#frostyscript original

Chapter 1; 6:30 am 

The floor pressed its chill through his socks, a creeping feeling as if it was trying to settle in his bones. He stepped around the pile of laundry spilling into the hallway from the bathroom. The scent of stale cigarettes mingling with the tang of detergent that hadn’t quite rinsed out.  

Standing in front of the mirror, he yawned as he stared at his reflection. Exhausted eyes staring right back at him, dark circles more prominent due to the lack of sleep he had been getting over the past few months. Not that the glass was worth looking into. Filmed over with spit flecks and the ghosts of wiped-away toothpaste. No one bothered to clean it anymore.  

The closer he looked at himself, the less he liked what he saw. His face seemed whittled down; pale skin freckled in a way that reminded him of mold blooming on old plaster.  

Bleached hair stuck out in all directions, greasy and static from all the tossing and turning in an attempt to find a comfortable position. 

The longer he stared, the more the reflection fought him, edges going soft in his vision, his own features losing their hold.  

Cursing he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the palms of his hands against the lids until small lights sparked in the dark. His vision cleared a bit after he opened his eyes. 

Sighing he reached for the toothbrush on the cluttered sink, laying between the two busted makeup palettes and a soap dish which his mother used as an ashtray. Squeezing whatever toothpaste was left onto the brush he brushed his teeth before washing his face with cold water, shivering as the water bit his skin but it didn’t wake him up as much as he had hoped for.  

Blindly reaching for a towel with which he tapped his face dry, running his fingers through his thin hair as an attempt to style them before giving up. 

Squinting his eyes at the reflection of a green sweatshirt lying behind him. He contemplated for a few moments before ultimately rolling his eyes as he picked it up. Running his fingers over the knitted fabric, throwing it on and looking down at himself with a frown. The sleeves went past his knuckles, the wide collar exposing the striped shirt he wore underneath, too lazy to get rid of his pajamas. A familiar scent surrounded him, cheap cologne, burned toast and smoke.  

Deep in thought he didn’t hear the front door open until he heard the door slam shut and a dull thump.  

“I’m fine!” He followed his mother's voice after he finished getting dressed, leaning against the doorframe as she chucked the keys onto the living room table.  “I brought lunch,” she said, fatigue clear in her eyes, having just come back from another nightshift. “The guy at the counter messed one up, but it’s fine right?” she smiled, offering him one. A tired smile on her face, a pleading look in her eyes. Brown? Maybe green. Or blue? He couldn’t tell anymore. 

“Thanks” he set put it on the dinner table near the door as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m not hungry though.” he shrugged, not noticing his mother’s frown as she fished out a cigarette from her pocket, letting herself fall onto the crammed-up sofa with a sigh, her hand running over her face. “If you say so” she replied, lighting the cigarette with trembling hands. “You want a ride? I could pick Molly up as well” the older woman offered, looking up at him with a tired smile on her face.  

“You should rest” he mumbled, tying the laces of his shoes.  “No, sweetheart it’s fine, really” she argued weakly as she sunk further into the worn-out cushion. “Just... gotta close my eyes for a minute.” 

By the time he put on his scarf, she was out. Cigarette burning between her fingers which he plucked out of her grasp, putting it out on the dish sitting on the floor next to her. 

 Brown, he decided as he walked out of the door. Her eyes were brown. 

Chapter 2; 7:15 am

The pavement stretched too far. Each step lagged as if he was sinking further into the ground. The lines of buildings on either side of the sidewalk seemed tilted. 

His vision went blurry, split then merged again. A car’s headlights scraped across his eyes as it drove by, stinging his eyes as he squeezed them shut, looking down onto the ground instead.  

Everything has shifted size again, wrong in ways only his mind noticed. He swallowed against the ache in his throat. A series of coughs came suddenly, draw and raw, feeling as if something sharp got tugged from underneath his rips. 

At the corner, the wind knifed at the bare skin of his hands, flexing his fingers as he finally looked up at a familiar house. Painted a muted green and the entire front yard was filled with bushes, trees and flowers. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched a girl leave the house, waving goodbye at whoever was inside before greeting him with a big smile. Méchel Kingsleigh. His Molly.  

He held his hand out for her to grab as she met him by the gate.  

“Morning baby” she greeted, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. “Good morning” he hummed, watching with a soft expression as she pulled a face at his cold touch. 

 “I should start calling you Jack Frost” she joked as she covered his hand with hers to warm them, laughing as it was now his turn to pull a face. “Wait which Jack Frost? The one form Santa Claus or from guardians of the light?” he asked as they continued their way to school. 

 “Uh, Guardians, obviously” she rolled her eyes playfully, nudging his shoulder with hers. “The Santa Claus one was like, that one weird uncle you tell your kids to avoid during family gatherings, I mean come on who’d willingly take over the role as Santa Clause” she scoffed, oblivious to the way he kept glancing at her, a small smile on his pale lips.  

“You wouldn’t want to be Santa?” he asked, amused. “oh, fuck no, keeping track of which kids were naughty or nice all year while making sure you don’t miss one” she continued. “And delivering all the gifts in one night? Yeah, no thank you” she scoffed as he let out a hum in agreement.  “Makes sense”. 

As they walked towards the gates of the school, Molly continued her rants while he threw in a few questions or hums to reassure her that he was listening. He hid the way his lungs caught every few steps, the light headedness, but he matched her pace.  

He couldn’t tell her that the world had been shifting again, that the edges of his sight had been fraying. That two mornings ago his sink was red. That the hospital had left three messages.  

Caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t immediately notice that they had arrived at the school or that she had stopped talking. Didn’t notice that she glanced at him as if she knew, if she did, she didn’t say anything. Just squeezed his hand twice. “You got ethics first, right?” she asked suddenly. He snapped out of his trance, blinking a few times until the haze cleared. “I think so” he murmured unsure, running a hand through his damaged hair with a sheepish expression. “I know your schedule better than you do” Molly teased, poking his arm.  

They stopped at the gate. The school gates loomed ahead, tall and washed in that grey-green paint. Students clustered in slow drifts, their breath ghosting into the cold winter air. 

“Text me if you need anything.” she told him sternly as he cupped her cheek with his rough hand. “I won’t.” he responded with a teasing smirk before kissing her cheek. “I know” she stole a kiss before she slipped into the crowd. He rolled his eyes as he watched her go with a fond expression before he started coughing into his sleeve, groaning internally at the taste of metal. 

Chapter 3; 7:48 am 

He entered the classroom just before the bell rang. The hallway behind him was still buzzing with shoes squeaking on the tile, the crash of lockers and laughter bouncing off the concrete walls.  

“Shit- shitshit” someone uttered at his elbow. He caught the door before it smacked the short girl in the face. Rosie Walker was balancing a stack of binders and books, the coffee in her hand tilting dangerously. Her curls were frizzed out, highlighter stains on her hoodie sleeves.  

“Thanks, you are a life saver” she said, a grin on her face as she quickly shuffled past him. He only nodded, letting the door ease shut behind him.  

The classroom air was heavy, warm, stuffy from the window someone opened. Radiator heat clung to the smell of wet coats. He slid into his usual seat, second to last row, right by the window, letting his backpack slump onto the floor as he tuned into the argument Raymond, better known as Ray, and Charles were in.  

“It’s a sandwich! It's bread and meat” Charles said, jabbing his pen toward the ginger. “Folded, not stacked, man.” Ray rolled his eyes. “That’s a taco, idiot” he argued, crossing his arms. Janet sighed through her nose, “Dude, you can’t just compare Mexican food to a fucking hotdog, that’s just an insult to all of South America.”  

“A burrito then?” Natalie spoke up from the back row. “What did I just say, Nells?” 

