Nathan Miller's Story

Oz kindly refused my offer to get him something to drink by shaking his, by now, likely melted milkshake at me. This made me nod with a wry smile, showing that I understood. I felt awkward, so I stepped over to my window and leaned to my side, my elbow propped up on the windowsill. If someone who didn't know any better were to walk into that bedroom right then, looking for the owner of said bedroom, it wouldn't have surprised me if they addressed the tall young man who was sitting comfortably on the small couch, slurping down his shake as though he'd lived there his entire adolescent life, instead of the apparent stranger who seemed to have never set foot in that house before then, which explained why he was leaning up against the windowsill, rather than plopped down on the couch alongside Oz. All that, aside from the actual resident having been me instead of Oz, was practically 100% true.

I just didn't feel at home there-- I never did. In any of these lives. Not entirely, anyway. Sure, it felt familiar, seeing as how I grew up in the damn place for 15 years before it finally felt incorrect, but the fact that it wasn't my original home made it feel strange to me now. It was the same for my family. Or families, since this sure as hell wasn't the first... The only thing that still felt somewhat real to me was my friends. Or, at least, they used to... There was a time when I could say without a doubt that I was everything was perfect, and I was still important to them. But now... Judging by the way I simply didn't know how to place myself, in my own room, while the man who I was supposed to be mutual best friends with was visiting, I just wasn't sure anymore... Adding that in with the constant feeling of my heart not being in the same place as my mind while I was staying under that roof, and it just felt all the more awkward. It was, of course, nice being around my friends-- especially around Oz, who was my oldest and very best, but it... It just wasn't the same anymore... Not since I made that unbelievably selfish decision... Dammit... Now I'm feeling depressed just talking about that. Nevermind that -- the past's not important at this point in the story, so I'll get back to that later when it is. What was important, was what Oz said next.

"I know you still care about us; you're a good friend, Nate, even if you've been a little distant lately." Those words made my thoughts freeze for a second. They lingered on the phrase 'you're a good friend' as I reflexively smiled a little. It echoed a few times inside my head, each rebounding version sounding louder and louder until it blocked out the ticking of my pocket watch. While the words alone were enough to cause some inner, personal conflict about how I should feel after hearing them, I was also feeling conflicted on what was better; the bliss of not hearing my watch for a few short seconds, or what Oz was going on to say about our friend Briton, which indirectly changed how certain things would play out for a few of our friends over the course of the next several days. "I want to do something about the Briton thing too. If we're going to do something, then maybe we should talk to them? Like, at the party? Ask what's going on or... I dunno. I mean, we have to do something..." After finally admitting that it was bothering him too, he stopped talking for a moment to play with his Styrofoam cup.

Yes! Oz is on board! Kinda! I thought to myself. I didn't jump with joy or anything, but I was indeed happy to hear that I wasn't alone in this. If I had been, then the odds of success would have been considerably lower than they were with him. As was generally every conflict Oz was dragged into. For some reason, talking it out with Oz, no matter who you were, seemed to take the fight out of you entirely. Like it just wasn't worth it after all. Maybe it was due to the calm air around him, with his natural "pacifist" nature, or maybe it was the fact that he was pretty tall and might have come off as a little intimidating to the average bully. Whatever the case, he was always handy to have alongside you if things ever became even slightly heated between two people. That being said, Oz was laid-back and usually against prying into peoples' lives unless otherwise asked, so I use the word 'generally' lightly. With that having been said by our group's wonderful pacifist, I felt more confidant that something could in fact be done about Briton's bullies. And if all went well, no blood would be drawn in the process. At least, that's what I was counting on.

"Nevermind, don't listen to me. I'm talking crazy." He said. This made me frown a bit just before he continued. "Well, except for the you being a good friend part. That's a little less crazy, right, man?" The hell it is. "Yeah..." I said somewhat quietly, with yet another smile, go figure. With my earlier conflicting feelings on Oz's clearly genuine words coming back to me, I felt my chest tighten with pain a little bit as I went back to avoiding me as a topic of interest. "Well, no. You're not crazy, Oz. In fact, you're dead on." I began, smiling more now as I pointed at him casually. "I'm not looking for a fight or anything, just a solution. I want these assholes to leave Briton alone, but I don't wanna make things worse by, say, kicking their asses in front of the whole school only for them to find out that we're friends with the guy they openly pick on who obviously spilled the beans." I paused for a moment after saying that last part rather quickly to readjust my position, without thinking about it. I was now leaning my lower back against the bulky edge of the windowsill that was slightly sticking out from the wall, my hands in my pockets feeling the weight of my watch out of force of habit. "Who knows, maybe if you and I calmly talk to them about it like bros, they'll respect us for it and leave him alone." I said with a slight shrug. Pffft, who was I kidding...? This was HIGH SCHOOL. 21st CENTURY high school... "And if not, then we get a little more...'creative' about our approach." I finished, raising a playful eyebrow, along with a smirk, suggesting something more sinister. Yeah, that seemed more likely.

After the air between us felt lighter now that I began getting back into the groove of how I used to act around my friends, I felt less awkward. Which, as luck would have it, was right in time for my mother to call us out for dinner. Smiling again, I nodded at the door to my bedroom. "So? What are you waiting for? You're usually already halfway out down the hall when you hear my mom shout those words from the kitchen." I said, laughing a little at the memories of better days. It was funny; just a few minutes ago I was feeling awkward over how strange hanging out with Oz felt after so long of being distant towards him and the others, and now, the brief moment that it was, it suddenly felt as though it had never changed. Maybe things weren't as bad as I originally thought. Perhaps I still had a second chance with them after all. And if not with all of them, sad as that thought was, at the very least I'd have my best friend. That thought made me feel like everything was going to be alright. Like it was okay to be happy that they were just here, in my life. Like the curse was no longer a threat. I almost felt at peace because of it. Almost. Maybe the moment would have felt entirely serene, if it weren't for a certain sound reminding me just how far away that little dream truly was... No, the ticking of my watch wouldn't allow me to forget that our final days were just around the corner. And I was the only one who saw it coming... At the time, I didn't really think about that thought lingering in the back of my mind, because things had just started to naturally fall into place again, making me subconsciously slide back into my old persona. And it was because of this that I would come to surprise my friends at the party later that night...

---

Amber exited with the other girls in a delicate daze. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders, the long locks shifting slightly as she stepped. Her elegant steps were soft and graceful, and she breezed along with the other girls to the car. She was happy, though joyous may be a better word. Happiness described something full, and content with great pleasure. It comes with the sound of laughter, and warm friendly times, wild or docile. Joy was similar, but there was an emptiness in joy. Joy was a smile over a sadness. It was when someone felt a happiness that they knew wouldn't last, or at least was complete. Theres nothing more deceptive than a smile and no one knows this better than the people who hide behind them. Some flash their teeth as a polite warning to their enemies, some put on beaming faces to keep their tears from falling, others wear silly grins to mask their fear. But sometimes it is that rare smile that is actually genuine for whatever reason. Amber had her own way of smiling, one that said you don't really know me, and you never really will.

She sat dreamily in the driver's seat, going through the motions almost. The streets were all familiar, like she'd been on them millions of times before. The roads were old, but they'd been repaved multiple times. Most of the buildings around the town were classically styled, only being renovated when needed. She often had memories and pictures of places as they used to be, though she hadn't recalled even being alive to have known them. Phantasmagoric images always rushed into her mind if she really felt a connection.

As she was coasting towards the intersection, the light switched to yellow. She slowed, knowing she was too far to make it. They paused at the now red light, as another car pulled beside them. A boy looking only a few years older than them leaned over, with a coquettish look directly at Amber. His haughty attitude came off quickly, "Hey, where are you fine ladies off to?" he asked.
"Oh please." Lacey scoffed.
"Car full of red heads.. I like it. Say, you girls busy tonight?" He asked, trying to be coy. It still came off as arrogant and flirtatious, and Amber couldn't help but blush a bit. She stayed quiet, and looked forward again, glancing at the still red light.
"Actually, we are!" Lacey answered, and rolled up the car's window. Amber smiled at this, letting out a giggle as the boys pleaded, "Wait, don't be like that!" The light turned green, and she began to drive again.
Her best friend turned to her again, "Look at you, picking up guys before we even get to the party..." she joked, Amber laughed in response, "Oh stop," she gushed. She barely noticed the soft nudge Lacey had given her, and she turned onto Lacey's street.
Violet brushed off her previous topic, and moved on to something more of interest in the driver herself. "So, Amber. You got like, a magic potion that makes all the guys run to you?" She didn't seem very friendly about it, more blunt with a hint of annoyance. "Man, it'd be nice if we all got one'a those." She muttered frankly.
Amber kept her face forward, and only glanced in the rearview mirror to Violet once before answering. She played along, without revealing her true feelings- both she and Violet were interested in Nathan, and as far as Amber could tell he could care less about her. "It only attracts 'fucktards', so it's really of no use." she quoted. She glanced in the mirror again, sending an amused smirk as they pulled into Lacey's driveway.

---

Amber had easily found what she'd hoped to borrow from Lacey, a floral top they'd bought in the summer while shopping together. Lacey had only worn it a few times, and though Amber was usually more modest she decided she wanted to have a little more fun tonight. She asked Lacey to find shorts to go with it, along with some wedges to match. The outfit was classic, girly, and even a bit vintage. She felt good, and had practiced her charming smile once before in the mirror. She used her favorite perfume she kept in her purse usually, one that smelled of daisies, her favorite flower.
She'd already texted the waiter she'd met, and he said he'd actually already heard of the party, and was looking forward to seeing her. She felt that joy again, knowing she was reluctant to really give any boy a chance as long as Nathan continued to linger in her every thought.

The party was already lively as the girls arrived, and Amber strolled gently along with the others. She could feel the eyes of a few others, but tried to keep distance from any outside-possibly unwanted contact. They hadn't even entered a party when a boy had already been a jerk to Violet. She found it sick how random people treated the girl, so cruelly for no reason at all. She felt an instant disgust towards the boy, and an anger bubbled inside her. The poise she held stayed in tact, for Amber's idea of class was to always seem calm and collected. She took a breath, and began to follow them again into the house. But, again the boy muttered something under his breath about Violet. She turned, quietly, almost so the others might not notice.

"Excuse me? Did you say something?" she questioned the boy, giving him her coldest stare. It was stern and a small furry lit behind the eyes of the fiery redhead. Only briefly was this seen, and the boy was caught slightly off guard. It was true, Amber had a reputation for being incredibly sweet, popular, and well liked. He probably did know of her, though she didn't know his name.
"N-nothing." he said, probably scared of both Violet and Amber at this point.
"Good." she said bluntly, "let's keep it that way."
Amber smiled sweetly again, her signature little smile, and turned again to join her friends entering the house overflowing with people.

---

---

After ensuring that her closet was completely destroyed, and she wasdressed, Lacey was picked up by her friend John- who would be DJing with her that night- to head to the location early for set up. "I'll see you all there!" She left her friends rummaging through her things as she bounded out of the house and across the lawn. Hopping into John's car, she passed the tall blonde a Cheshire cat grin. "Nervous?" "Excited." "Good."

When they arrived at the location it was just the sound crew and a few early arrivals. She immediately set about trying to get all of her gear set up as butterflies fluttered around her stomach. Tonight was going to be amazing, but she couldn't help but feel like something terrible was going to happen. What if she messed up? What if she wasn't a god DJ after all? What if everyone had been lying to her just to get her up there just so that they could watch her fail? What if they were secretly planning to dump pig's blood on her in the middle of her DJing? The ginger haired girl slowly sat the headphones she was moving down, taking a deep breath. This is not a scene from Carrie, Lace. Chill the hell out. Picking up the headphones again, she continued on with her sound check, determined to not let her insecurities get the best of her tonight.

