[hider=Disjoint: Spread my ribs]

[center][h3][color=33ec06]『𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕤』[/color] [color=cyan]『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][color=00a99d]『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][img]http://i68.tinypic.com/63x8xz.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][h3]with special guest appearance by [color=AC58FA]Lizzy![/color][/h3]
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/247532747386650624/274500348193013760/Lizzy.png[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤   / /  ~𝟙𝟛𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr][center][sub]Collab with [@Chasers115] [@Snagglepuss89] [@RedDusk] [@January] and [@banjoanjo][/sub][/center]
[hider=Demand]
It was a fairly chilly Saturday afternoon as Marcus strolled across campus. He'd been strolling around the grounds significantly more this week - partly due to the added freetime he had, and partly due to the hectic week he'd already had. Between the date with Emma and the heart attack that Callan had given him, the therapeutic walk through the school was a welcome diversion. He'd considered bringing his lunch out to eat it in the privacy of a wide-open field, but decided against it. Right now, he had a belly full of food and a hand full of drink, and he was pretty content with life.

He'd explored the campus pretty well in the last couple days - right now he was hanging out around the security outpost and the cafe, watching the canopy of trees above him shift and sway in the wind. He'd already been up on the north side, having scouted out the big water tower in that area. Plus, the exploration had given him a chance to stop by the registrar's office and drop off another requisition sheet; a couple of necessities that the first outing had taught hm would be useful.

[hider=Requisition Form]
- A pistol, ammo, and a holster.
- A [s]knife[/s] crowbar and some sort of strap for it.
- A smile!
[/hider]

In the week since he first got dragged to this place, a bunch of monsters got dangerously close to the school. The way he figured it; knowing all the best locations around the place offered him a bonus if the beasts ever actually made it. Hell, if he managed to map out the vents, his USARLIN survival map would basically be complete.

He shivered slightly as the cool wind blew across his face. He was never a fan of the cold, preferring the hot months of the summer. He wrapped his hoodie around himself a little tighter, zipping the front up the whole way. He still hadn't reaplced the tattered thing, despite the ruined sleeve that marred it. He kind of liked it though - it was a story, like some metaphor or something. The torn boy with the torn jacket - he scoffed a little bit at the joke, sipping his drink in contemplation.

He stopped his walk and brought the drink down from his lips as something strolled across his current path. It was a shape the Marcus immediately recognized, but not for any good reason. A dog, probably a stray, sniffing along the trail ahead of him. As if he didn't have enough trouble with Siena's little mutt, he had to worry about strays around the campus too. He quelled the inkling of fear that snatched at his chest with the knowledge that it hadn't noticed him, and that he was just going to turn around and go the other way, angrily muttering the whole way.

His heart skipped a beat as the dog turned to him, ears perked up. A Shepherd by the look of it - decently sized, but much thinner than he would have expected. His breath had started to quicken as he backed away, both hands up as if to surrender to the mutt. The nervous swell of heat and familiar numbness of fear started to bloom as the dog crouched low and growled - a hunting position.

[i]The eyes.[/i]

By the time the dog barked and started running towards him, Marcus had abandoned all attempts to remain calm and started to flee. He turned around and started running, hoping silently that the dog would just get disinterested and wander off, and he'd just take the long path back home.

Experts recommend that, when faced with a wild dog, you do not run - running triggers their instinct to chase and attack things. Unfortunately for Marcus, he'd never talked to a dog expert; though this tidbit of information would certainly explain the hot pursuit of the dog, and the quickly shrinking gap between them.

He needed to escape. He had to get out of there before anything could go wrong. Before anything like [i]last time[/i] could happen again. The familiar sound of static filled his ears as he focused on his destination. He was going to get the hell out and dash forward, and then crawl into bed and curse the world. There was something different about this jump though; the static seemed warbled, drawn out much longer than usual, and he wasn't jumping. The weight of the cuff around his ankle reminded him of his restrictions - the inevitable delay that followed his attempts to use his power.

Finally, the familiar vertigo struck him. The ground shifted on him, but the delay had thrown him off a bit. When the sensation passed and the ground returned to him, he faltered and hit the asphalt. The boy barely had enough time to turn over and fearfully scoot backwards before the dog was on him. A quick, panicked boot to the head elicited a yelp from the animal, and Marcus scrabbled back even further. With a pained shake, the dog regained its composure and was on him again.

This time, when Marcus attempted to kick, his attack was not as successful. The dog found its mark; a powerful bite easily piercing the thin denim of his pants, and found root in the skin and muscle of his lower leg, just above the ankle. Marcus cried out in pain, trying to deliver a few more kicks to the dog's head, everyblow he made forcing the dog's teeth to tear his leg further.

[i]The teeth.[/i]

Even as he struggled to free himself, pain and blinding fear clouding his mind, Marcus was acutely aware of something. Normally after he jumped - there was some sensation of emptiness; like something he always had on him was very briefly missing. Now, however, he didn't feel the same sensation. He had jumped, but he still felt as if it was there, ready to be used.

Another kick to the head, and the dog released hold. Marcus spent no time in examining his ruined calf, instead drawing upon the power that he felt remained. Static again, a slight delay as the dog moved in to attack again, and the sense of vertigo. He somehow managed to jump again - trying in vain to leap to his feet before his leg collapsed underneath him. When the jump ended, he had only managed to pitifully crawl a few feet, a few drops of crimson marring the asphalt between himself and the beast.

The sensation of emptiness had returned, indicating that he was out of options. Marcus slowly scrabbled backwards, his pantleg slowly turning red, his face streaming down tears of both pain and fear, and him only feebly managing to let out a quick shout. 

[hr][h2][b][i][u]Meanwhile...[/u][/i][/b][/h2][hr]

Home was a wonderful place for any creature who had become accustomed to it. There were dangers of course, like any other place in nature. Although the Upright were annoyingly fickle in how they treated Wanderers like Lizzy. Some were liable to pet you, others strike you, unlike in the wild where if you encountered a species they were likely to act like any of their kind. It was part of the reason so many creatures feared them- unpredictability was not something commonplace in nature.

Still, while Home was overflowing with Uprights, it was not an altogether bad place to live. There was security from the Awakened, who hunted all indiscriminately and for now had replaced the Upright's position on the food chain. And for those Wanderers who chose to let themselves become Bound, they often led a content existence. Some might even say a [i]better[/i] existence, although many like Lizzy were unconvinced. There was an appeal to freedom that not even companionship and an easy life could replace. Besides, for those Wanderers who had their wits about them, the most important commodity was ever available to be supplied by the fickle Uprights: Food. 

It was for this commodity that Lizzy now- as ever- hunted. There was no food to be had at her den, not so long as her partner was where she couldn't follow. It had never made sense to Lizzy what the uprights would or would not allow, but at least she wasn't confined to her den without a meal like many of the Bound would be. Still, she couldn't argue the advantages of her situation, gaining some of the benefits that the Bound experience with her partner. She certainly weighed more than when Home was her den. For those Wanderers who thought they owned Home and all of its food, such an increase in size was a nice deterrent.  Not that mere Wanderers could strike fear into Lizzy after staring down the Awakened with her partner. Perhaps some of his own apparent fearlessness had rubbed off on her- but that was too close to making her Bound to consider.

It was almost when she had returned to the den from her daily hunt when the hairs on Lizzy's back began to stand up- A feeling she had no intention to ignore. Briefly her tongue wet her nose to better catch the smells around her, and she lifted her muzzle to the sky and sniffed. Her brain quickly sorted through the assault of hundreds of scents before signalling out two: One was Sharpjaw, a Wanderer she had not met in some time. The other was one she had caught on one of the Uprights in her den before, but was otherwise unfamiliar with it. Knowing Sharpjaw's temperament it wasn't hard to puzzle out the reason her hair was standing up and in a rush she took off in the direction of the smells. 

The two came into sight just as the Upright defied nature, and smell of blood added itself to the air. Not hesitating, and with Sharpjaw's attention fully fixed on his prey, Lizzy threw herself onto the other Wanderer. The two had fought before, and she was fully intent on avoiding his namesake. Using the weight she had gained over the past few months to her advantage, Lizzy kept her jaws tight around his neck, forcing his face into the ground while he attempted to turn around and scratch at her stomach. Perhaps with a Wanderer she was less familiar with Lizzy would aim to kill- but for now she simply held him fast and waited. If she knew one thing about Sharpjaw it was that he was quick to fight, and quick to run. A coward at his core.

And she was soon proven right. Unable to gain an advantage, and aware of who he was fighting and that his life wasn't in danger, the other Wanderer eventually settled, and whined in submission. It was only then that Lizzy finally let go and back off, placing herself between the Upright and Sharpjaw, flashing her teeth in warning. They stared at each other for some moments, then her adversary lowered his head and scampered off towards Home to scavenge for an easier meal that night.

Satisfied, Lizzy then turned to the Upright that had filled the air with the smell of his blood and approached, tail beginning to wag at the prospect of earning some food from him for his rescue. She deserved at [i]least[/i] that after all, not to mention a scratch behind the ears in thanks. With this in mind, Lizzy sat in front of him and waited, head cocked to the side in anticipation.

[hr]

Lunch had been quiet--calm, even, despite the turmoil of the week and bruises that Sander hadn't been privy to. Christmas had taken the painkillers that morning and once again before lunch so the blond boy was at least functional, even if he still seemed slightly uncomfortable with movement.

But it was Christmas who had been the one to take a walk after lunch, lost in thought. Sander had simply followed, and this time Christmas hadn't protested. Simply nodded and fell into step beside his taller roommate. They had wandered in companionable silence for some time, following the sidewalk and heading in one general, but aimless direction, content with company and uncertain paths.

Sander’s steps halted when a familiar scent crept up on his sense. It was subtle at first, normal, then suddenly intensified. Not dangerously so, but it was still worrisome. In the distance, he thought he heard shouting. 
 
“[color=cyan]I think--uh…hang on.[/color]” -He turned to Christmas, the words halfway out of his mouth when he cut them off, jerking his head toward the now-closer shout. That didn’t sound good. And it was someone he was vaguely familiar with. Scattered memories from the flag football game came back to him, and he remembered the head of chestnut hair, brown eyes that looked at him from behind wounds old and new. From the scent alone, he could tell that the scarred boy was bleeding. 
 
“[color=cyan]I’ll be back.[/color]” -Sander offered his roommate a quick assurance, receiving a wide-eyed nod in response before turning and heading off the path they were taking. A few quick strides into the direction of the scent, and the blood mage found Marcus. Who definitely looked like he could use some help.
 
But Sander wasn’t sure he should be the one to give it. His mind blanked, initially; desires and confusion with its whats and whys colliding in the space of his head, before Sander snapped himself out of the daze. He backed up a few steps, the movement hasty but deliberate. Because he was still afraid of what his instincts would do. However, before he could do much, one of the two furry assailants ran off, while the other one assumed an idle position.

Marcus scrabbled backwards, taking the sudden distraction as an opportunity to try and pick himself off the ground. With his panic and his injury however, all he could manage to do was feebly inch his way backwards away from the fight that was taking place in front of him. The scenario didn't appear to be any better for him - there were now two dogs in his path, and he'd undoubtedly be left injured and alone with the stronger of the two. His leg had started to throb, and he was vaguely aware of the uncomfortable warmth that was running down over his ankle.

When all was send and done - the black and white dog having scared off the Shepherd - Marcus stopped his escape. It sat in front of him, head turned slightly and tail wagging, waiting for something. He looked the animal in the eyes, trying to gauge the intent of the creature from gaze alone.

[i]Nothing. It wasn't angry. It wasn't hungry. It just wanted to kill.[/i]

This one was different. Even the Shepherd had been different. There had been motive at least; hunger or territorial instincts. They were both things he could recognize - and this one seemed to be looking back at him expectantly. His pockets were empty, and his drink had been thrown in his initial panic - all he could do now was hold his hand up in a 'stay' position and continue to scoot away.

"[color 33ec06]G-good dog.[/color]" Macus said in a shaky voice. His breaths were heavy, and his eyes still welled a few droplets down his cheeks as the blood pounded in his ears.

Sander moved closer, motivated by his desire to help, but his steps were hesitant as he didn’t know how. So he just hovered a few steps behind the dog, gaze flitting between Marcus and the creature’s turned back. This one wore a collar though, which meant it…wasn’t a stray?

