[hider=Belief]
[center][h3][color=00a99d]『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i68.tinypic.com/63x8xz.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹   / /  ~𝟘𝟝𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
[hider=Brittle]
[i]He'd only ever seen the sea once in his life. When his family went on a trip to Santa Monica, a year or so after the Primordial attack. The real sea, not this place.

Ernest stood on the shore of a moonlit ocean, staring outwards. It was so serene. A mirror surface with the full face of the moon illuminating the water, hinting at its mysterious, clear depths. It was the calm he always wished he had, the kind for which he would do anything to obtain. Nothing but the moon, the sea, and the occasional breeze brushing past his face and through his hair. No one but him. Peace at last. Ernest could've enjoyed this silence for hours. But he didn't want to stay here. He couldn't. He was brought here for a reason.

On this night, he swore he couldn't even see the horizon line. The water drew him forward, beckoning for the piece of him that had changed those long seven years ago. It had only ever given him droplets before. It wanted to give him more. But he knew that he would fall right in if he took a step forward. So he didn't.

With a tentative, outstretched arm, Ernest received.

Golden ichor coated his hand. Power, strength, flowed forth. It was the same exhilaration he felt whenever his rope granted him that unbeatable endurance. Permanence, now. He could have enjoyed this strength forever. But it wouldn't allow him to. It never did.

It only took a drop of that inky filth to pollute the water, to stain it irreversably. With that, Ernie was stained too. He was tainted.

An eye for an eye.[/i]

[hr]
Ernie jolted awake with a panicked gasp, clutching the shirt on his chest until his knuckles turned white. It had gotten worse.

He deserved this.

An inaudible cry, desperate and wordless, escaped his lips as comprehensible thoughts caught up to the fresh anguish that occupied his mind. The scratching in his chest felt more like beastly clawing now. Voices, intrusive pieces of [i]garbage[/i], announced their new, tyrannical presence. Tears threatened to spill and Ernie bundled his blanket close and tight. God, he just wanted to stay away from everything. Just wanted to [i]go home[/i]. Aimless desperation paralysed him. He could do nothing but draw himself closer in a pathetic embrace and hope-- beg-- that the world would keep itself outside behind that locked door. 

He stayed like that for far too long. Nothing but him and his mind reeling and replaying every godawful moment of the last few days. Allison. Angelique. Rain. Names and faces taunting him, staring, berating him. Because he'd done all of it of his own volition. Because he deserved it. 

It was a vicious cycle. Doing these careless, bad things sated his Stigma. And in return, he received more power to do these awful acts. More reason to do them. And he just kept going on and on and on. Fucking terrible.

He needed a fix.

Ernie got dressed at an excruciating pace. He skipped his morning shower, skipped breakfast, skipped brushing his teeth. He needed to leave right now.

----------------

Ground Zero loomed before him and he felt like a child lost in that bright, uncaring metropolis all over again. Unlike Monday, he was armed with his pistol, a peashooter really, and his woodchopping axe rather than the tomahawk. There were already a few Aberrations in the area so Ernie avoided them and instead made his way to the furthest edge of the broken city. He couldn't have anyone seeing him like this.

He'd always sort of despised his power. Despite resulting from his nightmare, it had little to no destructive power. As useless as an Arbiter, only he still had that fucking Stigma to live with. So to get anything out of this Ground Zero outing, he'd have to rely on his wits and trusty axe. Ernie found himself on an open street, empty and bordered by stores and rows of telephone poles and trees. This is where his axe came into play. Tree chopping principles would work just as well on telephone poles.

The cacophony of crushed store fronts and fallen timber shook the fears and terrible thoughts out of his head. Better, much better. Ernie continued swinging, clearing the street within an hour. So much better. Shattered glass and bricks littered the sides of the road. Testaments to his calculated destruction. Crashes and sounds of fractured buildings cut through the relative silence, occupying the space around him. In this moment, he could pretend that he and his suffering weren't in some isolated world, far from any kind of help. Ernie was thankful.

But it wasn't enough.

There was a hunger, something that could only be filled by something he didn't want to acknowledge. The thing he absolutely loathed about himself because it made him exactly like the bastards he'd been ripped from in Reno. Perhaps even worse. Ernie sat to catch his breath, leaning against a wall. His arms were so tired but the nagging in his head refused to stop. It had been dampened by the sound of thunderous crashes but it was still there. No amount of casual property damage would make it leave.

He needed people.

The Aberration began trudging back towards the dorms, when a rustling noise from an alley caught his attention. A homeless man. An opportunity.

Ernie stretched his left hand outwards, using his splayed fingers like a gun sight. He could see the man past the tips.

[color=00746b][i]Clasp.[/i][/color]

The golden noose shot out from his palm and caught the man by the neck. He immediately choked and tried to run, only to be pulled back and off his feet by Ernie's strong grip. The Aberration frowned. This upgrade didn't have an auto-reel feature so he'd need to pull people back manually. How tedious. He couldn't even walk to his catch. His feet were totally anchored.

The victim's screams kept getting choked off by the rope around his neck. Irritating. But strangely realistic? Ernie gave another harsh yank on the rope, pulling the panicked man closer with every second. Maybe this would work.

[color=00a99d]"What's your name?"[/color] Ernie demanded.

Screaming that turned into blubbering. Then pathetic begging. Another tug of the rope coaxed an slurred reaction out of him but by then Ernie had confirmed that he would get no satisfaction from this senseless torment. These weren't real people. These weren't real emotions he was toying with. As soon as the realisation hit him, along with the disappointment that followed, he felt the carnal satisfaction in him come to a close.

Ernie brought his axe down.

[quote][color=f7976a]"What the fuck!"[/color]

The three teens scrambled away from the fallen tree trunk that had missed them by mere inches. Two other boys were part of the scene; a meek, red-headed Arbiter who'd just been freed from the torment of the three bullies, and a dark-haired Aberration holding an axe and staring blankly at the trio of bullies. The Aberration, Ernest--no, Ernie now--, couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the terror that had darkened their faces when the fir barely missed them. Was there disappointment too, when he didn't see their brains splattered on the forest ground?

[color=f7976a]"Are you insane?"[/color] the leader hissed. Magic began to flare up between the trio, pathetic sigils and light shows. Ernie knew he could take all three of them. These kids were ants compared to the monsters he'd lived with in Reno.

[color=00a99d]"Woah. You're not... really threatening the guy with an axe, are you?"[/color] Ernie raised an eyebrow along with the two-handed felling instrument to indicate. And just to send the message home, he took a swing at the main boy's feet. Luckily for both of them, the kid had yelped and jumped back in time to avoid losing some toes. His friends grabbed their comrade by the arm.

[color=f7976a]"He's mental, we need to go!"[/color]

Ernie didn't follow. He remained still, revelling in the delight that had come from their terror. A shifting noise near him drew his attention to the ginger boy, the one the trio had taken to the forest to shove up a tree or whatever it was kids did these days. The ginger, Carlton from Geography class, was still on the ground, shaking. He'd soiled his pants during the commotion, the damp area spreading slowly down his pant leg. Ernie grimaced.

[color=00a99d]"That's gross as hell."[/color]

[color=f7976a]"Uh, I know... I..."[/color] the Arbiter stood hurriedly and clamped his legs shut, [color=f7976a]"Sorry... And, um, th-thank you."[/color]

Ernie looked to the waste of oxygen he'd inadvertently saved. On a normal day, the dark-haired boy would've just seen a loser to avoid talking to. But today, he saw future opportunities in this kid's jumpiness and meek manner. Efficiency. An escape from the fear in his mind. Release. It was a sustainable way to get the sating he needed. And he'd always been told to reuse or recycle when he had the chance. Ernie flashed the ginger a blinding smile.

[color=00a99d]"I think I'll be thanking you soon."[/color][/quote]

The memory ended as he walked past the security outpost. Ground Zero wasn't viable. He needed more than that. Something more [i]real[/i]. Something in reach that would satisfy him whenever he needed it, which would be quite often if today was anything to go by. Ernie ignored the pang in his heart that told him that it wasn't a something he needed, but a someone. He would deal with that soon, maybe see if Carlton was free. But right now he was hungry. A glance at his phone told him it was around time for lunch. A brush of his dust-stained pants reminded him that he needed to restock on his cleaning supplies. 