---

---

She was doing it. Her remix of We Can't Stop blared through the club as her ginger locks bounced in her pony tail back and forth rhythmically to the beat. Waves of people vibrated, fist pumped, and squirmed to the remix. Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused on scratching in the places she had practiced, her piano fingers turning nob after nob, flying across her equipment as one hand waved back and forth like a metronome over the crowd. The music swam through the room, hiccuping and screaming into the eardrums of everyone present.

Lacey's eyes glanced up from her work, scanning the crowd for her friends. Where were they? Panic gripped her momentarily. What if they had decided not to come? Dread licked up her spine, chilling her even though beads of sweat had started to form on the small of her back. Then she saw them- in the doorway. Relief flooded over her. It looked as if there were some sort of trouble happening. The girls looked pretty heated over something, but from her distance she couldn't tell what they were saying or what the problem was. She had heard that the new bouncers were assholes, but her friends were on the list so... what could the problem have been? Confused, Lacey glanced over to John and nodded to him- a silent plea for his help.

The tall blonde gave her a short nod and slipped out of the booth.Prowling his way though the crowd to stand over the bouncer, glancing between him and the pissed off looking redhead, John cleared his throat. "Let's keep it that way." The girls were coming in fine now, and John blushed slightly at having forced his way through the crowd to come to the rescue of a group of women who obviously could handle themselves. "Everything alright?" He asked in a call over the music so that Amber could hear him. "You guys are with Lace, right? She's in the booth!" His voice was nearly eaten by the music, but he hoped that they could hear him, or at least understand by his pointing toward Lacey. Lacey waved from the booth and grinned widely. They had made it, and everything was perfect.

---

After Lacey's set was over she came down from the booth and snaked her way through the crowd to find her friends. There were so many people there it was hard to keep her eyes on them from the booth. The skinny ginger forced her way through the crowd until she found Amber,the girls, and Sam- at which point she let out a squeal and threw her arms around her best friend. "What did you think!?" Her tone was shrill with excitement. "I've got sweat literally pouring off my back!" Lacey laughed and blushed instantly, adding, "That's disgusting, isn't it?" Waving her hand in the air to clear the conversation of sweaty backs she decided to change the subject. Leaning closer to Amber so that only the redhead could hear, she added, "Did Nate show up?" Lacey knew how much Amber wanted to see the boy, and after she asked she stood on her tip toes to look out over the crowd as best she could- searching for the boy's dark head. It was useless- there were far too many boys with dark hair in the dark room.

As she was looking, her own eyes scanned for someone she had been hoping to see. Oscar. He was her best guy friend of the group, and she had been so excited to see him. Maybe he had better things to do? It was her insecurities again. She ran her fingers through the end of her ponytail, trying to figure out why she had such a bad feeling in her gut. Pulling herself back to reality, she turned her attention back to Amber and her friends, forcing a smile to light up her face. "So, have you guys seen everyone else?" This was directed towards the group of girls. "I tried looking from the booth, but I lost you guys. There are so many people here!"

Placing his styrofoam cup on the ground, Oz shifted and turned around on the couch until he was lounging over the back, turning his full attention on Nate. The scene might seem a bit bizarre by most people's standards, Nate standing by the window, the setting sun casting a rather dramatic light effect on the scene, and Oz hanging off of the back of the couch like some discarded toy that had been thrown then forgotten by a careless child. But to Oz, this was a breath of normality in the past few strange months, and a pleased grin found itself settling on his face as Nate managed a smile that gradually grew larger. Everyone, in Oz's opinion, looked better with a smile on their face, but no one more so than his best friend whose smiles had become a rarer and rarer occurrence lately.

It was like the smile flicked a switch in Oz's mind, his uncharacteristic anxiety deflating and any tension held in his lanky frame vanishing away. This was a situation he knew, a situation he felt comfortable in; sitting around Nate's house, chatting about something, however serious, and it might not be exactly like before, but it was close enough to put him completely at ease.

"You seem so sure that you'd be kicking their asses," Oz huffed a laugh, stretching languidly. It was hard to imagine Nate fighting anyone, especially Briton's main antagonists, glorified jocks with the high school equivalent of bulging muscles. Still, the chance to talk things out was certainly a step in the right direction, which was, presumably, the direction that did not involve violence. And who knew? Maybe things could work themselves out the Oz way, the nice, peaceful way that only involved fists in the form of fist bumps. Okay, so it wasn't terribly likely, but a boy could dream, couldn't he?

"And if not, then we get a little more...'creative' about our approach."

"Nate," He groaned, drawing out his name in a faux disappointed voice. Playful smirk or not, a "creative approach" wasn't something that Oz would be looking forward to. Creative did not bode well for anyone involved, especially if those involved were his highly unpredictable friends and a handful of teenagers who got their jollies from picking on a sweetheart like Briton. Add in the alcohol and general adrenaline that characterized the parties Lacey tended to DJ at, and you had a recipe for disaster there.

However, any hint of disappointment vanished immediately with the announcement that dinner was ready. More like a dog than a person, Oz instantly perked up, face brightening considerably as he scrambled to his feet. Only Nate's voice stopped him and Oz let out another laugh. It was, sadly enough, less of an exaggeration than most people would imagine. If one thing could put a skip in Oz's lazy steps, it was food. More specifically, Nate's mother's food. What could he say? The woman could cook.

With a considerable more amount of dignity then he actually possessed, he replied, "Well, maybe I'm growing up, Nathan. You know, maturing." He kept up the facade for maybe half a second before laughing at the absurdity and taking off down the hall and towards the kitchen. Maturing. Right. Nice he might be, but for all of his calmness and patience, mature didn't quite fit in with the enigma that was Oscar Glass.

Dinner was perfect. It wasn't anything fancy, of course, and Mitzy was incessantly begging for food(which wasn't completely her fault given the fact that Oz insisted on feeding her bits and pieces from his own plate), but it was still perfect. Nate, Oz, and Nate's mother sat around the table, and the conversation flowed almost without pause in between bites of pasta and, in Oz's case, sips of milk. It hadn't been too terribly long since he'd been in this situation, but it felt like ages as he caught up with Nate's mother and Nate himself. For that time, he felt at home, really at home.

After dinner, as the minutes passed quickly by as the conversation from dinner continued in the living room, Oz took a moment to pull out his cellphone and text his parents to tell them that he'd be back late that night. He didn't need permission, not really. With his sisters' shenanigans, Oz often got lost in the fold, allowed to do whatever in the belief that he'd be a good boy and not cause any trouble. Which was fine, just fine, but didn't stop his smile from dropping for just a moment when his mother replied with a quick "Okay, dear, have fun!", not even bothering to ask where her only son was off to. His stepfather's reply was marginally better, at least asking when he'd be home and if he'd need to be picked up. Any lingering disappointment disappeared when he looked up from his phone, however, and slipped back into the conversation as if it had never happened. Because it was fine. Just fine. His parents loved him and trusted him and that was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

The party was already in full motion when they arrived, music almost imperceptible due to the noise from the crowd within and around the building, but the beat was thrumming so loudly that Oz could sweat that he felt it in his bones. It was difficult enough to stick together let alone make their way through the thriving crowd, people pressing in on them from all sides. To find anyone in the room was almost impossible. Almost. It was at times like these that Oz's height and disposition came into play. Seemingly ignorant of the gyrating bodies of those dancing or the simple movements of the crowd around him, pressing in on all sides in such a way that anyone might feel claustrophobic, Oz craned his neck, green eyes searching for familiar faces in the room. It just so happened that, rather unfortunately, the first familiar faces he found belonged to people he didn't quite want to see. Ryan Chaffon and, even more unfortunately, Vic Rockford were off with their own respective groups of friends to one side, probably laughing loudly or maybe just trying to carry on a conversation, but the noise was stolen away by the ruckus within the room. It was like fate was laughing at him, smirking down upon Oz in particularly as if to say, 'Your move.'

It was then that Oz made a significant and quite possiby stupid choice. They had to talk to them eventually, there was no getting around that given what had happened earlier and the following conversation, and who knew if he'd manage to spot them again later on in the night? Besides, maybe it would work out. Maybe if they just had a chat, everything would turn out fine and the party might be even better knowing that everything had come to a peaceful resolution. With that idealist delusion in mind, Oz grabbed Nate by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, I see Ryan and Vic over there," Oz said, gesturing with one hand towards the group, voice significantly louder than normal to be heard over the din. "If we're going to talk to them, let's talk now, okay? Then we can just have fun afterwards." Fun. Afterwards. Ha.

And there we were. At the party I had said I wouldn't be going to not even 4 hours ago. Well, I guess it wasn't so bad. Save for the annoying music that could be heard from 2 blocks down the road. And the equally, if not-- more annoying people twisting and bumping around to the lame soundtrack blasting their senses away. Then there was the booze. Yup, plenty of that, I could see. Anyone who wasn't dancing in the middle of it all was off to the sides, drinking and hitting on their peers. Oz and I made our way through the first wave of people relatively easy, but what came next seemed impossible to navigate if you're looking for specific people. Our friends were nowhere to be seen at the moment, and not even Oz in all his tall glory was able to spot any of them. I always figured it was the poor lighting. God, what was this? A house party, or a nightclub...? Even with Lacey's talented DJ skills, I couldn't get over just how incredibly loud it all was. How were you supposed to talk to people without screaming your vocal cords dry?

Just as I managed to catch sight of a short brunette that looked an awful lot like Violet, Oz snatched my wrist and held me back, directing my attention to two very specific people hanging out with their friends in a nice little corner of the room. Vic and Ryan. It was almost too perfect. The couple of asshats weren't alone, meaning they had their reputations on the line should someone decide to mess with them. Unfortunately for them, that someone happened to be me. Well, and Oz, but I pretty much already knew how this was likely going to go down with him at my side. Fingers crossed!

"Oh-- oh, yeah! I seem em!" I said. "Good eye, Oz!" Patting him on the shoulder with a smile, I decided to head their way rather than in the direction the brunette was walking off to. Better to get this over with sooner rather than later. Although, I wasn't too sure I knew what it was that I would be doing at first... I suppose I figured on talking with them to start things off, since that's what Oz and I did. "H-Hey!" I yelled at them with a wave as we approached. "How's it going, guys?" It took the two of them a moment to figure out who we were-- well, more of who I was than Oz, but like I said; poor lighting. After seeming to remember my name after giving me a 'bro point' that came along with a "Heyyy!", Ryan slapped my hand in friendly greeting.

"Uhhh, Jake, right?" he said, giving me a smile as though he and I had been best friends since grade school.

"Uh, no! Actually, it's Nate!" I yelled back, now gesturing towards my tall friend. "And this is Oz! His name is Oscar, but we just call him Oz, cuz' he's a total wizard, yo!" Wow, where the hell did that come from...?

"Ah, bitchin'!" yelled Ryan, giving Oz the same friendly hand slap that Vic gave myself. "Killer party, right? Haha!" As if to emphasize his fascination with the event, Ryan looked around with a great deal of upper body language, to which I just nodded emphatically.

"So what brings you guys to this crazy zoo, huh?" said Vic after nodding along in agreement with everything Ryan was saying, taking a drink from his beer while he was at it. "Don't normally see you two coming to this kinda scene, or am I being stupid?" You're being stupid alright, but that's neither here nor there at the moment...

"Yeah, we know the DJ! Lacey Harvelle! You know her?" I shouted back, taking hold of one of the beers Ryan had offered me and Oz. To be honest, it was a total reflex. I was the last person at that party, save for maybe Briton, who was looking to get drunk... Trust me. I am not a happy drunk...

"Uh, hell yeah we know her!" said Vic after exchanging a rather suggestive look with his buddy Ryan. "Ain't no way we don't know about a fine piece of ass like that, haha!" These guys were getting on my nerves more and more every passing second I spent LOOKING at them, nevermind talking to. But I calmed my urge to walk away; I was hellbent on seeing this through. For Briton.