“Wrap” the bleached blonde spoke up, high fiving the blonde sitting behind him causing Janet to groan. “Why do I even bother” she uttered causing Charles to laugh.  

“How are you, man?” Ray asked. “Yeah, you look dead. Are you like running on Red Bull and gas station junk again?” Charles teased. He only rolled his eyes with a smirk.  

The argument kept going until the door groaned open and the chatter fell silent.  

Madame Krämer strode in wrapped in beige wool before letting her tote bag fall onto the desk. Papers and folders spilling out. She twisted the top off her thermos as the chairs creaked against the floor, students standing up to greet their professor. “Sit down” Madame Krämer’s voice dragged, heavy with fatigue. She uncapped a marker, their classroom was one of the few in the school that actually had a whiteboard, and scrawled on the whiteboard. Kant. Universal moral duty. The squeal was too high, causing the students to grimace at the pitch. 

His vision blurred, he pressed his palms into his eyes until sparks bursted behind his lids, opening them again, the desk edges bled into his sleeves. The words on the board blurred into shapes that looked less like letters and more like hieroglyphs. 

Janet chewed at the end of her pen, writing notes that veered more towards protest plans rather than philosophy. Nelly slumped against the cold, eyes heavy lidded. Charles blinked slowly, fighting off sleep. Ray hunched low, his jaw tight, drawing horns onto a doodle of Krämer into his book. 

He tried to hold onto the professor’s voice. But it warped, muffled as though he were hearing it from underwater. His heartbeat in his ears, a pressure swelling in his gums. His pulse pounded in his skull. Then he recalled Molly’s voice, a conversation a few weeks ago: get your bloodwork done, dumbass. 

Charles leaned back, stage whispering: “Yo, look at Kant’s picture. Bro looks like he tried to marry his sister” he joked.  

Madame Krämer’s head snapped up “Monsieur Thill, I hear you one more time, and you’re out!” she threatened her problem student. Madame Krämer always found a way to call Charles out, he swears she has it out for him. Charles threw his hands up. “But Madame, it’s true isn’t it”. A couple of kids snickered and Madame Krämer shoot him a glare to which he raised his arms in surrender.  

The bleached blonde swallowed. The taste turned metallic, his fingers prickled where they had touched the desk. “Hey,” Nelly murmured, leaning forward, a worried frown on her face. “You okay? You look a bit-”. “Leave it, Nells” Ray cut in, his voice flat. She sank back into her seat, sulking, her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze fixated on to the back of Ray’s ginger head. 

“Final warning, Monsieur Thill” Krämer said from the front. Charles scoffed, throwing his hands up. “It wasn’t me!” he protested. 

Chapter 4; 9:30 am

By second period, the air felt thinner. 

The numbers in his book didn’t swim anymore. Every time he tried to focus, they’d blur once again, his eyes slid off the page before he could pin them down. 

Nelly leaned over from the seat next to him, blonde hair falling over her shoulder. "You didn’t finish the question,” she whispered. “Page forty-eight. Number six.” Natalie pointed out.  He blinked. He knew it was number six. He just didn’t- The thought broke off as a noise slipped from the back of his throat, though vague enough to pass and he hunched closer to the paper.  

Ray’s eyes flicked over from next to Nelly. Just a glance as if he was checking for something.  

Nelly didn’t move back, tapping her soft pink pencil against the desk “If you skip steps you’ll get docked. That’s what happened last time, remember?  you need the formula to measure how much the data deviates from the mean-”  

“Nelly” Ray warned, his head leaning against the palm of his hand. “Look at your own work.” Nelly wanted to argue but decided against it. “Wait, we have work?” Charles asked, perplexed. 

Janet clicked the back of her bullet pen. “Maybe everyone can shut up and just work for once” her voice was flat, the ravenette didn’t bother looking up. 

The teacher cleared his throat, his gaze landing on their row. 

Pressure throbbed in his head, heavy, like something wedged itself behind his temples. Question six blurred again as he looked back at his book. It looked simpler when Nelly explained it. Now the numbers swam into each other. Still, he attempted to solve the equation with trembling hands. 

The bell shrieked way too loud. It spiked straight into his skull making him wince. 

As they packed up, Nelly turned to him concerned. “Is everything okay with Molly? You’ve been acting strange” she pointed out. “What?” he furrowed his brows. “Yeah, everything’s fine” he muttered as he put his materials into his backpack. 

Ray wrapped an arm around the tall girl “Nells didn’t you need to hand an essay in before p.e?” Natalie’s eyes widened “Shit, Jay, I’ll meet you at the lockers” she told Janet, who showed her thumbs up, before hurrying out the classroom. 

Charles clapped his back harder than necessary, causing the bleached blonde to stumble forward a bit. “Bro, you look like you’re about to pass out. You good?”  the bleached blonde dismissed his friend. “Didn’t sleep” he replied, gripping Charles’ shoulder to steady himself.  

“Again?” Janet raised a brow, leaning against the table with her arms crossed. “You should get that checked. It’s been, what, a week?” The bleached blonde only shrugged as they left the classroom.  

Outside, the hallway hit like a wave, students rushing, laughter and loud chatter. Lunch was still two hours off. He swallowed against the dry scrape in his throat. 

Chapter 5; 9:45 am

Nelly caught up with Janet by the lockers, her baby blue gym bag thrown over her shoulder. “Did you manage to hand the essay in?” the ravenet greeted, wrestling with her locker. “Ah and don’t mind Ray, he’s a bit strange sometimes.” 

Nelly leaned against Janet’s locker with a sulky expression. “Yeah, I did. And I wasn’t trying to be annoying, it’s just, I know you guys are like really close and I don’t know how well I fit into the group.” the blonde voiced her concerns. “You fit in just fine, it’ll just take a bit of time.” Janet banged her hand against the locker. “it’s hard to be in a new class but give it another week and you’ll be fine” the short girl let out a groan when her locker finally opened. “And Ray’s Ray. He just gets a bit weird when it comes to our living dead boy or new people”  

Nelly giggled as Janet stuffed her gym clothes into her bag, waving enthusiastically as she saw Molly with a group of girls walk by. “Hey Molly!” she grinned as the brunette waved bye to the group of girls with slicked back ponytails and walked over.  

“Nells, Janet” Molly jogged over with a bright smile. Loose wavey, beauty marks dusted across her tan skin.  

“You guys got p.e as well right?” the tan girl asked. Nelly perked up “Yeah! I think we’re sharing the gym?” 

Nelly, Molly and Janet headed towards the changing room as the latter slammed her locker shut. “It’s stations today right?” the ravenet asked. “I think so? If they make us climb ropes again, I’ll perish” Molly spoke dramatically, grimacing as she recalled the rope burn from last time.  

Janet snorted. “I’d pay to see that.” 

The air in the girls changing room smelled like deodorant and floor polish. Metal benches clanged as girls dropped their bags, fabric rustling as uniforms swapped for gym clothes. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised if the pope smoked” Janet chuckled at Molly statement, unbuttoning her pin-striped shirt. “Smoked what?” Nelly asked from the bench, having already finished changing. Her baby pink camisole-top and plead skirt replaced by light blue sweatpants and a white tank. Molly changed into basketball shorts and tugged a baggy band shirt, that probably belonged to her father, over her head. 

“Weed, babe, weed” Janet answered, zipping her track jacket up, having already put in her baggy sweatpants. “oh” the blonde let out, letting Molly put her hair up. “Should I leave the glasses?” Janet hummed. “Can you see without them?” Molly replied, shuffling to stand in front of Natalie to check her work. “Touché.” 