Slowly the tail stopped wagging as the Upright continued to move backwards, away from Lizzy. The fear was evident, although she had done nothing to harm him. They were, however, always unpredictable in how they acted. Still, surely he had [i]something[/i] to offer her.

Licking her nose once more, she took another sniff of the air with closed eyes, hunting for anything that smelled like their delicious food. She had, of course, caught notice of the drink, although their beverages were wholly unappealing to her. Other than that though the only scent she could make out was that of the Upright himself- and his blood. With a snort of derision to voice her displeasure, Lizzy closed her eyes and stuck her nose in the air, turning away from the food-lacking Upright and trotting off towards her den once more. Leaving him in his pathetic state.

With the dog trotting off, Marcus allowed himself a deep breath. He was safe - he had figured himself to at least be about to get mauled. Some part of him sincerely hoped the cuff would pick something up before one of the newest 'weapons' they had could get killed by a stray animal. He wiped his hands over his eyes, taking a few moments to regain his composure. Plan of attack; he needed a plan here. If he couldn't walk, then it was going to be a long hopping session over to the infirmary. 

A figure to the side caught his eye. [i]Sander[/i]- not exactly his first choice for assistance at this current moment, but beggers really couldn't be choosers. Especially not when they were bleeding profusely from the ankle.

"[color 33ec06]Sander. Come give me a hand over here...[/color]" he said, extending his arm to the aberration.

Sander stood his ground, despite the request. He didn’t dare to move at that moment, not when warm blood was pooling just a short distance away and the scent had definitely got worse –“[color=cyan]Uh…H-Hang on. Maybe you should wait for…[/color]” -The frantic beats of his heart thudded loudly in his ears, and Sander swallowed drily –“[color=cyan]…help.[/color]” -He craned his neck around to look for someone, eyes on anywhere but the bleeding Marcus. 

[hr]

Christmas had watched from a safe distance as Sander approached someone on the ground several meters away. The person was definitely familiar, but he couldn't place a name to the face despite seeing that scarred visage in class before and on the monitors from Monday. More importantly, an angry dog was charging at the downed, injured student. He had taken a half-step backwards when yet another, larger dog barreled into the former, the two canines tussling on the grass before the emaciated one seemed to surrender and turned tail, dashing off towards the arboretum.

He had never seen strays fighting that close before, or at least, one stray. The other dog had a collar. And he didn't want to think the violence (that didn't threaten [i]him[/i]) was as fascinating as it was terrifying, especially since the small rush of adrenaline he felt from the scene's proximity still hammered in his ears and jittered his pulse.

A reflexive breath slowly in and out like he could calm his nerves that way, and his eyes trailed after the second dog as it peered curiously at the the student on the ground before trotting away. Distant footsteps heralded a guard approaching close enough to assess the situation, but when nothing seemed to warrant an emergency on school grounds, the soldier responded to someone on his phone, looked up again at the three boys, and caught Christmas's wide eyes with a quick nod and point towards the injured student. The man paused again to make sure everything remained all right, then left as briskly as he had come.

Christmas pulled on the sleeve of jacket as he waited for his body to stop trembling enough that he could manage to heal without slicing himself more than necessary. Fredric's folded knife was in his right pocket, weight like an anchor while he stared at the student bleeding from the ankle. He thought he'd maybe heard a name or something in class without paying attention (Mark?), but finding out could come later. Or not at all, he decided as he walked slowly towards the scene. He didn't really mind not knowing the name of a fellow classmate, and that was callous--

[color 8493ca]"S-sorry,"[/color] he finally mumbled to Mark (?) as he reached the two of them, keeping himself partially behind Sander.

Marcus sighed loudly, arm still extended, glaring at Sander. He really wasn't in the mood for this. Not now. Not as he was crumpled over and bleeding on the ground. He said nothing, glaring at Sander with still-glassy eyes, but fueled with more anger than pain. Of course the kid wouldn't help him - why would he have put any faith at all in 'Took His Clothes' Sander?

His eyes shifted to the second person standing there; a small kid that he definitely recognized, but had no recollection of his name. The kid mumbled something, but Marcus couldn't quite figure out what it was from his position on the ground. That really wasn't the thing he was concerned about at this moment, though.

"[color 33ec06]Hey, can [i]you[/i] come give me a hand over here?[/color]" he said, extending his arm to the new guy.

[color 8493ca]"U-um..."[/color] Christmas glanced at the injured leg, then the prominent scarring on the student's face before looking back at the hand. He bit his lower lip and didn't move at first, but after several seconds had passed the healer stepped out slowly from behind Sander and grabbed the extended arm with both of his, pulling upward. [color 8493ca]"Sor-sorry,"[/color] he mumbled again for mistakes left unsaid.

"[color 33ec06]You're fine,[/color]" Marcus said, using the leverage to hoist himself up. [color 33ec06]"Unless you can control dogs or something, in which case, I'll be a little upset.[/color]" he spoke through slightly clenched teeth as he hopped to his full height, with his injured leg awkwardly held just above the ground. He tried to put some weight on it, just to see how bad it actually was, but that was a fruitless endeavor. Thank god the denim was there, because he wasn't sure how much of his newly-acquired wound he wanted to see.

"[color 33ec06]I don't suppose I can convince you to help an injured, down-on-his-luck, boy over to the infirmary?[/color]" He said, leaning slightly on the student. His eyes glossed over him - the kid was a white streak like himself, but that really didn't mean much to him. Slight bruising, but that was to be expected at this school, with the amount of things they had to go through.

As the blond boy moved to help Marcus, Sander only crossed his arms and watched, guilt in his features. [i]This[/i] was something he couldn’t help with. Probably could never help with. Better for everyone if he just stayed out of the way, so he did, breaths slow and shallow, even with his ability switched off. And he kept the [i]damn[/i] power surpressed, leaning on it with the force of his resolve and frustration combined. 

[color 8493ca]"I--um--h-healer,"[/color] Christmas tried explaining, letting go and fumbling in his pocket to grab the knife. He still considered it Fredric's knife, but with every use it seemed to become more and more [i]his[/i]. What he made of that, he still wasn't too sure. The light cuts on his left hand had since healed, and the bandage was no longer there, but he could still find the red lines to cut across again, like a template for [i]appropriate[/i] self-harm. It was one thing he had always been good at as a child: cutting on the lines. Coloring and gluing was a mess, but the little cars and animals he snipped out of sheets with dotted lines were always perfect. He remembered being proud of that. He couldn't remember when he had stopped feeling proud.

As soon as Christmas stammered out that he was a healer, everything clicked. [i]That's[/i] where he recognized him from! This was the kid who stabbed himself in the arm right after he had walked into the observation room! The kid with the magical healing blood that he'd seen Lily drinking from like a water fountain. That kind of healing seemed like it took its toll on the kid though - having to slice yourself open anytime someone needed a quick pick-me-up?

Still, the benefits of an instant heal...who knew how long he would have normally been recovering from something like this. He debated over it in his mind; the poor kid had probably been through a lot already, he didn't imagine that a tool like 'instant healing' was wasted under Zhang's roof. The cost was too much, he finally decided on.

"[color 33ec06]I'll be fine...[/color]" Marcus said, a forced grin and a slight shrug following his words. "[color 33ec06]Little bit of Neosporin and a bandage...I'll be right as rain![/color]" He teetered slowly as he said this, trying to keep his balance on one leg.

“[color=cyan]You’re sure?[/color]” -Sander chose that moment to speak up, his nose scrunched up slightly as if there was something unpleasant in the air –“[color=cyan]I’m not—well, you’re bleeding a lot.[/color]” 

Marcus looked down at this pantleg again, frowning slightly. Sander was right...he was bleeding a fair amount. The white-hot throbbing of his ankle was another point in the 'instant healing' column.

"[color 33ec06]I mean...they can probably...[/color]" he said slowly. His argument had effectively been neutered when Sander spoke up. Still, he didn't want to outright ask Christmas to slice himself open for someone else's wellbeing. It seemed selfish, in a way...but maybe he was projecting.

[color 8493ca]"Oh...o-okay,"[/color] Christmas nodded, eyeing again the bleeding ankle but not protesting the student's insistence. He left his hand in his pocket and looked to Sander in case his roommate had anything more to say.

Sander frowned at the thought of Christmas getting hurt again. So soon, when his previous wounds had barely scabbed over. But he didn’t interfere, only taking one step backward and glancing off into the distance. He wanted to help. He really did. If the scent were weaker…
 
“[color cyan]Christmas…Can you…uh…just a little?[/color]” -Sander turned to the blond boy then, tapping the back of his left hand with fingers from his right one, indicating the spot. It wasn't fair; he could just keep the scent surpressed for as long as he could, but it had the tendency to get away from him. He was still too afraid, even when it was such a small thing. 

Blue eyes looked up at Sander, then flicked to the hands showing where to cut. The gaze eventually fell to the grass, settling into vague confusion, like the boy couldn't decide if he enjoyed ([i]was proud of[/i]) the need for his power or if he still couldn't bear the weight of even small things.

[color 8493ca]"C-can, but--um..."[/color] Christmas looked back at Marcus. At least he had decided he wouldn't be making the choice for anyone else.

Marcus avoided the healer's eyes for a moment, almost as if he was ashamed of the injury he'd taken. He still didn't want to outright ask, but it would certainly make his life a lot easier. He paused, trying to find the nicest way to ask. "[color 33ec06]Yeah...I guess it would be better...[/color]" he said, having to force the words out of his mouth.

Christmas stared at the grass like it was a puzzle again, but he withdrew the knife from his pocket and carefully unfolded the blade. It still wasn't much easier than Monday, to decide he was going to cut himself, but he took a shuddering breath and pressed the knife edge against the thin remnant of injury on the back of his left wrist, slitting it open with a sharp exhale and set jaw. The pain was dulled from the small, white tablets he had taken earlier, but a bit of the sting still sliced through the easy haze of oxycodone. 

As usual, he never had the nerve to make any deep cuts and the situation luckily didn't call for it, so the spun-glass mist shimmered from the wound, pulling out blood at a glacial pace to spread through the air. With the injured student in front of him, the power didn't need much more than several slow seconds to wrap around the small group, still trying to spread further as the skin on Marcus's ankle sewed itself together slowly and the blood lost was restored at much the same rate.

Roughly a minute and a half later (and with the mist spreading a bit further than the necessary distance), there was no trace of the injury left aside from the short streaks of blood flecking the grass and staining the student's torn hem. 

Sander’s body was tensed, even after the mist had faded away, taking with it the heady scent of coffee that he could never get enough of. That cut was on him, even when it wasn’t, because he still couldn’t stand a little spilled blood, despite everything the ocean threw at him all those years. Ridiculous. Without a word, Sander walked over to Christmas, reaching for the left sleeve of the blond boy’s shirt and began rolling it up, movements brisk and light. Christmas looked up briefly, but returned his gaze to the ground without saying anything, having grown a bit more used to Sander's method of concern over the past week, especially after Thursday. He fumbled with the knife in his right hand, instead, managing to click the blade back into the folded configuration after a bit of one-handed struggling while pressing the blunt side against his thigh. The small weight of decisions that were slowly but surely becoming easier to make settled back into his pocket soon afterwards.

Once the sleeve was folded up to the blond boy’s elbow, Sander took the hem of his shirt and dabbed at the wound gingerly, frowning as small spots of red stained the gray fabric. He could take this, at least. Just have to [i]focus[/i]. Keep the scent off his mind.
 
“[color=cyan]…careful with the…stains.[/color]” -Sander said, voice breathy and eyes glued to Christmas’ golden locks instead –“[color=cyan]Sorry.[/color]” -He mumbled after a short pause, eyes flitting briefly to Marcus, the apologize was partly for the scarred boy as well. 

Marcus stood stock-still as the glassy mist wrapped around him, a slight metallic scent in the air. The throbbing in his leg had stopped, and he gingerly rested his foot on the ground, leaning on in slightly to ensure it had healed completely. Once again, he was impressed with the boy's ability, but he still felt terrible for asking him to literally cut himself. He didn't like putting people at harm for him - no matter how small. Sander's concern seemed...odd, but it certainly wasn't something he was going to mention.

"[color 33ec06]Thanks...[/color]" he said, shooting an apologetic look at Christmas, before standing up straight and sticking his hand out. "[color 33ec06]I don't think I ever got your name. I'm Marcus, but 'Over There', 'Hey Stop', and 'Chew Toy' work too![/color]" he added, humor slowly returning to his words.