"Yyyhup! That's the one!" I yelled, exchanging a roll of the eyes with Oz as Vic and Ryan laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. At the same time, no less. "Anyway, who invited you two? The same?" The next thing I did was even dumber than accepting the damn thing in the first place; I took a drink. Resisting the urge to spit it back out at the two jerks in front of me, no matter how much they deserved it, I ended up forcing myself to swallow it. If I wasted anymore time dawdling about with Briton's bullies, I was afraid I might have taken a few more.

"Heh, why do you ask?" yelled Ryan, now giving me an inquisitive smile. "I mean, we're here, aren't we? What does it matter?" He threw Vic a humorous grin and turned back to me.

"Well," I yelled back, giving them a light shrug. "It's just that I happen to be really good friends with Lace, and I know for a fact that she wouldn't knowingly invite two of the people who regularly beat up on a friend of hers!" Aaaand another sip. It was strange, but with every word that came out of my mouth, I felt like I had less and less control of my own body. My mind was there, sure, but it seemed to have little to no control over my actions. It was starting to worry me at the point of realizing this.

"Heh..." scoffed Ryan. "I don't 'beat up' on people, for one. Okay? It's all in good fun; they know that." Another laugh. "And two, you're gonna have to be a little more specific about just who it is you're talkin' about. I joke around with a looot of people at school, y'know." Oh, yeah. Believe me, jackass, I know. We all know. You just happened to "joke around" with one too many this time... Taking another sip of my drink, much to what I assumed was Oscar's bewilderment, although I didn't see on account of not having eyes in the back of my head, I nodded in response before answering with the words that would send this little confrontation directly south in a matter of seconds.

"Briton. Hadings." I said clearly, making sure both parts of the name were each heard as they were intended. This made both Vic and Ryan's smiles instantly vanish. They now appeared to be in "serious mode", or so I figured they probably called it when they were alone together. Their reaction to the name made me instinctively snort with a small chuckle as I placed my free hand inside of my pocket, feeling the silver pocket watch within it.

"Lacey's friends with that...freak?" asked Ryan, still holding up his serious face. I merely kept smiling and moved my now slightly damp-with-sweat bangs from my eyes with a brush of my thumb.

"And so am I." I said back. "Oz too." I added with a nod up at my gangly friend. Giving up the fake smile, I shrugged. "Look, we just wanna ask you to lay off him from now on, okay? He's never done anything to you, so..." I paused, shrugging again. "Think you can pick on someone your own size for once? Just an idea!" Finishing up with a nod as if to say "Yup, that's all I got", I let Oz take a crack at it while we waited for their response, not that I needed it. I was already certain that this wouldn't end the Oz way... Even with the man himself standing right next to me with one foot in the door. And that's when it started getting a bit heated. There was a pause between the changing of the tracks just behind Oz and I, and it wasn't until the next song started playing that Ryan removed his rather transparent mask and spoke up.

"Heh... How about you and 'Briton' go fuck yourselves." he said, leaning in a bit closer so as to make sure only me and Oz heard. "If you want us to stop giving Briton what he deserves, then tell him to stop being such a PUSSY." Well, that wasn't a very nice way to accept my request, now was it? That remark made my shoulders drop, and a sigh escape my lips. Now obvious that Plan B was the only reliable method towards managing to walk away with a win after all, I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, and chose to try something new; provocation.

"Hm..." I hummed softly, my pause likely not having even been heard thanks to the loud bass vibrating the walls around us. "Are you sure Briton is the pussy here? Because, the way I see it, you two are the only ones who fit that description; picking on someone who refuses to fight back...? Isn't that something only the weak do? You might as well punch a tree and call yourselves the champions of the forest!" 'Sorry for that one, Briton...' I thought to myself, feeling guilty for sounding as though I were making fun of my friend for not defending himself against his bullies, even if he weren't there to hear it.

"Oh yeah?! I'll show you weak--!!" shouted Vic, taking a step at me, only to be held back by Ryan, who seemed to find what I said to be rather intriguing. It was too easy to lure these guys into a trap. I hadn't counted on Ryan holding back his substantially larger friend, but that was only a minor bump along the road to victory.

"Hold on, Vic." he said, cracking a smile as he studied me. "Earlier you mentioned that we should pick on someone our own size, but...all I see are you..." He paused, pointing from me, and now to Oz. "...and Ronald Weasley over here. I'm afraid you're too small, and he's, well...too big. Wouldn't that just be unfair all around?" Clearly this guy held himself in some kind of holier-than-thou light, because he seemed to truly believe that he was bigger than me. Truth was, we were about the same height and overall weight. "Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" he finished, adding emphasis to his little punchline as he laughed alongside his ape of a friend. I waved off Oz's attempts at trying to get me to walk away from this before it was too late. I wasn't going to do that. Not when I was about to win this. Well, somewhat...

"Ummm, okay!" I said immediately, my eyes looking to the right as I held up a long shrug, acting as though I were either bluffing, or just really, really stupid. This made the two of them stop laughing faster than they started up. Vic quickly scowled angrily at me before slapping the drink out of my hand, much to my delight.

"You think this is a fucking GAME?!" he shouted, taking another step at me. This time, Ryan didn't hold him back. "You KNOW I'd knock you on your ass, punk!" Flexing his rather large arms with what appeared to be some sort of warm-up exercise, he gritted his teeth at me like some kind of hybrid between a dog and a gorilla. By now, our little spout had drawn the attention of a few people who were nearby chatting with their own friends.

"Won't know for sure unless you try!" I shouted back, waving off Oz once again; this time actually pushing him away to the side, for I knew what was coming next. In one swift motion, Vic Rockford's giant fist came hurdling towards me. Like most things that threatened my life this day and age, I saw it slow down to incredible speeds. Obviously time itself didn't slow down around us, and it sure wasn't Vic who decided to hold back a little, but my ability to perceive the incoming of my surroundings was almost to the level of supernatural at this point. Of course, my current body wasn't up to par with its eyes, although I was more than capable of either dodging, blocking or reversing this thug's blow without much trouble. But time was running short, and my window of opportunity was coming to a close. Now it was time for a choice; I could either A., totally own this asshole at his own game in front of all these people, announcing to the entire party that Briton was thereby under my protection and there was nothing anybody could do about it, or B., let this guy totally knock me flat so as not to come off to my friends as a super suspicious weirdo after somehow managing to fend off someone as large and terrifying as Vic Rockford.

Just as time was about to run out, I came to one hell of a conclusion with my inner self: Hey, why not do both?

"Argh!!" I exclaimed as the sound of Vic's fist colliding with my skull flooded my entire brain. I felt the grasping hands of my friend Oz as he tried to catch me but couldn't. Before I would smack into anything on my way down, my foot happened to snag onto the cord leading to the speakers that were connected to the system providing the music, causing a sudden and very dead silence to fill the room. Well, almost silent, anyway. The sound of my back meeting with the side of the DJ's stage was more than loud enough to turn a few heads in our direction. The stage having saved me from the fall being slightly dented in, I pushed myself off of it with a hand, only to be caught by Oz, who was once again likely saying something about quitting while we were ahead. Truth was, I couldn't make out anything but the ticking of my watch while my head was ringing so loudly, so I was a bit unsure of what might have been said around me. The ringing finally subsiding, I managed to make out the sounds of Vic and Ryan laughing their asses off, damn near out of breath, or so it seemed.

"That was priceless!! HAHAHAHA!! Your really stood your ground there, didn't you, bitch!" guffawed Ryan, patting Vic on the back. "Why don't you just go home, Tate-- or NATE, whatever the hell your name was!" Laughing again at my expense, Ryan managed to get a few other people laughing. That was fine-- no, it was perfect.

"Urghh..." I grunted, finally finding my footing once more as I gave my head a little shake. "Hey! I'm still standing, aren't I?!" I yelled back at him, still not used to the near silence within the room; the music still not kicking back in just yet. Giving Oz a friendly pat for trying to catch me, as well as a look that said "I'm fine, don't worry about it.", in case he was still worrying.

"Oh-ho! Ohhh, I'm afraid he's right, Vic! You said you were gonna knock him on his ass-- better see it through, don't you think?" said Ryan, humorously. Giving him a chuckle of his own, Vic stepped forward again.

"Hold it!" I shouted, the palm of my hand prominently displayed before me. "I have a proposition for you, Vic." Curving a smile of my own, I waited to hear what the giant would say to this.

"A propo-what...?" replied the big oaf.

"He means he wants to make you a deal, you dumb fuck!" said Ryan after slapping a hand over his eyes with a laugh in regards to his friend's ignorance, and then harder at the idea of me putting up a wager.

"Oh... Alright, what? If you're trying to get outta your beating, punk, then you can forget it." said Vic, flexing his arms once again. Huh, and here I was under the impression that the two of them "didn't beat up on people... So much for that statement.

"If I can pin your back to the ground within 3 seconds of your next blow, then you have to leave Briton alone from here on out." I said, holding up 3 fingers. You know, to show that I meant business. "What d'ya say? You up for the challenge?" Ryanmade a light chuckle at those words, still thinking that I was all talk, however found it strange that I would make such an outrageous bet in front of all these people. But before he could say anything to Vic, the man in question agreed in earnest.

"You're on!" he said, laughing at me.

"Great! Now no take-backs! Unless you wanna look like a total bitch in front of all these people for not holding up your end of the deal~" I sung at him, holding up a finger to add insult to injury. Of course, this just made him laugh.

"Tch, whatever! Let's just get on with it, shit-stain!" he yelled back, taking another step forward.

"Well wait, we gotta shake on it first." I said with a smile, holding out my left hand for him to accept. This was the moment when Ryan realized I was neither bluffing NOR stupid. But before he could tell Vic otherwise, it was already too late.

"Heheh, sure..." chuckled Vic, extending his right hand to grab hold of my left. And that was when the dumbass did exactly what I knew he would; he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. Thanks to him pulling me into his range, there was no longer enough room for him to get the same amount of strength into his attack as before. On top of that, the momentum of the fight was against him. All I had to do was lean forward so that his left arm went over my right shoulder, plant my free hand against his chest, hook my already extended leg around his right, pull back with it and push forward with my hand. And just like that, Vic Rockford was pinned to the ground in only 2 very quick seconds. Of course, I acted as though it was nothing more than a total fluke; my yell of the word "Whoa" having planted that idea in most of the heads in the audience. And, just to make sure it sold, I stood up and clasped my hands to my head with wide eyes.

"Holy crap, I won...!" I yelled, breathing hard, then turning my upper body left and right to look at everyone else, as if to say CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?! Needless to say, the whole crowd erupted in a large amount of drunken cheers and woos. I clasped hands with Oz, further trying to convey that it was pure accident that I managed to pin Vic down just as I had wagered I would. Jumping up and shouting his frustration at what I had accomplished, Vic shut the crowd up almost immediately. He stepped up to me again, only to stop short upon seeing Oz closer to me than before. Blinking, he looked back at me and started shouting again.

"That was a load of shit, and you know it! A total fluke!" he yelled. Jabbing his finger at me.

"Well of course it was!" I said. "But a win is still a win, dude! And fortunately for me -- unfortunate for you -- I won." I let out a nervous laugh, still acting shaken up over the whole spectacle. "And you know what the wager was~" At first ready to refute our earlier agreement, Ryan chose to cut him off, wearing a rather sour expression himself.

"He beat you fair and square, Vic." he said, now walking up to meet me by his side. "Own up to it, or else you're nothing more than a punk like him." He put great emphasis on the word, likely trying to convey that it wasn't over with just that. Conceding, albeit rather begrudgingly, Vic let out a huff of air and flung his arm up before turning away from me and Oz. The scene finally dying down and the music kicking back up thanks to someone reconnecting the cord I had pulled out by accident, all seemed well, until Ryan stepped up next to me and spoke in a low tone so that only I could hear.