A girl with dark skin then announced: “Guys, we’re playing volleyball. Madame Werner just told me "As she walked into the changing room. The reactions were mixed others ran into the hall enthusiastically while most of the girls groaned in annoyance. “Ugh if Eloise takes this way too seriously again, I’m gonna throw a fit” Janet rolled her eyes.  

“Does someone have a hair tie?” 

Chapter 6; 10:10 am

In the hall, the students started spreading and the usual cliques started forming.  Shoes squeaking on the dusty gym floor. Balls bouncing and wild chatter echo in the open space. Across the hall the girls saw their guys emerge from the other changing room.  

The volleyball net was already strung up across half of the gym, the girls were stretching, some were fixing their hair while others sat on the benches.  

“Volleyball again,” Nelly sighed. “At least it’s better than gymnastics” Molly nudged the taller girl’s shoulder. “I guess” she pouted.  

Janet gathered her dark hair into a lazy ponytail, chunky blonde streaks now more visible under the harsh light of the gym. “Anything’s better than rhythm sticks.” she grimaced dramatically. 

Nelly laughed too quickly, a familiar heat crawled up her neck. Janet was right beside her, Natalie admired the shorter girl, from the number of protests she attended and how passionate she is about politics and history.  

Nelly’s chest tightened. 

“You good there, Nells?” Molly’s voice cut through, wrapping her arm behind the blonde’s shoulders. The tall girl’s eyes darted anywhere but Janet. “Yeah, just..” she stammered. “Uh he looked kinda.. Off earlier” she nodded into the bleached blonde’s direction on the other side of the hall; he was sitting on the floor as Charles attempted to lift him from the floor by his arms.  

Janet shrugged, following Nelly’s line of view. “He always looks half-dead. Ignore it, you’ll live longer” she smirked only to whine when Molly smacked her shoulder. “You worry too much, Nelly” the tan girl spoke softly.  

Nelly nodded her head, though her gaze landed back toward Janet’s side profile. 

Soccer. Of course. The universe always picked the worse day.  

“Come on, man. You’re the goalie. You don’t have to run” Ray clapped him on the back after Charles finally managed to heave the lanky boy up. “Dude you’re a lot heavier than you look” the dark-skinned boy spoke as he gave his friend a one over, baggy sweats sat low on his hips and the shirt he wore almost hung off his shoulder.  

He rolled his eyes at Charles before begrudgingly making his way in front of the goal. His stomach churned every movement, his heart fluttered as if it couldn’t quite keep the rhythm. 

Charles was already in the thick of it, barking orders and running around. “Pass, you idiot! René is free! On your left!” “Shut up!” Ray shouted back, aggressively passing the ball to his classmate. They always got too into it. 

And he just stood there. Hands on his knees, blinking against the harsh light. 

The ball slammed toward him. He deflected it barely with his arms which started trembling after. Ray paused, a frown stretching across his face. “You good, man?” he called out. 

The bleached blonde gave a thumbs up without looking. His pulse hammered in his throat. 

Charles snorted, loud enough to echo. “Drama queen” he teased, breathing heavy. 

Gravel in his chest, lungs burning though he hadn’t been running much. When the next ball flew by, he missed it by a few inches. “Heads up!” Ray warned a bit too late. 

Chapter 7; 11:50 am

The hallway light stung, it was too white, too bold, like it was trying to slice through his skull. 

His hands still shook from the gym, his skin was damp, and his heart was pounding in his head, his breath was uneven.  

He uttered something about having forgotten his book for after lunch and slipped out of the locker room before someone could notice how wobbly his legs were.  

The lie rattled in his pocket with every step he took. 

He made it to the bathroom, the mirror by the sink had caught him on the way in, he catched a glips of his image, pale and his cheeks hollow. His felt phantom needles prick at his skin, shuddering he slipped into a stall, locking it behind him. 

He dropped onto the toilet lid, spine pressed against the cold porcelain, the chill biting through his sweatshirt. He pulled out the orange pill bottle from his bag. Popping the cap open with clumsy fingers, shook one capsule into his palm and just stared at it. The thing looked harmless, tiny, but it might as well have weighed a ton. 

A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. “Occupied” his voice thin and frayed.  

“Dude, it’s me. You good there?” 

Ray. 

He cursed under his breath, shoved the capsule back into the bottle, and unlocked the door, Ray then opened the door. His hair a mess, sticking up like it usually would after p.e. 

“Okay what’s going on?” Ray asked, his arms crossed over his chest. “And don’t lie to me, I saw you pack your biology book before p.e” A few beats passed, they just stared at each other. “You’ve been acting weird for a while now and don’t hit me with the ‘I’m fine’ bullshit.” 

“I’m fine.” 

Ray’s jaw clenched. “You’re not funny.” 

“I’m hilarious.” he retorted with a lazy grin. Ray’s mouth pressed into a line, not amused by his friends antics at all. “You always do this.” he groaned, running a hand down his face as he leaned against the tial wall behind him.  

“Do what?” He asked, his brows furrowed as he started messing with Molly’s hair tie around his wrist. “Every time anyone is worried about you or asks if you’re fine you just build up some fucking wall or act like this is all some sick joke!” Ray exclaimed, throwing his arms in up.  

His hands twitched in his lap. “I’m not some fucking charity case.” he scoffed. “I’m not made out of glass, I’m not fragile.” His throat felt scraped raw. “I’m not saying you are, but you’re not fucking listening!” Ray let out a dry laugh. “You don’t let anyone get close, not me, not your girlfriend, not your mother.” the ginger counted off. “You let them in, then you shut them out then you rot.” 

His head dropped forward. He couldn’t look at Ray. He couldn’t let him see the tears welling up in his aching eyes.  

Ray was always the one who saw too much, when his stepfather started beating his older brother, when his mother turned to alcoholism, when his childhood best friend broke down a few months ago coughing up blood. Was always ready to swing for the people he loved but never knew what to do when the enemy wasn’t someone he could punch.  

“Just.. Don't shut me out.” Ray muttered, voice cracking a little. 

He forced himself to look up at the ginger, nodding. “Yeah.” 

It was barely a sound, but Ray knew it meant something.  

Ray’s eyes drifted down to the bottle still clutched in the bleached blonde’s hand. “You still on those?” the ginger asked, gesturing to the orange bottle.  

He felt like a rock got stuffed down his throat, shoving the bottle back into his backpack, fingers trembling. “uh, yeah.” he stumbled out, not noticing the way Ray rolled his eyes at the obvious lie.  

“Want water?” Ray offered, pulling out his water bottle from his bag, tossing it toward the bleached blonde who caught it easily. “.. From the sink?” he grimaced, opening the tinted plastic bottle. “Yeah.” the ginger responded 

“Weirdo.” 

“Asshole.” 

They grinned at each other, it was a sliver of normal after what happened, but it was enough for them.  

He shoved himself off the toilet lid and bend down to pick up his bag, throwing Ray’s bottle right back him. “Let’s go.” 

Ray didn’t follow yet, pulling his friend back by the collar of his sweatshirt. “Hold on, you will tell me if it gets worse, promise.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I promise, come on.” the faux blonde wrapped his arm around the taller boy. “I told Molly we’d spend lunch together”. 

“Simp.” 

“Shut up.” 

Chapter 8; 12:10 pm

The cafeteria was full, voices overlapped, forks clattered.  

He and Molly had settled outside on the grass, right behind the sports hall. The ground was damp from morning dew, clouds drifted low, the sun occasionally peeking through. 

His head was in her lap, arm slung across his eyes. His breath dragged shallow, then a scrape caught in his chest. Molly’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, slow and steady. “Your stubble’s uneven.” she pointed out. “It’s like you shaved in the dark, not that you had much to get rid of in the beginning.” she teased, earning her a soft smack against her calf. “Not all of us can be as hairy as Ray.” he joked, peeking out from behind his arm.  

