Upper Brookfield

Briton tried his best to take a deep breath, to take any breath at all, while Nathan grabbed at his shoulders to try and steady him, to try and get him to backtrack a moment further in the conversation. Briton, on the other hand, the color in his lips fading and the room spinning slightly, felt as though he were going to crumble in his friend's grip, and would have collapsed if it weren't partially holding him upright at the small moment. "Listen to me-- WHERE is Violet? What is she going to do?"

"Sh-she left with Vic and Ryan," Briton managed, his rib-cage quivering while the statement had to be forced out. When Nathan released him suddenly, taking off without a single word, Briton found himself losing his footing slightly, trying to cover up the action with a step before finding himself hunched again, his face to his elbow, his chest heaving out coughs. Forget about telling Charlie about leaving, he simply had to leave. He couldn't take any more, and the air only seemed to grow heavier and more difficult to take in. It was a disgusting combination of painful music, teenage body oder, and booze. He felt like vomiting.

He was only vaguely aware of Oz's presence still next to him until the gentle hand came down on him, softly and soothingly rubbing his back to try to comfort him. Oz, who Briton was almost sure would have raced right on after Nate to help him find Violet, had not moved a single inch away from him. "Briton." Oz said, and for the moment, Briton stopped coughing while he tried to hone in on that voice of his, tried to ignore the headache which threatened to split him in two. He still struggled, his lungs taking abnormal breathes and feeling as though the air were getting stuck in his throat and not moving down, but he at the very least quieted himself. "Briton, I'm going to get you home. Let me text Charlie, okay? Then we'll go to your car and I can take you home. Can you move now? It's fine if you just need to stay here for a minute."

He forced himself to straighten up, trying his best to hold his body still though it seemed that all the tenseness managed to achieve was making him shake more. He gave a pause, trying to compose himself before absentmindedly nodding his head, which in itself felt too heavy for the rest of him in general, and he had to stop for a moment, before nodding once again after his mind caught up with his body. "Yeah. Yeah I think I'll be okay," his voice was a mere wisp as it came out barely audible, though Oz must have heard something, gotten the message somehow, because the arm on his shoulder pulled him a little nearer and began coax him towards the door, gently and slowly, to be sure that no more stress was about to befall his body before he was even outside, before he was even home. It was mere seconds - or felt like mere seconds, though time seemed to be going in slow motion, and movement seemed a hazy blur - before a figure of blonde hair and decent stature passed by, causing a jolt to Oz that even Briton could vaguely feel through the physical connection between them at the moment. Was that Charlie? He tried to brush off the notion. If that was Charlie, then the other boy could probably guess by the state of Briton that he was leaving. It was fine.

Blinking a few times at the sight of his car, he tried to process what was going on as best he could. He was already there? Oz was... Oz was going to drive him home instead. Even if the other boy was drunk, Briton figured, he would still have done a better job driving. Trying to gasp in breaths of the outside air, though only feeling slightly worse at what must have been light pollen in the air, or humidity, or dryness... Whatever it was, though better than the air inside, was still heavy and scratchy in his throat, while he put on hand over his mouth, the other hand was left to fumble around in his pockets until they found the keys, and he promptly slipped them into his friend's hand. He distanced himself from Oz, finally, while he traversed around towards the passenger side - a place he only ever really took whenever his brother was in town - though stopped in the middle of his journey to cough a few more times, bending slightly at the waist and leaving his hand in place while he straightened up and finished the trip, sliding into the seat and making a lazy attempt at buckling in.

The ride home, he was quiet. Oz was quiet. Or at least, Briton thought he had been, either that or his aching skull was nullifying the words. Instead of speaking, the time was spent lying partially sideways, breaths shuddering while his eyes simply watched Oz the whole way home; watching him drive, watching him glance over with concern any time Briton made some kind of cough or noise. Even if Oz was worried, even if he was causing some kind of problem and needed help again, he didn't so much mind Oz coming to his rescue quietly; Oz didn't pry, he didn't ask questions, it was like the reason didn't matter at all. He could help without making some big scene about it, and then at the same time, Briton supposed he just liked having the boy's attention. And who could have really blamed him? It was nice to have some attention that didn't turn into some ridiculous over-dramatic scene. He wasn't being interrogated or put on the spot, he was just... being helped... And that was nice.

When the car finally came to a stop, Briton groggily sat up and unbuckled, fumbling on the handle of the door for a moment before pushing out of the car and making a quick - the quickest he possibly could - effort towards the old wooden staircase. He hesitated before stepping onto it, the normal fear of it toppling over settled into his aching, quivering chest, while he slowly stepped onto the first landing, before trying to go upward as quickly as he possibly could, only stopping slightly when he tripped on one of the creaking middle steps to let out a couple of deep coughs, and pausing once more at the top landing, only the realizing that Oz still had his keys to get in, and promptly stepped out of the way slightly so the other boy could step onto the landing and hand them over.

He fumbled with them for a moment, before pushing through the door and barely remembering to hold the door open so that Oz could get in, and, not bothering to take off his shoes or try focus on anything specific in the room. He simply dropped the keys in his hands to the ground and made a straight track for his messy bedroom. The only evidence of his struggle for the short moment was the lack of coloring in his face, the tiny thrashing movements to his chest, the shaking in his limbs, though he made no sort of big deal about it while he pried open the old door and trudged through the mess over to the small dresser in the room, putting his hands against the top drawer and hesitating, looking back at the boy who'd followed him inside. "C-could you just..." He swallowed, he tried to get a breath. It was difficult to run a full sentence with no air in his lungs to expel. "...g-get me some water?"

When Oz had retreated from the room to do as was requested, Briton yanked the drawer out from the dresser, stepping back with a jolt while it slid completely out and crashed against the floor, its contents scattering and jumbling about, most of which falling out. Heart still pounding, world still spinning, he dropped to his knees, raking through objects until he found his inhaler, and put it quickly to his lips while he struggled to stand himself up, though quickly had to settle for sitting on his bed instead, which proved far easier. Eyes closed, and taking a moment to calmly blow out what little air was in his lungs, he pressed his fingers down on the top and breathed in the contents deeply, holding in the breath for as long as he could while he dropped his hand with the object to his side. Letting out the breath, and beginning to feel the oxygen in the air fill his lungs a little more normally with the quick breaths that followed, he felt at least a little better.

Not bothering to open his eyes, and fully knowing that Oz had probably re-arrived in the room, Briton chucked the inhaler to the floor, collapsing backwards on his bed to lay down on it. He tried simply to focus on his breaths, in and out, slow and deep. Little by little the color was coming back to him, his lips turning that soft pink color once again, a flush coming into his cheeks. He still shook slightly, though it was far less noticeable. His chest hurt like hell, but at least it wouldn't for much longer. The spinning feeling was slowing down, his thoughts were starting to make sense again. Feeling almost like he'd regret it, he opened his eyes, tilting his head so that he could spot Oz in the room, though he quickly rolled over on his side, eyes averting shamefully. What a problem he'd caused for his friend. Oz... Oz, who'd probably have been racing off after Nathan if it hadn't been for Briton's sudden attack, who probably would have preferred Nathan's company, even if it was just more 'trying to be a hero,' and who probably felt as neutral towards Briton as he did towards something like a plant.

"Sorry," Briton muttered, his words coming out quietly, though he didn't really worry about it, seeing as there weren't any noises to obstruct a conversation in the quiet apartment. "About that, and... that you had to help me." He sat up, still trying to avoid Oz's gaze as of the current moment, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and staring downward. A shudder ran through his chest, causing his inhale to be distorted for a small moment, though it thankfully returned to normal, and Briton payed it little mind. He simply had to stay calm, not get emotional or have any kind of breakdown, avoid too much that would stress him out. He'd be fine, it'd be alright. At least he wasn't at the stupid party, but he couldn't help but think that he'd inadvertently ruined everyone's night through all this nonsense. They could have just had fun if it weren't for him saying anything, right? Oblivious and happy, right? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have run off with Ryan and Vic... He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. "This is all my fault."

---

Charlie slowed to a walk as he was able to clearly make out two figures standing only a few feet away from him. Nate and Sam.

Charlie was panting as his lungs gasped desperately for air and his legs burned from the surprise run, this have had better have been a big emergency for him to nearly die running.

"Hey...Nate..what's...the...big.....deal?" Charlie managed to get out between huge swallows of air. Coming to a stop next to his black haired friend, he finally saw the crumpled up body of Violet. She looked hurt, more than that she looked like she was in pain, excruciating pain.

"Vi..." Charlie's voice was hollow as he stared down at the girl who was now cradled in Nate's arms.

Wow how so much could change in a matter of hours. Just early he was joking around with Violet, laughing with her. Now she was lying on the sidewalk looking to be on her death bed.

Charlie's mind went blank, he needed to help her, but how. He wasn't a doctor, he didnt have any medical experience, but he needed to help.

"Charlie, help Sam up-- please." Charlie's eye locked with Nate's, a kind of relief flooding through him at something to do. Giving a swift nod he watched as Nate brushed past him and began to walk down the sidewalk with Violet in his arms, before he quickly scurried over to Sam.

"You okay man?" Charlie asked concerned at the site of the sick looking teen. Gently placing a hand on Sam's back he helped him up, hooking an arm around the boy's waist while he threw one of Sam's arms around his neck. He had no idea if Sam actually needed any help walking or he just needed help getting up, but the way the usually tanned skinned teen now held a kind of pale color gave Charlie the hint that he wasn't really in the right mood to talk.

As they finally arrived back at the party, Charlie let Sam go, instantly getting out his phone.

Violet needed an ambulance he was pretty sure of that, and he could do that. Charlie shakily dialed 911 knowing he wouldn't be the most popular guy for the next few weeks for crashing the party.

"911 what's your emergency?" The operator's voice came on making him feel kind of shaky.

"Uhh..hello. I need an ambulance for a friend. She's hurt, I don't know how, but I think it's bad."

"Okay where's your location?"

Charlie blushed feeling stupid for not adding his location, quickly telling the lady the address of the party he hung up and roughly shoved his battered phone back into his pocket.

"Okay I called an ambulance. Hang in there Vi." He didnt know if she could actually hear him, but he hoped the words would soothe her if she could.

"Oh I'll text everybody." Charlie added after a few second taking out his phone again before sending a mass text to everyone. Well almost everyone. His finger hovered over the button, that would either exclude Oz from the text or add him to the list.