[color 8493ca]"Um. C-Christmas,"[/color] the healer replied, staring at Marcus's hand a moment before reaching out tentatively with his own. It was a handshake like any other, but he had paused at the memory of an alleyway and a dumpster in the face of a new hand. The moment passed and he looked at the large scars across Marcus's face. [color 8493ca]"You're--you're okay?"[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Like new![/color]" Marcus said, rotating his ankle. His gaze passed over the kid's face again - the slight bruising that stood out against the flat skin tone. "[color 33ec06]I could ask you the same thing; looks like you've had a rough time yourself![/color]" he said, looking over to Sander. He'd seen some of the things the guy could do...especially when he was 'berserking'. If this kid hung out with him very often, then bruises wouldn't surprise him.

Sander only returned the scarred boy’s gaze, not sure what to make of the look.

[color 8493ca]"Huh?"[/color] Christmas turned to look at Sander, too, because Marcus had, for some reason. Was he asking Sander?

"[color 33ec06]The...[/color]" Marcus said, circling his finger at his own face, trying to point out the discoloration in the most tactful way he could. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was probably a bad thing to bring up. He didn't try to bring up poor choices in conversation, it just seemed to happen to him a lot. Came with being the loudmouth, he supposed.

It took the healer a second to remember that the bruising on his face was still prominent (something a morning glance in a mirror had definitely confirmed), despite two days of recovery. He had forgotten about that between violent dogs, a bleeding ankle, magical healing, and the medicated bliss of opiates. The realization that Marcus was asking about the injuries tapped on that familiar reflex.

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

Looming over Christmas’ shoulder, Sander frowned, clearly disagreeing with that statement. 

Between Christmas's rushed insistence that he was fine, and Sander's looming, Marcus had enough information to make his own judgement. The healing blood was something that hadn't even crossed his mind until he thought about it - something that was probably irresistible to what basically amounted to a vampire.

He narrowed his eyes, looking at the pair. He wasn't normally the one to push the issue, but he hated bullies. Right now, he was torn between both of those prospects. He maintained the upbeat attitude though, but combined with a healthy amount of skepticism.

"[color 33ec06]You sure? Looks kinda rough, and this is coming from the guy that just got attacked by a dog![/color]"

Christmas just nodded. [color 8493ca]"I'm--I'm okay."[/color]

“[color=cyan]We…should probably go back to get you a bandage?[/color]” -Sander suggested, putting a hand on Christmas’ shoulder as he did. Christmas seemed to freeze briefly at the gesture, shoulders tensing in response, but the sudden agitation passed soon enough and the blond boy took a small breath in the aftermath. Sander's gaze remained on the scarred boy though, eyes flickered toward the bloodied pantleg before dashing right back up  –“[color=cyan]Marcus is fine now, right?[/color]”

"[color 33ec06]Oh yeah, I'm fine now.[/color]" Marcus said, crossing his arms. "[color 33ec06]Thanks to Christmas, at least. Good thing he was here to help me with that [i]raging beast[/i].[/color]" he said, emphasizing his words carefully. "[color 33ec06]It's a shame though; there might be other dangers on this campus, waiting to hurt people to satisfy their hunger.[/color]" he said, making it a blatant point to catch Sander's eyes.

The conversation's turn was unusual--even for the situation--and Christmas just stared at Marcus, uncertain how to respond to the comment. Raging beast? (T-the dogs?) Other dangers on the campus? Did Marcus mean the other students--maybe Ernie or an Aberration? But it seemed strange to bring up general danger now all of a sudden. Was this some kind of hidden warning about the Director, maybe? The abruptly cryptic words so carefully enunciated brought to mind dramatic VN stories. Not that he was sure applying video game logic to reality was ever a wise choice, but the comment was just so strangely delivered he had little basis to fall back to other than that. 

The words hit close to home for Sander, [i]because he knew hunger[/i], and it showed. The hand on Christmas’ shoulder grew lax all of the sudden, and Sander let it fall uselessly to his side while a wide-eyed look passed through his features –“[color=cyan]I-I didn’t hurt anyone here.[/color]” -The words came out too fast, and Sander could only swallow drily in their aftermath as if he could take them back. Because that wasn’t the truth, and he knew it –“[color=cyan]…I didn’t mean it.[/color]” -He clarified, still holding Marcus’ gaze, but he could already feel the urge to break eye contact rising.   

"[color 33ec06]Mmmhmm[/color]" Marcus hummed angrily. He wanted to blow up, to shout at Sander until he either retreated or punched him. To defend the poor kid who tagged close behind. He wanted to show what happened to people when they picked on the little guys - but he didn't have that kind of power. He didn't have the strength that Callan had, and he didn't quite have the temper that Max had - unafraid to speak her mind in situations like this. Still, he wasn't going to idly stand by, especially after the kid had healed him twice now.

"[color 33ec06]Maybe you should control yourself then.[/color]" he said flatly. "[color 33ec06]Try and keep from beating the hell out of our healers, alright? Do you remember that part from the flag-whatever? The big lesson we were supposed to learn there? 'Protect your healer'? That part?[/color]" he said, nodding towards Christmas.

[color 8493ca]"H-huh?"[/color] All attempts at trying to process the previous comment smashed into a mental wall as Marcus laid out the accusation. Christmas stared at his newest acquaintance now with a new version of confusion, reworked from previous bewilderment to include a sizable quantity of horror, too. [color 8493ca]"Wha--what?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]I…didn’t beat any…healer?[/color]” -Sander furrowed his brow, turning to look at Christmas. The thought of him hurting the blond boy scared him far more than he could take, so he really didn’t want to think about it. He [i]had[/i] been getting better. He would like to believe that. 

Now Marcus was starting to get angry. It was as if he'd done nothing wrong, [i]again[/i]. He ignored Christmas's reaction, full steam into berating Sander.

"[color 33ec06]Look at him, Sander. Are you telling me that you aren't the one that did this?[/color]" he said, uncrossing his arms and gesturing dramatically at the healer. "[color 33ec06]I've seen what you do. Who you are. Do you really expect me to believe you when you say you had nothing to do with this?[/color]" he said, voice rising in anger.

Wait, wait, what? The misunderstanding finally clicked for Christmas and his mouth fell open at the severity of it. Marcus thought Sander had beaten him up. He blinked rapidly, eyes jumping across random spots in his field of vision as he tried to think of how that had come about. He hadn't said anything strange had he? Why did Marcus think Sander--no, it wasn't--Sander wasn't an alley and the cold. Wasn't the stench of garbage and reminders of worthlessness. Just--

[color 8493ca]"Not--no--w-wasn't Sander,"[/color] he tried to say, the words coming out in short bursts of breaths as the small panic rose to his throat. It scared him--far more than it should have--that someone thought Sander had done it. His roommate was too removed from that moment, and it felt [i]wrong[/i] to even consider Sander as a suspect. A part of him thought he could see where Marcus was coming from, but it was quickly drowned out in the growing clamor of his thoughts.

“[color=cyan]…wasn’t me.[/color]” -Sander blurted out, echoing Christmas’ words. The blond boy’s distress suddenly became apparent again, and Sander forced his hand onto that spot on his roommate’s shoulder again to a surprised inhale and several fearful blinks, the touch as smoothing as he could make it –“[color=cyan]I’d never…[/color]” -He began, but knew enough to cut himself off there and then. That felt oddly like a promise. One he didn’t know he could keep or not. Better to keep those words to himself. 

Marcus stepped back for a moment, as if the words had physically punched him. He was sure that Sander was one of the few people who'd lose control like that, but to hear Christmas say that he wasn't...All of the anger that was in his bones evaporated immediately, as his head whirled to disassemble the scenario he was so sure he'd put together.

"[color 33ec06]It...wasn't..[/color]" he stammered, a mixture of confusion and regret coursing through his brain. He'd gone and done it again - jammed his foot so far into his own mouth. A misunderstanding, his own perception of Sander, and huge mistake on his part. Life was so much easier back when he was the shy, quiet one.

"[color 33ec06]Then...who-?[/color]" Marcus said, regaining his bearings.

A flash of panic across Christmas's face and he took a fraction of a step closer into the curve of Sander's arm now that colder memories of warning touches on his shoulder had faded much more quickly than they used to. [color 8493ca]"N-not Sander,"[/color] he said again, fear rounding out his eyes.

Marcus asked the question that Sander had been avoiding for days, and now that his thoughts had been brought back to the topic, Sander, too, wanted to know –“[color=cyan]Christmas.[/color]” -He began, leaning down to look at the blond boy –“[color=cyan]I…want to know. Can you tell me?[/color]” 

Panic in his ears and it was running along his heartbeat, but Christmas didn't want to lie to Sander. Still, he was trying not to involve his roommate in the half-baked deal he and Ernie had agreed on without explicitly stating the terms, because a bottle of pills could fix that, so [i]it was okay[/i]. "Next time" clung to his thoughts like tendrils and Christmas didn't want it--not at all--but what could he do? It was all he was good for and a part of him begged on folded knees and clasped hands to disagree, but he couldn't bring himself to follow that. Not...not yet. Right?

[color 8493ca]"Have--have the p-pills,"[/color] he replied, trying to insist on the stopgap measure like it was a permanent solution. There was a decision here, and he didn't want the full burden of choosing. Never did. This, especially, was all on him.

“[color=cyan]Shouldn’t have to.[/color]” -Sander lowered his voice, taping a few fingers on the blond boy’s shoulder –“[color=cyan]I can help. Please?[/color]”

Breathing was a conscious effort now because it scared him to acknowledge there was a problem. Scared him to let anyone know something was wrong because that, too, felt inherently wrong. It was a choice between Ernie's complex situation, the subsequent compensation--both sincere and insincere all at once--and Sander, the roommate who showered kindness without thinking and whose own problems came to light after Ernie's explanation on Friday.

But Sander was insisting, in that small, but firm way of his and Christmas suddenly wished the entire conversation hadn't happened, because he didn't want this for Sander. Didn't want to tell anyone that he was okay with being the punching bag because he thought asking for more was something reserved for those whose net worth wasn't lower than garbage.

So he clutched the bottom of his jacket for several silent seconds, looking between Marcus and Sander and trying not to let the din in his mind convince him to leave and hide in better, fictional thoughts.

[color 8493ca]"D-didn't--he didn't mean it,"[/color] Christmas whispered, parroting the words from earlier and unsure if that was exactly how a Stigma worked but he at least understood the lack of choice in the matter. Ernie...Ernie couldn't help it, right? So it wasn't--[i]it was okay.[/i]

"[color=cyan]He?[/color]"

[color 8493ca]"D-didn't mean it. So it's--it's okay...?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]No. It’s not okay…because it’s you.[/color]” -Sander sighed, but he was patient, still –“[color=cyan]Can you tell me who it was?[/color]”

Again, the insistence and it almost hurt to try and convince himself to refuse it mentally. He couldn't keep this up, because every time he wouldn't answer properly, he knew Sander wasn't happy with it. And that mattered a lot more than he would admit.

But what kind of decision was this? He was afraid, and on a surface level had been justifying his reticence with a desire to keep Sander from dealing with the problems of a coward who had already solved it (right?) with 15 milligram white tablets and reluctant resignation.

He knew it went deeper than that. Hold worthlessness close to his heart and maybe he could find a suitable excuse to stop trying and give up. The thought sparked something like indignation, but without the force of will behind it, and Christmas's eyes drifted to the ribbon on Sander's wrist, pulling back bits of reason towards a small haven in the storm. [i]Try, try, try,[/i] because he hadn't left home and hell behind to repeat it all here, even if pain couldn't get enough of him, one way or another.

A week ago--and it only struck him then in full force how much could change in just a few days--he would have chosen himself and all the twists and trappings that let him remain the same. Had already made that choice in the room of monitors, with Lily and help he was too afraid to receive.

Now, he wanted to think, despite how wrong it seemed to let help in, that there was more to him than garbage and rotting sandwiches. He had already decided to be more than just fear, but did he dare to keep totaling up the bits of himself that amounted to someone better?

[color 8493ca]"Can I?"[/color] he asked quietly.

"[color=cyan]I'm here.[/color]"

And Christmas wanted to be there, too.

He glanced at Marcus, but even the presence of a stranger didn't stymie that lurking sensation that pushed the name from his lips with a thought that felt like [i]finally, finally, finally.[/i] He remembered being young and stamping his feet, wanting something he couldn't recall, the scrap of memory winging in on the same undercurrent of emotion. Some kind of turbulent satisfaction that was the disturbed depths stirring again, but as wrong as that felt, it was also vindicating in a way even panic couldn't dull.