Guess a shopping trip in town couldn't hurt. 
[/hider]

[center][h3][color=00a99d]『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i68.tinypic.com/63x8xz.jpg[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥   / /   [@banjoanjo][@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙   / /  ~𝟙𝟝𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
[hider=Bruise]
Thursday was as dreary as most of the week and Christmas shivered on the way back to the bus stop, eager to be back in the warmth and coziness of the new suite with Sander after a quick bit of shopping for essentials that he had stupidly forgotten about until they had run out--shampoo being one of them. His thin, light gray jacket provided little heat insulation, something he hoped to fix with a new jacket tucked in the spacious shopping bag filled with other sets of cheap clothes and generic toiletries.

Sander hadn't offered to come along when he had mentioned heading into town earlier at lunch, but he hadn't faulted his roommate for that. With how inebriated the taller boy had seemed the night before, Christmas was surprised the hangover seemed practically nonexistent. But he was glad Sander was recuperating well compared to the last time his roommate had gone without blood. That had been a mixture of satisfaction--at being needed--and fear--of pain and hungry, red eyes. Now, he was a shade more certain he didn't need [i]that[/i] kind of assurance to feel he was worth something. Charcoal smudges of selfish thoughts and wants weren't overpowering the small conviction that he truly didn't like seeing Sander so drawn and wearied. Something felt missing in the way his mind phrased that, but Christmas let his reflections drift again towards that carefree Sander who had whispered almost conspiratorially [color cyan]"I like your smell."[/color]

He was a bit embarrassed to admit that he preferred being near Sander and probably would have found more excuses to continue hovering around his roommate if he had stayed on campus that day.

The memory of warm hands and a steady voice brought the heat to his shoulders and the back of his neck again and Christmas breathed out carefully, trying not to feel happy about little things that only he ascribed any meaning to. They certainly meant nothing to Sander, who offered heat and easy words with the casual familiarity of someone who didn't think much about them. Natural actions, and that was all. Like Alan, with his conscientious concern that Christmas had let himself be drawn to, mistaking it for something like [i]special[/i] consideration.

Little words and gestures meant too much to him, and he should have known better than to weigh every small thing like he could find its exact emotional value and validate himself through them.

The plastic bag in his hand crinkled as he moved, and Christmas opened it up, edging towards a nearby building so he wasn't stopped in the middle of the sidewalk while he pretended to rearrange some of the items inside to give himself something to do--something to occupy his idle thoughts until they went away. 

[color f7976a]"Hey, you're a subnatural, right?"[/color] a girl's voice to his left pulled his attention away from the shampoo and several changes of clothing in the bag.

He blinked at her green eyes and parted, blonde hair, bangs tapering off to the side of her heart-shaped face. He didn't know her. He had never seen her before. He was somewhat terrified she was addressing him directly. Behind her, another girl with longer, brown hair and brown eyes watched with a bored expression on her face, lips smacking on gum as she offered a stick to the freckled boy beside her, who pulled out a thin strip of foil-wrapped rectangle and peeled it open, eyes on the scene in front of him.

When Christmas didn't respond, the girl in front poked at the white mark on his face and he recoiled in alarm, bumping into the wall behind him as she giggled, the laugh reminding him too much of mannequin smiles that held no joy or warmth behind them.

[color f7976a]"Can you talk? Or is that like a power thing? Like you can't talk but you can do cool shit? So like Whisper?"[/color] she pressed on, stepping near him while her friends stepped a bit closer.

Christmas doubted she held the same level of regard for him as most people did for Whisper, famed terrorist or not. But he shook his head quickly to the questions anyway, hoping she would leave soon. He shouldn't have stopped walking.

[color f7976a]"So, like, what do you even do...?"[/color] Her large eyes looked him up and down for a while, waiting for his response.

[color 8493ca]"N-nothing--"[/color] He tried to add the word "important" to the end, but the sentence ended there when the girl's eyes narrowed at him.

[color f7976a]"Uh-huh..."[/color] She crossed her arms. [color f7976a]"So you're, like, the weird gimpy shit at West?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Come on, Vi,"[/color] the brunette spoke up, tilting her head slightly down the sidewalk's path, [color f7976a]"we're gonna be late to the party. If you wanted to show off you had a subnatural date, you shoulda been looking earlier, anyway."[/color]

[color f7976a]"But I didn't have time! And none of the other fuckwits wanted to help. Let's just grab him. Better than showing up without one now--that'd be so bad!"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Yeah, but didn't you tell them your sub 'boyfriend' could totally wreck their shit? He doesn't look like he can even [i]take[/i] a shit, let alone wreck one,"[/color] the guy beside her said, chewing loudly on gum.

[color f7976a]"Hey, you don't happen to have a friend nearby I can borrow for just a few hours, do you?"[/color] The girl they called "Vi" turned back to Christmas eagerly, looking around him in case a friend would pop up at her convenience.

[color=00a99d]"Oh? You want a friend?"[/color] Ernie's bemused face popped up from behind the teens.

He was carrying his own plastic bag of nondescript cleaning goods, on his way to the same nearby bus stop. The long-haired boy beamed at the group, taking in the appearances of every member. Just a bunch of nobody regulars, trying to lord their usual shit over anyone they could spot a mark on. Not worth his time. Most of his attention was spent on the Arbiter, the tiny one from the sewers. Ernie couldn't recall if the blond was always this pitiful or if the sudden gang-up was what was provoking it now.

[color f7976a]"Whoa! What--h-hey...."[/color] The freckled boy had jumped at the intrusion, while the two girls had spun almost in unison to face Ernie. Now he stared at the X across Ernie's neck, backing away slowly. [color f7976a]"Hey, these X guys are all fucking nuts, right?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Hey, Vi, let's just go--"[/color] The brunette was quickly interrupted by the group's ringleader.

[color f7976a]"Wow, he did have a friend!"[/color] "Vi" chuckled nervously as her eyes bounced between Ernie's face and the mark on his throat. [color f7976a]"...So did you like catch all that or what?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Vi! What the fuck!"[/color] the boy hissed at her, stepping a bit away.

[color f7976a]"What?"[/color] The blonde girl turned back to him with a scowl. [color f7976a]"They're not allowed to hurt us. We just need to scream for help and they'll get it from the Director, so who cares if it's an X?"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Alright, no need to get cranky!"[/color] Ernie's tone was light but his smile had widened to something borderline maniacal. He raised his hands as some kind of peacekeeping gesture, [color=00a99d]"I caught the tail end, but that's not the part that's getting me. Are you really sure we can't hurt you?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"W-well, even if you did, you'd get it, so..."[/color] the girl swallowed, but didn't back down.

[color=00a99d]"Right, right. But do you think you can hurt [i]us[/i]?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"It's not like the Director doesn't shoot half of you freaks every other day, right?"[/color] she spat back, her irritation clearly showing at subnaturals not following the whims of the population's better half.

[color=00a99d]"I wasn't talking about the Director, you fucking bimbo,"[/color] Ernie stepped closer, his height and x-mark on full display. His bright expression hadn't budged, [color=00a99d]"How exactly were you going to take my friend here after I showed up? Did you think I was just gonna stand around and watch?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Back off, subnatural,"[/color] the girl growled, though she had retreated a half-step at Ernie's approach. [color f7976a]"I'll fucking scream."[/color]

Ernie leaned back slightly and scratched his head. He pointed at his ankle cuff, preparing his white lie.

[color=00a99d]"That's the one good thing about East, I guess. Someone's [i]always[/i] listening in,"[/color] He tapped his other foot against the cuff, [color=00a99d]"With all the bullshit you've been spouting at us, I doubt they're gonna send in a SWAT team."[/color]

The girl's eyes narrowed at the cuff before she looked between the two subnatural boys, finally rounding on Christmas instead.

[color f7976a]"You! You're coming with me, right? They're not gonna stop you then, right?"[/color]

Christmas blinked back at her, eyes open as far as they could go. He didn't know this new person claiming to be his friend, either. If they had met him in the static that was his awareness following the flag football game or while he was unconscious from the first fight, he was sure he couldn't pick them out from memory. And he was afraid to shake his head, worried the girl would follow through on her threat to scream for help. He had seen on the news how people tended to react to that, and even if it was a misunderstanding, where the dangerous powers of mages were concerned, the method was usually shoot first and ask questions later. 

[color f7976a]"Well?"[/color] she demanded.

The healer nodded slowly, trembling as he did.

Satisfied, the girl turned back to Ernie, a ready smirk on her face.

[color f7976a]"See? He wants to go. And [i]you[/i] can fuck off now."[/color]

Ernie's eyes narrowed at the boy's trembling. After all the shit he was putting up with for this kid...