Oscar is Violet's friend, it wouldnt be right for him not to know she's hurt Charlie reminded himself. The image of Oz rubbing Briton's back flashed through his mind, instantly making him send the text before adding Oz's name. Biting his lip guilty Charlie shoved his phone into his pocket.

In the midst of the party, the scene between Briton and Oz seemed inconsequential. Around them, the mass of people were talking, drinking, dancing, all clustered tightly together. The music still pulsated throughout the house, the song unknown, muffled by the mass of people within, but the beat thrummed through the very floor like an elevated heartbeat, spurring on the revelry and the gyrating, dancing bodies within the darkened room. No one spared the little dramas within the room any notice, dull attentions too wrapped up in the next drink, the next song, the next fight that might break out in the room fueled by sex, drugs, and alcohol. And even if they had, what would they have seen? A boy who had too much of one of the many sinful delights circulating around the party? Someone who couldn't hold their liquor?

But, for all the chaos around them, Oz's sole focus was on Briton, apparently just as ignorant of the people moving maybe four feet away from him as they were of him. The other boy was trying to straighten up now, but, even if Oz hadn't been able to see him, he could feel him trembling violently beneath his hand. Oz didn't have experience with medical emergencies apart from scrapes and scratches from a dozen minor accidents, and he was beginning to feel out of his depth. However, his freaking out about this wasn't going to help anyone, so he steadied his own hand, pushing back anxiety into that dark little corner of his mind to be ignored.

Briton's head was bobbing now, perhaps unconsciously as he struggled for breath. He whispered something that was lost among the cacophony of sound swirling around them, but his nods became more definite, more defined until it was a very clear yes. Well, that was that. Straightening up, Oz wrapped an arm around Briton's shoulder, wrapped around his friend like a security blanket or a shield against the outside world. Looking around for the exit, the door seemed to be miles away in the maze of people, but Oz was nothing if not patient with the situation. With a single-minded determination, he began to move, slowly ushering Briton along with him, through the throngs of people. Despite their slow and steady pace, they were only a short ways away from the door before anything happened. Someone crashed into Oz causing the taller boy to stagger back, loosening his grip on Briton and causing an apology to tumble automatically off of Oz's lips. His head quickly turned to see who'd bumped into him, only to see a blond boy disappear into the crowd. Was that Charlie…? Oz brushed off the idea. There was no way that was Charlie. For one, he hadn't stopped to ask after Briton who was obviously not doing well. And, for another, he hadn't stopped to tease Oz for apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. With that in mind, he made a mental reminder to text Charlie like he'd promised Briton.

Outside of the house, the world was almost muted, the music from within escaping through any way possible but overall much more quiet. Oz couldn't guess what temperature it was outside, but compared to the sweaty humidity of the party, it seemed to be delightfully cool. He had no problem finding Briton's car despite the other vehicles haphazardly parked around the home. Oz might not have been a car person, but once you started associating them as "Briton's Car" or "Nate's Car", it became easier to distinguish them after the many rides they'd given him when his car had been lent to his older step-sister. When they'd actually made it to the car, he was almost startled by the keys being slipped into his hand. Oh. Oh, right. He was driving. It only just struck him that he didn't have his license on him. Well, he would just have to drive safely, now wouldn't he?

Briton was shuffling to the passenger seat now and Oz couldn't help but gaze worriedly at him as he made his way around the car, stopping to cough halfway to his destination. It wasn't until Briton actually got into the passenger's seat that Oz followed his example. Sitting in the driver's seat was a bizarre experience given that he'd only ever been stuck in the back or, on the occasion where it was just the two of them, in the passenger seat. He almost commented on it, to lighten up the situation, but the anecdote withered in his throat when he looked over to see Briton gazing dully back. Well. Well, that could certainly wait.

The vaguely familiar drive to Briton's house was quiet, the silence broken only by Briton's coughing spells that drew Oz's attention with ever wheezed breath. Still, however, he stayed calm, fingers tapping unconsciously on the steering wheel to no particular beat. Still, as he pulled up to Briton's apartment building, it was a stark relief if only because the answer to this problem was most likely hidden away inside Briton's home. After locking the car behind them(there might now have been much crime in the city, but, hey, better safe than sorry, right?) Oz hovered over the shorter boy with each step up the rickety staircase like the mother-hen he admittedly was. There was still silence between them, no words spoken which made other noises- coughs, creaking steps, the wind rustling through leaves- all the louder.

Keys were passed over and the door was soon open, Briton stumbling in and Oz following behind, as he always did. That's when Briton broke the fragile silence, voice rasping but the words clear.

"C-could you just...g-get me some water?"

"Gotcha," Oz agreed. Briton's house wasn't nearly as familiar as Nate's, but he knew his way around reasonably well. Well enough to find the kitchen and, after only a second's recollection, remember which cabinet held the glasses. This… This he could do. He liked to help, honestly he did, whether the situation be serious like this or just someone needing a ride somewhere. He liked to… no, if he was honest with himself, he needed to be needed. If no one needed him and he never asked for anything, there went his connection with people, didn't it? If no one needed him- the easy child, the amiable friend, the confidant, the ride, the wallet, the good kid- then what was he?

The sound of a crash from Briton's room jerked him out of his reverie and, despite his normal relaxed if a bit sluggish pace, he was a sudden blur of motion, racing over to check on his friend. Should he have just taken him to the hospital? Called 911? Briton did have a habit of understating things so that people wouldn't fuss over him- had it been a mistake to trust him? He arrived just in time to see Briton's inhaler- asthma, his mind added unhelpfully, Briton apparently had asthma- go flying onto the floor and the boy slowly regaining his color and a normal breath. Oh, thank God. Thank God Oz hadn't made a mistake and that Briton was fine.

The room was messy, unlike Nate's almost clinical neatness in his room, but Oz didn't mind as he made his way into the room, deftly picking up Briton's inhaler and setting it softly on the dresser, leaving the drawer for now. There were a million questions that he could have asked- was he okay now? Why hadn't he told anyone that he had asthma? What was he thinking leaving his inhaler at home? What had happened earlier with Violet? Was he mad? But those questions were left to their own devices in his head. He didn't want to pry, especially now when Briton was only just beginning to look like his normal self again.

Then Briton began to apologize and Oz was stunned for a moment, confused. What… What was he apologizing for? He hadn't done anything apart from having an asthma attack, and no one could hold the against him. It was only when the halting apology continued that things clicked for Oz. Oh. Oh, Briton.

"Hey, no, don't apologize," in one fluid motions, gangly limbs and all, Oz settled himself in a seated position on the floor next to Briton's bed, gaze determinedly finding Briton's own. This seemed like the sort of conversation that needed them to be face to face, not Briton plastered to Oz's side or Oz looming over the smaller boy. "Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," He paused for a moment, leaning in closer and tugging one of Briton's hands away from his shirt and just holding it for a moment to really make the other boy look at him.

"This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." He gave a small but genuine smile. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."

Something or other stumbled towards her in the dark of the night. Vi tiredly shot her gaze out, wincing and groaning with every movement. Who was it? Was it - Sam, of course it was Sam. why was she even trying to hope that Nate would all of a sudden rush in and be her knight in fucking armor for once. Instead it was Sam - though at least it was better than no one, because Vic was still pretty well ready for another fight, she didn't land any good hits on the bastard, and if she was unlucky, he'd come tearing out in his filthy rage. And Vi was in to much pain to really do anything to try to defend herself at this point. With at least one other person, maybe she'd have a chance.

Doubtful, though, that Vic kicks as hard as fuck, seriously. She heard her name called out, by Sam, nonetheless, and Vi just nodded her head a bit after trying and failing to really make any sounds. The buzz at the back of her head decided at that very moment to explode, making a twin prong of agony in both her chest and her head - goddamnit what a fucking tool, why'd she have to drink so much beer, man - and she hissed in pain in response to Sam's query of if she was hurt. As he scooped her up, she felt the most peculiar sensation as her goddamned the hell rib shifted, making her go rigid in the sudden pain. Her face contorted as she tried to handle it, but failed spectacularly.

Someone else was approaching now, and Vi recognized it as Nate- of course it was, think she could ever mistake that idiotic form of his, that shape that's so loving and - goddamnit, stop going into damn fantasies and get focused on the shit at hand here. From above her, Sam shouted out to Nathan, that Violet needed help and whatnot, and then Sam went onto the ground, laying her own self gently down. She wasn't sure if she felt shitty or not about it - seriously, she was trying to avoid this sort of thing, wasn't she?

Nate, the great Nate, started shouting back in response, and by the time he came, screaming Violet's name in the most dramatic fashion possible, sliding next to her, his voice cracked, wrapping her into his arms as Sam managed to croak out in a tired voice that her rib was broken. Vi was more or less passive during this, trying not to suddenly make any stupid movements - despite her physical condition, all she could think about was how Nate had come to save her, had come to the rescue. The knight in aforementioned fucking armor. He looked positively terrified as he coo'd her name, checking her over and over - had Nate ever looked so closely at her body, let alone the boob area? She blushed even harder, not even managing a squeak as Nathan's eyes scoured over her. If only this were a completely different situation; she really didn't want people to know about super Hero Violet just yet.

Someone else arrived, apparently Charlie? Who quickly reached for his phone - goddamnit the fucking cops, why was he calling the cops? An ambulance? She didn't want to deal with this shit. Answering stupid useless questions, and the eyes clearly judging her as an outsider and thus untrustworthy. It was disgusting. She wanted to just fight her way out of this new mess. Or maybe get back into the house and let Vic and Ryan work her over. Anything was better than the damn cops. Or the hospital. Fuck. She was panicking now but only managed to make little whimpering sounds as she remembered that Nate was still holding her. Abruptly, she was moved up, and a new surge of pain suddenly struck her, making her hiss loudly, crying out in the most pathetically weak voice ever.

It was shit. It was terrible. She wanted to fight right the fuck now. But Nate was now carrying her back to the party, and hopefully this was her chance to at least set one thing right.

"Talk to me, Vi..."Nathan said, in a pleading, desperate tone. "Let me hear your voice...!"

Vi moaned a few times in response, trying to form words that made sense, anything that might've possibly made sense. It was fucking hard, and she couldn't - couldn't think, with all the buzzing in her head, the alcohol swirling around,the panic, and fucking Nate right here, holding her, carrying her, making her all fluttery and shit this didn't even make any sense anymore but eventually she settled on grinning a little at him. Might as well try to enjoy it.

"I'm... a hero." She said weakly, gritting her teeth. "They won't mess... they... fuck, Nate, they won't fuck with Briton anymore. I... fucked'em up harder than they did me, all right. I did it, didn't I?"

