate.

"You said I had a narrow view on the subject of Jay-Jay. What did you mean?"

I sighed and he squeezed my hand. "Maybe you didn't notice, but whenever he wasn't glaring at you, JohnnyCake was staring at Jay," I shrugged, "Maybe it was just my imagination."

He was quiet for a moment. "Come up for a smoke?"