The feeling culled his weaknesses and justifications down to the simplest answer.

[color 8493ca]"Ernie."[/color]

Marcus stood to the side, watching the entire scene unfold. Clearly there was more to this pair than he'd originally thought, and even Sander's gentle persuasion caused Marcus to rethink some things. Perhaps he'd just seen Sander at his worst, and had made some unfair judgements about him. Still, the revelation of the abuser left him in an uncomfortable situation; how exactly was he supposed to react? It was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts; one that left him a little unsure of where to go now. He certainly wasn't going to press Christmas about the situation any more.

But the change in the antagonistic party meant that Marcus owed Sander an apology, at least. "[color 33ec06]Sorry, Sander...I guess I misunderstood.[/color]" he said, rubbing his own temples. It was a short and curt apology, one that still contained some bitterness, but was genuine nonetheless.

Ernie, huh? It made sense; the attack on Allison seemed to take a new light with this information. Still, he hid it well - Marcus had thought of them as two sides of a coin when they first talked. Apparently, Marcus didn't know that coin as well as he'd thought.

Sander was silent as the words sank in, and frankly, he was horrified. And angry. Because he should’ve noticed. For all the cheery words and the small favours, Ernie shared his mark. [i]The same thing.[/i] He should’ve known. Rage darkened his thoughts, and unknowingly, the touch on Christmas’ shoulder grew firm, earning him a quick look and a slight tremble from the boy. He noticed that soon enough, and with a quick breath, he relaxed his grip. 
 
“[color=cyan]It’s alright.[/color]” -Sander forced a smile for Marcus, the gesture wasn’t very convincing with the traces of a frown still lingered on his brows –“[color=cyan]Can’t blame you.[/color]”
 
“[color=cyan]I just…[/color]” -He inhaled sharply, reigning in angry words and the urge to slam his fists into [i]something warm and soft and undeniably human[/i]. Between the blinding rage and the bitter defeat in the face of his own ignorance, Sander fell back to the latter. Safer –“[color=cyan]…I’m sorry. I should’ve known.[/color]”

"[color 33ec06]Hey, can't be expected to know everything.[/color]" Marcus said, trying to reassure Sander. "[color 33ec06]Not unless you're the second coming of Foresight or something![/color]" he joked. There really wasn't much to be done here anymore - he highly doubted that Zhang would allow them to go on a manhunt for Ernie, and he still hadn't sorted out his feelings himself.

"[color 33ec06]You sure you're gonna be okay, Christmas?[/color]" Marcus said, trying to sound more tender than his conversation with Sander.

He still had the pills, so Christmas nodded. The brazen bit of emotion that had flared up for a moment was simmering down now and all the worries were shuffling back into place, especially since someone he hardly knew was getting wrapped up in it, too.

[color 8493ca]"Didn't mean it, I-I think,"[/color] he offered the words again, thinking lack of choice was placating enough.

“[color=cyan]Then maybe he should be more careful.[/color]” -Sander mumbled, rage hardened the line of his jaws –“[color=cyan]Maybe he shouldn’t be near you.[/color]” -Hypocrisy, coming from him. But he was selfish and he was angry, and his restraint wasn’t as good as he thought.

[color 8493ca]"But I...t-the pills,"[/color] Christmas responded, eyes fearfully regarding the tension in Sander's face and shoulders. [color 8493ca]"...It's...okay."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Dude, I'm not exactly the best source here, but there have got to be better ways of getting your meds if you need them. Don't let yourself get reduced to a kickboxing dummy![/color]" Marcus said, the energy returning to his voice. It was time for a pep talk, and fortunately, that was his area of expertise.

"[color 33ec06]And Sander, you're not going to do much good drooling on the floor because Zhang tazed you. Just remember the game; protect your healer, and don't give him away.[/color]" Marcus said, turning to look at him. 

“[color=cyan]Don’t have to take them. Don’t have to hurt, in the first place.[/color]” -Sander shook his head slightly, looking at the fading bruises on Christmas’ face –“[color=cyan]I can…help. I want to.[/color]” -He offered, knowing full well this wasn’t another lunch or another shower. He knew what awaited: empty chambers and far-away scents, a nothingness clawed at his chest with every breath, and the knowledge that this was [i]where he belonged[/i] hung heavy. 
 
But it would be worth it. Because despite everything, Christmas stayed. And there was precious little he wouldn’t do for that small mercy. 
 
“[color=cyan]I’m not really good at protecting. You were there.[/color]” -Sander returned the eye contact, once again forcing a polite smile for the scarred boy.  

The solution Sander had offered in regards to Kusari that Tuesday evening suddenly sounded like the words behind his offer to "help" now with Ernie. Christmas caught his roommate's decorated wrist in both of his hands, clutching at the myriads of thoughts he was trying to put into words, because it was too much. Sander always offered too much, and Christmas was only just realizing that the generosity went both ways, on both extremes. 

His mouth opened and closed wordlessly several times, before stray thoughts about red eyes and recklessness sparked a small ember in the ashes of his more selfish wants.

[color 8493ca]"How...how would you help?"[/color] he asked slowly, because he needed to be sure.

“[color=cyan]I can try to make sure that Ernie won’t be near you…would that be enough?[/color]” -Sander looked at the ribbon around his wrist –“[color=cyan]Or you’d like me to…[/color]” -He pressed his lips into a thin line, the soft shade of blue reminding him of the promise to try. Indulging that part of himself would be losing. But if Christmas wanted. [i]She[/i] had wanted that from him. But he had also decided that Christmas wasn’t the same. And he trusted the blond boy –“[color=cyan]…make him go away?[/color]”  

[color 8493ca]"No."[/color] The denial was firm, and surprised Christmas with exactly how much he [i]did not want that[/i]. That gave him a foothold to repeat the word he rarely used so seriously. [color 8493ca]"No."[/color]

Red eyes and recklessness and solutions that were too much. Too far.

[color 8493ca]"More than--"[/color] It felt presumptuous to say it. For [i]him[/i] to say it. [color 8493ca]"You're more than that."[/color]

And that selfish arrogance where he thought he could say what he wanted. [color 8493ca][i]Don't you dare.[/i][/color]

Marcus felt a little out of place in the situation. He'd become relatively certain he'd pieced together all the puzzles here. Which, if he was right, was [i]way[/i] different than what he thought was going on at first. Nearly the opposite, as a matter of fact. Still, Sander was letting his emotions take control of him again, and Marcus cleared his throat.

"[color 33ec06]Don't mean to interrupt here, but how exactly would you even plan on doing that? We have classes together. We sit in the same room. And even if you managed to get close enough to 'make him go away', what's your plan from there?[/color]" Marcus said. He started counting off on his fingers, coming up with possible actions. "[color 33ec06]Get shot to death? Get electrocuted? Maybe have Prism come down and turn you into a puddle?[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]What makes you think Zhang has any tolerance for that?[/color]" Marcus said, crossing his arms again.

Christmas turned to Marcus, relief and gratitude on his face for the many things he couldn't say himself because he didn't have the presence of mind to put all those worries into clean, clear words. He managed a barely audible [color 8493ca]"Thank you,"[/color] in response.

“[color=cyan]Just solitary confinement, before. If I overstep. Then…[/color]” -Sander kept the faint smile when he spoke to Marcus, but from the way he worked his jaws while choosing the words, it was clear he wasn’t comfortable –“[color=cyan]…reconditioning. Might be different here, but it’s alright. I don’t mind.[/color]”

“[color=cyan]What else can I do?[/color]” -The question was genuine, yet tentative. Sander looked between Christmas and Marcus, waiting.

[color 8493ca][i]I mind.[/i][/color] Christmas's hands tightened on Sander's wrist and his breaths came in shallow.

He didn't want to pay Ernie back--or maybe he did, but it wasn't clear enough to act on. He didn't want Sander to make Ernie "go away" just as he didn't want Sander to do the same for Kusari. He didn't [i]need[/i] anything like that. It was just--did he have the nerve to voice? Not just ask. Not just quietly half-word a request. 

Demand.

Did he dare?

"[color 33ec06]Sander. While I admire you're wanting to help, that's a terrible idea.[/color]" Marcus said. He never thought he'd be on the side of inaction, but this was a different situation altogether. "[color 33ec06]I doubt there's any reconditioning going on here. Remember when we first arrived? Kusari slipped her cuff, a scared guard merely pointed his gun at us, and Zhang shot him [i]without hesitation[/i].[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]What exactly makes you feel so sure that [i]you'd[/i] be different? If you threaten whatever weird project they've got us in - you're going to end up as meat. Doesn't matter what, or who, you are. And I doubt Christmas here would fare any better if you were lying in the dirt.[/color]" Marcus said, trying to get Sander to focus. 

He was ending up being the bad guy a lot today, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. Some people, like Angel, just needed a quick chat and a few jokes. Some people like Sander needed a hard talking to. He was happy to provide both, normally. In this case, having just been angry for something that didn't happen, it felt weird to pull the angry-talk card again.

Again with the fears that had been too much for him to put into words and Christmas held onto Sander's wrist like it could stop his roommate from doing something they'd all regret. He wanted to thank Marcus again, but there was a buzzing heat rising to his ears and it was hard to focus on anything other than how careless Sander wanted to be. He didn't like it--any of it. Not Ernie beating him up, not a promise of "next time," not Sander's retaliation. None of it. And he especially didn't want to feel this rising panic and [i]something else[/i] at the thought that Sander wasn't concerned about [i]solitary confinement[/i] or whatever "reconditioning" meant.

“[color=cyan]They won’t kill me. Probably. But I won’t let Ernie do…[i]this[/i] again.[/color]” -Sander directed a distressed look at the blond boy –“[color=cyan]I have to do something.[/color]”

"[color 33ec06]Oh. Good. [i]Probably[/i].[/color]" Marcus said, literally facepalming. "[color 33ec06]Glad we sorted that one out, team. [i]Probably[/i] won't die.[/color]" He was done. Speechless. There was nothing more he could say to Sander. The logic was infallable. A perfect plan, by his calculations.

He shot a pained look at Christmas. Hopefully he was better at talking sense into Sander's thick skull, because Marcus was about ready to give up.

Christmas was still staring at the length of blue ribbon wrapped around Sander's wrist, mouth drawn in a thin line as he tried to hold on to different thoughts. It was Monday with Lily again, but something was different, because this wasn't about him and his selfish fears--not completely.

And Sander was [i]probably[/i] not going to get killed. 

A trickle of a laugh wound its way into a cough and he glanced at Marcus briefly before looking back down at the ribbon, wanting just a little bit of that clarity where he could voice everything that scared him.

[color 8493ca]"Don't--I don't want--not that,"[/color] he tried instead, hands shaking on Sander's wrist as his knuckles whitened. [color 8493ca][i]Please listen.[/i][/color]

“[color=cyan]Then what do you want? I [i]have to[/i] do something.[/color]” -Sander frowned, desperation in his voice. It was simple, to him. He had asked Christmas to stay. Now it was his job to make sure the blond boy wanted to stay with him. It couldn’t happen without effort on his part. Without sacrifice. And he really didn’t mind that –“[color=cyan]Tell me. I’ll do it. I promise.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Don't have--don't have to,"[/color] the healer insisted. [color 8493ca]"Just--stay near. Th-that's enough."[/color] It was, it was. [i]So please listen.[/i]

“[color=cyan]But I stayed…It wasn’t enough. You still got hurt. Please, let me do something right. I want to.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"It's enough."[/color] Doing something right. He knew that feeling, but it was [i]wrong[/i] here.

The same and not the same as refusing Lily's help. He was trying to refuse the mistake Sander wanted to make--[i]for Sander's sake[/i]? Maybe. But it was really [color 8493ca][i]for me.[/i][/color] He didn't know where the audacity came from--maybe he stole some from Marcus because Marcus could say everything so easily, so clearly--but it was there, black as pitch and heated to boiling, offering him so many words on the tip of his tongue and it [i]scared him so much.[/i]

Sander simply gave his roommate a puzzled look afterward, brows still furrowed and lips still slightly parted, as if he still had something to say. But the ‘enough’ had a sense of finality in it, one he had heard enough time to recognize. So Sander gave, shoulders slumping slightly as the tension bled out of them.