She huffed out a laugh. “You’re such a wanker.” she rolled her eyes, tapping the fluff on his chin. “Want me to fix it?” 

He shifted, leaning back against his arms, a wince cutting across his face. “I like looking homeless. S’aesthetic, Adam Sandler style” 

Molly took him in, taking in the way he looked up at the sky with a longing expression in his eyes. Her jaw clenched before following in gaze. “You’re not okay.” she stated, causing him to focus back on the brunette. “I’m fine” he hummed, putting his hand over hers making her look at him. His skin was clammy over her hand, too cold for how flushed he looked. “Just a bit dizzy.” He made a small circle near his head as if that explained it. “The heat.” 

“It’s ten degrees.” 

“Exactly. Tropical.” He dramatically let his head fall against her shoulder, smiling to himself when he heard her laughter, closing his eyes as she started running her fingers through his fried hair.  

“Hate it when you smoke” he suddenly muttered after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Been clean for two months.” Molly replied, looking down at him. “I know and I’m proud of you” he leaned up to kiss her cheek. “Still hate it though.” 

“If you die before me,” Molly said, attempting to hide the strain in her voice. “I’m gluing a fake moustache on your corpse.” 

He snorted out a laugh at her statement “Fair. Gotta get past my mum first” 

“I’ll sedate her” 

“You’ll drug my mum?” 

“Just a little” 

Inside, Charley, Ray, Nelly and Janet sat by their usual table. The ravenette flipped through Charles’ mangled notes with a perplexed expression as Ray poked around his food. The ginger’s tray a sad mix of cold fries, a bruised apple and an empty monster can.  

“You still eating that?” Charles asked, reaching for the apple without waiting for an answer. “You seriously thought the Holocaust was in the seventies?” Janet said with a deadpan look on her face. “I got my timelines mixed up.” The dark-skinned boy tried defending himself. “You thought Nixon and Hitler overlapped.” She pointed out with a raised brow. "Please just save me before we get to class.” Charles groaned, biting into the apple in his hand. Janet only rolled her eyes, correcting his homework before they headed to history after lunch. 

Nelly leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “So.. Is he sick or something?” she asked. “He nearly fell over in ethics. Low blood sugar, maybe? Or overheating. I looked it up both can happen” she wondered out loud. 

Charles stiffened. “Nells.” he tried warning her only to be cut off by the blonde girl. “I’m just saying. He didn’t eat lunch. Like input, output. If the body doesn’t get fuel-” 

Ray’s jaw clenched in annoyance: “That’s none of your business.” 

“But he’s, our friend. If something’s wrong-” Ray was about to open his mouth before Charles cut in. “It doesn’t matter, Nell. He wouldn’t accept help of you offered it anyway.” 

The blonde blinked at him, startled by the gloomy expression. Janet glanced up, pencil hovering over the pages. This has been happening since the bleached blonde boy started looking worse the past few weeks. A routine had built, Nelly pressed way too far without meaning to and someone else snapped because it hurt too much to say out loud or even to think about it.  

Natalie Scheitler wasn’t there when the incident happened, she was failing French when it happened. When she attended their class, she first met him, insisted on including her in his friend group and despite her having a hard time making friends, she was really grateful for him. 

“I wasn’t trying to pry,” Nelly muttered, twisting her bracelet. “I just.. I just thought he looked ill.” Charles let out a breath, softer this time, dragging a hand down his face as Ray suddenly stood up, shoving his sketchbook into his bag. “I’ve got physics. Don’t wait up,” 

“I know he does but let’s not do this okay? He’s outside with Molly. He’s fine. We’re fine” Charles turned to Nelly after he watched the ginger stamp out of the cafeteria. Janet shot him a look. “You seriously thought Nuremberg Trails happened in Canada?” The dark-skinned boy groaned into his hands. “Why are you still-” 

The blonde girl frowned: “They didn’t?” 

The black-haired girl pressed her fingers to her temples. “I hate all of you” she groaned. 

The bell echoed through the corridors, loud enough to be heard outside, loud enough to pull him out of the warmth he found with Molly. He pushed up too fast, feeling lighthearted for a beat before catching his balance.  

“You okay there? Need a break?” Molly watched him concerned. “We could go to the nurse if you wanna?” she offered, taking his hand as he helped her up. “I’m fine really.” he pulled her into a hug, his palm circling soothingly over the small of her back. “You worry too much.” he hummed. 

Molly pulled away from their embrace, taking his face into her hands as she studied him. “Then don’t give me a reason to” she teased, the girl didn’t buy it, that he was fine, but she kissed the corner of his mouth anyway before finally letting go. “See you later, Frosty” she winked.  

Chapter 9; 12:25 pm

He slid into biology, heading for his usual seat in the back. The others already had headed off into their next classes after he went back inside, luckily the biology hall wasn’t far from the cafeteria.  

By the time he reached the hall, the class had already started, a couple of heads turned, some out of curiosity, some of boredom but most didn’t bother. Madame Alves paused mid-sentence, chalk still raised at the board. She was new, started working when he was away for a bit, her hair was pinned up neatly. The professor turned towards the door, raising a brow at the student. 

“Monsieur Zeims” she said, turning back to the board “in the future, try to make it on time” 

“I’ll try, Madame” he uttered, ducking his head low as he made his way to the empty seat in the back. Bag thumped on the floor. His muscles ached, strung too tight yet lax at the same time. He slouched lower, hoping no one looked at him as he pulled out his materials from the bag. 

Madame Alves’s voice washed over the room, her weelzer dialect noticeable, droning about overgrowth of cells, metastasis, he tried to pay attention but none of it stuck. His fingers picked at the skin around his fingers until small droplets of blood started forming. Cursing under his breath he shuffled around his pencil case in search of stray or ripped tissues. 

“Zeims, since you seem so focused, why don’t you tell us what osmosis is?” 

“Uhm”, his stomach dropped, he dragged his head up, a heavy feeling in his throat. “Well?” Madame Alves pushed, leaning against the teacher's desk.  

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, flexing his fingers as he tried to answer. Madame Alves and choose a different student who raised their hand. Heat crawled up his neck and sweat prickled down his spine as he sunk lower into his seat. 

She was onto genetics now, traits passed down and things you couldn’t shake, no matter what, you couldn’t do anything about it. 

His jaw clenched, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want the reminder of what he’d already stopped fighting. He could almost see Molly’s face if she were to find out what he had been doing. His friends', his mother’s, would they look at him in pity or disappointment? Would they even care?  

Halfway through his thoughts, the blur came again, vision swimming and everything going in and out of focus. Panic flared through his chest. No. Not now.  

He pressed his palms hard to his thighs. Breath out, breath in, slow and steady, the way he’d practiced. Twenty more minutes. 

Explaining wasn’t an option. Who’d listen? Who wouldn’t see straight through him? So, he kept his head down and let the lesson blur. Waiting for the sound of the bell to release him. 

Chapter 10; 1:45 pm 

The edges of the room blend together, light pouring through the window. His stomach turned. He blinked once, twice, nothing changed.  

Then words cut through the haze: needles, infusions, radiations. He still tasted the metal that coated his tongue. The classroom felt so far away.  

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The familiar rhythm of machines pressing in. The feeling of the white wristband tight on his skin, letters spelling out his name as if he wasn’t a person but a chard. The cold sting threading up his arm. You’re doing great, sweetie. The nurse repeated again and again. Then the squeak of shoes in the doorway, his mother stepping in, a faux smile on her face. 