[color=00a99d]"Did you forget about curfew?"[/color] he hissed the poor excuse, shoving himself between the girl and the Arbiter. He grabbed the blond by the shoulders, deadly intent clear in his voice. The boy inhaled sharply and stiffened at Ernie's gesture. With pansies like this, the only method would be something straightforward, [color=00a99d]"Go back so I can talk to these idiots. I mean it."[/color]

It took him several seconds of rapid breathing to respond, but Christmas glanced between the girl and the unknown Aberration boy before gulping and nodding again at the boy. He didn't know where "back" was, so he simply moved further away from the group.

[color f7976a]"Curfew? We're not keeping him overnight or something--what the hell's your problem?"[/color] the girl was glaring at Ernie now, her fear forgotten in her indignation at everything not going the way she wanted.

Ernie whirled around and stepped to her again, this time much closer than before, to the point where he was treading slightly on the ends of the girl's shoes. She yelped in surprise and stepped back. He leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to her's, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes bored into hers.

[color=00a99d]"You want to get up close with one of those 'subs', yeah? Why don't I go and hang out with your friends instead?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"VIVIAN!"[/color] the brunette shouted, grabbing her friend by the arm and pulling her away. [color f7976a]"This isn't worth it! Let's go! Trey, help me out."[/color]

The freckled boy nodded eagerly, helping the brunette pull the blonde girl away even as she protested about the upcoming party.

[color=00a99d]"Aw, what?"[/color] Ernie cackled, [color=00a99d]"But we were getting to know each other so well!"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Just leave us alone!"[/color] Trey shouted back, the three of them quickly leaving Christmas and Ernie behind.

[color=00a99d]"You first!"[/color]

The Aberration waved them goodbye with a sloppy salute. His other hand briefly tensed into a fist before relaxing once more. That was a close call. A few more snipes traded and he would've lassoed the three of them around a pole. Not an ideal outcome, even if those regular pricks had it coming. Public tazings were something he wanted to avoid as a principle. Ah well, it was all in the past now. There were more important things to deal with. With a small exhale, he turned back to the blond and flashed a radiant grin.

[color=00a99d]"What the fuck was that?"[/color] he seethed. The dissonance between Ernie's tone and expression was unholy. [color=00a99d]"A guy tries to help you out and this is the shit you pull?"[/color]

A "thank you" had been on the tip of his tongue when the black-haired mage spun around with that same horrifying smile that felt so much like everything that was wrong with [i]home[/i]. The girl had been just traces and muted reminders, but this student was like plunging back into that icy terror and Christmas clutched his bag until his knuckles were white, eyes looking everywhere around Ernie for a way to run.

Realising that he'd snapped again, Ernie pulled back. He seemed tired now, and his smile shrunk down to an exhausted huff. This kid wasn't worth the fuss anyway.

[color=00a99d]"I mean... that wasn't what I..."[/color] he scratched his head awkwardly and started again, [color=00a99d]"Why didn't you just say no? Would've saved us both a real pain in the ass."[/color]

The shaking was mincing words for him and Christmas couldn't manage anything more than [color 8493ca]"So-s-s-sorry."[/color]

Oh. He was one of those guys. Ernie was in no mood for blubbering messes. He needed to get back to his dorm and restock.

[color=00a99d]"Whatever,"[/color] he muttered and gestured at the other boy's plastic bag, [color=00a99d]"Are you done with shopping? If you're heading back, I'll tag along."[/color]

Christmas didn't want this student tagging along, but cold smiles and lonely rooms had him nodding before he even realized it. Ernie headed down the path, knowing that the wimp behind him would follow without needing more instruction.

[color=00a99d]"You're in my class, right? The experimental unit with Freddy and Rosa?"[/color] Ernie asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Another nod.

[color=00a99d]"Uh huh. What's your name?"[/color] Ernie was unsettled by the quiet response. Between this kid and Sander, he was starting to seriously doubt his small talk ability.

A beat of silence.

[color 8493ca]"Chr-Christmas."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Mm. Ernest. Ernie, if you feel like it."[/color]

The same irritation from the night before stirred with the curt reply. Ernie could feel his veneer begin to crack with every failed attempt at conversation.

[color=00a99d]"You're the healer, right? With the blood? I saw you on Monday."[/color]

More nodding from the smaller boy.

How fucking tiresome. See, this was why he didn't like being the scary guy. Sometimes he just felt like having a light chat to pass the time. But that wasn't possible when your partner took an average of five seconds to stutter through every fucking word, if he even bothered to speak in the first place. God, even Carlton was never as bad as this.

[i][color=f7976a]"If it's there, then just go for it![/color][/i]

The reminder of the timid ginger gave Ernie pause. He was rarely ever this irritable during his time at West. And why was that? It was because he had the resources to take care of it. He could squash it down before outbursts like during the exercise ever happened, spend weeks at a time without the clawing in his chest and the nagging at the back of his head. Ernie was sick and tired of being sick and tired. If there was an option to put an end to it, he was going to grab it with both hands.

The Aberration eyed the blond. It was all too tempting. Ernie spied an alley he could turn into.

[color=00a99d]"There's a shortcut we can take up ahead,"[/color] the warmth returning to his expression. [color=00a99d]"Let's turn here."[/color]

Christmas blinked in surprise, because they were only a few blocks away from the bus stop if he remembered the map correctly and it was just a straight walk. Little fears stirred at the bottom of his stomach, but he nodded again to Ernie, a small thought needling him as he did so, telling him to just go straight to the bus stop instead.

No matter how spotless a city was, an alley was an alley. Ernie's nose wrinkled from the numerous bins placed on the side of the dim clearing that the long alleyway opened into--clearly a deposit location for refuse and the city's squalid homeless, none of whom were around at the moment. He should do this quickly. He spun to face Christmas, staring for a moment. What was he hoping to see? Something that would spur his shriveled conscience into action? The boy's timid expression held nothing like that, in fact, he was staring at Ernie like he already knew what was coming. Ernie felt like laughing. This was the best decision he'd made all week. He [i]needed[/i] this. The nagging in his head thought the same.

Without a word, Ernie viciously backhanded Christmas across the face, watching intently as the smaller boy cried out and fell to the ground from the sudden attack, clearly not as prepared as he had seemed. Then he paused, as if to gauge the reaction.

Christmas held a hand to his face, breaths coming in pained whimpers as he tried to figure out what was going on. He didn't understand. He hadn't said anything out of turn, he hadn't protested, but the biting sting across the right side of his face told him he had made a serious mistake. But he didn't know what he had done wrong. Was it just that he hadn't done anything [i]right[/i] enough? Was it about earlier? When he hadn't refused the girl?

[color 8493ca]"S-sor--I'm sorry,"[/color] he gasped out as the tears welled up.

He was grabbed roughly by the shirt and slammed against the wall, another shout of pain cut short by the impact knocking a bit of the wind from him. Ernie looked at him incredulously, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. What the fuck. Through the stammering and spilt tears [i]he[/i] was the one apologising? Something was messed up with this kid.

Ernie's words emanated equal amounts of disbelief and disdain. [color=00a99d]"What the fuck is wrong with you?"[/color]

With his other hand, Ernie gripped Christmas' chin like a vice, his fingers digging painfully inwards and forcing Christmas' gaze towards his tormentor.

Christmas squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling out as Ernie's grip tightened and aggravated the striking pain of the backhand into pulsing bruises. His silence was returned with another loud slap, on the other cheek this time, and a strangled whimper that couldn't make it past Ernie's hold.

[color=00a99d]"Hey. Look at me when I'm talking. Answer me. It's simple manners, buddy."[/color]

Panicked blue eyes stared at Ernie's face now.

[color 8493ca]"S--I-I'm s--s-sorry,"[/color] he replied, the words coming out distorted between tears and Ernie's hand.

[color=00a99d]"Not an answer."[/color]

Christmas was released for a brief second, before a fist nailed him square in the nose. He reeled backwards, knocking his head against the wall behind him. Ernie grabbed him by the shirt again and another punch followed that one. Then another. Ernie loosened his hold on the battered Arbiter's shirt and let him drop to the ground. He could hear rapid breaths from his prone victim as the smaller boy clutched his bleeding nose. The sight made Ernie's heart skip a beat. He [i]needed[/i] this. One voice in his head goaded him on. But something else, something inside that was more sensible but no more human than the first, seemed to frown upon Ernie's frenzied attacks. He ignored the second one.

[color=00a99d]"Blood already! You should heal yourself. It'd make things better for us both."[/color]

The continued whimpering in place of a proper response, as well as the bandage on Christmas' hand, tipped the X-marked mage off.