She gulped, still feeling drained and weak.

"I did the right thing, didn't I?"

Father ahead, the ambulance had arrived at more or less the same time, with it's wailing siren. A dark thought suddenly occured- wouldn't it be bad if she had to pay the whole hospital bill? Or if her parents found out that she'd been fighting? Taylor couldn't back her up forever, the little snot wasn't the perfect little brother, after all. This was really fucking bad, wasn't it? Vi suddenly tapped Nate's shoulder as best as she could without feeling more pain twinged throughout her body.

"Do I really need the ambulance?" She implored. "I'm fuckin' tough, I can handle this -" She winced as more agony screamed and she couldn't really continue talking. The paramedics saw her and then rushed over to carefully load her into the back of the obnoxious white vehicle. Vi, however, refused to let go of Nathan's hand, looking at him, almost begging.

"Come with me." She finally murmured, looking into his eyes; blushing furiously, as the medical people did their medical shit. "Don't wanna be alone in a fuckin' hospital when my parents get there..."

The dark trees that passed by me as I jogged down the blackened street blurred with the soft lighting from the lights nearby. It was as if I were actually running as fast as I could, despite only having been jogging slightly, so as not to hurt my currently crippled friend. My vision was almost hazy from all the worry and running that had taken place just moments ago, but I was determined to get her back. I knew Charlie and Sam had to be not far behind us, which gave me more courage, as my friends always did in times of hardship, so I used that as my fuel. Violet wasn't alone, and neither was I...

"I'm... a hero." The sound of Violet's voice suddenly hit my ears, almost surprising me, even though I had only just practically begged the girl to say something. I looked down at her face, which was half covered in shadow and the other in moonlight, with the occasional extra lighting from the streetlamps we were passing by. "They won't mess... they... fuck, Nate, they won't fuck with Briton anymore. I... fucked 'em up harder than they did me, all right. I did it, didn't I?" she said, in clear pain. I merely looked back and forth between her and the road ahead as she spoke with a pained expression. I absentmindedly shook my head and gave out an incoherent grunt before my attention was pulled back to her face once more as she repeated herself, only in a smaller voice. "I did the right thing, didn't I?"

Those words made me furrow my eyebrows as I took in the meaning behind what she was saying. She just wanted to be useful. To help her friends when they were in need. I couldn't say with honesty that she didn't do the right thing, but I couldn't entirely commend her for it either... Holding her gaze for a few seconds longer than before, I looked back ahead again.

"I don't know..." I said, finally. I paused for a moment before continuing, balancing my thoughts on her question with that of the current situation. "What you did was stupid, but... I don't think it was 'wrong'." Giving the empty air a quick smirk at the irony in my own words, I berated myself in turn. "Then again, what I did was pretty damn stupid, too..." I gave her a final look as I knew the party was drawing closer to us upon noticing the lights. "You just did what you thought needed to be done, and I can't fault you for that..." Giving the small girl a warm smile, I squeezed her shoulder affectionately, finally looking back up at the front lawn of the house the party was being held at. A sigh of relief escaped my lungs as I slowed to more of a power walk upon seeing a new set of flashing lights; an ambulance. Good. What wasn't good, however, was the police car that was also flashing its lights just beside the ambulance. I already predicted this, but it still sent a shiver down my spine at the thought of what might happen to my remaining friends that were still inside that damn house... Of course, this was a small town, and there was only one car with two officers present, so at most, the likely scenario would have been a simple breaking up of the party, resulting in many teenagers who were obviously far too young to be drinking being forced to flee the scene. Good thing our local law enforcement was generally rather lenient over small stuff like this. But that was just the small stuff...

"Over here!" I shouted at the paramedics, finally coming to a halt just past the front lawn. Of course, that was when Violet tapped my shoulder as gentle as a small child might have done, stealing my attention once more. I merely smiled wryly at her protests of going to the hospital as she couldn't even fully get out her speech regarding how tough she was. "Tough you may be, you're still made of flesh and blood." I said in response just as the paramedics rushed up to meet me, taking Violet out of my arms, save for the one hand she managed to keep tightly clutched with my own, pulling me along with her as she was strapped into the stretcher. Before they loaded her into the back of the ambulance, however, Violet managed to mutter a single request.

"Come with me." she said. Don't wanna be alone in a fuckin' hospital when my parents get there..." All I could do was smile at her and rub my thumb on the back of her small hand as she pleaded with me, finally resulting in me telling her what I had already planned on doing.

"Of course I'm coming with you." I said without hesitation. "If I don't, then who's gonna stop you from trying to escape?" Giving her another smile, I turned my head to the paramedic beside me, giving him a look that said "It's alright, isn't it?", upon which he simply nodded and continued with loading Violet into the ambulance, followed by me, still holding onto the girl's hand. Now sitting down on the small bench-like seat that was beside Violet's stretcher, the doors slammed shut beside us. The paramedic who was also sitting in the back along with us was going over his routine care for the injured as Violet and I continued holding hands. The ambulance didn't waste any time leaving the party, and it wasn't long before we were in motion. I looked down at my friend, who was looking back up at me in turn. I let my gaze fall to the floor as I decided to scold her somewhat after all.

"Hey..." I began, my voice soft, unlike how it was only a few minutes ago. "I know I said that I couldn't fault you for what you did, but..." I paused, looking back up at her, worry clearly on my face. "You're not...a super hero, Violet... You're a 17-year-old girl who shouldn't be..." I paused again, remembering we weren't alone as I eyed the paramedic before blinking back to Violet. "...taking matters into her own hands all the time. I understand that you wanna help the people you love, but there are just some problems that one person can't hope to solve on their own..." What I was saying, despite instantly sounding rather hypocritical to myself, was true. But the difference between what I did and what she did was that I wasn't alone when I made my mistake. I had Oz to help me in case things got especially nasty. She was a young girl who was alone with two violent guys-- guys who made it an effort to take whatever they want, whenever they wanted it, and without any regards to other people and their wishes. If it hadn't been for Briton seeing her go off with them; Sam chasing after her before I did; Charlie following after me... Who knows how bad it would have been. "You can rely on your friends to help you, Vi... Trust me when I say...you're not alone..." I said with a smile as I gripped her hand more firmly. "Alright?" At the time, I didn't realize how ironic it was for me to be feeding someone else such a line. However, the insight that came with it would one day reach me... Only...in the form of another person's words. Someone truly important to me... But we've still got a ways to go before that particular moment.

Samuel Westhouse

He probably looked green as sin, he felt like he was going to be sick any second, partially because of the unpleasant mix of lost adrenaline and booze in his body, and partially because he couldn't quite come to terms with what was in his head. He watched Nate carry Violet away instead of thinking about it. There was a job done somewhat right. Good enough, maybe. At least she wasn't too terribly wounded. She could have died. And it wouldn't even be in the kind of reincarnation-y way he now remembered. They still had a bit of time before that. Suddenly, Sam became aware that someone was standing above him, talking to him. Sam silently let himself be picked up, testing his weight on his feet. His body wouldn't easily forgive him for that stint.

He tried his best not to lean too heavily on the other, and once they made it back to the source of the pulsing sound and bright lights that had been the beginning of this mess he pulled away, forcing himself to take his weight again. "Thanks man," He mumbled to Charlie, bumping him halfheartedly on the shoulder before stumbling away. He heard the boy mention something about an ambulance into his phone before the sounds of the party swallowed him up.

He had to find Paige. He wanted to know what she knew, but at the same time, was it a good idea? What if this was all in his head...some kind of waking lucid dream. Hallucinations were pretty common after pushing himself so hard, but nothing this..vivid. Maybe it was the alcohol's fault. Maybe it would be best to keep it to himself. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

Nobody seemed to even notice him as he pushed through the crowd, maybe they assumed that he was drunk off his ass. He didn't care what they thought. He had more important things to do than worry about any kind of appearance he might have. It wasn't like he spent much time actually in school anyway these days.

He managed to make it over to where he'd first spotted her, but nobody was still there. He stopped for a second. Where could she have gone? Oh yeah, she went to get a drink, didn't she. How long ago had that been? It seemed like ages ago, but he couldn't have been out for that long. Maybe she was still there. He pushed back into the crowd of people, shamelessly cutting through groups of people to make it to the kitchen. Ah, there she was. Cora was there too.

Gratefully he made a direct path to the two and caught himself on the edge of a counter. He should probably rehydrate himself, but would there be anything left at this point that wasn't spiked. "Hey," He started to say, but then his cell phone along with the other girls' buzzed. He produced his from his pocket and looked at who it was from before opening the text. Charlie. He already knew what it was about.

"Vi got hurt." He said abruptly, trying to force himself to breath normally. "Charlie called an ambulance. We should probably leave before the police come to investigate." he hoped at least one of them had brought a car. He really didn't feel like walking home, or walking anywhere. He mostly just wanted to sit down, organize his thoughts, then sleep before his body really turned to jelly. Or he puked. Or both.

He didn't notice that he'd sunk to the floor until he realized that he was looking up at Paige to see her response. He needed to stay on his feet. Was he still pale? He hoped not. He probably looked a sight, he realized. Great. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly, fingers clinging to the counter behind him for support.Yeah, this really wasn't the place for him.

---

This definetly tasted funny, not the way regular punch should have tasted, it kind of had an after taste. Paige thought absentmindedly as she sipped her drink and watched the people around her laugh and talk. Watched girls flirt their way under boys arm with just a smile and a flip of their hair. Why couldn't she be that way, why did she have to be so awkward and weird around boys she liked, well maybe liked. Paige took another sip from her drink, in denial pratically written all over her face.

"I hope you don't mind that I have come to join you."

Paige turned her head to see Cora, a soft smile making its way across her face, illuminating her already pretty appearance. Why couldn't she be like Cora, naturally beautiful. Why had she chose a football over a Barbie? Maybe she wouldn't still be single and still have virgin lips, if she chose the pink skirt over the jersey.

" No not all, I was actually starting to get lonely." Paige flashed the girl a smile and took another sip of her drink.

Yep this definitely tasted funny.

They stood in silence for a while, until Paige finished her drink and made her way across the kitchen to get another one.

"Want a drink?" She called over her shoulder as she slipped by people and was in front of the punch bowl once again. Not waiting for a reply from Cora or hearing one, she made two cups and made her way back to her artistic friend.

"One for you," She handed Cora the cup and gave her a smile. "And one for me. Cheers." Smashing her cup against Cora's she felt the content's of her drink spill over the edge of her cup and onto her hand along with the floor.