“[color=cyan]…alright. If that’s what you want.[/color]”

Christmas heaved a shaking sigh of relief, the thundering of his own pulse in his ears still loud, but gradually fading into an aftermath of tremors and slowing breaths.

He felt he owed the courage to Marcus. And he knew it didn't make sense outside the space of his mind, but he was grateful all the same.

[color 8493ca]"Th-thank--thank you,"[/color] he finally stammered out at the other student, because Marcus had stopped Sander from going away.

Marcus stood nearby, watching the relationship blossom. Normally, he felt like he would have been completely out of place and snuck away somewhere in the first conversation, but he felt like Sander's insistence wouldn't have happened if he wasn't there. In a roundabout way, he'd be at fault if Sander got killed, and he seemed important enough to the kid that just fixed his leg that he didn't want that to happen.

"[color 33ec06]Happy to help![/color]" Marcus said, flashing a grin at Christmas. He honestly hadn't done much but unsuccessfully try to talk some sense into Sander, but he felt like he'd had some effect on the whole scene. Wishful thinking? Maybe; but everything had turned out okay, so there was nothing wrong with a little bit of self-back-patting.

Christmas would have returned the infectious grin, but he ended up pretending to scratch his nose instead, looking back to Sander after his expression settled back into a pensive neutral.

There was something he wanted to say, but it was hard to find the right words. Always had been, even on paper and high school essays he barely passed with C's and C minuses. He glanced again at Marcus, eyes tracking the raised, darkened skin cutting across the other boy's face, and the nick at the corner of his grinning mouth. Stronger than him by far. Marcus could spare some of that fortitude, couldn't he? Just enough of the words for Christmas to borrow.

[color 8493ca]"...S-shot to death. Electrocuted. Soli--solitary confinement. Recon--reconditioning,"[/color] he repeated the words and the worries, eyes jumping from Marcus's face to Sander's. Clear words that weren't his, but a grin through the scars had cleared a bit of the flotsam away: the messes that covered up better words and thoughts that would fit his failing courage. Christmas took a few breaths, steeling himself to just a fraction of what Marcus had accomplished. He just needed that much to make the quiet, hypocritical demand to Sander.

[color 8493ca]"I wish--I wish you'd care about yourself."[/color]

Sander was silent in the aftermath of the sudden request, brows scrunched together as if he was having trouble understanding the words. He might as well have. Because for years, this was the first time he had heard such a request. His recklessness was justified; he wasn’t [i]the same thing[/i] as many other mages. The magic changed him. Changed his body. He was like Kusari, in some ways, except for him, the monster stayed under his skin. He didn’t care so much about himself, simply because he didn’t have to. It was redundant, when he could pretty much heal up from anything. One of the small mercies (or?) he was granted.

But Christmas had asked. Such a strange thing to ask, but he’d do it. Was it the same thing he asked the blond boy, just a few days ago? Was this what he must give in exchange? Equivalence? When he distilled the sentences down to just words like that, it was easier to understand. And he didn’t have to think too much about what was behind the request. Taking care of himself. Sure. He could do that.

“[color=cyan]Alright. If that’s what you want.[/color]” -Sander nodded again, same words with the same meanings. He didn’t have too many of them, anyway –“[color=cyan]You’d do the same, right?[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"...I'd...w-want to, yeah."[/color]

“[color=cyan]You believe me right? I’ll do it. I promise.[/color]” -Sander smiled, pushing his blue-wrapped wrist into the warmth of Christmas’ hands –“[color=cyan]Promise me too?[/color]”

Somehow, that was harder to promise than making a demand Christmas couldn't manage for himself.

He stared at the wrist now clasped between his hands, wondering if he had the nerve after all he had used up on borrowed strength and stolen words. But he [i]wanted[/i] to. He did.

[color 8493ca]"Pr--promise."[/color] And "next time" promised, too, but it didn't crush him this time. If he was lucky (or brave), it wouldn't have to hold his fears hostage either.

"[color 33ec06]Alright you two, this is all sweet and stuff, but there's still a problem here. A 'recently-transferred-table-leg-wielding' problem to be specific.[/color]" Marcus said. Sure, they were making promises and feelings and yadda yadda, puke. Things that wouldn't exactly help the next time that Ernie needed a training dummy or something.

"[color 33ec06]Christmas; if you want Sander to not splatter people, then you need to meet him halfway and make sure you don't voluntarily put yourself in a position where Sander needs to splatter people. This...[i]thing[/i] of yours needs to be able to hold up on both sides.[/color]" he added, guesturing between the two as he spoke.

Marcus was right, but Christmas didn't have a single solution to it. If Ernie didn't beat him up, someone else would take it, right? He'd like to think he didn't care enough, but he also didn't want to be the indirect reason someone else passed out in a dumpster bin.

But what came out of his mouth was an instinctive reaction instead.

[color 8493ca]"Th-thing?"[/color]

Whoops. Was it not a thing? Was he making terrible judgements again? He made a mental note to think for a few seconds before he opened his mouth from now on - a note that would certainly be discarded mere moments after creation.

"[color 33ec06]This...uh...little trust pact of yours.[/color]" Marcus said, quickly scrambling to cover his bases.

He hadn't (dared) put a name to it, and that was as good a label as anything else, so Christmas just blinked at Marcus for a moment, deciding he wouldn't question what his friendly classmate thought. "Trust pact." It was a part of it, definitely.

[color 8493ca]"U-um...y-yeah. ...Thank--thank you?"[/color]

Sander mulled over Marcus’ words, though to be honest, the scarred boy didn’t suggest much of a solution. Was there even a solution for this? He wouldn’t know. Didn’t know anything beyond what he had offered. That wasn’t very…appropriate for someone who would like to believe he wasn’t [i]the same thing[/i], but old habits died hard, and he knew his were still alive and well, despite everything he had promised.

But he was trying. Fumbling through to it all, but he was trying.

“[color=cyan]Maybe…I can ask Ernie? I will just ask him to stay away. Is that alright?[/color]”

"[color 33ec06]I mean. You can try, but I don't exactly see you as the diplomatic kind of person, here.[/color]" Marcus said, smirking a little bit. Let the rampaging nude-beast try talking for a change - that'd probably be a huge success. "[color 33ec06]What if, and stay with me here because this is a complex plan, Christmas just avoided him?[/color]" Marcus said. His voice was probably more full of contempt that usual, but he was still trying to imagine Sander calmly talking to Ernie.

"[color 33ec06]I mean, as long as you just stay away from him, he can't beat on you. Simple as that![/color]"

"[color=cyan]But didn't you say we have class together and everything?[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]He's not exactly gonna punch Christmas in the middle of class, now is he? I mean outside of classes, man.[/color]" Marcus said, shaking his head softly.

“[color=cyan]That’s it?[/color]” -Sander raised an eyebrow, still skeptical about this…method –“[color=cyan]But…Ernie can still find…you.[/color]” -He turned to the blond boy then, hesitant. Ernie had seemed reasonable on that night at the bar. Maybe it was the Stigma? –“[color=cyan]I can ask him to…not find you? I’ll just ask him…uh…nicely?[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Uh..."[/color] Christmas mimicked the sound, at a loss for words. He certainly didn't have a better solution, and maybe if they tried both things? [color 8493ca]"M-maybe?"[/color]

He looked over to Marcus, guilt pooling at the bottom of his stomach for having involved not only Sander, but another classmate. And Marcus was helping...or trying to help. It was still a lot more than he had expected when the other student could have simply left them alone. Not bothered asking about the bruises. Not bothered caring.

[color 8493ca]"Sorry,"[/color] he mumbled in Marcus's general direction, eyes on the bloody pant leg. [color 8493ca]"For...for the trouble."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Listen kid,[/color]" Marcus said, voice straight but still warm. "[color 33ec06]A couple minutes ago I was trying to figure out how long it would take to literally hop over to the infirmary. If I can help you with your bully problem, then I'd consider that a fair trade![/color]. He sighed for a second, thinking.

"[color 33ec06]I'd play it like this: Avoid Ernie and don't cash it on whatever your pill deal is, if he tries to hunt you down, [i]then[/i] you have Sander ask nicely. You don't want to start with direct confrontation, in case he retaliates.[/color]" Marcus said. Bullies were a force he was familiar with, but pretty much every teenager was in some form or another - the difference was in dealing with them.

[color 8493ca]"Th-thank you,"[/color] Christmas replied, not confident in the plan, but grateful. That was about as effective a strategy as they could get, he figured. He looked back at Sander, pulling on the taller boy's wrist between his hands. [color 8493ca]"It's--it's okay, right?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]Yeah.[/color]” -Sander seemed satisfied enough with whatever plan they had come up with. Because really, any plan was better than no plan, and even when he could offer violence so easily, he didn’t really want to resort to it at all. Not when there was an alternative –“[color=cyan]I’ll find Ernie later.[/color]” -He casted his mind back to that night at the bar, remembering the sweet scent of cocoa liqueur and irish cream.   

"[color 33ec06]Alright, well that's settled. I guess.[/color]" Marcus said, shooting an exasperated look at Sander. He thought for a moment, trying to think of other possible plans. One stood out to him, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the chestnut phone he'd been given.

"[color 33ec06]You've both got phones, right? Wanna give me your numbers, so you can at least have one extra person as backup if Ernie rears his ugly head?[/color]" Marcus said, navigating the menus.

Wordlessly, Sander retrieved the diamond-studded phone from his pocket and fumbled with it for a few moments, getting his number onto the display. Once that done, he offered it toward Marcus.

Christmas spared the strangely opulent phone another glance, still not quite used to the ritzy device. Tearing his eyes away from the brilliant jewels on the phone chassis, he pulled out his much simpler, black phone and offered Marcus the contact information as well, inadvertently staring at the scars again before immediately looking back down with a quiet [color 8493ca]"S-sorry."[/color]

Marcus gave Sander a double-take as he pulled out the girliest phone he'd ever seen, stifling a small laugh. He took the phone from Sander, looking over the number and copying it down, before adding his own number and handing it back. He repeated the process with Christmas, giving him a confused look when he apologized, but not saying anything.

"[color 33ec06]There we go! All connected![/color]" he said, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“[color=cyan]Thank you.[/color]” -Sander smiled, slipping the phone back into his pocket –“[color=cyan]I suppose…we’ll see you around?[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Thank you,"[/color] Christmas repeated, putting his own device away as well. He stared at Marcus's shoes for a second, before breathing in and continuing, finding it easier in the moment to speak after trying to follow Marcus's pace before. And he wanted to help in return, too, because a "thank you" wasn't enough for the help Marcus had offered, for the words he had provided.

[color 8493ca]"Can--you can call for, um, h-help, t-too. If--if you get, um, get hurt again."[/color]

Sander frowned at that offer, but he didn’t say anything. Christmas’ choice. He tried to subvert that choice once, in the security room. That didn’t turn out well. So he wouldn’t make that mistake again –“[color=cyan]Alright. Let’s go.[/color]” -With a final nod to the scarred boy, Sander turned and walked off, Christmas following with a small wave back at Marcus.

And that left Marcus by himself. He shook his head, still trying to piece together the afternoon. "[color 33ec06]What a day...[/color]" he said to himself, sighing and looking at the overcast sky.
[hr]

From behind the cafe pillar that served as his hiding place, Ernie sank to his feet. Ah, he was totally fucked, wasn't he?

All he'd wanted was a snack from the cafe. What he got instead was a front row seat to a Looney Tune-esque chase out in the field, courtesy of Marcus and a psycho dog. Then Christmas and Sander arrived. Then everything went wrong. Ernie had ducked behind the bushes and heard everything.

He had it coming. He should've seen it coming. God, what was he even going to do? Ernie couldn't blame the kid for ratting him out like this. He only had himself to blame. If he'd just shown some goddamn restraint and [i]kept it all below the shoul[/i]-- FUCK.

Ernie bashed his chest with a fist. Even now, he didn't have the guts to face it. It was all Ernie's fault. So why did he keep finding reasons to say that it wasn't?

Because he was a coward. Because the consequences would be too much for him.

He shivered. Sander wanted to kill him. That psychopath spoke about it as if he were discussing dinner plans. He'd already planned to do it and he'd already come to terms with the punishments that would follow. Ernie wasn't ready for that. Despite all the shittiness he brought to the world, there was still some scrawny animal in him that held on to dear life. God, he wasn't ready to die yet.