He still remembered how he used to sit there, watching the line of clear liquid inch it’s way down. Sat still for hours. But time never stood still. 

He was fourteen, maybe fifteen, sitting at the skate park with Ray. Their boards tucked under their arms, a half-burned cigarette smoldering between Ray’s fingers. The ginger had been laughing about something dumb, smoke curling out his nose as he doubled over. However, his laughter died in his throat when he noticed his best friend not laughing along, nudging him with his elbow. “What? You look like you saw a ghost”. He opened his mouth then he snapped his jaw shut. “’s nothing” he shrugged off, rolling his board beneath his sneakers.  

Ray squinted at him, flicking ash onto the pavement. “You’re acting weird, dude” the ginger wiggled his brows at his friend. “ohhh something up with the Kingsleigh girl you’ve been oogling at?”  Ray wrapped his arm around his shoulders, making exaggerated kissing motions at him. The boy just laughed, shoving the ginger’s arm off him, shaking his head. “Nah” he grinned, biting the inside of his cheek in thought before getting up. “Race you down the ramp” he smirked and hopped onto his board.  

Ray whooped and followed his best friend’s lead.  

He remembered how he’d paced back and forth in his room, rehearsing his words. He ran his fingers through his golden-brown hair, pulling at the roots as he wondered how to tell the others, how to tell her.  

He felt tears welling up in his eyes, frustrated he looked at the posters hung up in his room, a Song Daewon poster he ripped out of a magazine, bands he doesn’t listen to anymore, drawings from Ray stapled to the wall. Before he knew what he was doing he ripped it all off, paper tearing loudly in the silence only filled by his mother's sobs he could hear through the walls. Screds scattered across the floor. Throwing the empty cans cluttered in his room as well as the plushies he refused to let go of despite Charles teasing him for being childish. 

Breathing heavy he sunk against the bare wall, chest heaving and hot tears streaaking down his face. He pressed his palm over his mouth, muffling his own sobs that keept on tearing through him.  

He had just gotten official with Molly a few months before, still trying to figure each other out. He didn’t want her to regret it, regret him.  

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor brought him back to the classroom. He felt his heart pound against his ribs as he looked around. His nails digging into his palm. He let out a sigh as he sunk back into his seat, just a few more minutes, he told himself, pressing his palms his thighs, attempting to regulate his breathing. 

But the beeping lingered in his ear, his mother’s shoes clicking against linoleum. Ray’s silence after he found out. Molly’s hand clasping his own tightly when he was sure she’d let go. 

The memories clung like smoke thick in his lungs. There was no running, not anymore. And underneath it all, he knew there wasn’t a next time. Not for this, not for him. 

Chapter 11; 1:55 pm

The bell shrilled loud enough to make his skull throb. Loud chatter soon started to fill the classroom, backpacks shuffled and shoes squeaking against the polished floor. It felt like cotton pushing against his temples as he stood up, eyes widening at the sudden lightheadedness he was feeling before gathering his things, bidding his seatmate goodbye as they headed towards their next class. 

"Zeims?" 

He looked up as he threw his bag over his shoulder. Madame Alves leaned on the edge of her desk, arms folded. She was young, too polished for this place. The students didn't really take her seriously, just having started her career. Ray and a few others would throw hopeless pick-up lines at her since the semester started. 

"Can we talk?" she asked after they were the only ones left. "You seemed a bit more off than usual" she continued after the bleached blonde took a seat on his desk. Madame Alves watched as he smiled sheepishly, however it didn't reach his eyes, a grey void of emotions. "Just a little tired, I guess" he rubbed the back of his neck. Her eyes narrowed at the boy. "You've missed work. Quizzes. I know you came halfway through the year." she hesitated. "I just don't know how to grade you and just so you know there are people you can go to-". 

The smile slowly left his face as she went on, His chest tightened, her voice drifted off into the void. 

Cold air rushed in as he shoved the bathroom window open, throwing his board through the opening before he heaved himself up, dragging and squeezing himself through, his palms scraping against the sill. 

The drop wasn't far, but it still knocked the breath out of him. His knees scraped raw against the pavement as he fell forward. The board scattered beside him, as he got up, he flipped it right side up before hopping on. Wheels rattled against the asphalt. The antiseptic still burned in his nose.  

He needed to get away. 

And the only place he could think of was the green house on the corner of Rue Pierre Hentges.  

The window was unlocked as he climbed into the familiar bedroom, Vinyls, plants and trinkets spread out all over the place. She sat on her desk, probably studying before he arrived, eyes wide as she got up to pull him into her arms, having seen his puffy eyes. He tightly wrapped his arms around her as she ran her fingers through his thinning hair. A sob passing through him. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay love?" she asked as they swayed gently in each other's embrace, only letting go after feeling him nod. 

He'd collapse on her bed after kicking his shoes off, blood drying against the bruised skin of his knees as Molly fetched the first aid kit. She disinfected the cuts on his knees and palms, putting hello kitty band-aids on them before laying down with him. The brunette reached over him to get the book she was currently reading, letting the boy settle in, his head on her stomach, wrapping her leg around his lower back. "Can you read out loud?" he mumbled as he took her free hand and put it into his hair, prompting her to play with it. "You sure? It's Twillight" she hummed, lettig her fingers run through the golden-brown hair, feeling the strands slip through. "Yeah" he simply responded, drawing circles against her ribs with his thumbs. 

She only sighed and started reading, he didn't really listen, feeling drowsy as she went on, not noticing the way her voice cracked once, stopping mid-sentence. Molly sighed as she watched him sleep. "You can't keep doing this" she uttered. 

"Zeims?" 

Madame Alves pulled him back to reality. The teacher waved her hand in front of his face. His throat scraped dry as he opened his mouth, hands locked tight around his bag strap. "I'm fine, really" he managed a forced smile. "I appreciate you concern but it's okay." 

She didn't push however she didn't really look convinced either. "Alright, if you need something-" He interrupted her: "I know, talk to the nurse or a teacher, thanks" he rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. 

Chapter 12; 2:05 pm 

Kids shoved past, backpacks bumping as they scrambled to be on time.  

The strap of his bag dug into his shoulder, too heavy as it dragged him sideways. Everything was too heavy, his chest, his head, even the air. He heard his heart pounding in his ears.  

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Again and again, he felt the vibrations. 

He didn't check; he couldn't. 

His throat closed as he tried to breathe, before coughing violently. Black dots clouded his vision.  

"Oi, there you are!" Charles cheery voice called out, waving at the bleached blonde from the crowd. "Shut it" the words slipped out before he could stop them.  

Charles froze, grin faltering with his arm still in the air. Janet shifted awkwardly behind the tall, dark-skinned boy, about to open her mouth when their friend suddenly bolted in the other direction. His shoes squeaking against the floor. 

He struggled to breathe as he tried to rush out of the building, his lungs burned as a wet cough broke through, begging him to slow down but he couldn't. He felt as if he was scorching, heat pooling underneath his rips but he couldn't stop. 

A Part of him wanted someone to grab him, to stop him and force the words out of his throat. Force him to explain why. Why did his hands shake? Why burned his lungs so much it pained him to breath? Another part of him thrived on the pain, welcomed it almost. The rasp in his chest, the sting in his throat, the dizziness, the way he bruised so easily. It hurt and it was unbearable, but it was familiar, something he understood, something that makes him feel alive. 

His fist ached, head low as he forced his legs to move faster, the lights blurring above him as he fell back into his thoughts.  

The was his palm scraped along the bag's seam for overnight stays. The skateboard burns, hospital windows. The way his knees scraped and bruised from attempts to escape the needles and pills. The way his hands still trembled as they did back then. The clumps of hair he'd rip out, lying in the sink as he cried and cried until his mother found him.  