She smiled foolishly and mouthed a silent opps before quickly downing the rest of the beverage.

"Another drink?" She asked Cora getting ready to make her way for the punch bowl again unaware if the girl had even taken a sip from her cup. The sudden image of Sam stumbling between two people in her peripheral vision stopped her.

She turned fully just in time to see Sam catch himself on the edge of a counter. Whoa he did not look good, he looked like he had just been through hell. The sudden vibration of her phone in her pocket made her hesitantly tear her eyes away from the boy in front of her and retrieve her phone.

It was Charlie, hmmm it wasn't everyday she got a text from him.

Paige's face twisted into a face of worry as she read the message. Violet was hurt, and going to get in an ambulance. Crap they needed to get to the hospital, not all of them had even turned eighteen, this was not a good sign.

"Vi got hurt. Charlie called an ambulance. We should probably leave before the police come to investigate." Sam got out before sinking to the floor.

Paige instantly reached for him without a second thought. "Are you okay?" She asked as he began to stand.

Slipping an arm around his waste so he wouldn't go tumbling again, she cast a glance at Cora and motioned for her to get his other side.

" Let's get out of here, you brought a car didnt you?" Paige asked Cora, she really wanted to get out of here before the drunken teens basically ran over each other to get out of the house when they finally realized what the flashing lights meant.

They were a few steps away from he door when the siren began to blare and flashing lights entered the house through the windows. Everything seemed to stand still for a minute, only the pounding of the music keeping it from being deathly quiet. All of a sudden it was a sudden flurry of legs and shirts, people and people and more people. Some being helped out like Sam some even running out with their shirts off.

They were barely able to pull Sam through the door as more people squeezed their way out the of the small exit.

" You okay Sam?" Paige asked breathlessly looking up at the male.

Quickly scanning her surrounding she searched the cars littering the area before spotting a car that looked like Cora's.

" I think I see your car Cora." Paige pointed to a car a little ways away.

" Lets go." She whispered the flashing lights behind her starting to make her nervous.

As they finally arrived at the car Piage helped Sam into the back seat and slid in after him, leaving the driving to Cora. Reaching across Sam she caught his eye as she buckled him in. She had never really noticed how blue his eyes were. A blush made its way across her face, was she really admiring his eyes at a time like this?

---

Cora smiled at Paige's response, good she had hoped that would be her answer. There was no way that she wanted to be a bother to Paige. Afterwards Paige had offered her a drink which Cora of course shook her head to but obviously Paige had not seen it due to the fact that she already was giving Cora a drink. Glancing momentarily down at the contents of the drink she looked at Paige then carefully smashed her cup against Paige and taking a step back in case any contents of the drink decided to spill over the side. Cora's smile grew as she heard Paige utter a soft opps under her breath. It was then that Cora finally took a tiny sip of the drink, wondering what it really was because it didn't taste like it looked. After her sip she watched as Paige surprisingly downed the entire cup of what ever this drink was. She shook her head, taking another small sip of the drink. "Another drink?" She heard Paige say to her before her expression changing. Cora would have said no anyways so it didn't mater if she didn't respond. Turning in the direction that Paige was looking she noticed Samuel stumbling in.

Not once had she even thought to check her phone when it had vibrated in her pocket. "Vi got hurt. Charlie called an ambulance. We should probably leave before the police come to investigate." Cora heard Samuel as Paige went to help him stand up. Cora's face went from suddenly worried to really, really worried. Quickly she put her cup down, moving towards Samuel and slipping a frail arm around him to help Paige hold him up. She nodded to most of Paige's questions and helped Paige support Samuel all the way to the car. On their way there it was like a battle, people fled from the house as flashing lights and sirens blared as they pulled up.

Once they arrived some what safely at Cora's car and both Paige and Sam were buckled up in the backseat with the back doors closed she slid into the driver's seat, glancing in the rear view mirror in case Lacey or Amber happened to stumble out of the house. Perhaps they were already out and at the hospital though. Sighing softly she threw any items that had previously been gripped in one hand into the passenger seat and retrieved her keys. Quickly she turned her car on and threw it into drive. The flashing lights were getting close and there was once a police man that came into Cora's view. Her foot tapped the gas and she soon began to maneuver around a couple frantic people who were making their way to their car. Once they were away from people and had made it fully onto a main road she stepped on the gas more, waiting until she could no longer see the flashing lights or even just hear the sirens. She wove carefully past and around cars before soon she began to slow down a good 5 mph. Letting out a long breath of relief she glance in the rear view mirror at Samuel and Paige. "Sorry," She apologized quickly. "How are you guys doing?" She asked as she returned her eyes to the road and tried to pay attention to where she was going. One hand gripped the wheel firmly as she reached over and grabbed her phone from the passenger seat. She reviewed the message quickly, only glancing up a couple times to make sure she wasn't swerving into the other lane. Once she was positive about where she was going she click the phone off and tossed it to the side as she began to once again maneuver her way around to get to where she was going. Although she didn't speed up nor drive like a crazy person. Carefully pressing the on button on her music she turned it way down to where you could just barley hear it. "Um, do you guys need anything? You good back there?" She questioned with a worried look. Her hand stayed near the radio as she clicked it to a station that she liked which was playing Brave by Sara Bareilles. Cora sighed softly, turning it down another notch so that you really could barley hear it. In fact she made the music only be able to play in the front of the car unless they wanted to listen to music. They weren't far from the hospital or at least she didn't think they were.

"Hey, no, don't apologize," Oz urged, and Briton continued to avoid his gaze, keeping his face shrouded by his own hands while shutting his eyes tightly. He had only made the mistake once of glancing to his friend, for a mere moment after Oz had said the statement, and having noticed the other boy's placement on the ground in front of him, trying his best to catch his eyes. The look Oz was giving him made his guts wrench and twist, making him feel just that little more sick with guilt. Oz was just a nice guy. He cared about all his friends, so of course he was quick to jump to help the one who needed him. He'd have done it if one of his other friends were feeling unwell, too, and the thought alone was enough to dig deep inside of Briton's stomach and bring back bitter feelings about himself and this... this obsession. Just because he couldn't be Oz's priority all of the time, just because he was nothing special, just because he was absolutely fucking selfish. And yet being Oz's priority right now didn't matter. Getting his attention like this wasn't how he wanted it. He didn't want to be the damsel in distress, and yet... was that the only way to get anyone to pay any attention at all?

"Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," Briton's eyes widened and he couldn't help but stare helplessly into the other boy's eyes while he spoke, holding onto one of his hands in order to grab his attention and hold it there. He was so close, now, leaning towards Briton intensely. "This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." Oz continued, and he gave a small smile, one that was just sweet enough, just caring and concerned enough, to make Briton feel like he was melting. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."

Briton sighed, simply closing his eyes to avoid the look Oz was giving him while he gave a small nod, biting his lip. There was nothing he could do much more, the way Oz stayed so close, hanging right in the place where Briton's downcast gaze would have gone as well. Averting his eyes to another place was too difficult, with Oz right in front of him. He simply stayed quiet for a moment, trying his best not to think about how wrong the other boy was, how close the other boy was, or likewise, the sensation in his hand, completely enveloped in Oz's own gentle hand. He felt like his cheeks were hot, as if the situation wasn't difficult to deal with as it was. After a moment of sheer hesitation, knowing very well the reason for his hesitation in the first place, he plucked his hand away from Oz's, settling it down against his own stomach instead, which still felt awful. Finally opening his eyes again, he turned his head completely away from Oz, putting up his free hand to his face once more to shield his probably reddened cheeks from the view of his friend.

"Sorry," He finally said, though he instantly regretted the apology, seeing as it was, more or less, an apology for apologizing. He shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat uncomfortably. "It's just that... I never had to say anything about it at all. I could have stayed quiet and the point is they couldn't have done anything to make me tell them." His voice was soft, a little bit strained. He hardly even wanted to think about it. What would the night have been like if he'd just kept his trap shut like he would have on any normal damn day? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have gone with Vic and Ryan... He wouldn't have had to go to the party and he wouldn't have had an asthma attack. "If they didn't even know, then... then we wouldn't have any problems right now."

The last part of the sentence seemed to almost come out in a whine, Briton squeezing his eyes shut and letting the hand which had previously been hiding his blush clamp over his own mouth instead, as if it could hold back completely the tears he had been fighting so hard against all day. Why did opening up about something have to end in worrying about his friends' stupidity? About their ideas of "protecting" him. Most of all, why did he have to worry so much about their damn safety? They couldn't keep themselves out of danger when it came to that kind of thing. It was like the worst thing to do was suddenly the right thing in their minds. Did they really think they were helping at all? Briton turned back to Oz suddenly, slipping down from the edge of the bed where he sat and collapsing against the other boy, wrapping his arms around him and letting his face bury into Oz's shirt while the emotions suddenly spilled over, choking him and blurring his vision. Today was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even care that he was now guilty for making poor Oz's shirt wet with tears.

His body shook in quivers and sobs, unable to stop them any longer. He should have known there would be tears today, his earlier emotional outbursts only coming in little shocks of shouting and panicking. The tears were bound to come eventually when he couldn't take it anymore. Normally he was good, normally he could hold it back, leave it alone, but it seemed that no one else shared his preference of leaving it alone. Every single occurrence seemed to pull at each previous event, forcing him to pay attention to all the continuous bad luck he was having. Forced, mocking lips pressed against his, flesh scraped on pavement, an interrogation from his friend and everyone's attention all at the same time, an awful party, Nathan fighting, Violet leaving to fight, and an asthma attack. He felt humiliated and degraded and... It was as if he didn't have a say in what was happening around him at all anymore. The only control he'd ever held over his friends was by withholding information from them. And Oz... Well, surely Oz would never have raised a hand against anyone unless it was deemed absolutely necessary and he'd gotten the okay from Briton, but Oz was a talker. And even that in itself was a problem. He thought that he could fix things with words, and even if that didn't cause anyone any immediate danger, Briton couldn't be sure about anyone in earshot of Oz's words. Information was too dangerous for reckless people, and Briton wasn't so sure about taking any chances.

"Today's just been fucking shit," Briton whined, finally able to get any words out at all, though they remained slightly muffled from Briton's positioning. "You guys don't even know what Vic's been doing and now he probably thinks that I actually did tell and... and I don't know what he's gonna do." He took in a sharp breath before trying to continue, careful to leave out bigger details for his own sake. "And Violet went off on some speech about how she was a vigilante or some shit before she left the party with Vic and Ryan and god knows what trouble she's getting herself into..."