Ernie rose to his feet slowly, unsteadily. He needed to leave. Find a place to hide. Find someone to help. The guards wouldn't do shit for him here. The Aberration gazed around for any signs of the Berserker, only to find that Marcus was still there. Fuck, that guy probably hated him now. But he was the only person who knew the situation. Ernie had no other choice.

He composed himself. Reined in the erratic breaths. Willed his hands to stop shaking. Then he strolled forward, as if he was merely stumbling across a friend in the park and not bartering with a guy he barely knew for his own life.

[color=00a99d]"Sounds like I'm in trouble, huh,"[/color] Ernie said a bit [i]too[/i] casually, walking up behind Marcus.

Marcus wasn't even fazed. Of course Ernie had heard all of that. He sighed to himself again, wondering if it was even worth the effort to turn around. Hopefully this conversation was about to go smoothly - he'd just had Christmas heal him, and he'd hate to call him so soon.

"[color 33ec06]Only if you play your cards wrong.[/color]" Marcus said. He turned to look at Ernie, arms crossed and gaze very much unimpressed. "[color 33ec06]I'd say we came to a pretty peaceful plan just now. Maybe just stay away from Sander and Christmas for a little bit while they simmer down.[/color]" he added, the tone of his voice making it very clear that this was more than just a suggestion.

[color=00a99d]"Right, cos the insane bastard who chomped on a supergirl and barrelled through a freaking wall is gonna 'simmer down',"[/color] Ernie retorted. Geez, why was he even talking to Marcus? Was he looking for help? Like Chestnut here was gonna do anything for him after what he'd learnt. The sides were clear in this situation. Ernie wanted to cry, but it only came out as awkward, choked laughter, [color=00a99d]"He's going to fucking kill me, Marcus."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Hopefully not.[/color]" Marcus mused. "[color 33ec06]I tried to be as charismatic as possible when I was telling him how terrible of an idea that was. Hell, Christmas might be your saving grace here, ironically - keep Sander from getting killed trying to end you.[/color]" 

He still wasn't sure what to think of this situation, and he certainly hadn't been prepared to face the grey morality this soon. He'd thought that Sander was a complete monster - but it turned out to be a little more complicated than that, and now he was faced with the same circumstances with Ernie.

"[color 33ec06]Keep your head down - walk the other direction if you see Sander, and you'll probably be fine. That's about the best advice I can give you, here.[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"The best advice a guy with zoom-speed powers is giving me. Gotcha. Do you think Sander's the kind of guy to let something like this go so easily? You saw what was going on between him and Christmas. And..."[/color] Ernie resisted the urge to scratch at the X on his throat, tugging at his shirt instead. He grimaced, [color=00a99d]"When you've got the option-- the power-- to make something go your way, Aberrations generally take it. No matter how long it takes. This isn't the kind of thing that'll get resolved after a week of doing nothing. All he has to do is wait til I let my guard down. The school guards won't do shit about it either. They didn't do anything when the precious healer got hurt, that's for sure."[/color]

Ernie finished the last statement with obvious bitterness. He'd spoken from experience. A waiting game that spanned years. A crossfire that had ruined him and everyone he knew.

Aberration. He recognized the word from that mysterious card that he'd followed. The violent ones. The ones who picked 'incorrectly'. He'd read about the other side - their 'stigmas' and such. It was probably the reason he was so uncertain about Sander, and now about Ernie.

"[color 33ec06]Listen, I can't pretend like I know what you're going through, or sit here and tell you exactly how to resolve this situation. Right now, you're pretty fucked, yeah.[/color]" Marcus shrugged at the statement; it certainly wasn't his problem - but he just had to try and smooth things out with everybody. It would have been way easier to just turn around and leave, but that just wasn't him.

"[color 33ec06]I didn't think Sander was the type of guy to let things go. Course, I didn't think [i]you[/i] were the type of guy to bludgeon someone's face in or beat the shit out of someone else. I've been surprised a lot this week, in all honesty. I'd suggest apologizing, but I honestly don't know if that would help.[/color]" He paused here, thinking again. "[color 33ec06]You've got the mark in common - he'd understand better than I would at least. Maybe that'd be enough. [i]If[/i] you put yourself in a position where Sander's bearing down on you of course.[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]You goofed. Time to own up, buddy.[/color]"

Understanding. Would that really be all it took? It made an eerie amount of sense to Ernie. Maybe just thinking it all through was all he needed. Sander of all people would get how hard it was to maintain control. Marcus would never be able to know what it took to live as an Aberration, but Ernie would be an idiot to dismiss it just because it came from a white-mark. 

The corner of Ernie's mouth twitched upwards at the last 'buddy'. Was it a coincidence or did this guy just really want to rub it in? He seemed cocky enough to do it, from the little time Ernie'd spent in his company. Even in this mood Ernie could respect that strange humour. This, all of it, was exactly what he needed to hear.

[color=00a99d]"Well. I didn't think you'd be such a sensible asshole either,"[/color] Ernie smiled ruefully, [color=00a99d]"But I guess you're right."[/color]

He wanted to say more. Maybe about how it wasn't all about control that day, but weakness. Maybe about stupid school things, stuff normal teens stressed about instead of genuinely fearing for their lives.

Maybe about how, in some universe where Ernie wasn't a total sack of shit and none of them had to worry about monsters and doombringers, he hoped that they would be friends.

But he didn't. He wasn't going to spiel all that to someone who knew what he really was. He wasn't going to embarrass himself like that. So he settled for whatever he could.

[color=00a99d]"Thanks. That's... yeah, you said it well. Thanks... buddy."[/color]

Urgh. On second thought, he'd embarrassed himself already, letting Marcus see his fear. It was... necessary, and it had given him one of the answers he needed. But it was still uncomfortable as hell. Marcus wasn't the kind of person he felt comfortable spilling all this out to. He was an Arbiter. But he was there and Ernie heard what he needed to hear. Ernie didn't want Marcus having this sort of emotional dirt on him.

Time to switch gears.

[color=00a99d]"Sooo. Killer campus dogs. Are there a lot of those here?"[/color]

Marcus chuckled a bit at the 'sensible asshole' statement. It was a title he was fine having - with everything that was going on in this place, someone had to be the calm, level headed one.

"[color 33ec06]God I hope not. We've got enough problems without there being packs of dogs tearing us apart.[/color]" He looked anxiously over hs shoulder, back the way that the first dog had run off. "[color 33ec06]And I didn't do so hot against [i]one[/i], so I'm really hoping I can just go back to my dorm and forget that happened.[/color]"

Ernie racked his brains. Marcus deserved some help for hearing him out, no matter how little it was. [color=00a99d]"Can't say I've got any solid advice for dog problems besides spraying yourself down with vinegar everytime you leave your room. Maybe you should invest in a police baton. Or pepper spray."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Vinegar? Is that a thing that works, or are you just pulling my leg so I'll show up at class smelling like a science fair project?[/color]" Marcus shook his head here, his posture loosening up a but and a grin cracking its way across his face.

[color=00a99d]"I think the dog already did a decent job of pulling your leg,"[/color] Ernie wisecracked back, [color=00a99d]"Nothing wrong with smelling like bathroom cleaner. I think oranges and chili work with dogs too, if you'd rather smell like an exotic dessert."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Eeeeh.[/color]" Marcus said, shaking his hand to denote unsureness. "[color 33ec06]Biting. Ripping. Tearing. Basically everything but pulling - it didn't quite get to that point. And I'll have you know...[/color]" he paused here to strike a slight pose, "[color 33ec06]...I [i]always[/i] smell like an exotic dessert.[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"Is this the part where I go up and sniff you to make sure? Cos I don't think either of us would like that."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]No. Absolutely not. Right now I probably only smell like blood and fear. Which is not as good as exotic desserts, I believe.[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Oh yeah,"[/color] Ernie glanced at Marc's bloodied pants, his mouth forming an instinctual frown, [color=00a99d]"Yeah, you should get yourself cleaned up. If you need help with clearing those stains, I could lend you some stuff. It's actually kinda my specialty."[/color]

Ernie said that last statement with a bit too much pride for a 16-year-old boy.

"[color 33ec06]Nah, I'll probably just throw it in the wash and see if it's salvagable. If not - I'm sure I've still got money on that card they gave us. Plus, you should probably get out of here just in case Sander decides to come back.[/color]" He said, jerking a thumb back towards the direction the other pair had walked off in.

At the mention of just throwing it in the wash, Ernie's expression turned from mild worry to outright disapproval. Before he could call Marcus out on his awful laundry habits, the Arbiter raised a fairly good point.

[color=00a99d]"Sander doesn't have some kinda hunting sense, does he?"[/color] the Aberration blanched. [color=00a99d]"Shit, I should go then."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]I'm...not sure? Maybe?[/color]" Marcus said. He tried thinking back to the Flag Fight, back to how Sander had pointed the healer out. Had he literally [i]sniffed[/i] him out, or was that just another benefit of his power? The ability to randomly find people? Marcus shrugged, giving Ernie a noise of uncertainty.

[color=00a99d]"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later,"[/color] Ernie turned to leave in some direction that wasn't the way Marcus pointed out. He'd probably need to take a few detours to get back to his dorm, [color=00a99d]"Sorry for... stuff. And thanks again. I'll see you in class?"[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Hopefully. Unless I get eaten by another dog on the way back to the room![/color]" With that Marcus turned around and started walking, giving Ernie a small wave before he left. It had been a long day, hell; a long week even. Maybe he'd just chill out for the rest of the day. Somewhere safe and warm where he could just relax.

[color=00a99d]"Exotic dessert, buddy! Keep it up!"[/color]

Ernie began his journey back to Building B with a genuine smile, reflecting on the conversation. It was...really nice just to have a normal conversation for once. Just meandering talk that wasn't about Stigmas or eye-stabbings or control. Stuff normal high-schoolers did. It'd barely been seven months since he'd gotten captured by the USARILN system and enrolled into the magic high school. He had to admit that he'd hoped for less magic and more high school at first, but eventually he had to face the fact that he'd never be just a normal kid like his classmates.

But Marcus. Cal, Siena and, hell, even Emma. They made him feel like he could try to pretend. He could worry about stupid things like clothes and schoolwork instead of the turmoil in his mind. Pretending was fine. It was good. It wouldn't last, he knew that. But it was close enough to the real thing or at least, what he thought was the real thing. 

So he'd keep going. Until he inevitably drove them all away.
[/hider]

[center][h3] [color=00a99d]『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』[/color][color=cyan]『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i68.tinypic.com/63x8xz.jpg[/img][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   / /  [@banjoanjo][@RedDusk] [@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝔻𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸: 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟚𝟘𝟚   / /  ~𝟚𝟛𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
 [hider=Define]
Sander pulled on his hoodie, fingers fumbling to get the zippers aligned. The weight of the decision was still heavy on his shoulders, and he felt like he was chafing. The Stigma was thrumming behind each and every one of his thought. What if his control slipped? What if he hurt Ernie? What if he killed Ernie, and [i]they[/i] came for him? Should he fight back, to keep himself from getting hurt? But wouldn’t that make him [i]the same thing?[/i] 
 
Sander groaned, pressing nails into his palms until pain took the edge off his thoughts. It was just a talk. He could at least do this. Before his Stigma could goad him into backing out, he left the bedroom and headed toward the door as fast as he could. However, the blond boy’s prone form on the sofa caught his eyes, and he faltered. He could just leave without saying anything…but it felt wrong. Christmas deserved to know. [i]Just…not the details.[/i] So he made a detour for the sofa.
 
“[color=cyan]Hey.[/color]” -Sander said, once he was standing right next to his roommate –“[color=cyan]I’m leaving for a little bit, alright?[/color]”   

Christmas had been dozing off dinner and another drink of water and painkillers, but at Sander's announcement that he was leaving again he blinked himself awake and sat up. [color 8493ca]"You're...leaving?"[/color] he mumbled back, still half-asleep.

“[color=cyan]Yeah, just for a bit.[/color]” -Sander tried to smile –“[color=cyan]Just to…talk.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"T-to Marcus?"[/color] His thoughts somehow strayed automatically to the conversation at noon, wondering if Sander was going to keep discussing it with that student and the corner-cut grin.

“[color=cyan]Uh. No. To Ernie.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Huh?"[/color] But it had barely been six or seven hours since. He thought Marcus had meant for them to try and steer clear of Ernie for a while. [color 8493ca]"Al-already?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]Yeah. I…will be back soon.[/color]” -Sander placed a hand on Christmas’ shoulder, gently ushering the blond boy back down. There was a sharp inhale from the healer and brief tension in the shoulder, but that settled soon afterwards.–“[color=cyan]Go back to sleep, alright?[/color]

[color 8493ca]"Talk...j-just to talk?"[/color] Christmas replied after several seconds, laying back down but still watching Sander warily.