Molly's face the first time she saw it. Her hands would tremble when she tugged his hood down, cupping his face as he looked away in embarrassment. "It's okay, love. It's going to be okay" she'd whisper to him. 

His chest ached as another cough ripped through him, tearing at his throat. He tried to swallow it down. 

Not here. Not now. 

Keep walking. 

Chapter 13; 2:07 pm

Charles still hadn't moved when the footsteps faded, when the shorter boy disappeared in the crowd. He just stood there for a moment, bag half-slung over his shoulder. Heat crept up the back of his neck as he lowered his arm, embarrassed. 

Janet clicked her tongue. "Smooth."  

The dark-skinned boy looked at her. She gave him a look before turning her gaze back ahead and started walking. "Don't give me that look" Charles groaned, rolling his eyes as he hitched his back up and followed the ravenette. She raised a brow "What look?" she rolled her eyes, pretending not to know what he meant. He just huffed at the girl's reaction and silence filled their walk towards their next class.  

Chemistry was their next class. He hated chemistry, numbers, formulas, reactions, all that stuff never stuck, but at least that meant sitting still, not having to think too hard since he worked with Janet.  

As they arrived in the lab, Charles dropped into his usual seat in the corner, letting his bag fall against the floor. Janet slid in beside the tall boy, half her hair twisted up with a pen, dropping Charles' lab coat on the desk before sitting down, already wearing hers. "Suit up, genius" she muttered, sorting glassware after putting on the protective goggles. Handing him their work sheets before going to fetch the needed materials.  

He dragged the coat on, sleeves a bit too short, and picked up a pen from Janet pencil case, along with a notepad he fished out of his bag, staring at the papers in his hand, words scattering away the second he caught them. "Okay," Janet hummed, flicking the burner on with a hand. "Magnesium and hydrochloric acid. Record how long it takes." she told him, tugging his sleeve to stand a bit farther away. "Right," Charles muttered, setting the timer, pen hovering over the lined box that was supposed to hold his observations.  

The burner hissed and the metal fizzed. Bubbles raced to the surface of the liquid. Janet leaned in to watch the reaction. 

Fizzy Charles wrote in the box, staring at it before crossing it out. Vigoros reacton, he tried again, however it looked wrong. Definitely wrong. He spun the pen in his hand, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Spelling had never been his thing. Theo would’ve had no issue describing what he saw, explaining the whole chemical process with that smug grin that made their parents beam. 

Charles pressed his thumb into the paper’s edge until it left a dent. 

He thought about the times where he’d fumble through a presentation, sweating bullets. Some had been snickering while others hadn’t payed attention. Everyone but the lanky boy who sat slouched in the back, back then the now bleach blonde had a messy mob of mouse brown curls. He’d hold up a piece of paper with ‘YOU GOT THIS’ written in bold letters, it made Charles grin, and he felt a bit more at ease, remembering that he should try to explain it as if talking to the lanky boy.  

Or the day in the gym at basketball practice when Charles had missed three times in a row and Thea had been watching from the bleachers. His brother’s laugh haled through the gym and Charles wanted nothing more than to disappear, sink into the ground and never come back up. Afterwards the pale boy nudged him, saying “Don’t get too into your head, ‘just need a bit more practice and who knows, maybe you’ll be the next Kobe Bryant”. It had been a throwaway line, said with the mischievous glint in his eyes as he took the ball from Charles’ hands. But Charles had carried it with him. 

Now though, that boy was slipping, the ambitious, courageous and sarcastic was fading away. Dark circles, coughs he tried to swallow down, assignments half-finished or not at all. And Charles didn’t know how to return the favor. He didn’t know how to pull him back from whatever edge he was walking. 

The pen wobbled in his grip. 

"Dude" Janet ripped him out of his thoughts, not looking up from the breaker. "Don't think, just write what you see. I can read your writing, don't worry." 

Chapter 14; 3:42 pm

Janet glanced over at him; the pale boy slouched over his music sheet, tapping against his knee. His other hand lingered at his neck, thumb brushing over his pulse. The group was all here again for music class, minus Nelly, who was, as usual, running late. 

“You’ve been acting weird today-” She paused, correcting herself. “Actually, scratch that. You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.” Her tone was casual, purposefully lighter than usual. He’s been getting more irritated as of late, getting more defensive when he would’ve been the one teasing them, bickering with Janet about the silliest things. 

The short-haired boy simply scoffed. “Not my fault, the classes are boring. I’m not the only one who’s zoning out.” He nodded towards Ray, who was sitting next to him. The ginger had been looking out the window for the majority of the lesson. 

Janet rolled her eyes, more out of habit than annoyance, but she didn’t push it. Not today.  

The tension sat heavy between them, and Janet wondered how much longer he could keep pretending that everything was fine.  

He always did this, for as long as she’d known him. 

He’d shrug things off, roll his eyes, make a sarcastic remark when things got uncomfortable.  

Act like nothing could touch him, like he never cared. 

But he cared, God, he always cared. 

Janet would never forget the nights at the debate club. Her voice echoed through the empty seats, but he’d be there, sometimes dragging Ray, Molly and Charles along, but he’d always be there. He’d sit leaning back in the chair, eyes flickering between Janet and the other student. He’d wait after every session to walk her home, picking apart her arguments with a crooked grin, teasing her relentlessly.  

And when she came out, the words hesitant to come out of her mouth, watching his reaction unsure. He hadn’t even blinked. He just shrugged and said “Okay so? You still owe me five bucks from last week.” Then he’d grinned, that stupid soft grin that made it impossible not to laugh through the tears that had welled up in her eyes. 

Janet swallowed hard now, eyes flickering to him again, taking in his side profile. 

The same boy who used to feel unshakable now looked like he was held together by threads; fingers pressed into his neck as if he needed proof that he was still there. And that scared her. 

The door creaked open, and Nelly slipped in, head down, snapping Janet out of her thoughts. The blonde girl culched her bag close to her chest. Madame Lang didn’t look up, just paused mid-sentence, sighing through her nose. “You’re late again, Madame Scheitler” she said in a monotone voice. Nelly mumbled out an apology, moving towards the back, catching a few glances and half-smiles from the others. Charles greeted her as he scooted back to let the tall girl sit between Janet and himself. 

At the front, Madame Lang smacked the side of the CD player in frustration. “Nothing in this god damn school works” she uttered before hitting it once more, a loud screech cracked through the speaker causing the students to wince at the high pitch.  

“Maybe just skip the music, yeah?” Charlie called from the back, grinning as Ray let out a snort. “Or get new speakers before these things kill us.” 

Laughter rippled through the small room. 

Chapter 15; 4:36 pm

Last class of the day: French. 

Ray already looked like he wanted to set the textbook on fire. He glanced sideways and caught him sitting there, stiff as a stone and eyes locked on the board, Madame Lefevre's handwriting could’ve rivaled a doctor, and Ray frowned. Something was off, had been off, and he couldn’t figure out what. The ginger leaned over “You look like shit” he uttered, waiting for a grin, a chuckle, a nose scrunch, anything. But he got no reaction from the bleached blonde, not even an eyeroll. He just mumbled, “Thanks for the update, doc. I’m fine.” 

The ginger frowned, resting his head on his hand as he looked at the pale boy. There was no bite, no teasing or annoyance in his voice. This wasn’t ‘fine’. ‘Fine’ had an attitude. ‘Fine’ had an eye roll, a joke, a shove to the shoulder, a flick against the forehead. This wasn’t ‘fine’. This was empty. 

Madame Lefevre smack her ruler against the blackboard, explaining something about verb endings but Ray didn’t pay attention to her. 