As if on cue, Briton could feel his phone vibrating, and though, in any other given situation, he probably would have ignored it, given the circumstances he was fearing the worst. He leaned away from Oz, wiping at his own face with one hand to try and clear the crying to his face while he found his own place sitting on the cramped floor, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check what it was. The screen was difficult to focus on, and the brightness of it alone was enough to hit at the headache he still maintained. He almost made a reach for his reading glasses, which, though they were often in their small case in his pocket, were inconveniently in his backpack, which he remembered had been thrown into the backseat of his car a while back, only to be forgotten about. Squinting instead and deciding to merely just strain his eyes, he finally noticed what the alert was; Charlie had texted him about Violet.

Briton found himself shaking again, locking his phone and putting it down on the ground slowly while he rubbed firmly at his eyes, biting his lip. "Damnit," he muttered, words even showing signs of his shaking. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." He inhaled sharply, putting both of his over his eyes firmly. "That's just icing on the cake, isn't it? As if today wasn't bad enough."

He clenched his jaw, dropping his hands down and simply sat there for a moment, staring down absently at a cluster of wires on the ground before standing up, using Oz's shoulders as a support to get himself up off of the ground. His chest was feeling tight and empty, not quite as bad as how it had been earlier, but he could feel his panic settling into his lungs again, and quietly weaved around Oz to take his inhaler from the top of the dresser and, after as much of an exhale as he could manage, put it to his lips and took a deep breath, before setting it back down again.

"I just feel so fucking helpless," Briton finally uttered when he had the air to speak clearly again. He made the short journey back over to where Oz was on the floor, plopping down on the ground directly next to him and pulling his own legs in close, his knees almost to his chin, while he pulled at the bandaging that was beginning to become loose after all the movement. "I'm so tired of everyone seeing me as this damn damsel in distress and thinking they have to save me. It's like... I'm below you guys or something. I'm just helpless and weak and i need to be protected. And that fucking sucks, by the way, but then someone goes and does something stupid and gets themselves hurt and they think that's going to help me in some way?"

He let his body slump over, then, his body leaning over to connect against Oz's again and staying right up against him indulgently. He supposed that as long as he could get away with it, it wasn't hurting anybody. "I just... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt for my sake. It didn't matter if it was just me, 'cause it wasn't so bad. I could handle it and I didn't care that much."

Briton bit his lip a moment, before picking his head up from where it had been pressed up against his friend, attempting to give Oz a pleading look right in the eyes. "And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton begged, his voice somewhat small and clearly a bit hesitant. "Please. I know it's like a serious thing and stuff, but I mean, do you really think if you went around telling all our friends that they're gonna keep it quiet? They'll probably start using it like some kind of excuse for me." He sighed, dropping his head back down where it had been against the other boy. "I can just imagine Nate going up to someone and saying something stupid like that they can't beat me up because I have asthma... I guess I just don't want everyone to treat me like i'm even weaker than I already am."

He rubbed the corner of his eye with one hand, feeling so drained from the day at large, and tired of everything. He was tired of these fights and these events. Hell, he was even tired of himself, he supposed. "I guess that's kind of dumb and selfish," Briton continued. "But that fact isn't really changing my mind on the matter either, so whatever."

Samuel Westhouse

He was again drifting, two different arms around him, pulling him along. He really needed to pull himself together. Deep breaths. Okay. Okay. He just needed to sit down again maybe. Take the stress off his body and put it elsewhere. There was little chance to focus now though, with all the people hurrying out in different states of consciousness and ability. Nobody wanted to get caught here. Would they know who called the cops? Sam hoped not. Charlie would get some kind of hell for that. Once Violet got better, she was going to get some kind of hell for what she'd done too. Nate's face, the way he'd been talking to her had told Sam that the boy was really shaken up by that turn of events. Sam was having some difficulty keeping all the strands of his life in their own place, mostly thanks to the booze and exhaustion in his system. Who was alive? Who had died? In which bodies? Was he even alive right now?

The dark haired boy glanced at his hands as he partly sat partly fell into Cora's car. No, he was there. So was Cora. So was Paige. That was good. Nate was alive. Charlie was alive. Violet was maybe alive. Mostly alive. That left four unaccounted for in his mind. He'd wait and see if they were okay. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

"I'm fine." He responded to the question Paige had posed in the door way much too late. She smelled like booze too. Did she drink? No, he didn't think so. Maybe he was imagining it. He tried to help her pull the seat belt over his chest, and her eyes caught his. He stared at her for a second, trying to ground himself in this reality.

His name was Samuel Westhouse. He was in Cora Donovan's car, Paige Parker was sitting next to him. They were all in their normal bodies. Okay. Okay. That was good enough for now. He'd sort out the rest of the blurry thoughts later. Yeah. That was good. Cora spoke up, asking how they were doing. "We're good." He said, his voice too soft at first but peaking much louder than he'd meant it to. "Thanks Cora."

Dark scenery passed around them, highlighted by headlights. Were they going to the hospital for Vi? Probably. That was a good idea. He didn't even know how she was doing. He'd just left her with Nate. That was the way to do things though. Nate was better with problems than he was. Of course he was. Nate was the leader. Sam leaned back in his seat and sighed loudly, letting his exhaustion rush out of his body in a huge gust of air.

"Hey." He said, his hand going to Paige's shoulder suddenly as a thought popped in his head. His voice came out very gently slurred, as if he was inventing the words just as they tumbled out of his mouth, just a little too fast and a little too slow at the same time. "You never did...get your dance." He looked away for a second, a slightly awkward expression passing his face for a half second. "You think an IOU would...be good? Or a pickup game in...that old lot...tomorrow?" Maybe now, when they were hurrying off to make sure one of their other friends was okay, wasn't the time nor the place for this kind of thing, but he really needed a distraction. He had certainly pushed himself past his bodily limit in both drinking and exertion, and perhaps in mental taxation, if his current mental wasn't a reality, and he was going to have to pay up for all those things at some point. He'd just leave it for later. It was easier to fall apart when he was alone to pick himself back up without having to worry about the well being of his friends. Right now he should focus on Cora and Paige.

He examined her for few more minutes. He could still smell sweet alcohol in her breath, off her body. Maybe he should ask her about that. She'd gotten on him for doing that kind of stuff before, she didn't seem one to just start randomly. Anyway, he only did it because there wasn't anywhere else for him to go, so what was the point in staying in top physical condition. She, on the other hand, could go off and play college level. She couldn't be doing those kinds of things to her body. Okay, maybe he was being a bit protective, and hypocritical, but really. He wanted the best for all his friends, because they deserved it.

"Have..have you been drinking?" He asked her cautiously, his own voice stumbling over the words, after a few more moments deliberation. His perpetually sleepy eyes flicked from her to the cut of Cora's face he could see in the rear view mirror. Cora would be able to answer it if Paige didn't."No-not that there's anything wrong with that...I just didn't know you..." he trailed off, losing the thought before he could finish speaking.

Charlie watched Violet be loaded into the ambulance and Nate hop in after.

A relieved smile found its way on Charlie's face as he placed his hands on his head. She was going to be okay, Violet was going to be okay, he let out a gust of air.

Charlie glanced behind him to see teenagers pouring from the house and scattering in every direction.

Crap, he would definitely be buzzkill of the year, along with the biggest loser, and probably would never be invited to a party for the rest of his natural born life. Also second crap because he didn't have a ride. The police were here and he did not need to be taken to jail for under age drinking. He was pretty sure Briton had left and he had no idea where any of his friends were, so he was basically up the stream without a paddle, unless he could somehow run out of here, which he could probably do, but he would most likely be the last one to the hospital and he was still tired from running with Nate.

"Hey son!" Charlie turned to see an older police officer wobbling towards him, seeming in no big rush to get to him.

Now he probably should have stayed and heard what the police officer had to say, he probably now looked guilty for whatever reason, but he took off anyway, his legs taking him the opposite direction of the man, before his brain had even caught up to what he was doing.

He kept running until he could barely make out the sound of the sirens, his body running on pure adrenaline unlike when he had been following Nate. He gradually slowed his run into a jog until he was walking again, sometimes peering over his shoulder to check for any signs of flashing lights.

He was alone.

The streets seemed more empty than they actually were, as the dim streetlights overhead lulled Charlie into an exhausted state. A gentle chill blew past him as loneliness set in.

He was alone, when it all came down to it he was alone.

Of course he wasn't truly alone, he would pass houses with the t.v. still flickering or a light upstairs still on, but mentally he was alone.

Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets, how had he ended up walking alone in the dark again.

It was a domino effect maybe, starting when Sam had left him, staggering around somewhere in search of someone else, someone who wasn't the loud obnoxious, self-centered blonde. Even in his dazed state Sam had chosen not to be in the company of Charlie.

Violet and Nate were in the ambulance on their way to the hospital. He hadn't gotten asked to ride in the ambulance. But maybe he was just being selfish now. Still no one had even bothered to ask Charlie to come with them. It seemed like no one ever did. Not when Charlie had forced his way into Briton's home or when he randomly followed Nate. He had done it by his own will.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the dark sky, the stars were begging to come out, almost out shinning the dull moon.

The beauty of the view made him think of Briton, which made him think of Oz, and how they were probably off somewhere enjoying their time together. Without Charlie, without the pest who had first brought up Briton's knee and ultimately doomed Violet. Had Briton even thought about him, he was Charlie's ride and without him he had left him deserted-. Charlie stopped mid-thought and stopped walking, instantly reaching for his phone. Crap, he hadn't even called to make sure if Briton was okay. What if he hadn't been able to start breathing, what if...but just seeing Oz hovering over Briton and them...them touching. Charlie could feel his insides turning and his blood start to boil again, as jealousy wove it's fingers around his heart. His finger hovered over the call button that would hopefully end up in hearing Briton's voice. He didnt need to call him, Briton was with Oz. Knowing the caring, kind and lovable Oscar Glass, Briton was fine. More than fine.

Charlie shook his head and started walking again. He needed to stop thinking about them, about him. Briton had started clouding his thoughts, and it was kind of getting hard to think straight.

He was alone again as his thoughts ceased. Alone without a ride. And without anyone knowing where he was if he suddenly were to drop dead.

But who could he blame really but himself for being alone? Charlie's thoughts drifted to all the girls hearts he had broken. The ones who he had told he loved them just to get in their pants, and how alone they must have felt after seeing him in the hallways with another girl.

He thought of his dad who was probably out somewhere gambling, partying or passed out drunk somewhere. The guy wouldn't care or even notice if Charlie came home or not.