 “[color=cyan]Just to talk.[/color]” -Sander confirmed, the touch on Christmas’ shoulder lingered for a few moments, before he straightened himself up –“[color=cyan]Won’t be long.[/color]”
 
The blond boy nodded, but watched Sander until the door closed.

[hr]

A knock on his dorm door roused Ernie from a night of online browsing. That was strange. He'd only given Angelique his dorm room number. If she needed something she could've just texted him.

He opened the door and immediately stiffened as he saw Sander standing in front of him. He should've guessed it would happen so soon.

[color=00a99d]"Hi,"[/color] he said, revealing no emotion. They both knew what he was here for, [color=00a99d]"Do you want to come in?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]Hello, Ernie.[/color]” -Sander lifted the corners of his lips into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes –“[color=cyan]Sure.[/color]” -He accepted the invitation easily, walking inside the room right when Ernie moved out of his way. He remained standing right in the middle of the small dorm room, shoulders stiff and fingers just a little bit too restless, but nothing else betrayed the simmering rage beneath.  

[color=00a99d]"How 'bout you sit down and we can talk?"[/color] Ernie gestured to his desk chair, taking a seat on his bed himself. His heart started pounding as he saw Sander's smile. Completely lifeless.

“[color=cyan]I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.[/color]” -Sander turned slightly so he was looking straight at the other Aberration. He waited politely until Ernie had completely settled into his seat, and then some, before continuing –“[color=cyan]So…I came over to ask you something. Is that alright?[/color]” 

Why couldn't his fucking heart stay still? Ernie gripped the bedsheets, feeling his hands start to sweat too. Better to get it over with as quickly as possible.

[color=00a99d]"It's about Christmas isn't it. What I... did."[/color]

Something darkened in Sander’s blue eyes, but he kept the pleasant façade up as best as he could. Christmas already asked him to. He was [i]better than this[/i]. Even when there was a part of him (Stigma?) that kept telling how he was probably making a mistake, Sander ignored it and pressed on –“[color=cyan]Please stay away from Christmas from now on.[/color]” -He paused, exhaling slowly –“[color=cyan]Please don’t come near our suite again.[/color]”
 
“[color=cyan]…I’d know if you do.[/color]” -A pensive look passed over his features, and Sander added after another moment of silence. It wasn’t a threat, but a warning. A promise.
 
Too calm. Sander was beyond the shallow, obnoxious anger that the bastards at Reno had always flaunted. There really was no hope in here, huh. Ernie nodded silently. Another potential friend lost.

[color=00a99d]"I know. I'll..."[/color] 'Try' wouldn't be good enough. Just 'try' would have Sander rip him to shreds. And to be honest, Ernie didn't even know if 'try' was what he'd be doing. He hoped that the fear churning in him right now would give him enough incentive to leave that shit alone, [color=00a99d]"I will. I... lost control. I won't touch Christmas again. It won't fix things but I'm sorry."[/color]

That was all he could say.

Sander’s gaze flickered down to the black X on Ernie’s throat when the other Aberration mentioned ‘control’. He, of all people, knew what it was like to lose control. It felt wrong then, to ask Ernie to stay away, when he himself should do the same. Because he was just as bad. If not worse. 

“[color=cyan]Was it the Stigma?[/color]” -The memories of sweet drinks and hazy glow nagged at him, prompting Sander to soften his voice. Because despite everything, he didn’t want to hurt Ernie. Didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even when the universe didn’t give him that choice something, or he himself couldn’t see them, Sander didn’t want to pick the easy way out. He had changed. He had got better. 

The long-haired boy looked up at Sander, hopeless resignation in his eyes. God, what a stupid question. Ernie thought back to Marcus' advice. Understanding. It wasn't forgiveness that he was looking for, nor was it what he needed.

[color=00a99d]"It's always the Stigma, isn't it? You'd think that after so many times there'd be a better reason. Something that wasn't so senseless and stupid. But there isn't. There's no excuse for what I did to him. To everyone else."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Ground Zero?[/color]”

[color=00a99d]"Doesn't work for me. Not completely. It needs to be... people. Feelings."[/color]

Sander furrowed his brows –“[color=cyan]So you need…people? There are people in GZ?[/color]” -They were fake, and they smelled wrong, [i]metallic and prickly[/i] but screams all sounded the same and their flesh gave just as easily. Sander couldn’t understand his fellow Aberration’s predicament. 

Ernie stood, his voice rising with the motion.

[color=00a99d]"Feelings, Sander! I need to know them. What they like and don't like. What makes them cry..."[/color]

Ernie felt the shame rise in him. It sounded so filthy out loud. But it was what he'd been doing.

[color=00a99d]"I need to talk to them. Then I need to watch them fall apart."[/color]

Sander was quiet for a few moments, blue eyes watching Ernie carefully. This was new, for him, at least. Then again, he hadn’t met that many Aberrations before. Or many people, for that matter –“[color=cyan]I see…[/color]”

But he knew the strength of the Stigma, and he knew it was strong enough to overcome all the words that Ernie had promised. He couldn’t let Christmas get hurt again. So he had to make this choice. Wrong or no. He had to. It was selfish and it was disgusting, but he clamped down the Stigma-fueled thoughts and got the words out.

“[color=cyan]…can you find someone else then, please? Someone who is…not Christmas?[/color]” 

Disbelief. Ernie stared back, realising the helplessness of his situation. Sander wasn't going to help. Sander wasn't going to [i]fix[/i] everything that was wrong with his horrifying strength. 

The long-haired boy clawed at his X-mark.

Oh god, was that what he'd been hoping for all along? For someone like Liam, [i]like Owen[/i], to come and fix everything again? That pathetic reliance made Ernie want to drop dead. It was just going to go on, over and over until the guards finally found the sense to shoot him dead. Sander's roundabout selfishness had condemned him to that cycle he'd been trying to escape ever since he set foot on USARILN grounds. It was all just so fucking cruel.

Ernie wanted to cry again. Sander wasn't going to tell him he was wrong. He wasn't going to stop him, or pay Ernie back with [i]everything[/i] he deserved. Because somewhere too deep to actually make a difference, that was what Ernie had wanted all along, wasn't it? But he was too much of a fucking coward to admit it and Sander didn't care. He wouldn't have been able to take it anyway. Worthless, every single one of them. But even through all that horrid realisation, Ernie found some twisted solace in Sander's words. Because really...

[color=00a99d]"You're..."[/color] Ernie smiled widely, that same smile he'd shown Christmas. 

Right before everything started crashing.

[color=00a99d]"You're really terrible too."[/color]

Sander’s face fell, defeated, but he didn’t look away –“[color=cyan]…I have to…[/color]” -Not really, no, but he was scrambling to align Christmas’ wishes and his own, so nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. He was regressing back into that pattern again: selfish and childish and terrible, like Ernie had pointed out. But he wanted Christmas’ constant presence more that he feared himself. He had gone without that human warmth for so long; he didn’t know what he would without it now that he was given a taste. 
 
He would do anything to keep that warmth to himself.  
 
[i]Bad choices after bad choices. He was going to regret this.[/i]
 
But he would still do anything. 
 
“[color=cyan]I would do anything.[/color]” -And he repeated the words out loud, just to be sure. 

[color=00a99d]"Yeah. I got it."[/color]

Ernie shook his head. What a load of shit. All of this. Both of them.

[color=00a99d]"I won't touch him. I won't go near you two."[/color]

Fucking garbage. He looked to the door.

[color=00a99d]"Could you leave now? I think we talked everything that needed to be talked."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Sorry. But I have to make sure.[/color]” -Sander followed the gaze, the message went through crystal clear. Without another word, he moved toward the door. However, just as he opened it, a thought flashed through his head and he paused at the threshold –“[color=cyan]…I don’t want to hurt you, Ernie.[/color]” [i]Don’t let me.[/i]

Anger carved Ernie's expression. So getting hurt by Sander was still a possibility. And the other Aberration didn't even have the balls to follow through with that loaded threat. Ernie thought back to their first conversation at the bar. 'Shouldn't' enjoy it. But he would. If he went near those two again, the last thing he'd ever see would be that bloodthirsty smile Sander had flashed during that brutal game on Monday. So Ernie could do nothing but parrot empty words and empty promises.

[color=00a99d]"I don't want to hurt anyone like that again."[/color]

But he would.

[color=00a99d]"Someone like Christmas never deserved it and I never should have done it."[/color]

Why did it matter who deserved it or not? All he needed to know is if they would fight back. If he would be able to beat them down over and over again.

[color=00a99d]"I'm staying away. So get out of my room, Sander."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Good luck.[/color]” -Quiet words were thrown over his shoulder, and with that, Sander left.
[/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. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝔻𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸: 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟚𝟘𝟚   / /  ~𝟚��𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
[hider=Disconnect]
The door to his suite closed behind him, and Sander spent a few moments leaning back against it, pressing fingers into his forehead, chasing away the stray thoughts elicited by his Stigma. He was doing the right thing. Not good. Terrible, in fact, but the right thing. Christmas would be safe now, when there was no longer a Stigma-driven Ernie to hound his steps. And Sander wouldn’t have to become [i]the same thing[/i] he was before. 
 
So everything was alright. 
 
Except for whoever that was going to be affected by his bad choice. 
 
He frowned, letting the hands fall to his sides. As long as Christmas was with him, that would be worth it. This was different from before. Different reasons. Different circumstances. The same thing, but different. So it was alright. He had changed for the better. Human, now. Closer to people, and further away from whatever he was. 

[i]Not.[/i]

Sander clamped down on whatever emotions that were bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, and stalked over to the sofa, where he knew the blond boy was.  

Christmas was sitting up, phone in his hands when it seemed like Sander had been gone just long enough to worry. His roommate didn't look good coming back, not with his hand against his forehead and a harsh set to his shoulders.

[color 8493ca]"You're--you're okay?"[/color] he asked as Sander approached.

Sander didn’t say anything at first, simply moving closer before kneeling down to the floor, leaning his upper body against the sofa so he would be right next to Christmas. He kept his eyes glued to the blond boy’s torso, though for once, the scent of coffee didn’t flood his sense. 
 
“[color=cyan]Hey.[/color]” -He began, ignoring the question in favour of asking one of his own –“[color=cyan]Can I…hold your hand?[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"Y-yeah...?"[/color] Christmas set his phone aside, reaching out tentatively with his hand. Normally he would be happy about this, but Sander didn't seem all right. [color 8493ca]"T-the talk?"[/color]

Sander clasped the smaller hand in both of his larger ones, and he looked at it, before leaning down to press his forehead against that offered warmth. Maybe he deserved this. Maybe he didn’t. Either way, he was trying to be. And that had to be worth something right? How he tried didn’t matter. Right? 
 
“[color=cyan]It’s fine. Ernie won’t go near you again.[/color]” -He exhaled softly to get the cracks out of his voice first, before answering his roommate. 

Relief came at the heels of guilt, because he had involved Sander in this and now nothing seemed all right. [color 8493ca]"I'm--I'm sorry."[/color] Christmas felt that heat against his hands and bit back another apology. [color 8493ca]"Wh-what happened?"[/color]

Another question Sander didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t. Still couldn’t. Because telling Christmas then felt like a mistake, and he thought he had made enough mistakes to last a lifetime. So he asked for something else, instead. Maybe he deserved this. Maybe he didn’t. 
 
“[color=cyan]You’d forgive me, right?[/color]” 

What had he done? Christmas was afraid of a question like that, and afraid of what needed forgiving. So he ran through the fears and thoughts, finding where his own limits lay. He would forgive a lot of things if Sander wasn't that monster on the screens. And even then, he wondered if he hadn't already forgiven that, too, with every encounter in front of red eyes and teeth. But there was something more than that, beyond just pretending like the problems of a blood mage weren't his to grasp.

He decided he would forgive a lot now and worry a lot later.

[color 8493ca]"Y-yeah."[/color] His other hand reached for Sander's as well. [color 8493ca]"You're okay?"[/color]

Sander still didn’t answer the question, instead just heaved quiet breaths against the sofa and hid his face in Christmas’ hands. It was pointless, asking for forgiveness like this, when he couldn’t even confess what he did. So he cheated a little, and just let himself indulge in that swindled warmth just a little bit more. 
 