"Live it up while you still can, Nathan." he began, his voice practically trembling with anger at my arrogance. "Just know that I'm not as dumb as Vic." The words that followed instantly left me stunned. "I'll say it again, only a little more clearly this time: you want me to stop messing with that little faggot Briton, then you're better off just telling him to stop being such a pussy. Because..." Pausing before his final sentence, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake that night at the party. One that I couldn't take back.. "... You didn't make that bet with me..."

I only managed to stop one of Briton's bullies... Or so it seemed. At the time, I didn't think even Vic Rockford would stoop so low as to bully someone through their personal life. I clearly underestimated the man's sense of humility... As well as his choice in targets. But more on that later...

Giving my shoulder a hard nudge with his own, Ryan waved to Vic, mumbling something along the lines of "This party turned to shit, let's get out of here.", and left with him. I was practically shaking with fear at what I might have just set in motion; my mind immediately beginning to think of every possible outcome that could be traced back to this very moment. I instantly hated myself again. Everything that had happened over the last few minutes felt like a total dream. Things weren't normal for me and my friends, they weren't fixed... And yet, somehow, I managed to fool myself into thinking that, even for just a fleeting moment at a loud party, life was simple again. I knew I would pay for my mistake later on, but worse than just that; so too would my friends...

And there was White Knight Amber, to the rescue. Vi heard her confronting Maybe-Jeff, stopping him cold in his tracks. For that, the Super Hero was thankful. She didn't want to have to deal with him. This was the perfect opportunity to get three goals under wraps. Three goals that'd, hopefully, help her deal with life in a more positive manner. If it all went well. She took a liberal sip of the beer, letting the alcohol awash over her small body, and instantly felt the need to pee. One of the guys in the 'drinking corner' so to speak started laughing over something incredibly stupid - what the heck, anyways? What's the damn point? Violet pushed him out of the way, taking another gulp of the strong, bitter concoction, and made her way to Amber. Vi finished that can of beer, crinkling it up and chucking it who knows were - grabbing another on the way to the redhead, and started sipping that one too. She also felt the strange feeling - some strange... not quite a headache, but something was floating around in her psyche.

Sam was there, kinda looking between her and someone else- presumably Paige. Did he want something? Well, whatever. He can come to her if he needs anything.

Three goals. Three objectives. Would it really be so hard? First, she'd have to stalk Vic and Ryan as they went home after this party. Make sure she finds out where they live. Commit it to memory. Then find out their schedule, when they're alone. Then... alone and vulnerable, Violet will sweep down upon them with her brother's baseball bat. The damn thing was going to finally come to good use. She'd beat them down; she'd break their spines. Smash them to bits. That'd be the end of that.

The second goal was to seduce Nate. Once and for all - he had to look at her the way she was: a woman. Despite the brash talking, the fighting, she was still a girl. And because of that... she wanted recognition. Anything, from the guy she loved or liked or whatever. She wasn't sure which one it is - but for sure there's something. And that something was what pushed her affection even more. He was the only one for her. The one closest to understanding her. No one else would do, not at all. Seduce him. Make him see her as something other than just 'one of the guys'.

Maybe even fuck him. There had to be an empty room somewhere upstairs, right? She'd ask Max later. vi had an odd face at that - and started feeling hints of a... buzzing feeling at the back of her head.

The final goal was to find Briton. Tell him that she's got his back, the little wimp. Because she does, from now on. And, cursing angrily, she knew that she should have had it the whole time. Super Hero Violet had no excuse for letting it reach the point of actually causing him physical pain. She'd have to pay them back i- don't get side tracked, the Super Hero part's back in objective one. She'd come clean to him too. Tell him about the fights. That she's a super hero. That he can count on her. Partly because, maybe by opening up, he'd open up more to everyone else, and partly because... she wanted recognition. To be seen as a hero.

Don't all heroes want that, deep down?

"Amber." Violet nodded her head at the redhead, pulling her aside. This had to be dealt with before it messed with anything else. Did Vi really have any option but to come clean to her? Seems like this night would be one of revelations, wouldn't it? "Hey, uh. Let's talk." Vi gestured to her hand, giving Amber a significant look in the eyes - hopefully she understood.

No one was listening in. It was now or never, really. And well, for getting Maybe-Jeff off her back, didn't Amber deserve the truth? She'd... she'd support her, right? A tiny doubt formed in Violet's mind. What if Amber secretly thought of her as an outsider, just like all the others? What if-

"So." She murmured awkwardly, scratching at her throat. "Uh. You're probably wondering why I'm... my hand. The blood. That stuff, right?"

It looked as if Amber nodded, but Violet couldn't really be sure; she wasn't even looking directly at her anymore, instead staring intently into the corner of the room where a spider lay. Damnit. The buzz was making it hard to really think. She felt her face, feeling the heat rising up.

"I'm... a vigilante. Like. I see bad shit, and I beat down on the assholes that started it. The asses that deserve it. Because who else will stop it? The cops -" Vi thought bitterly back on what Rope Guy did to her, and unconsciously started shaking. Fucking Rope Guy. The cops didn't even bother to look for her. And his taunts, 'they'll never believe you'... it was too true. They'd side with him, and spurn the outsider. Of course they would. More doubts swamped Violet; she didn't want to deal with Amber possibly rejecting her.

"Yeah, so." She finished quickly, almost hurriedly. "I'm a fighter. Just got back from one before we went for milkshakes. So don't worry about it anymore, okay?"

With that, Violet quickly left the redhead, only to run into Briton. Time for a second confession, wasn't it? She felt his elbow brush against her side. "There you are. You said you wanted to talk to me about something, right?" Briton seemed edgy. At unease. Almost as if searching for something. That sparked Vi to take cursory glances around her - where the hell were Vic and Ryan? Where they even at the party? She felt a restless need to get moving, to pinpoint where they were and beat them down. Maybe even tonight. Why not? Who cares if they were together? Max had to have some kind of weapon around here.

"Ryan Chaffon. Vic Rockwell." Vi said angrily, almost spitting. "Fuck. Just fuck. I'll wipe'em out, Briton. I'm a vigilante after all." It was easier to say it a second time. Vi didn't really care why. "I'm a fighter. A Super Hero. I kick shithead asses." She was saying this with gritty, fierce anger. Her need for violence was rising every second. Her face was almost manic; out of control. Was this because of the alcohol? "So I'm sorry, Briton. Really. Shoulda known that shit was bad for you. Someone like me should've kept you safe. Stopped it from happening at all."

She coughed then, face contorting. She was red, either from the beer, or from anger.

"Just lettin' you know, okay? I've got your back from now on." Her fist clenched harder - nails digging into flesh. "No. One. Will. Lay. Another. Fucking. Hand. On. You."

"This party turned to shit, let's get out of here."

That voice. Hot fire burned in Vi's eyes that she only partially kept down. She glanced around - finally seeing the large form of Vic, heading for the door. This was her chance. This was her goddamn chance, or else they'd be gone. Damn it all. She didn't have enough time to tend to Nate - she'd have to set that aside, then. He'd probably be relieved, too, wouldn't he? Didn't like her, anyways. So she had to do the only thing she was good at.

Violence. But not here; not at the party.

"Gotta go." Violet said with a dark scowl, before drunkenly stumbling towards the bullies, purposely tripping and wrapping one arm around each one's shoulders to support her falling form.

"Hey, wh-"

"Hey hey, so." Violet drawled. "Can I come with? This party is-" A goofy, unfocused grin. She hoped her act worked. It better work. "A drag. It's draggin's me down, right? Get it?" She let out an awkward laugh as both boys looked between each other.

"Hell, why not." Ryan said finally. "C'mon Vic, let's put her in the car. She's drunk, anyways."

"Might as well get somethin' good outta this party." Vic replied, and they more or less supported Violet as she made herself stumble and step forward badly, mumbling a 'sweet, thanks' in return.

It was on now. She'd wipe'em out tonight. This would end tonight. Vi'd make sure of that. At any cost.

"Ryan Chaffon. Vic Rockwell." Violet's words came out, seething with an anger that even Briton could detect. From the moment their names passed through her lips, he felt his body hunch. It was making him nervous, making him scared; he felt small and insignificant compared to what he knew for Violet was an overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of these guys. The only thoughts that came to him were along those lines of 'what have I done? I should have never said anything, even if they were prying!' Much to his worry, she continued her rant, which began to seep into the pit of his gut and give him a terrible aching feeling down there, like he was going to be sick. "Fuck. Just fuck. I'll wipe'em out, Briton. I'm a vigilante after all."

A vigilante, huh? So that was what the girl was calling it. That was what she was calling all this irresponsible, unnecessary fighting. She couldn't just take care of her self? Couldn't leave things alone to take their own course? Why couldn't any of his friends be able to use a bit of their sense lately, it seemed? Putting herself, putting themselves, into a dangerous situation with not a single cause. None of this was effecting any of them, why would it matter? Why didn't they think Briton couldn't handle it on his own? He clenched his jaw while he watched the girl's facial expression. As if they could have taken the pain of all his tormentors, and he couldn't. Not once had he ever cried or broken down or screamed. He wasn't asking for any help, and here they were assuming he needed it. It was a recipe for disaster, wasn't it?

"I'm a fighter. A Super Hero. I kick shithead asses." She continued. His mind was distracted, while the music suddenly cut out, the room stood nearly still for a few moments while the thrusting beat had disappeared, though Violet in all her rage seemed to be too distracted to notice quite exactly what was going on. Briton vaguely searched the immediate area he could see, unable to notice much with so many heads above him, and so much distance between where he stood, and where a commotion of laughter and screeches seemed to be occurring. "So I'm sorry, Briton. Really. Shoulda known that shit was bad for you. Someone like me should've kept you safe. Stopped it from happening at all." Briton's eyes flew immediately back over to Violet, green glistening in the low lighting, emphasized only by how widely he held them open at her in all his nervousness and fear for what she was going to do. He found himself shaking his head. He had to stop this nonsense, he had to stop it right now! He opened his mouth to say something, but not a thing came out. He was finding himself at a loss, dumbfounded for anything inside his throat that could possibly come out.

She let out a cough, and almost on cue, the music had started back up, whatever technical difficulty having been fixed, and instantly causing Briton to jump once more. "Just lettin' you know, okay? I've got your back from now on." She said. "No. One. Will. Lay. Another. Fucking. Hand. On. You."

Briton took a step back from her, eyes still as wide as they could go. He didn't want this, he didn't want it at all! The last thing he wanted was to be protected, to have everyone fussing and worrying over him. They saw him so helplessly, they thought of him as a small, delicate thing that couldn't fend for itself. They weren't thinking of themselves, and in their blind rage at something they didn't understand, they weren't thinking of him either. He knew far better than to let these hotheads get involved, because by the time they figured out what was going on, all there was was "protect mode" and there just wasn't any time left for rational thinking. He heard something vaguely behind him, something that sounded much like on of his tormentors, and quickly made an attempt to step towards Violet, to grab onto her and stop her, to try and talk some sense into her before it was too late, before she did something stupid and got herself hurt! But it was already too late; Vi quickly evaded him, not even noticing his attempt to try and talk to him while she skirted around him with a small "Gotta go," and rushed off, beginning to stumble and seem a bit more incapacitated than before, towards Ryan and Vic.

Briton stared for a moment, horrified, while she connected with them and was lead out towards the exit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't stop her. He couldn't talk to her, couldn't convince her. If he had just stayed quiet, just ignored Nathan's prompting, everything would have been fine, normal, and everyone could just act as plain and fakely happy as they usually did. This was all his own stupid fault. Forget Nathan for being the idiot who wanted the answer to a question that shouldn't have mattered to him. It was Briton's fault, in the end, because he could have just said no. What could any of them really have done? They would have been mad, sure, but at least those idiots would have been safe.