[color=00a99d]"You can't even do that, can you?"[/color] A delirious chuckle. [color=00a99d]"God, you're so SHIT!"[/color]

With that last word, Ernie launched a foot into Christmas' torso. The boy was thrown to his side, almost crashing into a corral of bins laid out by a large dumpster. Ernie stalked over and repeatedly brought his foot down onto the blond, relishing the choked screams. Words streamed from his mouth before his brain could even process them. It was like muscle memory by this point, a skill that he had honed to near perfection.

[color=00a99d]"Can't heal yourself, can't recognise someone helping you, can't read the fucking situation, can't fight back,"[/color] Ernie listed rapidly and pulled Christmas back up by the shirt. He pulled back a fist, laughing, [color=00a99d]"Can't even act like a proper victim! Who the hell apologises when someone hits them for no reason?"[/color]

No reason? Christmas had been desperately searching for a reason through the blinding pain and the cold scraping of gravel and cement. Now he was just at a loss. Just another thing he couldn't fix, because he didn't know what he was supposed to do here to appease Ernie. He had thought it was about the girl earlier, and through the words blurred by the ringing in his ears, it seemed like that [i]was[/i] a part of the issue, but he couldn't do anything about healing himself or fighting back or being a "proper" victim--nothing he came up with was going to fix anything here and the kicks and punches were drowning out the rest of his thoughts.

Ernie readied another punch before something harsh, the cold, disapproving sensation, snapped him to attention.

[i]Nothing above the shoulders. Don't draw attention to this.[/i]

He opted to plant a foot in Christmas' chest instead, shoving him right into the bins.

The smaller boy fell into a heap of hollow metal cylinders and spilled trash, tears and wheezing gasps the only reactions he could muster now. Everything hurt too much for any sounds of pain to identify.

Ernie granted him a short break. He took the time to admire his handiwork, the sight of something he ripped apart with his own hands.

[color=00a99d]"It looks good on you,"[/color] he smiled contentedly, referring to the filth that cushioned Christmas. Like a wreath of wilted, crumpled flowers. [color=00a99d]"You're right where you belong."[/color]

The compliment was in the wrong place and the wrong time, directed at him again by the wrong person and through the forming bruises all over his body, Christmas felt like something disconnected from the small comfort of the phrase's first iteration and relinked here, to this moment where he just wanted to be anywhere else. The trash looked good on him. Fixed in place because it lined up so well with everything he believed and then some. And there was no dusty blue lifeline here to save him.

His sobs continued, but he made no move to get up from the heap of garbage. Right where he belonged. Was that the reason?

[color=00a99d]"Y'know, I don't know how you're still here. You East guys get sent out at the drop of a dime. It's always there in the news, good kids dying for regulars like that skank earlier. Kids who were stronger than either of us will ever be. So how the fuck is a crippled mutt like you still here?"[/color]

He wished he knew the answer to that question, too. Was he [i]here[/i]? Or was he just barely hanging on and pretending like he was? Christmas had never planned much in advance and in this moment he didn't know if he had anything to look forward to beyond more torment and a grisly death--the memory of wires cutting into his legs compounded the current aches and stings and he choked out a loud sob that dropped down to a ragged inhale.

His voice was muffled in garbage now and he wasn't worried anymore about the grime coating him.

[color 8493ca]"D-don't--don't kn-know,"[/color] he whispered, the words broken up with shuddering gasps.

[color=00a99d]"Hey, I'm asking you, buddy!"[/color] Ernie kicked over another bin, intending to scare Christmas with the loud thump that resulted from the impact. He was rewarded with a jolt of movement as Christmas curled further into himself. More rubbish was scattered onto the boy.

[color=00a99d]"It's cos there's no answer, is there? Just look at the game on Monday! We had superhumans clobbering each other while shits like YOU were pissing their pants in the fucking sewers!"[/color] he continued. Ernie had taken to kicking even the bins that were tipped over, enjoying his victim's small jerks of fear that derived from the constant banging. He knelt slightly, a small distance from the pile to avoid any chance of contamination.

[color=00a99d]"You'd be better off dead,"[/color] the Aberration whispered, [color=00a99d]"You should be dead. No one wants someone as fucked up as you."[/color]

[color 8493ca]"I-I'm--I'm s-s-sorry."[/color]

Ernie rolled his eyes.

[color=00a99d]"Yeah. Caught that one the first fifteen times, buddy."[/color]

Only cracked, uneven breaths answered Ernie this time. The tormentor rose to his feet, observing the scene once more. These bins seemed to contain a strangely large amount of trash. A closer look showed him that a portion of the mess consisted of half-eaten burgers that were carelessly wrapped in greasy packaging. They had come loose during the one-sided fight. Ernie bounced on the balls of his feet as an idea came to mind.

[color=00a99d]"Are you hungry, Christmas?"[/color]

Nothing but quiet sobbing. Ernie nudged one of the rotting sandwiches towards Christmas with his foot.

[color=00a99d]"Eat it."[/color]

Christmas stared in horror at the molding bread and congealed sludge that was the sandwich's contents, the blood still dripping slowly from his nose. He didn't move at first, the command and its result so foreign to him. But he knew it wasn't negotiable. Right where he belonged and he didn't have any right to protest.

He held back a moment longer, hoping for some miracle like Ernie leaving or even the group from before returning, but when seconds passed and nothing seemed to change, he choked back another sob and reached for the putrid sandwich, crying out briefly as he sat up to his body's screaming nerves.

A bite had barely made its way into his mouth before he doubled back over, retching and coughing the burning scent of rancid food out of his throat. The sandwich dropped from his hand as he dry heaved.

[color=00a99d]"I said, eat it!"[/color] Ernie snapped, [color=00a99d]"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to waste food?"[/color]

The blond's pale hand reached for the sandwich again, only to be interrupted by another bout of retching.

[color=00a99d]"Fuck, you're useless,"[/color] Ernie shot his foot through the pile, kicking a plume of moldy food into Christmas' face. The pathetic boy just coughed more and fell back onto the ground, rasping breaths the only indicator he was still conscious. He barely had the awareness to turn his head away from the pooling vomit and trash nearby. Ernie took a step back to avoid the vomit and scraped his sneaker against the concrete to remove any lingering scraps of rotten food. A plastic bag, one too clean to have originated from the tipped bins rested by his feet. Ernie picked it up, examining the bottle of shampoo inside. He giggled as he popped the cap and spurted its contents over the boy who had made the purchase.

[color=00a99d]"Gotta clean you up,"[/color] he laughed innocently, [color=00a99d]"Only Marcus is allowed to stink up the school!"[/color]

Trash and shampoo didn't mix well and the new combination of odors only made Christmas gag reflexively. He tried to move off the garbage pile if only to separate the smells, but the heaving had left him with less strength than he had thought and he had barely pushed off the ground with an arm before he fell back down, the refuse now clinging to his head and torso with the shampoo as glue.

[color=00a99d]"Hahaha! You look great!"[/color] Ernie slapped his leg in raucous laughter as he saw the scraps sticking to Christmas from the shampoo. A sigh of contentment was exhaled before he turned around to pick up his own plastic bag.

[color=00a99d]"Ah, I'm gonna miss the next bus if we take too long. Let's pack up soon."[/color]

Ernie looked the boy head to toe, trying to conjure another method of torment. The smell was so awful now. He pinched his nose and gave another order.

[color=00a99d]"Yeah, you're not gonna be able to wear those clothes again. Get rid of them aaand..."[/color] Ernie stretched his words as he scanned the alley. The sight of the open dumpster sparked an idea, [color=00a99d]"Toss them into the dumpster. I don't want to have to see that shit on anyone."[/color]

The lack of response prompted Ernie to pick up one of the overturned bins and slam it onto Christmas, the barely audible gasp letting him know the waste of oxygen was still awake, at least.

[color=00a99d]"Come on, you're gross as hell! You need to go somewhere where no one has to see you!"[/color]

Christmas seemed to have lost his ability to take in his surroundings. As if he was collecting a piece of dog shit, Ernie threw out the contents of Christmas's bag and inserted his hand before turning it inside out to enfold his forearm. With the covered hand, he grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt and dragged him to the base of the dumpster.

[color=00a99d]"Even now, you're making me do all the work,"[/color] Ernie sounded disappointed, [color=00a99d]"Come on, you're already there. Just do what I say and this can be finished."[/color]

Zero response. Ernie crouched down and repeated his command, enunciating every word.

[color=00a99d]"Dump. Your. Clothes."[/color] He gently shook Christmas with his plastic-covered hand. That seemed to rouse the other boy's fading awareness enough for Christmas to splutter several coughs and sobs, pained gasps with every movement as he braced himself against the dumpster's side and slowly removed his filthy jacket, followed by his T-shirt, shorts, and shoes. He shivered in the aftermath, wearing nothing now but a nosebleed, large bruises purpling across his face and torso, gray boxer briefs, and bits of trash, the cold air and colder concrete biting his bare skin. Ernie snatched the clothes and pitched them to the side of the rectangular bin with a grin.