Ray spinning his pen between his fingers, irritation bleeding through. “Don’t do that silent shit with me,” he muttered, leaning back, legs spread under the table like he owned the space.[Textumbruch] 

The tan boy tapped his pen against the desk, frustration creeping through each click. “Don’t do that silent shit with me,” Ray muttered, scoffing under his breath as he leaned back in his chair, legs spread under the table, taking up most of the space like he always did. 

Finally, the bleached blond turned his head to look at him. His eyes looked heavy and darker than usual. Unfocused, the whites dulled into a murky grey. Ray noticed how his jawline had sharpened, cheekbones cutting through his pale skin. Noticed the cracked, irritated skin across his knuckles. The faint tremor in his hands.[Textumbruch] He looked fragile in a way that didn’t suit him. 

“Back off, Ray” the pale boy simply said, turning back to the front. Ray opened his mouth but the teacher called on him, waiting for an answer about les verbes irréguliers. He uttered something that made Charles snicker behind him. “Pay attention, dipshit,” Charles teased.  

“Charles!” Madame Lefevre called the dark-skinned boy out. “En français, s’il vous plaît.” She rolled her eyes and sighed when Charles answered with a grin. “Uh... no hablo français?” 

Half the class laughed at the tall boy’s reply but Ray didn’t. Ray kept his eyes on the pale boy, how he kept his sleeve near his mouth, trying to hide another cough. Ray spinned the pen between his fingers as his jaw clenched. He wanted to reach out, he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. 

Because when someone’s destroying themself, you don’t know which words will help and which ones will make it worse.  

Ray would know best after all. He’d been there before, back when his father came home smelling like smoke and cheap perfume, new women trailing behind him like shadows. His mother passed out on the living room floor, bottles lined up on the counter. And the belt, always waiting. He used it when Ray cried, when he came home late after being out with his best friend, when he got caught sneaking out.[Textumbruch] 

The only place that ever felt safe was a few houses down, in the pale boy’s room.[Textumbruch] And now, standing here, Ray had no idea how to be that safe space in return. 

Chapter 16; 4:50 pm

The pale boy was up on his feet as soon as the bell rang, snatching his bag from the floor and about to bolt when Ray stepped into his path. Blocking the narrow row between desks, his arms crossed as he glared at the taller boy. “You’re not going anywhere ‘til you tell me what’s wrong.” Ray demanded but the bleached blonde didn’t even look at him, he just duck his head and slipped past with a shoulder check that Ray stumble.  

“Hey!” the ginger called out, following his friend down the stairs, grabbing the strap of his backpack. “Stop running away, asshole!” Ray’s voice cracked, it came out angrier than he meant it. He spun on him so fast that Ray nearly lost his balance. “Leave me the fuck alone!” he snapped at the shorter boy. “Don’t touch me!”. His voice echoed in the stariwell, bouncing off the pale walls and Ray froze for a second.  

In their 10 years of friendship Ray never heard his best friend raise his voice. 

The bleached blond felt the air hit him in the face as he reached the exit. It smelled like damp asphalt and car axhaust, the city felt too alive, it felt like all eyes were focused on him. He walked down a few blocks, ignoring the way his lungs burned, how he started feeling dizzy. Because if he stopped, he feared that everything would come back. 

The bright hospital lights stung his eyes as he looked up at the white ceiling, the claustrophobic feeling of the oxygen mask, the cool dry air making his throat felt tingly in the most unpleasant way. The hands holding him down as he trashed around, attempting to rip the tubes out. Molly yelling until her voice cracked, begging to stay. Begging them not to leave him there. His mother weeping and crying as she held his hand. 

He couldn’t stop it.  Couldn’t stop the memories that keep invading his vision. He kicked at a loose stone, watching as it skittered off the curb. The skate park wasn’t far, and his Molly would be there. She’d be there with that smile he so loved the dimples in her cheeks, the way her eyes would crease, how she’d crunch up her nose when she laughed.  He tried to hold onto that, but it didn’t work.  

The smaller things crept back in, the things he had been feeling guilty for.  

The meds he stopped taking, the appointments he promised to go to but would sneak out the second he saw the opportunity. The constant dizziness and nausea, the shaking, the way his body felt heavier with every passing moment. The lies. 

It was all catching up to him now, creeping their way up his throat. A sound tore out of him, half cough half laugh and it stuck, ripped through his chest, He stumbled, grabbing a fence post to keep himself up. His ribs ached as his whole body trembled. 

Behind him, Ray’s voice cut through the noise. “You’re giving up!” The ginger accused with tears welling up in his eyes as he realized what had been happening. “You’re just throwing everything away! Like it doesn’t matter! Like we never mattered!” Ray yelled, having stopped a few feet behind the blonde. “Say something damn it!” 

He wanted to yell back, wanted to tell him that it wasn’t that easy. That he was sick and tired of being a recovery story, of doctors saying that everything looked promising only for everything to go downhill. Tired of the guilt whenever he heard his mother cry in the dead of night because of him. Tired of the endless circle.      

But the words wouldn’t come out, another cough forced itself out of him, doubling over the world spun around him as he lost his balance, falling onto the ground. His breath becoming erratic as he tasted the metal in his mouth, looking down he saw blood splattered on the ground, his eyes widened as he slowly raised a trembling hand up to his mouth, the warm slick against his cold skin and soon enough, the red spread on his pale skin.  

He looked up at Ray when the dizziness caught up to him, falling into another coughing fit before throwing up on the pavement. Everything hurt and his ears buzzed, he couldn’t make out the way Ray called out for help, he couldn’t even make out the perception. And when he looked up, he could barely make out Molly standing there, he smiled softly at his girlfriend before blacking out.  

And Molly stood there frozen, backpack sliding off her shoulder as she screamed. 

Chapter 17; 5:25 pm

Molly hit the ground hard when she reached him, knees scraping against the concrete, but she barely felt it. His body sagged into her arms; he wasn’t fully conscious, barely able to keep his head up. Whenever he’d try to talk, a weak cough would come out, a wet, rasping sound that made her stomach turn.  

“Fuck- Fuck-” Ray’s voice cracked to her left, fumbling for his phone. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t focus anywhere except on the boy in her lap, shaking, his lips moving like he was trying to speak but couldn’t form the words. 

Her hands press against his cheeks in an attempt to keep him steady and to ground him. Her palms where slick with his spit and blood sticky and hot, smearing on his pale face as she adjusted her grip.  

“Stay with me- please stay with me” she whispered, desperate as she tried to hold in her tears, her voice shaky and ragged. “Don’t- don’t go towards the light, love. Look at me” she begged. His chest jerked in shallow, irregular movements. Every breath was a struggle, ribs hitching and tremors running down his arms, fingers twitching against her hands.  

Ray’s panicked voice cut through. “Yeah, yeah- corner of Elm and Fifth! He- he's not breathing right- he's coughing- get-” his words stumbled over themselves, collapsing into curses and mutters as he spun in tight circles. Hands clawing through his hair. 

Molly held on tighter, her hands shaking. Every second she waited for him to exhale, felt it was the last. Her tears fell freely, splashing onto his skin, mixing with the mix of spit, blood and vomit streaking his face and collar. “Why didn’t you tell me! We could’ve fixed this!” She cried out; the words broke apart in her throat between the sobs. 

Another cough wracked him, violent and rasping, forcing his body to convulse in her arms. He jerked causing the brunette to hold onto him tighter, curling over him. “Ray!” she screamed, head snapping up to look at the ginger with a panicked expression. “He’s- He’s choking!”  