His eyes scanned quickly, suddenly, until he spotted a couple of familiar faces. Briton found a sudden, odd sort of comfort when his eyes landed on Oz; that sort of feeling that made him want to duck under the other boy's arms, bury his face into his shirt and rest like that where no one could disturb him, where he could pretend that nothing wrong was happening. The feeling, however, was quite so short lived, however, and when his eyes rested down on Nate, he felt that meek anger bubbling up inside him. Not the same anger he'd felt earlier, no. Suddenly, he'd forgiven Nate for asking the mere question, for invading his privacy, for putting him on the spot, but now he was furious for another thing. He was furious that now, rather than Briton alone having to deal with the pain those neanderthals caused, more were going to have to suffer. By the looks of things, by the cooing and jeering still in the room, by the passing calls, by Nate's somewhat disheveled appearance; even this boy had already gotten a bit of the consequence of his idea of "protecting" his friend.

Briton weaved through the crowd swiftly, storming over to the other two boys until coming to a firm stop in front Nate, almost completely ignoring Oz's presence for the moment. "You're an idiot!" Briton yelled at him bitterly, shoving his hands against Nathan's chest, only to have the boy give way a step probably out of pure pity, seeing as there was no was Briton could have shoved anyone with such a lack of strength. "Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??"

He bit his lip, his whole body beginning to show how flustered he was; his brows drew together, causing creases in the skin of his forehead, his chest heaved with breaths that seemed too hard to take, his fists clenched themselves, his limbs quivered. He didn't have anything he could possibly do to fix what had happened, and he felt so powerless. Even more so than he did on any regular basis.

"Y-you just got into a fight, didn't you?" Briton finally uttered, struggling to keep his voice up above the level of the loud music, despite a shake that had begun to encroach upon his throat. "A-and Violet is going to--" He took as deep a breath as he could, trying to stop his lungs from heaving and making it hurt. He dug his top teeth into his bottom lip, rubbing one fist into his throbbing temple. "Don't you get it, yet? Why doesn't anyone realize why I don't want to tell anything to anyone, you're just putting yourselves in danger for no good reason." He shook his head, fully aware that his voice had begun to change to something in between that of a moan and a whine.

He tried to bring in another uneasy breath, but all that came was a round of sudden coughing, forcing him to bend over at the waist, gasp for air, put a hand to his ribs while they ached with each heave of the lungs. God, it hurt. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to go home. His inhaler would have helped. This kind of scene, partnered with his sudden, choking emotions was just getting to be too much. He knew this was going to end badly, and here was just the icing on the cake. Gasping, and forcing himself to straighten out, he took a step away from the other two boys, trying to maintain perhaps an ounce of dignity while he could still pretend he had some in the first place. He closed his eyes, one hand pressing down to his own forehead, the other reaching out and grabbing Oz's wrist for support.

"I have to go home," He breathed out, his words barely even coming out at all, though even without being heard, it was probably too obvious what they were. "I have to go..." His thoughts wavered over to Charlie for a moment, thinking about how he'd told the other boy that he could text him when he was ready to go. He wasn't in any condition for waiting around for that text anymore, now was he? He felt hoarse, he couldn't get words out anymore. When he opened his eyes, the room was harder to see in, the floor seemed to pull at him more. Was he even in condition to drive at all, he wondered? Turning away to look through the crowd absently, and not really processing much of anything he saw while he did so, his hand didn't leave where it rested weakly gripping Oz's wrist.

"I need to tell Charlie I'm leaving," He uttered as loudly as he could manage, before bending slightly again, his hand finally leaving Oz's wrist to cover his mouth while he struggled through the breaths for a few moments. He dropped the hand down to his side after a moment, and shook just a bit. "I hope I can find him soon..." I don't know how much more of this I can take...

This whole thing was already beginning to spin into what would eventually become yet another disaster. Only this time, it was because I wasn't thinking straight when I chose to handle it my way. It was like something else had taken control of me, moving my body to how it saw fit. Still a little shaken, I let out a breath of air and shook my head slightly while thinking of what to do, how to fix my mistake. Tch, this mistake... I already had plenty of those that span over the last 100 years. This wasn't any different, other than its immediate importance: Vic and Ryan had to be stopped further yet. But it wasn't going to be as easy as luring them into a weak proposition such as the one I made with Vic just then. No, it would take more than that. Much more. I figured it would only end one of two ways; either I go the full 9-yards and beat them both senseless, which is something that I would rather not have to do... Or... I could kill them. My eyes narrowed at the thought of being able to even think of such a thing. I could do it, yes, but would I really be capable of taking two teenage lives just to save the life of one of my friends...? Either way, I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with it, and I was absolutely no good to anyone if I were behind bars...

It wasn't until Briton had showed up, angry upon seeing the obvious outcome of what had just happened. Calling me an idiot, he gave me a light shove, which sent me stumbling a few steps back on account of my weakened knees, where I again stopped with my shoulder hitting the DJ stand. Although, thankfully, this time the cord wasn't unplugged. Barely moving or breathing, I just stared at Briton with a vacant expression as he told me what he thought. I couldn't blame him, really. I mean, he was right, in a way. Sure, friends were supposed to help friends, but was I really helping him...? Wouldn't it have just been better to have asked him what he wanted to do about it, rather than to take matters into my own hands without prior intel on what it was I was getting myself into? Well, I didn't care about what happened to me in the long run, so I was alright with getting a little pummeled here and there, but not if that meant Briton would be suffering even more later on...

While not locking eyes with him, I gave a small, silent nod as to his question regarding whether or not a fight had just taken place. From there, he went on to express himself further, but after a certain utterance of words, I was no longer listening. I couldn't even hear the sound of my own voice properly after what had just started dancing around in my head. My heart tightened, my eyes unfocused and my breathing became more apparent. He mentioned Violet. In regards to what was going on now. Which meant that it involved Vic and/or Ryan, which made me want to freak out in fear of the possibilities that scenario would result in. But I did feel my lips move and my throat vibrate with the evidence that I was speaking, although I must not have been heard, as Briton continued to rant about my stupidity, which I totally agreed was true. However, something more important than getting the scolding I deserved became apparent...

"What...?" I said, sounding lost. "Violet's doing what...?" I continued, now straightening up a bit. I tried getting the boy's attention a few times, but he was soon lost in his own thoughts as he began having something of a panic attack of his own. Waiting for him to calm down slightly, I grabbed his shoulders and looked fiercely into his eyes. "Listen to me-- WHERE is Violet? What is she going to do?" I spoke clearly. Now finally noticing my presence once more, since I was literally right in his face, he told me, albeit with obvious contempt over still being mad at me for what I had done. It was as if all noise around me had died down until the only thing I heard with certainty was Briton's words. My eyes widened at that, my mouth slightly agape as I stumbled back yet again, only this time it was of my own volition. 'Oh, no...' I thought. 'Oh, no, no-- NO! This can't be happening! What have I done?' I shouted at myself inside my head. I knew it was my fault, even if all I did to cause this part of the night had been simply because I had Briton tell me who was hurting him. My worst fears were being realized, and the last birthday hadn't even arrived yet. Could this be an intervention by the curse? A change in the rules...?

Not wanting to believe such a thing, I pulled out my pocket watch with visibly shaky hands. The watch was still ticking just fine, so there was at least hope. But that wasn't to say that we couldn't die by regular means before the game started... I had to find her; stop her from getting involved. Because even if she turned out to not be in immediate danger tonight, there was still the very strong possibility of what she did during its hours, which would come back to bite her in the very near future... I couldn't wait for her to seal her fate because of my mistake. I couldn't let her die because of me yet again...

Without saying another word to either Briton or Oz, I moved between them, heading for the door that was at the end of several twisting bodies. Wading through them as if I were in some deep, leech infested swamp, I made for the front yard. Stopping me on the way was a girl who looked to be a few years out of high school, asking me to dance with her. I didn't want to be rude, but dammit, there was something far beyond important to me at that moment in time. As politely as I could, I refused her request and continued on, much to her indifference. Finally reaching the door, I jogged outside where a small group of teenagers were chatting it up over a few beers.

"Hey!" I said, coming to a halt, already glistening with sweat I wasn't aware of back inside the house. "Did you see a short brunette leave with a couple of guys? Might know em-- Vic Rockford and Ryan Chaffton?" I asked them, looking back and forth between two of them. Smiling, they told me what they knew.

"Oh, uh... Yeah, I think so?" one of them said, scratching his temple with his index finger. "I saw Vic and Ryan carrying off some drunk chick to their car before driving off, but I didn't get a good look at her." My eyes widened once more as the two of them smiled again. Was I too late...?

"Where did they go!?" I shouted. "Which direction did they leave in?" The two guys then suddenly looked a little unsure of me.

"Um... What's it to you, anyway? She your girlfriend or something?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. This was such a pain; couldn't these two assholes just tell me? I mean, they say they saw a drunk chick, and my current state was obviously one of fear, not excitement, so why withhold information that could save a young girl? The people of this century were unbelievable...

"Yeah, she's my girlfriend." I said without hesitation. Anything to speed things up. Even if that meant lying to people I didn't know or care about. "Now which way did they go?"

"Ah, shit, man. Uhhh..." he said, pausing to looking behind him towards the road in front of the house, now pointing awkwardly to the right. "That way, I think." Growling a little at his uncertainty, I followed his point.

"You're sure?" I asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Yeah, definitely." spoke the other boy. "Ryan's house is about 4 blocks up that way, so that makes sense." Nodding along with him, I chose to trust in his words, not wanting to waste anymore time.

"Thanks!" I said, giving one of them a pat on the shoulder before jogging into the street. I looked ahead to see if I could make out any tail lights, but there were none to be seen from either end. Giving another frustrated growl, I took off up the road in the direction I was told they went. It had been awhile since I ran so hard, and with so much purpose. Not since 19 years ago... The street was practically void of light, save for a few breaks in the trees that towered over me from either side; streetlamps were standing erected on the side walk every few yards, but other than that, I could barely see anything until my eyes began to adjust to the lack of proper lighting. With each step I took towards the unknown destination I was heading for, I became more worried. With every hardened breath of air I inhaled, I was reminded of my past lives more vividly, as though I were still there, trying to beat the clock in my head... But I had to reassure myself that, at the very least, it wasn't a sure thing that Violet was going to die tonight, since the game hadn't even started yet. I had to have faith in her. I had to believe that she wouldn't do anything anywhere near as stupid as what I had done not 5 minutes ago... I had to hope that my friend was okay.

I continued running down the empty street, the sound of the party that was a couple of blocks behind me still having been loud enough for me to faintly make it out. I was beginning to panic again, wondering if I had been told a lie by those two boys, simply because they didn't believe Violet was my girlfriend or something. And then I began to think on it more. What if those guys were friends of Ryan and Vic's...? What if they told me to go the wrong way because they were in on some kind of plot that involved those two assholes getting revenge on me for Vic's humiliation at the party? They had to have known that Violet and I have been friends since childhood, right? At least they would have noticed it after I became a person of interest to them, wouldn't they...? They would have made the connection, surely. If they knew who both Violet and I were, even just a little, then it was safe to assume that they also knew we were close based on seeing us together at school.

"Dammit!" I shouted at the empty street, trying not to think about the worst that could happen. "VIOLET!!" I shouted once more, my voice becoming hoarse as I hoped that she would hear me somehow, no matter how far away she might have been. I was afraid. More than just me, though... Something stirred deep within me. Something that wasn't entirely...me. I ignored that feeling as best I could up until that point, but it was becoming stronger. My was heart pounding with more than just the adrenaline that came with running as fast and as hard as my body would allow. The only thing on my mind was Violet's future. A future that could be traced back to my carelessness. A future that I inevitably caused... A future where she was no longer in my life. And that's when I realized that those thoughts weren't my own. I had lost this person more than once before-- as I did with everyone else, but Nathan Miller had never lost Violet Haring before... He had never lost any of his friends. For some reason... I was focusing solely on the fact that this version of her would be gone forever. At the time, I hadn't given it much thought, but the truth of the matter was... Nathan Miller wouldn't be allowed the luxury of seeing that girl's soul in another body, unlike me. Because Violet would only ever be Violet. For him, he would never see her again once she was gone...