Charlie kicked a rock sending it flying across the street before it hit the bumper of a car and bounced off.

Dammit he hated being alone. He hated everything about the feeling, how it could way down on you until it crushed you. Just the way this stinky old town did. He would never get of here, he already knew it. He would rot and die in this town. Alone without his "friends" who would leave and probably forget about him. His mind went over his short life, and what he had become.

He had become nothing, his grades were sometimes average, but maybe only on a good year, because it was cool to skip school and not turn in your homework and he had better things to do than study. He wasnt going to college because he was too cool. Wow did that sound stupid. Too cool. Hopefully he wasn't too cool for 'would you like fries with that.'

He was even that friend. The friend who was usually just invited so that no one felt guilty about not inviting the person. Did anyone truly want him there? It didn't seem like anyone was really psyched whenever he showed up, he didnt remember ever having Amber or Sam calling him to hang out. Nope, but what did it matter. He didnt need his friends. They obviously didnt need him. Look here he was walking down the street alone feeling sorry for himself, and basically crying because no one wanted to hang out with him. How pathetic. He needed to stop worrying about what his friends thought. He wasn't weak.

"Hey Charlie!" Charlie turned to see a car coming towards him. "Hey Charlie you need a ride?" The car pulled up beside him, revealing his friend Mike hanging out the window and the girl from earlier at the party in the passenger seat, along with two people he couldn't identify in the back.

"Uhh sure." Charlie muttered hopping into the backseat. The car pulled off. "Hey can you drop me off at the hospital?"

"Why do you need to go there?" The girl beside him asked blowing a bubble with her gum.

Charlie shrugged, he didnt want to say too much and then have them figure out he was the one who ruined the party.

"Hey do you guys even know who called the cops?" The girl in the front seat asked turning around and peering at the people behind her.

"Probably a cranky neighbor." Mike huffed turning down a street.

"Well actually I heard Oz did it." The words tumbled out of Charlie's mouth before he even realized what he was doing.

"Oz...?.." Mike repeated seeming confused.

"Yeah Oscar Glass, tall..uhh dark blonde hair."

"Oh I know who your talking about," The girl beside him nodded. "Yeah too bad he's a buzzkill I actually thought he was cute."

"Man are you kidding, I have to tell Vanessa, she said she was going to kill whoever called the cops. Guess what, she brought her little brother, something about her parents making her babysit, but anyway he was in the bathroom when everyone ditched, including her. Can you believe that she left her own brother." The girl in the front seat laughed and turned around, whipping out her phone and begging to type out the message.

Charlie was almost about to tell the girl to stop, to tell her no don't call Vanessa he couldn't do that to Oz, he would no likely be on everyone's hate list for a while, but the thought of Oz and Briton clouded his mind again, so he sat back and looked out the window. She could tell anyone she liked.

The hospital came into view the car slowed in front of the entrance of the building.

"Thanks for the ride." Charlie called getting out of the car and heading into the building.

Not everything in this world can be solved with a simple talking to. If it could, then world peace could have been achieved with nothing more than a brief conversation, and bullying and crimes would vanish with a simple sigh. While Briton's issues were a little more simplistic than world peace(only barely because teenagers really are that complicated), they did fall under the same category of no simple fix. Oz could reason and coo and hug all day and all night, but, at the end of the day, it wasn't that simple, Briton wouldn't feel magically better. It hadn't worked three years ago, a year ago, a month ago, or any time that Oz had found himself in the position of comforting Briton. That didn't mean, of course, that he wouldn't try. So, when Briton slid down onto the floor, suddenly latching onto Oz and burying his face in his shirt, Oz simply wrapped his arms around him as snugly as a security blanket, rubbing his back soothingly.

He wanted to tell Briton that he wasn't the source of the group's problems, that they all had many, many issues of their own. He wanted to make him understand that what others did to him wasn't right by any stretch of the imagination, that they were at fault and should be stopped. He wanted to be able to wave a hand so that everything would magically fix itself, vanishing away Vic and Ryan or making them see reason and beg Briton for forgiveness. However, what Oz wanted was impossible or, in the case of telling Briton things he already knew, futile and unwelcome at the moment. Briton knew how Oz felt about all of this, had heard the taller boy say it over and over in a variety of situations that tended to end up like this. Besides, since when did Oz do what he wanted? Doing what he wanted caused problems for others, made them dislike him and stay away. He did what others needed, and, for right now, that involved hugging Briton closer to himself, holding him tightly and anchoring him to this world as if to say without words that for all the problems in his life right now, Oz wasn't one of them.

Briton continued to sob, breath catching between each wracking breath. To see such a good friend in such a state of despair and emotional turmoil was painful, and to know that he couldn't do anything was even more so. But he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything because then he would be burdening Briton, wouldn't he? If he started getting upset or crying himself, then Briton wouldn't feel like he could tell him things anymore and he'd keep these awful feelings bottled up, weighing him down. Like, well, like Oz did, and he couldn't let that happen to Briton.

Briton was talking now, voice muffled in Oz's shirt, but he could still hear it, and feel the words spilling from Briton's lips. It raised- it raised too many questions, too many alarms in just a few words. What did he mean that they didn't know what Vic had been doing? What was this about Violet ranting about being a vigilante? She'd gone after Vic and Ryan? Why and how? None of this news made a lot of sense right now, and hadn't this night been traumatic enough for everyone involved without all of this coming out? How out of the loop WAS Oz?

He let Briton go with little struggle when his phone vibrated, but was unable to keep his eyes away from the other boy as his face transformed, twisting with apparent worry, and the shaking began again.

"Damnit." Just that first word had Oz's stomach twisted in knots, and it only got worse as Briton finished his report. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." Oz didn't bother to hide the surprise that fell over his features. Violet was in the hospital? Why? Was it serious? Oh, of course it was serious, she was in the hospital, the hospital. What should he do about it? Should he do anything? He didn't have his license, it was so late out that it was almost early… Besides, a bunch of kids hanging around the hospital who weren't actually related to her wouldn't be able to get in, anyways, and Violet… Violet probably wouldn't want him there.

No, she definitely wouldn't want him there, regardless of why she was in the hospital. Violet and he hadn't really gotten along with each other for some time, not since the day that she left him waiting in the park for hours, only for him to later see her getting out of the car of what he could only assume was some secret older boyfriend. No, he didn't understand, but she'd refused to speak with him for ages, and they only hung around each other for group activities now. He was worried, of course he was, she was his friend, and probably still was for all of their issues, but… But he couldn't help her if she didn't even want to be in the room alone with him, and Briton needed him. Probably. Maybe he didn't need Oz specifically, but he was a convenient shoulder to cry on, wasn't he? So, he listened, taking in the choked confession of weakness, and tears, and worries while wrapping an arm around Briton's shoulders, feeling each shuddering breath.

"And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton was staring at him imploringly, and how could Oz refuse him anything after all of that? Besides it made sense. He didn't like it, but it made sense. Briton really was treated like delicate porcelain by a good majority of the group, something Oz himself could be guilty of, and to add asthma onto all of that would only aggravate the problem. It wasn't wise, but Oz knew his friends- well, thought he knew his friends- and recognized what they would probably do with that information. If one conversation about bullying had prompted Nate to challenge someone in a booze-fueled party, had raised threats at the diner, had prompted Violet into becoming some sort of vigilante, he could only imagine that it would become ten times worse with the knowledge that Briton was asthmatic.

"O-O," the word was caught in Oz's throat, a stammer created by pent up emotion slurring his speech. He knew how he wanted to respond, but after everything that had just been dealt to him emotionally and mentally, it was hard to speak, hard to get his meaning across. He was choking on it now, vocal chords and mouth refusing to cooperate before it all tumbled out into a quick, "Iwontellem."

He took a deep breath, repeating it now with slower and more precise words. "I won't tell anyone." Oz would know, though, another secret locked away in his mind, and he could use that information in case something happened. There was quiet then, for a moment, as Oz quelled his raging emotions, not meeting Briton's eyes for the longest time because if he did- well, then he was going to need comforting himself, and he wasn't putting that job on Briton or anyone for that matter.

The silence passed, and with it Oz's bout of speechlessness. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" He searched for the word, "okay." When Briton wasn't just coming away from an asthma attack, and when Oz was certain he himself wouldn't cause a scene. "Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Because, right now, if Briton just looked at him the right way after the day that both of them had had, he'd probably agree to do just about anything.

Everything still hurt like fuck. The paramedic-or-whatever-the-shit did their medical thing, but Vi just mostly tried t shut them out. She didn't want to deal with this bullshit, it was stupid. Just a broken rib, she'd totally be fine. You don't need a rib to beat the shit out of assholes, right? She fumed - her anger only abating slightly when Nate, the glorious Nate, agreed to her pitiful and pathetic request.

"Of course I'm coming with you." He said instantly. "If I don't, then who's gonna stop you from trying to escape?" And then he did that smile that reminded her of the old days, way back, when Nate wasn't this antisocial weirdo, back when he actually... played with her, did stuff with her, instead of being all alone and stuff. Of course - it did suck that she wouldn't be able to escape. And it was just like her closest friend to automatically know that she was planning on getting away at some point. Didn't need ribs to run, right? Nate climbed in after her, and the doors closed, blocking them out from the rest of the world, and that shitty party. Her teeth ground and her jaw clenched tensely, as she spared a few thoughts to her friends at the party - did they get away before the cops had stopped it? They were gonna stop it, right?

Ugh, hospitals. Health care. All that expensive fuckery. Why did Vi have to give a shit about all of it? Why couldn't she just be all "get away from me" and then just leave like that? She felt herself being strapped down onto the stretcher - arms and legs and whatever. She shot a fierce panicked glance at the medic - goddamnit to hell this is just way too similar to what Rope Guy did, the fucker - but he placed his hand on her forehead, as if motioning for her to lie still. Idiot. But it was then that Nate grabbed her attention once again - almost as if he knew about her phobia. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

"Hey... I know I said that I couldn't fault you for what you did, but..." A pause, and a worried frown splayed across his face. Violet furowed her brow - this is exactly why she didn't want anyone to know about her tendencies! She didn't want them to worry - to judge her, to reject her or try to stop her... "You're not...a super hero, Violet... You're a 17-year-old girl who shouldn't be... taking matters into her own hands all the time. I understand that you wanna help the people you love, but there are just some problems that one person can't hope to solve on their own..."