[color=00a99d]"Maybe that was a bad idea,"[/color] the Aberration stroked his chin, [color=00a99d]"You look chilly."[/color]

Ernie grabbed hold of a nearby garbage bin and propped it upside down, gesturing to it with a flourish.

[color=00a99d]"Come on. Get in the dumpster. Even if you're a subnatural, they're not gonna let you on the bus if you're pretty much naked. I had a pal from West who learnt that the hard way. Course I was the one that made him do it in the first place."[/color]

Christmas leaned on the upturned metal cylinder, tears and blood smearing into the remnants of shampoo and muck on his face. He took far too long to finally hoist himself into a flimsy crouch on the small surface of the trash can and far longer to finally stand up against the lip of the dumpster. Ernie grabbed the blond's spindly legs with his plastic-protected hand and flipped him in, the shout of surprise interrupted by a muted thud on the other side.

The bully slammed the lid shut in a hurry, ignoring the whimper crying out in response. Using the discarded contents of Christmas' shopping bag--a jacket, several pairs of shorts and boxer briefs, and some shirts--Ernie laid himself a clean spot to sit on the dumpster lid. He shifted in the impromptu seat, chuckling as he felt weak vibrations from below the lid he was using his body weight to keep shut. Just for good measure, he beat his closed fists onto the dumpster intermittently, the banging kept inconstant to maximise fear for his prisoner.

When it was clear the weight on the dumpster lid wasn't moving, and with his strength thoroughly exhausted, Christmas fell back into the dumpster's fetid contents, black bags and decomposing food partially illuminated by the slits of light where the lid had been damaged in the past and no longer sealed the bin up completely. He was coughing and crying in equal measure as he instinctively edged away from something that felt sharp and something else that felt disturbingly fresh. This was a mistake and he should've gone to the bus stop. He shouldn't have come with Ernie. What had he been expecting? Another talk like he had with Sander in the woods? Maybe another friend?

What a mistake.

He buried his face into his knees as much as he could to hide from the smell and the trash, flinching at the sporadic pounding on the rubber lid above him, letting it continue until Ernie's occasional hammering stopped.

It was only when the muffled thumps ceased that Ernie let himself relax. He breathed in the sudden stillness and dangled his legs off the edge, though he consciously avoided touching the dumpster itself. The voices, the nagging, the clawing. All of it was gone. It was like he'd woken from a coma, like he'd finally escaped a thick smog and could breathe clean air. And that silence...

Whenever his Stigma got bad, the absence of noise smothered him like a blanket. It protected him, but it chained him like a wounded animal. Silence during those times was more deafening than anything a battlefield could muster. But when his head was clear, he welcomed it with open arms. It wasn't craved, but it was appreciated. In those brief periods, he could believe in freedom.

Ernie leaned back onto his hands, soaking the moment in. Nothing but stillness and the distant, atmospheric bustle of city traffic. His heart began to settle once more. Of course, that sort of thing got boring after too long.

[color=00a99d]"Christmas?"[/color] he called and tapped softly on the surface.

No response. That was fine, he hadn't been expecting one anyway. Ernie continued, his voice mellow and calm. He didn't care if the boy could hear him.

[color=00a99d]"I'm glad we met today. I probably would've done something really bad down the road if you weren't there."[/color]

Silence. As he spoke, Ernie checked through his bag to make sure everything was in place.

[color=00a99d]"It's fine if you think I'm a bad person. I don't think it's really negotiable at this point. This was just... something I had to do. I don't have much of a choice nowadays."[/color]

There was always a choice. And Ernie knew that he always chose the most convenient one. Shame began creeping into his chest again, but not enough to kick his conscience into action.

[color=00a99d]"You caught me in a really nasty place. I usually top up pretty frequently but with the move and all, that wasn't really possible. I might have gone too far today. So I'm... sorry. Next time won't be nearly as bad as this, I promise."[/color]

The Aberration hopped down from the dumpster, leaving Christmas' clothes discarded on top. Fragments of gravel skipped towards the dumpster as he kicked the ground. They made small clanking noises as they hit.

[color=00a99d]"I'll let you use my shampoo sometime, yeah? It's the least I can do. And I shouldn't have to tell you this but..."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"You already know what I'll do if this gets out. Let's just keep things between us, right, buddy? Ah, bus is coming soon. I'll see you at school then. Later."[/color]

His footsteps were barely audible as he left.

Christmas barely heard Ernie's calm voice through the dumpster lid and his thundering heart beating panic and heat into the rest of his body, as if he could even do anything anymore. Catching only scraps of "it's fine," "bad person," "next time," "I promise," "just keep...between us," and "later," he choked through another quiet groan, shifting his position to try pushing on the lid again when silence passed and the lines of light grew a bit thicker as the weight on the lid lifted.

Strange.

He was telling himself to reach for that line of light and push the lid open. He was. But his body wasn't listening, and was it just him or was it getting darker already? It hadn't been that long--he didn't think so, at least. The smell of the trash was overwhelming now and he was having trouble keeping his head clear after barely breathing for too long. Cheap shampoo was drying on his hair and face, caking his features with the blood, mucus, and tears--and then the filth and trash still coated him while unknown textures of garbage and plastic surrounded him on all sides.

Every motion was a dull ache or a sharp pang, forcing him to inhale more of the foul air until he was dizzy with it--until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

Consciousness was stop-and-start for several long minutes afterwards and focusing on the juncture where lid met metal only made that line blur with tears. The mounting stress drained his mental presence dry and the pain held him in place, too afraid to move. He would have tried leaving the dumpster sooner, but the cold nicked at his senses worse than the smell did, so Christmas remained for a moment longer, thoughts crashing into each other between trying to remain [i]here[/i] and Ernie's cutting words.

Exhausted sleep caught him mid-thought about a blue ribbon that was thankfully not there.

[hr]

Cold. Freezing cold and soreness all over. Something was dried over his eyes.

Christmas breathed in and coughed violently at the rotting sting of trash, crying out when the aches exploded into raging agony with the sudden movements. Everything hurt and he didn't know where he--

One of his hands rubbed feverishly at his face, scraping away flakes of something dried all over him--shampoo and unknown grit. The hand bumped against his nose and he whimpered again, remembering the blow he had taken earlier. The many blows. It hurt. Even Alvin had held back, the brunt of his anger manifesting in ways other than physical. But this was--

He doubled over as he tried to sit up, sense of balance swamped by the waves of pain racking his body.

It hurt. It hurt. It--

[color 8493ca][i]It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.[/i][/color]

The mantra ran through his mind, the words all he had left in the moment. 

He didn't count how many minutes it took him to finally regain steadiness. He didn't count how many tries it took his battered body to finally push the dumpster lid off. He didn't linger on the pain of colliding with the ground after falling out. It just hurt more and knocked the wind out of him, leaving him there for more long seconds he didn't count.

And of all the things to remember, it was Ernie's admonition about needing clothes to get on the bus that came to mind as he lay there gasping for air.

The thought of clothes reminded him he had gone shopping earlier in the day, and the thought of earlier finally tapped into the harsh reminder of curfew and hands on his shoulders.

He needed to go back before curfew. The sky was dark now and the alley darker, and he spent too long crawling around, looking for his clothes while his eyes adjusted to the traces of light from the dim lamp down the alleyway that he had walked down earlier.

Earlier when he could have just gone back to his suite and Sander. Earlier when he had been stupidly looking forward to going back and being around someone he wanted to call a friend. Earlier when he followed Ernie instead.

[color 8493ca][i]I'm okay.[/i][/color]

Because he was, wasn't he? He was fine.

He was already pulling on his T-shirt and shorts crumpled in a dirty heap beside the dumpster. He didn't know or care if they were the ones he had bought earlier. He just needed to be back before curfew and he needed clothes to get on the bus. Shoes came as an afterthought and he painstakingly stood up when he had dressed himself.

Small blessing that he hadn't brought his phone along that day, and the pair of shorts seemed to be his previous ones, because he found the ID card still in the left pocket. That was enough to be grateful for. He would take what he could get.

Even the frigid night was helping, because it was so cold he wasn't feeling much of the pain anymore. Small things to be thankful for.

And he was fine. He was okay. He was.

Christmas didn't pay much attention to the way the bus driver shouted and looked at him, a disheveled, dirty subnatural stumbling onto the bus. He just stretched a filth-streaked hand towards the man, the dark smudges nearly obscuring his name and face on the ID card. The driver nodded him towards a seat anyway, exhaling sharply at the stench.