That particular scary thought was something I remember once having, myself... And it's something I still think about to this very day...

Samuel Westhouse

Sam kept one eye on Violet as he talked to Paige, waiting for a moment to catch her. Paige seemed pleased to see him. She nudged him playfully, teasing him about dancing. "Maybe I was waiting for the right moment." He jested back. She seemed to hesitate a moment, as if something uncomfortable had just popped into her mind, but then she changed the subject. What time had he gotten here? He opened his mouth to answer, but Lacy caught her attention before he could. He didn't slump, but inside he could feel himself Wilt a bit. He didn't need much, but sometimes he wished he could have Paige's undivided attention for at least a little bit. Maybe it was the buzz growing in his brain, but he had the urge to cut in again, pull her away and give her that dance she had been teasing him about or something. But no, her other friends were important to her too and he couldn't do that to her. He turned his attention back to Violet for a moment, searching out her location. She was talking to Briton. Cora had shown up over at their little group, and Paige was talking to her. Maybe...maybe now was a good time?

He laid his hand on Paige's shoulder for a second. "I'll be right back in a second." He murmured in her ear, close enough that she could hear him. He wound his was towards where she was standing, and the music cut out for a second. He barely noticed though, so intent on catching her. As it crackled back to life, Sam saw Violet turn from Briton and run straight into two big guys. Chaffon and Rockwell, the bastards. Shit. He sped up as the girl started walking with them, stumbling a little. Was she really that drunk, or was she playing with them? Either way, this was not good. She was going to get hurt.

They managed to get out the door before he could plow through the people in his way, and once he burst out the door they were already off. Shit. Shit shit shit. He cast about himself, but there was nothing. He'd just run then. It was a neighborhood, hopefully they wouldn't do over thirty. As long as he could keep them in his sights he'd be fine.

The boy took off from the front stoop, landing halfway down the sidewalk running. He wasn't lithe enough to be a sprinter, but he pushed himself down the sidewalk, using his elbows to cut his way through the people lounging outside. He raced down the street, completely focused on running. He was a little unsteady, maybe he shouldn't have drunken anything, but his buzz was only serving to make him angrier. He was focused on trying to break the wall, let his adrenaline flood his body and remove the feeling of wear in his muscles, even if that point was still far off, when he heard someone yelling from a couple blocks away.

'Dammit.' He made out fuzzily. He didn't stop running, but he focused his ears harder. Was it one of the guys? Had Violet already started up? 'Violet!' The voice shouted. No, it wasn't one of the other guys. It had to be either Nate, Charlie, or Oscar. No one else could possibly be calling out her name. He had to stop for a second. Any backup he could get would be helpful. He paused, tracking the car he was chasing around the corner before halting. "Over here!" He called, cupping a hand around his mouth. It wasn't nearly loud enough because his lungs were starved for oxygen.

"Over here!" He shouted again, managing to get his voice loud enough that it rang off the houses around him. Hopefully the other guy heard him and could follow the sound. He started running again, crossing the road to follow the turn the car had made. He would make it there. He didn't intend to do anything super-hero-ish, he didn't want to save the day, he just didn't want Violet to get hurt.

Following behind Nate in the crowded room was no small feat, weaving past closely packed bodies that were in constant motion, the incessant beat of the music pulsating throughout the room like it had its own heartbeat. Idly, Oz wondered why the cops hadn't been called by irritated neighbors at this point. The town was small enough that you could probably hear the pure noise from the party as far away as his own house.

It was up to Nate to take point on this little mission, which, much later Oz would harbor some regrets about. However, at that moment, with all the bro-fueled friendliness the greeting got them (perhaps fueled by a bit of a drunken haze, but, hey, no judge), Oz could only offer up his typical lazy smile and a bit of a wave, which quickly morphed into a more bemused smile because what on Earth was Nate saying? "Total Wizard, yo"? But it worked, Ryan crowing enthusiastically before giving Oz a friendly hand-slap. Everything was going smoothly so far, and Oz allowed himself to relax even further if that was at all possible. This could work. This could totally work.

So, when Ryan continued on with, "Killer party, right? Haha!", Oz grinned as if he were talking with a life-long friend instead of a the guy who'd been harassing Briton.

"Man, that's an understatement," He replied, nodding his head and following Ryan's gaze. So maybe loud and crowded parties fueled by adrenaline and booze weren't Oz's cup of tea (the mere fact that he thought things like 'cup of tea' being a primary reason), but this party was enthusiastic and rocking, the creme de la creme of parties if he was any judge.

From there on, Oz kept quiet, watching the conversation unfold. He couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes with the Lacey comment because seriously? Fine piece of ass? If Lacey had heard them, Oz was reasonably sure they'd be nursing more than just a hangover tomorrow. It was like Ryan, Vic, and their little group were walking, talking stereotypes in an after school special, convinced that making lewd comment about women and harassing nice kids like Briton actually made sense in the real world. And maybe he should have said something, should have stepped in and taken over the conversation so that calmer heads would prevail. However, with each sip of generic alcohol Nate took, any good feelings that he'd brokered at the beginning of this conversation began to vanish. Oz could only nod in agreement about Briton being their friend because, well, if he wasn't their friend, why would they be having this conversation in the first place.

"Yup, that's all I got." Even before he opened his mouth, Oz knew that this wasn't going to end well. The friendly atmosphere had effectively dissolved until only a latent animosity was left behind. Still, with all of his ill-placed optimism, Oz had to try. I mean, it could work out, couldn't it?

"I mean, Briton's a nice guy, you know? I'm sure whatever the problem is, we could talk it out. I know you guys are cool, and we're not here to start a fight, so why don't we just keep cool and figure this out, alright?" There was an awkward silence where the music track was begin switched, and, as Ryan's face evolved into something akin to a sneer, Oz knew that the time for negotiations had disappeared a few minutes after they came to the party. His whole rational speech, calm smile, and friendly words may have worked in some other cases, but right now? Not a snowball's chance in Hell.

Now things were escalating quickly, manly pride, testosterone, and liquid courage on Ryan and Vic's side mixing with Nate's fervent desire to defend their friend and the emotion of the situation into a dangerous situation. Maybe calmer heads were prevailing, Oz had to hope when Ryan held his friend back, but those hopes were quickly dashed because whatever Ryan had in mind? Yeah, all Ron Weasley comments aside(the joke was, of course, on him. Oz liked Ron, thanks very much), probably not good. His pride was magnificent to watch, though, smaller than Oz by a few inches and about Nate's size, but maybe he thought that his ego gave him extra strength.

"Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" Oh, Lord. They just had to challenge Nate, didn't they? Sure he was more their size and Oz was… well, not, but did they really have to choose the person who wanted to fight?

"Nate, man, just forget it," Oz was almost pleading with him at this point, a hand placed solidly on his best friend's shoulder. "This isn't going to end well, let's just go, okay? You shouldn't do this." But even his patent face of Ozzie disapproval that usually worked so well when his friends were about to do something stupid, was ineffective.

Everything was happening too fast now, some stupid game with rules being set up, and then fists were flying. It was all going by too fast, too fast to catch Nate as he fell backwards, back meeting the stage with a resounding crack that Oz could only hope was the temporary booth and not his best friend. But now, now Oz could keep up with what was happening as a near silence fell over the room, and he quickly pulled Nate to his feet, and was, quite unlike his usual self, a flurry of motion, but not at random. Oh, no, each move was calculated and with a certain calmness that no other person in this room possessed because Oz was good in a crisis. He really was. Checking what was surely going to be a nasty bruise on Nate's head, glancing down at the dented DJ stage, all the while whispering, "Nate, come on, let's go. You don't have anything to prove. This is only going to get worse, let's go, let's go."

But Nate only pulled away with a friendly pat and a smile, throwing himself back into the conversation. Now he was proposing a deal, a deal with people who thought that picking on people was fun and that punching someone in the head was even more so. But maybe it wasn't too insane, maybe Nate did have a plan because now he was picking at one of their greatest weaknesses- their pride. If he could pull this off, miraculous thought it may be because Nate wasn't a fighter, maybe it could work…?

And, just like that, he did. Vic went toppling over and there was a moment of disbelieving silence before the room erupted in drunken cheers, whoops of excitement that the underdog had won, or maybe just thrilled that they got to see a fight. Nate seemed as surprised as anyone, perhaps a little too much so, but he was clasping Oz's hand, and the taller boy could only squeeze back, surprise evident on his own face. Even Vic struggling back to his feet couldn't quell the excitement as he took a few steps towards them before stopping short, and maybe Oz just realized why. He was looming closer over Nate's shoulder now, nearly pressed against him in the small space provided by the enthusiastic mob. Was someone seriously scared of him? Seriously? Oz hadn't fought anyone since, what, the second grade, and that had been more of a play fight than anything.

Everyone was dispersing now, slowly going back to whatever they'd been doing as the music restarted and Ryan managed to pull Vic back from, if not starting a round two, then just shouting stupidly. But any peace that had come from this fight vanished in just a few words as Ryan walked over to Nate and hissed out a threat before vanishing with his posse to lick their wounded prides. Nate was slightly trembling now, and Oz bit his lip, hand reaching out to wrap around Nate's shoulders only to meet with empty space. Briton, who against all odds had decided to come, had given Nate a push and was clearly furious with him, spitting out accusations and then there was something about Violet that Oz didn't understand. He must have been the only one not in the loop because Nate was off like a shot and Oz was left alone with Briton who was, well, who was having some sort of asthma attack, and since when did Briton have asthma?

Briton was wheezing, grabbing onto Oz for support, but it was like Oz wasn't even there. He basically hadn't been there since the party started and he'd spotted Ryan and Vic on the other side of the room, words going mainly unheard, helping people up, not being told anything as Briton and Nate had their half conversation that had Nate racing away, and now begin used as a physical support for Briton who seemed to have forgotten that Oz was more than just a standing post for the moment. And that was fine. It was all fine. It didn't bother him at all. Not one… not one bit. At least he could help here. He could do that.

He wrapped a gangly but solid arm around Briton who was bent over and struggling to breathe.

"Briton." His voice was calm, too calm as he bent over as well until he was on the same level as Briton. "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." His tone was soothing as he rubbed Briton's back in calming circles because he didn't know what else to do and he wasn't about to move Briton or send off a text until he was sure his first call shouldn't be to 911. Was this asthma? A lingering cough? He had no idea, but he could certainly pretend like he did.

"You're weird today."Briton's words cut through the air nearly sending Charlie's heart thumping out of his chest at the sudden visit of unwelcome words. Charlie looked down at his shoes feeling his face growing red.

Was it really that obvious? Charlie wondered sneaking a glance at Briton who was crawling akwardly and cutely onto his bed before he fumbled with the tv remote. He really needed to get better at hiding his feelings, Charlie noted trying to straighten up and act as if the words didnt bother him the best way he could.

"I um... uh..." Briton mumbled seeming to be a bit apologetic before claiming they were going to watch a movie.

Charlie only shrugged just happy that the subject was being changed.

Actually enjoying the pick of the movie Charlie watched it intently, his mind slowly fading into the movie as he slipped away from his life problems and into the action and adventure of the fifth element.

"I just gotta change my clothes, I almost forgot." Charlie nodded not really grasping what Briton had said as he continued to watch the end of the movie, to engrossed in it to understand his words.

Charlie's brow furrowed at the sudden flurry of flying pants passing through his peripheral vision. Turning in his seat his eyes landed on a half naked Briton, his shirt beginning to be pulled over his head. He looked even more scrawny and small than Charlie imagined, though its not really like Charlie had ever imagined what his friend looked like naked....

Bruises lay across his bare skin some looking newer than others.

"Briton..." Charlie whispered horrified.

The boy turned giving Charlie the cold shoulder as he pulled on socks.

"Alright, come on," Briton finally said after what felt like an eternity to Charlie. Getting up silently and following Briton out his apartment and to the car, the air became thick and awkward.