“[color=cyan]I’m fine.[/color]” -He finally said, voice barely above a whisper –“[color=cyan]I kept my promise.[/color]”

Christmas moved a bit closer, afraid of the worst scenarios, like guards would come in and take Sander away. Or gun him down. His hands tightened against Sander's.

[color 8493ca]"Ernie is...h-he agreed?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]Yeah.[/color]” -Sander shifted slightly, lifting himself up and breathing the answer into the palm of Christmas’ hand. Still just the smell of skin, and not coffee. Still safe –“[color=cyan]Won’t bother you anymore.[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"But..."[/color] It was stupid to worry about it, because Ernie had probably been doing this for however long he had his power, but Christmas couldn't forget the certainty of "next time." It had been a guarantee. Who had Ernie hurt before? How many? How many [i]more[/i]? But to say he was completely satisfied with the solution felt like Christmas had shoved the problem over first to Sander and Marcus, then to someone entirely unknown. And it was even worse when Sander seemed so upset.

[color 8493ca]"...he promised a next time."[/color]

“[color=cyan]He won’t bother you anymore.[/color]” -Sander simply repeated the empty assurance. 

[color 8493ca]"...D-did he hurt you?"[/color] Christmas looked to the folded knife on the coffee table. [color 8493ca]"I can--I can heal?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]No. He didn’t.[/color]” -Sander blinked, alarmed –“[color=cyan]I kept my promise. Really.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"But he...has to? H-he said so."[/color]

"[color=cyan]There are other ways.[/color]"

[color 8493ca]"Other ways...?"[/color] That wasn't what Ernie had said on Friday. It wasn't. And if it wasn't Christmas surrounded by garbage, and it wasn't Sander hurt in his place, then...who?

"[color=cyan]Other ways.[/color]"

[color 8493ca]"...Other...people?"[/color]

Sander suddenly grew very still. His grip on Christmas’ hands tightened. 

[color 8493ca]"S-Sander?"[/color]

"[color=cyan]I have to.[/color]" -Sander frowned, still refused to look up. He knew full well how much Christmas wanted to be nice, and this...went against. But he couldn't help it. This was the only solution he could think of -"[color=cyan] I can't let you get hurt. Ever.[/color]" 

"[color=cyan]Sorry.[/color]"

It didn't make sense to Christmas, what Sander was apologizing for, but it also didn't make sense why Sander was so adamant on not letting him get hurt. He was [i]supposed[/i] to be hurt. His power demanded it, and even though his roommate could take blood without hurting him, Sander had asked before, too, with red eyes and teeth on the battlefield. In the forest. So what was just one more thing? Ernie now, and Friday had taught him the certainty of it. Stigmas and Aberrations and everything they had no choices in. 

[color 8493ca]"But--but why?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]B-Because…[/color]” -Sander fumbled, finding his justification. He paused to think, before finally lifted his head and looked into his roommate’s blue eyes –“[color=cyan]…you are important. To me.[/color]”

It was Christmas's turn to freeze, and his eyes tried to look elsewhere as if answers could be found in the carpet or the walls, but his gaze continued returning to Sander and he couldn't hide the panic on his face.

[color 8493ca]"But Ernie...E-Ernie said it wouldn't be as--as bad next...next time. And he...I asked--asked to bring the pills, t-too."[/color]

“[color=cyan]I told him to find other…ways.[/color]” -Sander sighed. It was the security room again, where he ripped the choice away from Christmas just to satisfy his selfish wants –“[color=cyan]Doesn’t have to be you.[/color]”
 
“[color=cyan]I’m sorry. Are you…upset?[/color]” 

Christmas's breaths were coming in faster to the pace of his quickened heartbeats, but he didn't know if he was upset or simply afraid. [color 8493ca]"I...I would've...been--been okay...?"[/color] He held onto Sander's hands desperately. [color 8493ca]"T-the pills can fix it."[/color]

Wordlessly, Sander reached up with one hand, fingers brushing the edge of a fading bruise on Christmas’ face. The pills couldn't fix everything.

At the touch, Christmas's panic twisted into something worse, because he was relieved it wouldn't be him anymore and he also knew it had to be [i]someone[/i] under Ernie's feet. But what scared him most was how much his thoughts kept circling back to those words. Important to Sander. That should have made him happy enough to cry, but the words had come from one problem solved and another one made.

It was horrible of him to think that as long as Sander wasn't going away--as long as guards wouldn't make his roommate disappear--everything else was relatively [i]acceptable.[/i]

[color 8493ca]"I'm scared."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Hey, it’s alright.[/color]” -The touch lingered as Sander let fingers ghost along the curve of Christmas’ jaws, mapping the lines there. So he would remember. It was important that he remembered –“[color=cyan]I’m scared too.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"W-why?"[/color] Christmas breathed in quickly at the light touch, his hands gripping even harder.

“[color=cyan]Because I don’t know what to do…if you…get too hurt.[/color]” -The hand fell away at last, and Sander’s gaze followed it downward –“[color=cyan]I don’t want to find out.[/color]”
 
“[color=cyan]Can I…make a wish too?[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"Wha-what?"[/color]

"[color=cyan]Don't get hurt?[/color]" -Sander grimaced, because asking for this was wrong and selfish and he would regret this later. But that was for later. He had the now –“[color=cyan]Please.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"M-my power..."[/color]

"[color=cyan]Only for your power.[/color]"

Christmas pulled Sander's hand closer, watching the ribbon shift with the movement. [color 8493ca]"...What about...th-the other person? If--if someone else...and Ernie..."[/color] 

He wanted to be nice. But maybe it was time to really admit he wasn't. He was so selfish it made his worth null and void. That's why he thought he deserved everything that came his way, whether he liked it or not.

“[color=cyan]That’s…Don’t think about it.[/color]” -Sander frowned, once again faced with the consequences of his bad choices –“[color=cyan]I…As long as it isn’t you.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Sander...I'm...not--not worth this."[/color]

“[color=cyan]You are. To me.[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"I'm not nice."[/color] Christmas pulled Sander's hand towards him again, clutching it against his chest. A prayer, but for who he'd be hard pressed to define. [color 8493ca]"Do you--do you believe that?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]Doesn’t matter to me if you aren’t.[/color]” -The beating heart beneath his hand called to the Craving, but Sander held it back. And he still didn’t smell coffee- “[color=cyan]I don’t mind, as long as it’s you.[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"If...if it was the--the other way around. I think--I...I might have done the same."[/color] His hands shook around Sander's, and Christmas watched his roommate's expression with wide eyes. [color 8493ca]"I'm scared that I'm--I'm not nice and I'll never be."[/color]

“[color=cyan]It’s fine.[/color]” -Sander leaned in closer, placing his free hand on top of the blond boy’s trembling ones –“[color=cyan]I’m here. Staying here.[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"I'm sorry. For--for...a lot."[/color] Christmas hunched over the clasped hands slightly, like he was trying to hold on to more. [color 8493ca]"I'm always selfish like this."[/color] And it was easy to say. Easy to admit. Because Sander was staying. Even though they were both going about this the wrong way and Ernie would find someone else to hurt. [color 8493ca]"Always just...thinking about me. Not--not nice. I'm sorry."[/color]

He brought Sander's hand closer to his mouth, a reflexive attempt to hide away what he was ashamed of saying. [color 8493ca]"That's why-- why it's always [i]okay.[/i] Because I'm not nice."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Don’t have to be sorry around me. I’d never blame you.[/color]” -Sander let out a breathy laugh, his fingers reached out to brush against the blond boy’s face –“[color=cyan]I think…everyone is not nice in their own way. Doesn’t have to be you. I don’t want it to be you.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"I don't want it to be--to be you, either. Don't--don't want you to get hurt. Just--really selfish and--want you near."[/color] Christmas didn't know if it was okay to think like that. It seemed wrong. But Sander had fixed something for him, at the cost of someone else and it terrified him that for all he wanted to genuinely care about someone else--He. Just. Didn't. Not enough to matter. Any attempt to worry about a potential [i]them[/i] without regards to [i]himself[/i] would ring astoundingly false.

It was for his own guilt, and he understood a bit of Ernie's motivation from Friday.

[color 8493ca]"If I...find that person, I-I'll heal them?"[/color]

“[color=cyan]…Yeah.[/color]” -A breath of resignation, then Sander nodded –“[color=cyan]It’s your power. Your choice.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"...Okay. I...yeah. I'll--th-thank you,"[/color] he stumbled through the words, because everything else he tried to say wasn't all there, but "thank you"s were reflex enough that he didn't need to put the words together as carefully--or carelessly.

"[color=cyan]Thank you too. For...being here.[/color]" -Sander smiled, or at least he tried to, because in the end, he still didn't tell Christmas everything. Maybe the blond boy would leave, if he ever found down. Maybe he wouldn't. But Sander didn't think too much about that, because he wanted to keep himself right in the [i]here[/i], and not whatever dark place his mind would take him. 

[color 8493ca]"I'm--I shouldn't have forc--m-made it your problem. I'm sorry."[/color] Christmas slid off the sofa, tucking himself into a spot beside Sander on the floor. He remained quiet a moment longer, hands still wrapped around Sander's and holding that ribboned promise against his pounding heart for ransom.

Sander was kind, and it was because Christmas was "important." The word rang in that echo chamber of his mind now, but instead of receding in volume it seemed to swell until the shallow thoughts of people he didn't care about taking blows that should rightfully have been meant for him couldn't stem the [i]satisfaction[/i] of being important, even when the revelation came at the cost of someone else.

All he cared about, truly, in that moment was himself. Himself in relation to Sander. Himself in relation to Ernie. Himself in relation to the entire world.

Christmas wondered, as memories of home and his personal hell crashed through the rising crescendo of "important," if he had spent his entire life just caring about himself.

Was it just more of that same selfishness that compelled him to care about Sander and the warmth between his hands?

[color 8493ca]"I'm sorry,"[/color] he apologized again, because it was all he could do. There was nothing else he could help. Not his emotions, not his regrets, not his mistakes. And not that growing insistence that he wanted Sander to always be near, always be--

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

“[color=cyan]Don’t have to be.[/color]” -Sander murmured, again, because Christmas didn’t seem to believe him. But he supposed he didn’t mind repeating. So he said it one more time for good measure, louder this time, just in case the blond boy missed it, while his left hand moved in a soothing pattern above Christmas's frantic heart–“[color=cyan]You don’t have to be sorry.[/color]” 

Smaller hands pressed down on Sander's left hand, the touch shaking, but [i]there[/i]. 

[color 8493ca]"I don't know what--what else to be. If--if not sorry."[/color]

"[color=cyan]Be happy. I want to make you happy.[/color]"

Hopes and guilts tore at each other in Christmas's downturned expression. A corner of a smile, but his eyes were straining to open wider as panic creased his brow.

[color 8483ca]"If you...if you're h-here. I--I'll try."[/color]

He took quiet breaths after that promise, mouth opening and closing hesitantly. A squeeze of Sander's hand finally leveraged the words.

[color 8493ca]"You--I want you to be happy, too."[/color]

Sander was happy once. He remembered those hot summer days, back when he could still get dizzy from carbonated sweetness and the warmth between his fingers was something other than blood. 
 
But he had lost those days, somewhere between the distant thunders of gunfire and vinyl floor surrounded by white walls. And he wasn’t supposed to get them back. They were long gone. Burnt to ashes by the fire in his ribcage and scattered somewhere he couldn’t reach. Funny. Being happy was such a small thing. Easy. He knew how. Yet, he couldn’t do it. He promised he would do anything, but not this. 
 
Sander smiled a little bit at his own hypocrisy, head lowered slightly so the blond boy wouldn’t notice. He was silent for a few minutes afterward, letting the rhythm of Christmas’ heart distract him instead. 
 
“[color=cyan]I woke you, didn’t I?[/color]” -He spoke up later, glancing at his roommate tentatively –“[color=cyan]Want to go back to sleep?[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"I-I'll stay up a bit. Not, um, not sleepy."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Alright.[/color]” -Sander nodded, slowly rising to his feet. The movement tugged on Christmas’ hold around his left wrist, and the boy let go. Already, Sander had missed the warmth –“[color=cyan]I’ll…use the shower, yeah?[/color]” -After a nod of confirmation from the blond boy, Sander headed into their shared bedroom to retrieve his clothes, then went straight into the bathroom afterward. 
 
Maybe a hot shower would clear his head.
[/hider] [/hider]