By the time he arrived back at campus, the usual milling of other students had long stopped and it took a hallway clock in the student center to tell him the time was 2127--nearly half past nine and an hour and a half from curfew. He had made it, in a way, but he couldn't--couldn't--

He was disgusting and he couldn't be--couldn't be inconsiderate to Sander. Tracking back trash and muck. A dim memory about Sander trying to keep his shirt clean in the forest tapped at him repeatedly until he nearly fell over on his way to the public restroom, following a wall map he only hazily recalled despite an empty stare at it just seconds earlier. 

The bathroom was empty and he let the water in the sink run while a blond-haired boy with swollen bruises across his face painted over with dried blood, shampoo, and dumpster scum stared back at him from the mirror above the sink. His clothes were just as dirty, and the drips of blood down his shirtfront meant he had indeed found his previous set of clothes.

He washed his face slowly, body numb enough that the pain from movement and contact were just small splashes in the sea of thoughts now. Something told him it would hurt a lot more later. He believed it, but for now he'd be grateful for just this small respite.

Ernie's grinning face surfaced as he closed his eyes, and he didn't know what that heavy, suffocating feeling was that drove a sudden pang into his stomach, but he didn't let it catch hold.

After all, he was okay.

And he didn't fault Ernie--no more than he faulted himself, at least. In the same way as always, he was the failure.

Nothing Ernie said had been wrong.

Nothing Ernie did had been undeserved.

So [i]it was okay.[/i]

That was how he was still here. The belated answer to Ernie's question.

When most of the trash was gone from his body, and when his face and hair had been cleaned of enough scraps and blood to look less horrifying, Christmas walked--nearly limped--towards his suite, wondering whether Sander would mind if he took a bit longer in the bathroom that day. He didn't think he could shower quickly tonight.

But it was okay even if Sander did mind.
[/hider]

[center][h3][color=cyan]『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥   / /   [@RedDusk][@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝔻𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸: 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟚𝟘𝟚   / /  ~𝟚𝟚𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
[hider=Balance]

Some Aberration sated their Stigmas by smashing up buildings. Some other liked to go after people. Most could make do with both. 
 
With his power, it really didn’t take much to guess which one Sander preferred. They didn’t let him back then, for obvious reasons. No GZ with magical fake people back there. Just an empty room with metal walls, and if they were feeling generous, they would toss in an old piece of furniture or two. But that always took far too long, and he would prefer to just get it over with this time. He needed to get back to the suite. Christmas should be back anytime now. 
 
They were just fake people. It was alright. So he titled his head back and drank deeply from the canister, letting the liquid fire wash away any remaining reservation. 
 
His heart beat loud, but he could still hear theirs over the frantic rhythm. There were too many, all moving in chaotic patterns, the sounds they made buzzing around him like flies. He singled out one, then gave chase. It was easy to catch up. Easier to take the man down with a chair to the back of his head. The wood broke on contact, pieces still clung to his palms as he gripped the head of black hair and smashed it against the concrete. It was warm, blood and [i]something more[/i] slick in the spaces between his fingers. But he didn’t want this. It was wrong. It smelled wrong, prickly like rusty iron and heavy on his sense. Unpleasant. Unappealing. 
 
The fire hissed, demanding sustenance. He had nothing to give. So it bled frustration into his veins, and he directed everything at the cooling body. Because it was not real. He wouldn’t even pretend that it was. Those were dangerous thoughts, emotions he didn’t even dare to acknowledge anymore, and he didn’t need to lapse back into old habits. He promised. 
 
Soon enough, the high ran its course, leaving him colder than the corpse at his feet. He peeled the red-stained shirt off, wiping at the sticky grime on his forearms, before throwing the article of clothing on the ground and turning to leave. 
 
He couldn’t walk fast enough. 
 
A quick stop at a public bathroom to wash away more dried blood, then he put his blue hoodie back on. It was the same one that got some of Christmas’ blood on the sleeve, though that mark had darkened beyond recognition. He figured a few more stains couldn’t hurt, since he would just throw it away when a new one arrived. Then again, since GZ was going to become a part of his routine (god knew he needed it, with his Stigma the way it was now), he might just keep this one around. After all, a few more stains couldn’t hurt. 
 
By the time he arrived at his suite, there was nothing left of GZ on his person. Just wet hands and damp hair and the usual chill of the withdrawal. Christmas wasn’t there yet, and he should be worried since the blond boy said he would be back soon, but Sander only felt relief. This was…not a good time. With nothing left to look out for, Sander collapsed onto his bed, only got one arm out of his hoodie before sleep claimed him. 

[hr] 
 
His hands were clean now. It was disturbing, sometimes, how easy dried blood washed off. 
 
But those weren’t real people. He was. Not [i]people[/i], but close. He could manage this. He [i]was[/i] managing. It wasn’t that hard. He just had to…not think about that. Not think about how [i]flesh gave beneath his fingers like sand and the shine of red was mesmerizing, even if it was cold and the smell was all wrong[/i]. 
 
He would not think about that. 
 
The short nap following his session in GZ had done much to elevate his mood. However, he wouldn’t be able to sleep early that evening, so as the curfew approached, Sander sat in the comfort of his own room, flicking casually through another retail website. He was running out of shirts at an alarming rate. As the week passed, it became clear to him that the custodians weren’t coming around any time soon to collect his dirty (and bloody) laundry. USARILN East was horribly inefficient in this aspect. Maybe he could send in a request form asking about this issue. Meanwhile, he would just have to make do with the allowance. Between the spars with Callan and his own sessions in GZ, he should probably stock up on things he wouldn’t miss. 
 
His gaze flickered to the blue ribbon on his wrist, and he thought of Christmas. The blond boy was out awfully late that evening, despite having said otherwise during lunch. It was rather concerning, but Sander wasn’t sure what he could do about it. Town meant [i]people[/i], and Sander really didn’t like to think about [i]people[/i]. Fake ones and real ones. Maybe if he could ask one of the guards…
 
The door creaked open then, and Sander turned around, spotting the familiar head of blond hair. His lips curled up into a smile – “Hey, Christmas. How was your-- “-He trailed off at the unusual posture and dishevelled look of his shivering roommate. His gaze dropped to the dark stains on the front of the grey shirt, and he felt his nostrils flare. [i]Coffee[/i], the scent stronger than it should. 
 
He rose from his desk in a swift motion and walked over, steps brisk from the building panic. But he stopped himself soon enough, standing just two steps away from the healer –“[color=cyan]Are you okay?[/color]”    

Christmas lifted his head as high as Sander's neck, relief and something like embarrassment on his face--not that most could discern behind the steady bruises decorating his face. The cold night air and quick wash at the sink had collapsed together into violent shaking and speaking was nearly impossible.

[color 8493ca]"I-I--"[/color] 

He was really glad to be back. More than he had thought and the words were all trying to come out at once, so he gave up on speaking and just nodded instead, pointing a trembling finger at the bathroom door to ask for permission.

Sander just stared at the purplish spots now, eyes wide and brows creased, confusion and concern and something far darker running rampant in the modest space of his ribcage. The scent of coffee became dangerously tempting; the cold ashes inside him calling out for substance, its promise of order and safety already lurking in the back of his mind. He clamped down on the scent, only to be greeted with the stench of rotten food and waste. It confused him even more. 
 
Towns weren’t supposed to be dangerous. [i]People[/i] were in there. Danger were crimson eyes and clawed feet. Danger was shadowy monsters that moved faster than the eyes could see. Danger was the fire lurking in his chest. These were his to face. Not Christmas’. 
 
Then what was this? He was stumped. 
 
“[color=cyan]What happened?[/color]” -He blinked, looking between the bathroom and his roommate’s outstretched hand, mind still racing to decipher the simple gesture as the hand lowered back down to Christmas' side.  

The healer's mouth just opened and closed repeatedly, trying to form words while his eyes strained to stay focused. Eventually, he nodded again, to no particular comment.

[color 8493ca]"T-tr-tr--"[/color] He swallowed and stared at the ribbon on Sander's wrist. [color 8493ca]"Tra-trash,"[/color] he finally explained.

The blond boy’s words answered nothing and brought even more questions, amplifying Sander’s confusion tenfold –“[color=cyan]W-what? Uh…Why are you—That’s blood…Are you hurt?[/color]” -He inhaled, the pungent stench was unpleasant, but he needed that small discomfort to keep his mind tethered to his resolve. 

Christmas nodded a third time, but what he said clashed.