---

The loud sound of the music drifted out the house and across the street greeting Charlie where he sat in Briton's car parked about a house down from the teenage crowded party.

"Ready?" Charlie asked gently, concerned at the way his friend seemed to be growing pale just looking at the crowds of people.

Charlie hopped out of the car, deciding on giving Briton as much time as he needed to get out the car and build up to go into the party where no doubtfully Briton's aggressors would be.

"I'm only going in for a few minutes! I'll probably leave early, too, so just text me if you need a ride home later." Briton called receiving a thumbs up from Charlie before the loud blonde sunk into the bodies of people.

"Hey Charles man what's up?" Charlie was greeted as soon as he entered the sea of people, turning around to find the sound of the voice he grinned at his auburn haired friend. "Hey Mike."

"Man where've you been?" Mike asked after giving his friend a bro hug.

Charlie shrugged as his eyes involuntarily scoped the room for Briton.

"Jake's already upstairs gettin some." His friend smirked at him before pointing at a group of girls who were giggling and chatting as they sipped from cups in their hands. "Punch's already spiked, though most people just went straight for the alcohol."

"Damn guessed I missed a lot then." Charlie muttered as his eyes traveled down a girls body who was wearing one of the tightest tank tops and shortest shorts he had ever seen. Another grin made its way across his face as he realized he was checking a girl out and actually liked it. I knew I wasn't gay, Charlie thought relieved.

The faint nudge of an elbow to his ribs made Charlie break his gaze from the girl and look over at Mike.

"Two girls, three o'clock. I call the one on the right." Mike muttered before throwing a slight smirk on.

Charlie quickly ran a hand through his hair out of habit.

"Hey boys." A petite looking brunette said her words slurring together, already heavily intoxicated.

"Ladies." Charlie smiled, first checking out the small brunette before glancing over at the taller punk looking girl, her hair a jet black.

The punk looking girl muttered something under breath and rolled her eyes. She looked like she could careless about being here, and she just so happened to be the girl on the left.

"You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?" Mike asked leaning in towards the brunette nonchalantly as he spoke.

The girl giggled slightly. " I sit next to you in english, silly."

"Oooo how are you going to recover from that one." The other girl chuckled amused.

"Alli, quit it." The brunette hissed receiving a glare from Alli, as the two began to try and stare the other one down.

"Why don't we go dance." Mike interrupted the two smoothly.

"Uhh sure," The brunette smiled. "Why dont you look after my friend while I'm away." She daintly placed a hand on Charlie's forearm, but kept her eyes on Alli, before walking off in Mike's arms.

"Well guess that just leaves you and-" Charlie stopped midsentece as the girl began to walk away. "Hey where are you going?" He gently grabbed the girls forearm. Only to be roughly shaken off. "Where do you think I'm going." Alli rolled her eyes and stared at Charlie as if he was dumb. "Unlike my ditzy friend, I don't roll that way." With that she walked off leaving Charlie standing there with his mouth open.

The sudden absence of music only breaking him out of his trance as he looked away from Alli's retreating figure.

"What the?" He muttered, lightly touching his ears feeling weird that the loud pounding of music that had accompanied him since he walked in was gone. Making his way over to the crowd of people, Charlie stood on his tippy toes, unable to get a good view, he did his best to push through people, but was still unable to really see anything.

"Hey Trevor what going on here?" Charlie asked spotting one of his friends who was now cheering with the rest of the people around him.

"Some random guy just showed Vic Rockford up." Trevor laughed obviously stoked at the notion.

"Who?" Charlie asked appalled at the idea of someone wanting to try and show up the popular, muscled jock.

"Ehh, I don't know, I think his name is somethin that starts with an N."

Charlie's eyes widened, Nate. He didnt. There were a lot of people at the party with a name beginning with the letter N, but Charlie had a strong feeling that Nate was the one who had 'showed Vic up'. He could have at least called me for backup. Charlie thought slightly annoyed.

The sudden return of music only made Charlie more annoyed as he tried to push through the crowds of people.

"Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??" Charlie caught the fragment of a conversation as he spotted Nate, Oscar and Briton.

"Hey Charlie want to dance?" A girl suddenly blocked his path a drink was firmly clutched in her hand, while the other was now pressed against the blonde's chest.

"Not right now." Charlie answered irritated as he watched Nate dash out the door.

"What's stuck up your ass?" The girl growled back before moving on.

Charlie began walking again, picking up his pace as he watched Briton double over coughing. He only slowed down slight after seeing the dyed blonde grasp Oz's wrist and then altogether come to a complete stop as he watched Oz rub Briton's back.

Charlie's heart dropped as he watched the two. Briton probably enjoyed the physical encounter between him and Oz, it probably wasnt awkward as it had been between them when they were at his house. Briton was probably even smiling, just the way he had when Oscar had ruffled his hair, well if he could with the lack of air he was getting, either way he was probably enjoying it.

Charlie began walking again, pushing past the two and unnecessarily shoving Oz as he exited the house.

That party was lame anyway, Charlie thought sourly kicking a rock as he walked alone down the dark sidewalk. Why did he even care what Briton and Oscar did together. They were both friends they could do whatever the hell they wanted together, he had no say.

Letting out a frustrated breath he roughly pulled a hand through his hair yanking out a few strands in the process.

"VIOLET!!" A clearly frustrated and worried voice rang through the streets barely reaching Charlie's ears.

"Nate?!" Charlie called out thinking he recognized the voice.

The voice sounded distress and Charlie was pretty sure it was Nate, he had seen him dash out of the house, so it would make sense.

Charlie began running, calling Nate's name out again, hoping his friend and Violet were okay.

At least this situation was something to keep his mind off of Briton and Oz who were probably all over each other by now. Charlie picked up speed at the thought just barely making out a running figure in front of him. There was no way he would catch up to him, he was already starting to lose his breath not use to the sudden heavy exercise. Well at least he could try, he had already let Nathan down in the brawl against him and Briton's bullies, he wasnt going to do it again.

Samuel Westhouse

Sam didn't stop running again, not waiting to see if he got a response. He needed to keep track of the car. He skidded around the corner to see it parked at the end of the road. As he neared, he saw a smaller figure stumble out of the house. Shit. The figure walked down the driveway, paused, then crumpled. Sam had to stop running, because if he kept going at that pace he was going to trip and wipe out. Then he wouldn't be any use to anyone. His body shaking with the force of his run, he stumbled the last few feet to the form on the ground.

"Fuck, Violet?" He mumbled. God, if she was dead...Or concussed....or just unconscious... he didn't know what to do. No...no...she was moving...she was alive. "Violet?" He said again, his voice hoarse. He reached out for her form, finding her face. She was hot, but there was no bruising on her face. Good sign. What did he do now? He needed to take her somewhere else. Call an ambulance or something. Find whoever it was that had been yelling for Violet and get him to call.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, trying to gather her up in his arm. Everything was moving sporadically, it was if multiple scenes were playing over one another. As if this had happened before, just in a different way...a different life.... it didn't matter now though. He just had to get her to safety. He could feel her back in his hands, and one of her ribs was shifting in its seat. Actually, she must have suffered damage to her chest. Had they been kicking her? Where were they now?

He really needed to get away. Now. Before they came out. He felt like he was about to be sick, and he couldn't defend himself and Violet at the same time.

The fireman carry wouldn't do here, not if her ribs were damaged, that would be too painful. The rational part of his brain made him stand up, holding her. "Don't move." He told her, trying to get his legs to run again. Adrenaline was still mixing with the booze in his blood, which made for a wobbly but intense scene in his brain. He managed to start running again. He had to get back to the others. Nate'd know what to do.

He wanted to yell at the girl, but there was no time. No time to tell her that she could be dead right now because she'd gotten herself into a big mess. No time for anything but skidding around the corner. Sam ran until he encountered another figure. Actually, more than one. Nate? Charlie?

"Nate!" He called out, his voice raw. "Nate, she's fucking hurt, you need to help her." The sight of the others flooded him with relief that weighed his legs down with exhaustion. Why had that been such a terrifying experience? He knelt down, laying Violet on the sidewalk gently. Nate would have to come over there because he couldn't move anymore.

He was too busy recalling memories that weren't his. Maybe he was going crazy? The sight of Violet laying on the ground had brought up memories that couldn't be pushed back down. Memories of dead friends that weren't familiar. Dead Paige. Dead Cora. Dead Nate. Dead Briton. But they didn't look like themselves. But there were other memories too. Of the ER. Of being ripped apart by a bullet. Of hanging out at the front of the school with kids he didn't recognize but knew instinctively as his friends.

It fell into place, and he thought he was going to be sick. He remembered all this shit. He was going to die. They all were. Even if it wasn't this moment, they were going to die in the near future. But not for the first time. Sam crawled away from Violet, opting instead to lay on his side in the grass, trying not to puke. He really shouldn't have drunk anything at all. He couldn't take this. Not now.

His face was slick with sweat, and he was still gasping for breath, but he managed to open his eyes to see if Nate was taking care of Violet.

"Her rib is broken. Chest trauma." He croaked out.

Almost immediately after my cries for Violet left my lips, I heard someone shouting back "Over here! Over here!", a few times. I knew that voice. It wasn't Violet's, but rather...

"Is that Sam...?" I asked the empty air as I kept running. I had thought I'd also heard my name being called from behind, which, if it was another one of my friends, was something of a godsend. If something happened to Violet, and there was no one there to stop me... I was afraid that I really would end up behind bars for doing something outrageous. "I'm on my way!" I shouted back at the voice ahead of me. I was sure it had to be Sam, but my senses were a little blurry with fear and rage, so there was a chance I was just hoping it was him. Who better to have in case someone gets injured, right? Not that I expected the guy to be carrying around a bunch of medical supplies when going to a party. Then again, he just might have.

Having pushed my body into overdrive, I finally managed to catch up to the owner of the voice-- rather, he came back to meet up with me, and he wasn't alone...

"Sam!" I called out as the sound of his frightened voice echoed toward me, telling me to hurry. My feet slowly came to a halt, my breath heavy as I watched an equally, if not more, out-of-breath Sam kneel over a body. It was like my heart dropped into my shoes; my world almost shattered at the thought of the state she was in. "NO!" I screamed, immediately thinking the worst, my past experiences flooding back to greet me with a cold embrace. I felt the inner Nate go crazy, and I couldn't help but kick my feet off the pavement once more, rushing toward her.

"Vi!" I yelled, absentmindedly placing a hand on Sam's back for slight support as I came to a skid on my knees, sliding across the pavement. "Oh, God..." I exhaled, my voice slightly shaky. "VIOLET!?" My voice cracking slightly, I felt my body move on its own once more, which I was beginning to allow in full. Scooping her up slightly, I held her limp upper body in my arms, almost forgetting to be careful; Sam had said she was hurt, and it was now apparent as she was breathing somewhat hard, a pained expression on her face. At least she wasn't dead; that was all I could tell myself as I looked at Sam, who, in this life, had never seen me so frightened.

"Violet...?" I asked, checking her over. "Please, talk to me..." Giving her shoulder a squeeze as I brushed some hair from her eyes as my own pair began to burn slightly. I could help it. It was all just so surreal. So familiar... Sam had long since left our side, deserving of resting for a while after trying so hard to reach their friend. Charlie had apparently been by my side ever since I stopped running, but I wasn't paying attention to anything besides the immediate problem that was currently crumpled in my arms. Knowing I still had more energy left in my legs, I moved to lift her up, only for her to cry out in pain, making me set her back down. "Shit...! Sorry, Vi..." I hissed, hating myself for causing her more pain. This time, more carefully, I cradled her gently, rising to meet Charlie who was also out of breath, clearly frightened for Violet as well. I quickly adjusted to him being there, turning to talk directly to him.