Ray whipped around, grip white-knuckled on his phone. “I said I called them! They’re coming- just- fuck-” the last word off, stuck in his throat. He turned away, his chest heaving like he’d lose it if he continued to look at the scene in front of him. 

Somewhere down the street, the sirens wailed closer. Molly didn’t let go, she pressed herself closer, hands rubbing at his wet cheeks. “Stay with me, please look at me love, stay here” she begged.  

His lips moved but no sound came out, fingers twitching against her wrist before another cough rattled through, tearing at his throat. Ray let out a broken yell as he suddenly slammed his fist against a streetlamp, knuckles splitting on impact. “Why the fuck are they taking so long!” He choked out.  

The wail of sirens grew louder until it was right behind them, then silence. The ambulance screeched to a stop and the doors burst open. The medics leapt out, the stretcher wheels clattering against the curb. One carried a red emergency bag, another already shouting vital to no one in particular. They pushed forward as Molly refused to let go of the pale boy. “Madame, please give us space- we need to work.” 

The brunette girl shook her head violently. “No. No, he needs me- he needs-” she got cut off as Ray gripped her shoulders, pulling her back even as she trashed against his hold. “Molls, Méchel, they’ve got him- please” his voice cracked, mirroring her own panic. Reludctedly she let go, letting the ginger pull her on her feet.  

The paramedics worked fast, voices overlapping, lifting the lanky boy’s body onto the stretcher, placing the oxygen mask over his messy face. Molly stumbled after them, tears streaming down her face. “Please, let me come with you.” 

One of the medics shook his head, having just closed the doors. “You can follow in the next car, madame.” He said as he got in the driver's seat.  

Her hands hovered uselessly at her side as the sirens roared back to life. 

Chapter 18; 6:00 pm

The sirens wailed above him; it sounded like he was underwater. The sound felt distant, stretched, and hollow. With every breath his chest burned, even with the oxygen mask pressed against his face; it wasn’t enough. His vision started to blur, dots clouding his vision as he recalled the first time. 

He remembered the first time they stationed him, needles in both arms and the blinding lights overhead. The cold table bit through the thin paper beneath him, it’s cold seeping straight into his spine. Docters mumbed things he couldn’t understand while he hovered somewhere above himself. 

Then started the treatment. Lines running from his arms into hanging bags of clear fluid. The faint sting crawled slow and cold as it settled in his veins. Nurses speaking softly, telling him to breathe, to stay still, as the nausea built and the room started spinning.  

He’d never felt exhaustion like this, heavy and deep; it felt like his body was turning against him. 

The hair loss came next. Subtle at first; mousy strands on his pillow. Then wet and heavy clumps sticking to his fingers in the shower. He remembered sitting in the shower, the cold tiles against his bare back as he stared at the hair in his hands, panicking as he screamed until his throat felt raw. His mother banging against the bathroom door asking if everything was alight.  

He tried to hide it, pulling his hoodie low over his face, putting on hats. He’d curl up in his bed, hoping he’d disappear, turn invisible. Hoping Molly wouldn’t notice, but she did, god she always did. 

She found him like that one night, hands trembling, hair tangled in his fingers as he sat there in the middle of the wreck of a room. She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, eyes wide as she kneeled in front of him, he couldn’t bear to look at her. Her hands were shaking as she cupped his jaw. He remembered how warm her hands always were, and then her lips brushed his temple. 

He remembered lying in bed with her, tangled in the small sheets. “We’ll move to finland when all of this is over” she mumbled, “far away Molly promised. “Just us, with dogs and cats, maybe kids in ten years”. Foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged, eyes slick with tears when she tugged the beanie down, she knitted to keep his head warm as his hair had completely falled out.  

“Yeah?” He murmured, the familiar tired grin that she oh so loved tugged on his lips. “They gonna inherit my big-ass nose?” He joked, his thumb stroking her cheek gently as he wiped the tear that escaped her.  

Molly laughed at that. “Yeah, and that horrible attitude of yours too.” she teased. 

This promise of normalcy seemed like a ridiculous dream. He knew this; Molly knew this, but there seemed to be just a sliver of hope, of a miracle. 

A hard jolt snapped him back to reality. The ambulance swerved and pain laced through his ribs. His body seized up, and his lungs started spasming. Blood pooled in his mouth; it tasted bitter and metallic.  

His lips twitched into a smile, the warm fluid smearing the insides of his mask. 

Chapter 19; 6:12 pm

Janet was the first one that Ray had called after Rita Zeims. The news had hit her like a truck, one second, she was sitting on her bedroom floor, surrounded by unfinished homework as she had been smoking the pod she had stolen from her little brother’s stash; the next she was staring at the floor as if trying to comprehend what just happened. 

She always prided herself on being the calm person in their friend group, collected and logical; she thought she’d handle bad news well. But when Ray’s voice broke through the receiver, she choked mid-drag, coughing as the smoke caught in her throat.  

It didn’t feel real, she prayed to whatever higher being out there that this was just a bad trip.  

Charles didn’t cry at first. He just stood there in the middle of the makeshift basketball court in his backyard, staring at the cracked screen of his phone like maybe he had misheard. “Charlie, mom said dinner’s ready- OI!” his brother called out from the window, shouting when Charles suddenly chucked his phone across the garden. “What the fuck man! What’s wrong with you!” the elder Thill boy yelled only to get ignored as Charles started running towards their gate and got into his car.  

The streets blurred by as he raced down the streets. All he could see was him; the pale, quiet boy that used to tease Charles just to make him laugh. The one who’d always shrugged off any concerns with a joke and a sarcastic comment.  

Charles believed him. Now he hated himself for it.  

Nelly had been at her ballet practice when the call came through. The music was still playing as her phone kept buzzing against the bench. She froze, reading the messages from Ray and Janet during her break.  

Her stomach dropped. Everything around her, the mirrors, the music, the chatter, all blurred into a dull hum. She didn’t bother to change out of her leotard as she bolted out, just pulled the deep purple hoodie over it, got on her bike and pedaled until her legs ached.  

By the time she reached the hospital, her hair was coming loose from the tight bun, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. The fluorescent lights were too bright for this time of day, and the air inside was no warmer than outside, and everything smelled like antiseptic. 

She spotted them before they saw her; Ray sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees; Charles sitting beside him, leg bouncing as he stared into space; Molly folded into Rita’s arms, both of them trembling. Janet was standing a few steps away, face blotchy and her eyes red.  

Nelly jogged toward them, trainers squeaking against the tile. “Janet!” She called out.  

The black-haired girl turned and, without a word, pulled Nelly into a tight hug. Confused and breathless, Natalie hesitated before wrapping her arms around her, hands trembling against the fabric of Janet’s sleepshirt.  

When she finally dared to look up, she saw the others, the hollow look in their eyes, the way no one was moving or talking.  

Nelly’s voice came out small, barely above a whisper. “Is he... Is he going to be okay?” 

No one answered. Janet just pressed her face harder into Nelly’s shoulder, muffling a sob. Ray’s jaw tightened as he let his head drop. Molly had started to mess with the silver chain around her neck. 

That silence told Nelly everything she didn’t want to know. 

9:45 pm

It was hard to tell how long they’d been sitting there. Every second dragged on as they waited. 

The buzz coming from the lights above them was the only thing that broke the silence. Janet, Nelly and Charles left an hour ago, having to attend school the next day.  Their goodbyes were awkward, all half-hugs, a few murmurs and quiet nods.  

Janet hugged Molly harder than she meant to, fingers digging into her ribs before she could force herself to let go. The ravenette didn’t cry until Charlie tugged her into his side and wrapping his arm around Nelly’s shoulder, guiding the two girls towards the exit with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Then it was just them. Molly, Rita and Ray.