[color 8493ca]"I-I--'m--'kay."[/color]

“[color=cyan]But you are bruised…and there’s--uh--there is blood.[/color]” -Sander insisted, despite a small part of him that reminded him [i]it wasn’t his place[/i]. But Christmas was hurt and it was the security room all over again and he didn’t know what to do. He shouldn’t be agitated, not when there was blood, but he didn’t know what to do –“[color=cyan]That’s not okay.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"S-s-so--sorry."[/color]

Words already on his lips, but Sander turned his head and exhaled instead. This was not how he was supposed to do it. He had to calm down. Stay calm. Breathe. He shouldn’t get agitated. He shouldn’t panic. The fire would tempt. He could do something stupid and it would be another bad choice that he couldn’t live with nor think about. 
 
He had to calm down. The wise thing was to leave. Come back later. But he couldn’t leave Christmas. He didn’t know what to do, because all he had was blood and bad choices. But he couldn’t leave Christmas. He promised. 
 
But what would he do? He didn’t know how to fix bruises. That wasn’t part of his power. 
 
He blinked at the matted head of blond hair then. [i]But wasn’t he more than that? More than whatever burnt in his ribcage?[/i] 
 
What would [i]she[/i] have done?
 
“[color=cyan]C-Can I help?[/color]” -He began before he could stop himself. There was a quiver in his tone, but his gaze held firm as he stepped closer –“[color=cyan]I…would like to help.[/color]”  

The tired, blue eyes focused now, a sudden dilation of the pupils at Sander's insistence. Christmas looked up properly, like he was waiting for a revision to the offer and at the same time hoping it was real.

But it wasn't something Sander had needed to offer. He had already helped. Wasn't it enough that he was there? 

Another nod and Christmas tried to breathe through the damp cold and dull ache of bruises. Tried to say something right. Enough to keep Sander from worrying, at least.

[color 8493ca]"A-al-already. Y-you--already,"[/color] his mouth wasn't articulating well enough between pricks of pain from Ernie's vicious grip earlier settling into the muscle and flesh as dark spots.

He tried nodding again and looked towards the bathroom door. [color 8493ca]"Smell--I-I smell b-bad...s-sorry."[/color]

“[color=cyan]I can help with that.[/color]” -Sander lifted a hand and touched Christmas’ upper arm gingerly. The touch was feather-light, but he left it there. Whatever bravery he had found, it stayed. His. Not borrowed –“[color=cyan]Please.[/color]” 

Christmas stared at the hand on his arm and looked like he would cry for a moment. His lips curled inward briefly before he nodded, because that was all he could do right at the moment.

[color 8493ca]"Th-thank--th--"[/color] He didn't finish, so he reached for Sander's hand with his own trembling one and tapped at it once in agreement, the touch barely present.

Sander felt like he didn’t need to say much after that, so he didn’t. He simply moved toward the bathroom, the insistent touch on Christmas’ remained and the blond boy complied, albeit with a strange stagger. Soon enough, the bathroom door closed behind them, and Sander slid the frosted glass door open, gently ushering Christmas into the shower after the smaller boy had slowly removed his shoes and socks. With that done, he glanced at the nearby shelves and plucked out bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body wash (his, Christmas’ were nowhere to be found). 
 
He turned back at Christmas then, looking at the blond boy expectantly. 

Eyes blinked back at Sander, as confused as Sander was expectant.

“[color=cyan]…Your clothes?[/color]” 

Several seconds passed before Christmas looked at the shower floor, unsure how he felt about being told to strip twice in the same day. Judging by the items in his roommate's hands, it wasn't a joke. He thought Sander had meant to just help him to the bathroom, but this was [i]more than he dared.[/i]

[color 8493ca]"B-b-bother--bothering y-you?"[/color] he stammered out.

“[color=cyan]I don’t mind.[/color]” -Sander offered a smile, and the truth –“[color=cyan]I…want to help.[/color]”

Christmas hesitated a moment more before nodding, swallowing visibly. Sander already knew about how...how he was, so if his roommate didn't mind, then this was...okay.

It hurt to move his arms and he bit down on the small cries, pulling off the shirt first, where the same discoloration bloomed larger all around his torso and stomach. The shorts required hesitation, choked gasps as he leaned forward, and slow breathing before those came off, too. Christmas painstakingly righted himself, standing in the bathtub-and-shower fixture with only his underwear on, eyes fixed on the linoleum floor. He would finish taking off his underwear once Sander had put the bottles down and left the bathroom, he decided.

Sander took the bundle of dirty clothes and tossed them into the sink, but not without sparing a puzzled glance at Christmas’ remaining article of clothing. But he decided to say nothing, instead going into the shower himself and sliding the glass door close. The small boy only inhaled sharply at that, stunned beyond protest. He placed the bottles on the floor, then reached over to adjust the showerhead so it wouldn’t spray directly onto either of them. Only then did he twist the faucet and let hot water stream down. Stray droplets hit him then, leaving wet marks on his white T-shirt, but he paid them no mind.

Goosebumps prickled across Christmas's skin as the heat from the nearby stream of hot water woke his nerves and flared the bruises to life. He sucked in breath after breath while the temperature of his body acclimated, trying not to think too much about Sander in the shower with him. He hadn't accompanied anyone to a shower since he was a child, in memories he could barely place, with a motherly presence he had missed for most of his life. A silly thought crossed his mind, that if he moved or did anything, whatever was holding the moment together would disappear and Sander would suddenly leave. However strange and overly kind his roommate was at the moment, Christmas didn't want him to go. So he stayed as still as the vestiges of shivers would allow.
 
A touch of water first, to wet the hair. Like how [i]she[/i] used to do. He could do this, too. With a soft inhale, Sander focused on the green apple scent. He started with the hair first. Cupping a handful of water, he wet the already matted golden strands, before reaching down for the shampoo and squeezing a healthy dollop onto his palm, which he proceeded to work into the healer’s hair with gentle fingers. As he did, his gaze fell onto the ugly bruises that marred the blond boy’s torso, and for just a brief moment, his fingers slowed. 
 
“[color=cyan]I’m sorry.[/color]” -He sighed, picking up the pace again –“[color=cyan]I don’t know how to help with that.[/color]” 

There was a slight pain on the back of his head, where Ernie's punch had thrown it against the wall, and Christmas winced slightly as Sander's hands nudged at it. The comfort of warm water and gentle fingers helped him bite down the whimper that threatened. The rest of his body sparked with pain, but he found if he remained still and took shallow breaths, he could manage most of it. Ernie had been vicious, and the impacts had been brutal, but none of them had been poised to kill. He wasn't sure if that was really something to take comfort in, but small things had to mean something or he would be lost.

[color 8493ca]"Th-thank--thank you,"[/color] Christmas whispered. The fact that Sander was [i]there[/i] had been more than enough. [i]This[/i] was beyond him. He accepted trash and being told his worth. He didn't know how to take Sander's kindness, and he was embarrassed enough without adding tears to the mix. He didn't know how to make this up to Sander now, because this was so much and he could do so little.

Sander stayed silent afterward, lost in the rhythm of his own routine, though this time, he was doing it for another person. It was…strange, yet at the same, not really. His hands knew what they were doing, and he barely had to think at all. And he really didn’t. When he felt the shampoo had been sufficiently massaged into the strands, he reached up for the showerhead and swirled it so the spray would hit Christmas. The smaller boy closed his eyes refexively. Water splashed onto his shirt then, completely soaking it. It wasn’t a problem though. He would just change into something dry later. After rinsing all the shampoo off, he picked up the bottle of conditioner and repeated the same process, albeit slower. Then came another rinse, and it was done. 
 
He picked up the bottle of body wash next. As he placed a hand on Christmas’ shoulder, Sander’s eyes were once again drawn to the bruises. Hesitation set in, and he touched a careful finger to a particularly prominent mark on the healer’s chest. 
 
“[color=cyan]Does this hurt a lot?[/color]”

Another hand on his shoulder and Christmas tensed briefly, eyes holding fast to the sight of his? Sander's? ...their? ribbon. But it was Sander's warm hand and he weathered the worst of that instinctive reaction before looking at the tentative fingers testing the bruises. It did sting, but no more than breathing and no more than the pangs from the sudden rush of hot water, so Christmas supposed it didn't hurt [i]a lot[/i].

He shook his head, still carefully holding his thoughts in a specific order, and it was easy to do when he could just think on a cruel smile and avoid paying attention to Sander's proximity to him [i]in a shower.[/i] He had to remind himself, feeling the casual, fluid ease of how Sander proceeded through everything, that only he saw value in things other people did with as little thought as breathing. Melancholy hummed in the undercurrents of that belief, but it was enough to temper the warmth of the person so close to him. Enough to pull his wishes back to a safe distance.