"Charlie, help Sam up-- please." I said, looking back down at Violet's face, which was glistening with sweat under the moonlight. "We need to hurry back; tell the others." Without another word, I took off back down the road, albeit much slower than my initial run out there, not wanting to cause any more unnecessary pain for the girl I was carrying. "Hang on, Vi... Please, just hang on..." I said in a low, strained voice, speaking more to myself than to her. The clock in my head was still ticking, only much louder than before. It was tethered to me, after all...

Sam had said that it was just broken ribs, but he was no doctor, despite his apparent potential for being one if he were ever allowed the chance to pursue such a career. Realizing this, I asked for her voice. I needed to make sure she was alright...

"Talk to me, Vi..." I said, voice dry and my chest, burning. "Let me hear your voice...!" I kept telling myself over and over again that she would be okay; that this wasn't a premature link to her death. I still had a chance to fix this. Knowing this, I reminded myself that I was seriously out of it in this life. Had this been the curse's doing, I would have lost her for sure... I needed to figure out what was wrong with me. Figure out why the inner Nate was taking control so prominently. Was my mind tired? My soul...? Scared at the thought of it being the latter, I readjusted Violet's position in my arms to get a better hold of her, only to hear her groan slightly, growling at myself, I pushed on, hearing that annoying music float back to me, which, oddly enough thanks to the situation, instantly made me feel somewhat relieved...

---

Amber let the bitter taste of alcohol relax her, as she moved with the music. Lacey seemed to play songs Amber could dance to without getting too into it. She liked to feel the beat in her heart, the pounding sound in her head. At least for awhile. Sometimes it was nice to have an escape. Alice in Wonderland had always reminded her of this, the idea of a wonderland had always interested her. Though her favorite disney character would have to be Ariel, the little mermaid. For obvious reasons of hair color and just the type of person Ariel was.
Amber liked to think she was the strong, independant, yet lovely princess Ariel. She liked the idea of a prince charming, as well as living in two worlds. Though it seemed that she was not her prince's princess. She glanced around to see if Nate had even arrived, let alone if he'd actually decided to come at all. She barely got a chance to look when someone said her name and pulled her aside.
She smiled kindly, at her friend, and allowed herself to be taken from the louder area.

"Hey, uh. Let's talk." Violet said, with a look that Amber realized meant it was something more serious. She let her smile fade, and her signature concerned look came on.
"So. Uh. You're probably wondering why I'm... my hand. The blood. That stuff, right?" Violet started, as Amber watched her carefully.
She nodded, remembering what she'd seen before. Things like that always worried her, really anything did. It was almost an anxiety feeling she'd get, a protective side of her wanted to take everyone in open arms and hug them until the bad things went away. That wasn't exactly possible though.
"I'm... a vigilante," she continued, "Like. I see bad shit, and I beat down on the assholes that started it. The asses that deserve it. Because who else will stop it? The cops -" she paused. Amber had a fleeting worry of Violet being in trouble with the cops, but decided she'd let her finish her thought before she jumped to conclusions.
"Yeah, so. I'm a fighter. Just got back from one before we went for milkshakes. So don't worry about it anymore, okay?" She reassured, though it was rushed.
Amber couldn't really tell what Violet was thinking, or why she was hiding it in the first place. Like any protective motherly figure would be, Amber was still concerned for Violet. Part of her wanted her to stop fighting, and stop putting herself in dangerous positions. The other part, still a role of a good parent, was proud of Violet. She was impressed that the small girl seemed to take care of herself completely. Small or not she was tough, and Amber's babying probably belittled the effort Violet put into being independant.
So the two weren't so different after all. Both strong girls, looking out for others.
She smiled as Violet left, the brunette completely unaware of how lucky Amber felt to be friends with a girl like her.
In a sense, Amber was really the odd one out in the group. They were all "odd", or more of a wallflower type. Amber was your classic high school cheerleader, popular and well loved by the people in her school. Not to say her other friends weren't "popular", they were just more unique and had a different twist to their fame. Amber was a good girl for the most part, and like Ariel from the little mermaid, part of her wanted to rebel a little for once.

After a few more drinks, she was having a good time. She'd lost her friends already, but she danced along with the music. She loved to dance, and she was pretty good at moving. Fluid, fun, slightly seductively she seemed to even make a few friends, laughing and being goofy. She seemed to make friends wherever she went. Lacey came back from where she'd been, bringing Amber another drink. She'd already told Lacey how much she'd liked her DJing earlier, and the two were still on the lookout for Nate. Amber spotted him then, talking to two boys. She smiled then, happy to see he'd come. Though she was a little tipsy, it gave her a bit of confidence to go ask him to dance.

She weaved through the crowd, but once she got closer she could see from his face something wasn't right. Though it was loud, she could hear them talking a little. Well, she'd picked up enough at least.
"Yeah, she's my girlfriend. Now which way did they go?" Nate said to a random guy. Apparently Nate was looking for a girl, apparently a girlfriend.
Her heart sunk a little. How could she not have known he had a girlfriend? Feeling incredibly stupid for even hoping to talk to him that night, she turned and headed back to where Lacey and her had been dancing before. On her way over, she made eye contact with the waiter from the diner. He motioned her over with a bright smile.

Seeing him did lift her spirits slightly, but not enough to where she'd been before. On her way to go to him, she grabbed Lacey's hand and whispered, "The boy from the diner came! He has some cute friends.." she let out a giggle and the two went over to the counter.
"You made it just in time.." Colin said slyly, "we're about to drop tabs."
At first Amber just laughed lightly, and went along with it not exactly realizing what he meant at all. She'd never really had many experiences with drugs, only the few times she'd seen people smoking pot.
Colin's friend asked Lacey and Amber if they wanted a hit of acid, and Amber just smiled, still not really understanding fully. She was confused when she was handed a very small piece of paper. She let it sit on her hand, but then watched as the other four boys with them placed the paper on their tongues, letting it dissolve. She at first panicked, and looked to Lacey, to see if she'd taken one or not.
But then she wondered what would be bad if she went wild tonight, she was almost 18 anyway, right? It was only a matter of months. The idea of Alice in Wonderland came back in her mind, a small tab for "eat me" and a bubbly liquid for "drink me". It sounded like fun, but she wanted to see how her best friend would react.

"Hey Guys!" Lacey turned her head sharply to the source of the greeting, smiling widely as her eyes landed on Cora, who she hadn't seen all day and had been a bit disappointed to have not shown up for milkshakes earlier. Lacey threw on a wide smile, throwing a quick hug around the other girl. "Oh my god, Cora!!" She exclaimed, maintaining a steady shout over the pulsating music to be sure that she could be heard. "It's about time we saw you, I was beginning to think you were skipping out on us!" She let go of the other girl, stepping back a little before giving her a light nudge with her elbow as she gave a narrow glance at her with only the smallest hint of a smirk, as if to chastise her slightly for not coming to meet for milkshakes earlier with everyone else.

Lacey gave a quick glance over her shoulder, opening her mouth to bring Amber into the conversation, though she quickly shut it, noticing the small distance that had been constructed while her back was turned and Amber's attention was drawn in towards another figure a bit further down the room. Following the girl's gaze, her eyes widened. Nate had shown up, and hadn't even come over? Her eyes quickly darted back to Amber, furrowing her brows at the mere idea of what she was sure had probably made a significant pain in her chest. She clenched her jaw a moment, biting her lip and smudging a bit of her lipstick, before forcing the smile back on her face and turning back to Cora with a shrug. "Whatever, they'll realize you're here soon enough!"

Speaking of Briton, actually, Lacey could hardly believe what she was seeing when the short, scrawny boy, ducking slightly to remain underneath the range at which someone's flailing limb would have hit a person, came weaving through the crowd. Even if she had made careful to emphasize that she wanted everyone to attend, well... she hadn't really expected as much, now that she really thought about it. "Oh my god!" She uttered loudly, eyes running quickly up and down Briton's small form, with disbelief.

"Hey Guys," He greeted, and it was plain from his voice he was struggling to figure out how to make his voice loud enough to be heard against the atmosphere. "I showed up, against my better nature. But I promise I'm not staying."

Lacey offered up a pout at him, though she couldn't say it wasn't astonishing enough that the guy had shown up at all. Pretty soon, however, he was moving on as well, picking out Violet from the group and heading off to have his own conversation with her, which, as was the conversation with Amber that the girl had had just moments before, and that Lacey had just barely caught a glimpse of as she'd been making her way over to the group, was beginning to worry her a bit more. She tried her best to shake the thoughts from her head, giving a big smile to Amber as her attention jumped back from where it had been. Something about her expression had darkened, and Lacey found her own smile slimming a bit, her heart almost skipping a beat while she found herself worrying about what had happened, what Nate's conversation had been perhaps. Amber was a good girl, good enough for royalty if she wanted it. So why was Nathan such an idiot, then? But then again, how one-sided was it? Violet had feeling for him, too didn't she? And she deserved someone good just as much as the next girl. So why were these two great girls hung up over some angst-ridden boy who wasn't giving either of them the attention they deserved? Lacey clenched her fist, almost not noticing when Amber's mood seemed to lift only slightly as her eyes caught someone else's.

The girl came in close, reaching her hand for Lacey's and pulling her in for a whisper and - finally - a happy giggle. "The boy from the diner came! He has some cute friends..." Her whisper came in a sort of sing-song tone, and Lacey found her signature smile spreading once again across her face once again. Finally... Finally Amber could focus her attention on someone who'd actually payed her some due attention, who wasn't so engulfed in his own damn problems to show a girl a little interest. Amber deserved a little fun, and so did Violet, too, now that Lacey thought about it. But, giving a glance around... where had the girl gone, anyway?

With not much time to dwell on it further, Lacey was whisked away by the other girl, finding herself over with the boy, Collin was his name, and his little posse of friends. Surely, Amber had been correct to announce the other boys as being cute, though very little particularly brought her towards any sort of flirting mood at the moment. She was Amber's wing-man, right? That was all she really had to focus on for the moment.

"You made it just in time.." Colin uttered slyly, and Lacey found herself almost caught off guard. "we're about to drop tabs."She blinked a few times, still processing the statement while she stood there, watching the boy's friend passing out what looked like a simple little piece of paper, but was far from it in the least. Druggee, huh? She had to admit she was surprised. He hadn't seemed like he'd been into that kinda shit when they'd spotted him in the diner. He seemed like he would have been the typical preppy sort of boy, almost, a good guy who'd be a designated driver once in a while, but she supposed it wasn't like there weren't tons of people who conveyed a certain atmosphere to cover up what was going on when no one else was looking. Lacey, of course, was one of those sorts of people, albeit not in the same exact sense as Collin over here.

She stared down at the little sheet in her hand that the boy's friend had distributed to her, her smiling face gone while she pondered it. Acid, huh? Not a good idea. Hugs not drugs, and whatever, aside, she couldn't say she was really into the whole scene, so, she should have just dropped it and walked away, right? Take Amber with her and tell her to forget about the guy, right? Drinking was one thing, but who could have said what kind of trouble they were to get themselves into while they were tripping out? A good friend would have gotten her out of there, wouldn't she? And yet, here she was, still staring down at it, considering. Tonight was about fun, forgetting all the shit that was going on and trying to wash all the hell out of her system. Her mind wavered back to Stanford, to her family, to her siblings with halos around their heads. To every time she failed and every time she'd looked in the mirror and cried. To every time she asked someone if they were okay and no one knew that she wasn't. To every time she felt worthless and unloved and ugly. She was a friend and never a girlfriend, good but never perfect, pretty but never beautiful.

Without a moment more of hesitation, she popped the little sheet into her mouth, shutting her eyes while she felt it dissolve against her tongue. Tonight was about having fun, and she was tired of all this depressing bullshit. If finally getting over it all was as stake, even if it was only for a little while, then hell, she'd do whatever it takes. She could worry about regretting it later. For now, she spread her smile once again across her still mostly-painted lips, giving her gaze back to Amber with a light laugh. Amber seemed to be waiting for Lacey's reaction to decide what to do, and Lacey simply gave the girl a shrug, as if to say, 'hey, why not?'

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..."