But she had to solve them on her own, didn't he understand at all? Vi struggled to force herself up, wanting to argue back with Nate on an even level - equal ground n all - but she couldn't, and the painkillers being pumped through her system certainly didn't help things, giving her a bit of a nagging tired feeling at the back of her head.

"You can rely on your friends to help you, Vi... Trust me when I say...you're not alone..." He then gripped at her hand - in response, Vi almost jumped with the shock, as electricity sparked between them. And with that, a deep blush formed across her cheeks yet again, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or the fact that Nate was right fucking there - and that she was tied up, restrained, unable to move.

Just like Rope Guy.

"Alright?"

"Hypocrite." Violet muttered, trying her best to not think about the straps holding her down. "You... you talk about how I gotta trust my friends more..." She send an angry glare in his direction, trying her best to force the blush away. "But I ain't the only one that deals with shit by herself, y'know? I'm... stupid, that's old news. But don't think I didn't notice that somethin' big musta happened to you, t'make you all anti-social and shit." She let out an exasperated, over-exaggerated sigh. "I... I dunno, Nate, I get the feelin' that you're dealin' with deep shit. And that you think you can't trust any of us 'bout it."

She let that sink in for a few moments, listening to the wail of the ambulance as they neared the hospital. She sighed again, this time out of tiredness than anything. Briton. Was he okay? Did the two fucktards back off yet? Will they stop pissing on him all the time? The pathetic friend... Brit deserved better. Anger coursed through her veins yet again as she thought about the two fucktards. She went too easy on'em. Didn't even get to cripple either of them. She messed up. She messed the fuck up.

Justice hadn't been dealt out just yet. As long as she had a weapon, the rib wouldn't be a problem, right? She knew where Chaffon lived, at least... she could easily take him out. Once she got some time alone. But first...

"Uh." Vi's voice turned softer, back to it's more neutral state. "...Thanks for, y'know. Coming with me. I'd probably be freakin' out about stupid shit right now if you didn't." She then relaxed, forcing herself to not acknowledge the bonds. "...Sorry, but I'm gonna keep doin' things as I've always been. You'll probably keep shuttin' us out too, so... it's even, I guess."

The ambulance stopped. The medic quickly tended to the straps, and Violet let out a sigh of relief, rubbing at her wrists absently. They then loaded her out of the ambulance - a feeling of dread as Vi knew that she'd somehow have to break the news to her family. She felt around - yup, her phone was still strapped to her thigh. She quickly whipped it out, firing a text to her brother about what had just happened.

Hopefully he'd be able to word it better to her parents so that they didn't freak out.

About half an hour, and a bunch of medical stuff later, Vi was dazed, almost asleep in her hospital bed, unable to stop fidgeting with the swelling on her chest, playing with the ice rather than placing it over the subtle inflammation. Anything to keep her mind off of when her parents arrived.

Lacey looked up, or was it down? She couldn't seem to remember anymore. Her feet seemed to be above her, the floor the same. It was as if someone had turned the place upside down, but rather than fall with gravity, she was glued to her spot, just barely hanging on. The music pounded against her, hitting her on the sides of the head, punching her in the gut. She straightened out her neck, still unsure as to which direction it surely was that she was angling towards now. Everything in the room was amplified, twisted, and amplified again. She let her toes dangle off the edge of the tiled kitchen - now how she had gotten in there would have crossed her mind if other things did not take up priority at the moment - not daring to take the step forward and let herself free-fall off of what looked like a cliff. The churning, dark wood loomed thousands of feet further than her toes.

Her lips parted and she breathed in a heavy dose of low bass and dubstep, enough to fill her lungs and weight them down to the ceiling. She lifted her hands, pushing up against the skin on her cheeks, the sensation of them as if they were melting and sinking off. Everything felt so full and yet so empty. She felt empty. Bodies moved about her in a hurricane, and their words and thrashing and movements felt noisy. Their words felt tight and firm like an anaconda wrapping about her limbs. She had to escape them, she had to move, but her eyes wandered back down - or up - to the cliff, her feet shuffling from side to side on the icy white tile hesitantly. She was stuck, trapped in a cage of living flesh on three sides, and a fall to her death on the fourth. One step and she would fall, and drown in the churning oak.

Lacey took a deep breath of the toxic music, which she could feel swimming around her head in colorful clouds, leaking out her nose and her ears and the corners of her eyes. She had to do it, she had to, or she'd stay trapped forever. Amber, that was right. She had to get back to Amber. Where had the girl gone? Was she trapped somewhere else? Lacey swallowed down the salty taste of her fear, a reddish, grayish taste that clawed it's way down her throat, and readied herself just one more moment, before she pushed herself. In fact, she could feel her own hands on her back, physically throwing herself down off of the tile cliff. Soon, she was rolling through the deep brown, wooden sea, until she landed, her back flat to the sky and her body motionless and tingling like television static in a tangled nest of her own hair. The bodies had become tall, slim trees, swaying and dancing about her. The cage was gone, but she was unsure that she could even get up from her place, listening to the sound of swimming clouds and breathing in the pulsing colors and breathing out through her pores as if she was giving off toxins. She had to get up. She had to, didn't she? She was so ready to melt for a moment, drown and lay there, before she remembered a more pressing issue - Amber. Where was Amber? For a split second she forgot the pull of what tied her to the ground, escaping the bounds tied about her wrists by her own hair and jumping up in the midst of the crowd.

Something deep in the whispers prickling on her skin told her that Amber was floating, but Amber found herself grounded to the ceiling. There was no way she would be flying anywhere. She wound her way around the crowd, music beating and battering her in every direction for a while. She found herself losing track again for a while, body thrusting and combining with those on the dance floor, merging and becoming one beating entity of chaos and confusion. One of the boys from earlier was there, and she recognized him, feeling an awful sense prickling disgust as he tried to blend their skin together. The momentary lapse in the mood switched in an instant. She was trapped. She was being pulled away. She was drowning. Vanessa was drowning. Who was Vanessa? She'd remembered, but suddenly she'd forgotten again. Poor Vanessa, sitting at the bottom of a pool, choking on chlorine, who was she? It was her, wasn't it? No, no, this was Lacey. I'm Lacey, she assured, I'm drowning... Maybe we both are.

She put her hands to her throat gently, her body waving away from the other that moved so closely to hers that she was beginning to forget where hers ended and his started. She couldn't breath, she couldn't move, and she was beginning to feel that panic again. She was quick, when her mind suddenly traversed again, soaring away from her back over to Amber. Her body twisted quickly and her elbow knocked into the other body beside her, separating them and letting him fall to who knew where while she raced off, hurrying for a place she was sure she needed to go, though had no idea what it was.

She stood a moment facing the corner of the room, eyes shutting as her body felt an odd sensation run along her hip. It stung into her and she had to think while she reached for her pocket, beginning to realize just what it was. Her phone, it was a text, it had been on vibrate. Pulling it out and nearly forgetting how to unlock it, she quickly scanned over the message, before trying to read it over again more closely, seeing as the first scan of the words had left her high and dry, not understanding a word. Violet. Violet was... Hurt. A rush of panic rushed all around her, stabbing her and biting at her. It was happening, it was happening all over again.

What was happening?

All she could think clearly of was that she was scared. This was bad, and this was frightening. She was going to die. Amber was going to die. Violet was going to die. She felt as though she were falling downward though still she stood in place, dark enveloped her, attacking her physically. It reached into the pit of her gut and pulled at her, making her feel awful and sick.

"We need to find her. She's in trouble!" A voice suddenly called. When Lacey turned, it was Amber, and a little bit of the fear biting at her and pulling at her seemed to be scared off by the girl's presence. Lacey made what seemed like the biggest effort she'd ever made to try and focus, just to move and place her phone in her pocket, just in time for Amber grabbing her and flying off with her, soaring out of the building on the colorful wings of a warning from someone else. It was about Violet, wasn't it? They had to find her. That was far more important than the panic.

"We NEED to go to the hospital. NOW." Amber had blurted and Lacey's eyes finally began to process the confines of the car, her hand squeezing Amber's so tightly that she couldn't tell who's hand was whose. The car got tighter and tighter, and the roar of it all was taking place of that darkness she'd felt earlier, it's hand gripping tightly around her stomach and shaking it every so often. Her paranoia was yelling at her, calling her names that she didn't realize she was associated with. She quickly pressed herself against Amber, and felt just a little bit better, like her own self was getting smothered out while she payed more attention to Amber's being. Amber was such a beautiful bird. Lacey didn't want her to die.

Violet was trying to reason with me the best way that she could from her current position. She seemed to be blushing over what I had said before, but that could have just as easily been the physical reaction to her apparent anger towards me over the context of it all. She even called me a hypocrite, as though her mind were nearing the same wavelength of my own. The words that came out of her mouth were all more or less completely true, although there was no way for her to know that herself. Yes, I was dealing with some "deep shit", but she was, of course, wrong in her assumption that it was just recently when I started to become "antisocial". This was something that had been repeating over and over since the day we first died by way of the curse. But again; this and that are two entirely different things. It's not that I don't trust my friends, it's just that I don't trust myself enough to confide in them with my mistake. If I start to rely on others, then I'll let my guard down... Won't I?

Of course, I'm also genuinely afraid of how they would look at me from then on if they realized that I had been keeping this secret of trying to lift the curse, as well as somehow remembering everything from every life we've ever lived since the day this whole thing started. Violet just didn't understand, but how could she when I refuse to tell her? I constantly found myself caught between a rock and a hard place whenever I dealt with both my friends and my secret at the same time, and I was gradually growing very tired of it all.

Despite all the thoughts I had floating around in my head after hearing Violet's words, I chose to remain silent, feeling that anything I said at this point would just fall on deaf ears, as there was no way my words would be the ones she was hoping to hear. I merely shifted my gaze down to the floor of the ambulance and lowered my head slightly, showing obvious signs that I knew what she was talking about, but didn't want to be confronted about it. Truly; a hypocrite.

Then she said something that actually made me rather angry deep down.

"...Sorry, but I'm gonna keep doin' things as I've always been," she said. "You'll probably keep shuttin' us out too, so... it's even, I guess." The words that came just before were far less negative, and borderline comforting to hear after all that had been said a couple of minutes ago. But these words made my core ache with both fear and calm rage. She was still going to keep doing this kind of shit? Not only that, but she had the nerve to tell it right to my face, as though I wouldn't care or pay it any mind. But that assumption was an incorrect one. If Violet thought that I was gonna shut her out and keep my distance after what happened tonight, even more to the point of her last statement, then she really was as stupid as she was claiming herself to be. See, in every cycle we were forced to live, there was always a defining moment that would speak a single phrase to me: "today's the day"... And when I heard those words echo in my mind when I picked Violet up on that dark street, I knew that the curse was powering up for a full-throttle attack. One that I needed to be prepared for. You'll probably keep shuttin' us out too? Not a chance. I was going to stick to her like glue from then on...