Sander took the gesture at face value, because he didn’t really know any other way. Moving the showerhead aside first, then he worked the shampoo in his hands into a lather before applying it onto the blond boy’s skin. His touch remained tentatively even on the expanses of skin unmarred by bruises, yet thorough. He stopped at around the waist line though. Christmas wore his underwear in the shower, which he thought was rather strange, but he didn’t comment on it. He just kneeled down instead, and worked the shampoo from Christmas’ midthigh downward. 
 
If Sander noticed Christmas's unnatural stillness throughout the process, he didn't show it, and he would likely never realize exactly how grateful Christmas was that he had left his underwear on.
 
After all of that was another rinse, then Sander was finished. He left the faucet on though, leaving Christmas to stand under the spray for as long as he wanted. Personally, Sander had always found that relaxing. 
 
“[color=cyan]I will go get your clothes?[/color]” -He motioned to the door with a thumb. 

Just a nod and an almost imperceptible [color 8493ca]"T-thank you."[/color]

Christmas hadn't moved an inch the moment it fully dawned on him that Sander was actually going to help wash him. He didn't know what he had been expecting after Sander had entered the shower and slid the glass door shut--something like a bit of help and Sander mostly just adjusting the water? But his roommate had actually just [i]washed him[/i] [color 8493ca][i]with his hands and--what was going on?[/i][/color] and every thought beyond the basic registers of aches and fatigue simply stopped after that. It wasn't the train wreck of reactions that was waking up in the hospital after Sander had fallen asleep on him. This was just hot water stinging across his bruises and warm, soothing touches balancing it out, melting the terrible day into a comforting blank space that felt like it could be more, but he didn't know the what or how of it. Didn't know the weight and heft of it.

There was heat on his shoulders and the back of his neck, scorching him, and he blamed it on the water, because any concrete acknowledgment was more than he dared and more than he deserved. Christmas just held his breath until he felt the first touches of dizziness and exhaled, letting some of the tension go with it.

[quote][color=00a99d]"No one wants someone as fucked up as you."[/color][/quote]
He didn't disagree, and he thought it was a twisted sort of help that he could rely on words like that to help drive away the clamoring thoughts Sander's actions had elicited.

[color 8493ca][i]It's okay.[/i][/color] 

Because he was afraid.

Sander left a trail of wet footprints on the carpet as he walked over to Christmas’ duffle bag. However, looking through the mostly-empty bag only yielded a bundle of balled up dirty clothes, so he was hesitant about giving them to the blond boy. After a few moments, he moved over to his side of the room instead, searching through the pile of cardboard boxes and grabbing a few pieces of clothing. They were all too big for the healer, but it was better than nothing. Surely, Christmas didn’t want to wear dirty clothes, right? He was certain that no one did. 
 
Carrying the stack of new clothes in his arms, along with a fresh towel (his too, he just couldn’t seem to find Christmas’), Sander went back inside the bathroom, only to find Christmas still hadn’t moved from his spot in the shower. 
 
“[color=cyan]Uh…I can’t find your clothes.[/color]” -He deposited his burden on a counter as he spoke –“[color=cyan]Got some of mine here...if you want. Don’t worry, they are all new. Just arrived yesterday.[/color]”

His clothes, too? Christmas fidgeted in the shower, wondering if Sander was just [i]this nice[/i] to people in general because he was going really far with "help" and it seemed completely natural to the lanky boy. Things that meant nothing were often easier to do, right? Christmas thought so, at least, and after Sander washing him he didn't think anything would get nicer--only to be surprised. He couldn't tell if he was glad Sander was naturally so kind or vaguely disappointed--about what, he wasn't admitting to. 

[color 8493ca]"Tha--thank you,"[/color] he mumbled again, still not moving. He would have been fine with his old clothes, but it felt wrong to tell Sander that after his roommate had already gone through the trouble. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and Christmas wondered if he was even as high up as a beggar in this scenario.

“[color=cyan]Do you need...[/color]” -Sander asked, raising his eyebrows –“[color=cyan]…more help?[/color]” 

He shook his head almost instantly, too aware now how Sander's help worked. Too aware he [i]liked[/i] it and disliked something else at the same time. Murky, that feeling again, but he tried to smooth it back down because he wasn't nice and still wanted to be.

[color 8493ca]"Thank--thank you,"[/color] he repeated--what else could he possibly say? The clashing mood shifts of the day's events were taking their toll on him and Christmas couldn't fathom how he had progressed from passing out in a dumpster to Sander washing him and loaning him clothes. And in the backdrop, the bruises still rang with aches, ready to burst if he so much as bumped into a wall the wrong way. 

What in the world was going on? The sudden coalescence of thought into a single notion of [i]something[/i] disguised as gratitude made him wish he had the power to disappear again. It was a terrible thing to admit that if he had known this was how the day would have ended, he would repeat the events of [i]earlier[/i] the exact same way. Christmas turned away, fire rising to his shoulders and neck and he nodded again, but to the wall.

[color 8493ca]"S-sorry."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Okay.[/color]” -Sander nodded, noting his roommate’s uncomfortable posture. Were the bruises bothering him again? –“[color=cyan]I will…leave you to it then.[/color]” -He left soon after, closing the bathroom door quietly behind him. 

Christmas spent the next half hour struggling with the painstaking motions of fully undressing now, drying himself off, and scrubbing his underwear of the dumpster's stains. Exhaustion worked at his eyes and hands until he settled for just wringing the pair of boxers as dry as he could and wadding them up. He tucked the towel around his hips, careful to ease himself into every movement so the bruises remained at a manageable aching. Sander's toiletries went back to the sink counter before he ran a sheet of paper towel over the wet floor.

With the bathroom clean once more, Christmas hesitated again before finally throwing on Sander's clothes, too loose for him by far, but comfortable all the same.

He stumbled out of the bathroom in a charcoal gray shirt that hung limply from his shoulders, the hem of it reaching far down his thighs while the black sweatpants bagged around his ankles and dragged on the floor. The small boy in the midst of all that fabric looked better now, even if the darkening, swollen bruises on his face told a different story. Christmas blinked at the damp undergarment in his hand, nearly tripping on the sweatpants as he fumbled his way towards his duffel bag and stuffed another article of dirty clothing inside, wincing with every tiny movement.

Sander was sitting at his desk by then, damp clothes had been replaced by fresh ones. He seemed to be fully absorbed in whatever on the screen of his laptop at the moment. 

[color 8493ca]"Thank you,"[/color] Christmas said from the floor, where he was crouched beside his bag that was starting to smell a bit unpleasant. A fuzzy thought about laundry facilities on the school grounds surfaced, but he was too tired to check the map. He just leaned against the foot of the bed and closed his eyes for a moment.

Sander blinked slightly and turned around, only to find the blond boy half-asleep at the foot of his bed. He stood up then and walked over, touching Christmas’ arm again. Parts of him panicked, just slightly, but he assured himself that the boy was just falling asleep. It didn’t seem like there was blood.
 
“[color=cyan]Hey…Are you alright?[/color]”

Christmas nodded to the question, the answer reflex, regardless of the facts. He blinked at Sander's hand on his arm and tapped the knuckle again, downturned face hiding a tiny smile--one that quickly faded when several of the bruises smarted. The aches had all blended into one general presence of pain in the background of his mind and he didn't mind sleeping there until morning if it meant he could avoid just that bit of extra movement to reach the bed.

[color 8493ca]"Thank you,"[/color] he murmured again, the words just as automatic as his nods. But they were real, for all that he diluted them with the frequency of usage.

Everything hurt. And it was okay, still. Not [i]okay[/i] in that compensating lie--and a tiny spark like clapping hands over a mouth in shock was appalled he had called it a lie--but truly, truly okay. At least for now. And "for now" was how Christmas lived.

He leaned back against the bed with a half-worded [color 8493ca]"Good night"[/color] before falling asleep there.

[i]Just sleeping…[/i], Sander reminded himself as he made a grab for a pillow and the blanket off the blond boy’s bed. The right thing to do then was to help Christmas back on the bed, because the floor wasn’t very comfortable, but Sander didn’t want to take the risk. The blond boy seemed to have fallen asleep at this point, anyway. So he eased his roommate’s prone form down to the floor, where he had placed the pillow, then spread the blanket over Christmas. 
 
When he was all done, Sander paused for a brief moment, watching the subtle rise and fall of Christmas’ chest. [i]Still alive. Still here.[/i] He let out a breath of relief and stood up, turning off the light before returning to his laptop. He would stay up for a little bit longer that night. 
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