Keeping my thoughts to myself as I often did, our ride suddenly came to a stop as the paramedics started to cart Violet out the back of the ambulance. Following after them, I stuck by my friend's side while we made our way up the ramp to the rear entrance of the hospital, until I was told that I couldn't continue with her and the medics due to the area ahead was staff only territory. Nodding along with them, I gave Violet a reassuring smile as she was carted off through the doors.

About a half an hour later, I was waiting in the hall beside the room; the number having been acquired from the front desk after Violet was officially admitted. Finally, I was told by the smiling doctor that I was allowed to see my friend, which I was thankful for. It was just a couple broken ribs and some rather bad bruises, as well as the additional cut or scrape from the "accident", or so was the official name of the report over the cause of Violet's injuries.

"Hey..." I said, walking in after a light knock. Violet was just laying there, looking exhausted, but relieved of most of her pain due to the painkillers she was given. "How are you feeling...?" Nodding at her response in simple acknowledgment, I moved to sit down in the chair next to her bed. "So, I guess your parents should be here soon, then?" I asked, raising my eyebrows a bit as I did. It wouldn't be long before our friends would show up as well, I imagined. I figured that seeing them might raise her spirits slightly, even if she might feel a little shy or embarrassed, as she was susceptible of in situations where she was in the spotlight of worry. Upon thinking this, I gave her a warm smile, hoping that might ease any nerves she might have.

Taking a moment to check my phone's inbox, which was completely void of new messages -- save for the single mass text sent by Charlie. Putting it back in my pocket, I took a glance around the room, not sure what to do with myself. The ticking in my head beginning to grow more prominent than anything else at the moment, I decided to check my trademark pocket watch. I stared down at the faint ticking with slight melancholy, as I often did whenever I was alone. It was a wonder how I was forgetting myself while in the presence of a close friend...

"O-O," was the first Briton heard coming from Oz's mouth. He almost panicked, a bit worried for a split moment about Oz's response and darting his green eyes over to watch his handsome friend's expression. Oz seemed to have difficulty with his own standpoint on the situation, and Briton couldn't blame him. After all, Briton was asking him to withhold some pretty big information. Briton had heard time and time again about what a big deal it was - that having an attack and no one knowing what to do for him was a bad idea - but still he found himself ignoring the concept due to selfishness. When Oz's words came out again, they tumbled all at once like they were one word. "Iwontellem."

"I won't tell anyone." He rephrased after a deep breath, and Briton found himself sighing in relief, shutting his eyes and resting his head back down against Oz's shoulder. That was it. He could relax, couldn't he? Surely, that was one less thing he had to worry about tonight. Oz was typically good about a secret. If only it had been the only problem at hand. "Thanks," Briton managed to utter, though it came out in such a small voice. He felt shaky and sick, but at the very least some of the problems were solved. He could breath, and he didn't have to worry about everyone knowing what happened. He tried to simply convince himself that his other problems just weren't worth worrying over right now. The only things he could fix were already fixed.

Briton picked up one of his hands, rubbing at his eyes and trying to eliminate the evidence that he'd been crying, though it seemed all he managed to do was make the skin around his eyes redder. How embarrassing. He hated crying in front of anyone, and he hated being so clingy and weak and helpless in front of Oz. Every thought which suggested that it was no big deal, that it was okay, was quickly expunged by the same thought of embarrassment. Sure, it wasn't as if Oz was going to be shouting all over town what a big cry baby he was, or how weak and vulnerable he was, but... it didn't change the fact that Oz knew. Oz had seen all of these things and the very idea of Oz knowing was enough to make Briton feel sick to his stomach. He knew it was hopeless, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted Oz to like him. And not in the way that Oz liked all his friends, and not in the way that Oz like anyone who seemed a relatively decent person. Who would ever like someone as weak and broken as I am? He thought, and almost felt as if he were near another break down. This time around however, he had just enough mental stability to suppress it.

It wasn't more than a moment, really, before Oz's words saved Briton from more of his winding thoughts, bringing him out of his worry and back into the current situation. He opened his eyes and tried just to think about how nice it was to have Oz here to comfort him, how alone they were, and how close they were. It hurt so badly, but it was still nice. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" Oz seemed to search for the right word for a small moment, "okay."

Briton found himself clutching small clumps of Oz's shirt in his hands tightly while he thought about it. He wasn't quite up to going anywhere still, and asking Oz to drive again seemed like pushing the envelope a bit much, anyway. Briton's head was swimming just a bit too much for him to get behind the wheel of anything. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was a bad idea. Violet... God, what had even been going through her damn head? Taking on a couple of neanderthals by herself and expecting to walk away unscathed? He wanted to slap her for so many things... For putting herself in danger, for thinking she needed to save him. Why would anyone think their own safety was worth putting on the line just for him? It wasn't just in this life, either, he reminded himself. The amount of pointless effort they put into helping him out, despite his clear position in their friend group. He wasn't important. Briton was just the one that followed them around, that they'd put up with because who else was going to? They didn't owe him anything, and they certainly didn't need to go trying to save him.

"Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Oz reiterated, saving Briton once again from his thoughts. Any longer, and who knows where it would have gotten him. Briton gave just a little nod at first, before noting what a small gesture it was, and trying to give a more defined one, looking right at his friend.

"I guess it's a better idea that we wait till tomorrow," Briton agreed, giving out a little sigh while he fidgeted and made an effort to move himself, no longer leaning right up against the other boy. "I'd probably end up hitting her myself for the stunt she pulled." He looked away, shrugging Oz's supportive arm off of his shoulders for the moment. As much as he wanted it there, the risk of acting a bit more clingy than normal was beginning to seem like a bit more that he was willing to take.

"A movie sounds good, actually," he continued, taking a deep breath in through his nose before hefting himself upward, the action seeming to take a little out of him. "We can set it up in my brother's room since my room is a little," Briton gave a pause, eyeing a small pile of empty redbull cans underneath his desk, "uncomfortable." He turned his gaze forward again, losing a little more outward expression as seconds ticked onward. The evidence of crying was still on his face, but had it not been for that, the very concept of his emotional breakdown would have seemed odd. Accounting for the redness of his face and eyes, however, it was quite clear he was simply suppressing the feeling. He just wasn't willing to let any emotions get past the wall, at least for the given moment. He just wanted to shut it all off. If only he could shut off his thoughts completely.

Picking up his laptop quietly, and near feebly, he had to hold the object hugged against his chest, worried that leaving it in his hand would be too much for his exhausted limbs. The more he thought about it, he really was tired. He just wanted to finally lay down, not move for a while, not worry for a while, get what little strength he had in the first place back. Briton moved to the end of his bed, eyes scanning the mess of wires and cables there for the HDMI cable that sat there. Unlike the TV Briton had worked extra shifts to buy, his brothers TV was much simpler, and required the direct link, rather than simply being synced up to the computer automatically. Snatching it from the ground, he quickly tucked it under his arm and turned on his heels, heading for the door and opening up before stopping dead in his tracks, feeling a tinge in his gut at the silence he was giving his friend.

"Um, Oz?" He interjected into the silence, looking over his shoulder at his friend, the slightest hint of a softer expression in his raw eyes. "Thanks... for, um... taking me home and helping me out and," he bit his lip, turning forward again and keeping his gaze away from the other boy. "Y'know, thanks for staying over. I'll deny it if you say anything ever, and I do mean I'll deny it if you even said something in two minutes, but... I don't really like to be alone after I have attacks like that." Briton looked down a moment, contemplating whether it really was more comforting to be with someone. Decidedly, yes, it was considerably less nerve-wracking to have someone around who cared. However, perhaps it was the fact that the person with him was Oz that gave him a different kind of hurt. Perhaps it simply balanced out, he decided as he finally pushed himself back into motion, leaving the room swiftly for the next door down from his.

He budged the door open with his shoulder and slipped inside, taking a seat on the carpeted floor in front of the flat screen that sat almost up against the wall, not propped up on any kind of table or desk, and not that there was even one in the room at all. The queen sized bed behind him which was wedged between the walls of the narrow room didn't even sit on a box-spring, leaving everything just about at the same low level anyway. The remainder of his brother's things, mostly clothes for the weekends and holidays when he came home, were all tossed in the small closet. Briton made quick work of plugging up his computer, turning it and the television on, beginning to pull up his movie files for the second time today when he took note of Oz coming into the room as well. He flashed a weak smile, but quickly looked back to the television screen, now showing off his computer desk top, and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"So," Briton spoke up, hefting his laptop awkwardly while he crawled over to the mattress and settled down, slumping against the multiple pillows that were leaned up against the far wall at the head of the bed. He plopped the laptop down on his lap, and sent his look back over to Oz. "What kind of movie do you wanna watch? I've got a lot of different ones, so... your choice, okay?" He rubbed his eyes absentmindedly, a little bit of an ache settling into them. He couldn't say he was surprised, of course, what with the exhaustion. It was getting late, after all, and his eyes were a bit tired. Sitting up suddenly, Briton leaned over and placed the open laptop in Oz's lap, before standing promptly. "I'll be right back, you can go ahead and pick one," He continued in explanation, before slipping out of the room and back to his own.

His glasses... not that it was a common occasion when he slipped them on, but when it he was tired like this and going to be focusing on a bright screen... Well, he supposed it couldn't be helped. Surely he didn't wear them often, but it wasn't as if his friends didn't see them at all. At least he didn't have to worry about that, he assured himself while he picked through the strewn contents from the drawer he'd pulled out of his dresser just a bit earlier, crouching on the ground to try and find them. Once located, he reluctantly slipped the dorky, slim framed pair onto the bridge of his nose, aware that while their main purpose was to make focusing easier, their other purpose was probably just to make him look as geeky as humanly possible. Straightening up with a sigh, he retreaded back to his brother's room, striding in while he pushed the glasses a little further up on his nose with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that, my eyes are just kind of tired," Briton explained, lowering himself down to the mattress and crawling to the space next to Oz, giving up once again on his struggles to put some distance between them. He leaned his shoulder into Oz's side as casually as possible, gazing at the lit up screen expectantly, if not somewhat tiredly. He had half a mind to expect himself to fall asleep partway through whatever movie they watched, but he supposed that was alright. "Find something good?"

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