Oscar bounced uneasily on the balls of his feet, fairground lights flashing in his eyes, the colours creeping across his face and strangling the whiteness out of his cheeks. He refused to remove his gaze from the looming, dark building in front of him. Gulping down a golf ball of bile as if it would somehow calm his racing heart. He couldn't help the anxious movements of his hands as they drummed a repetitive rhythm on the sides of his legs, each beat coinciding with a flash of green that darted out of his mind almost as soon as it had entered.

"Stop stressing out about it, Oscar," Samantha said from where she stood next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a grip that was much tighter than usual. Oscar hadn't been so blind as to miss her change of attitude since the arrival of a mysterious dark-haired figure named Brendan. Her words of comfort were clipped, annoyed, not really holding much to them. Always glancing over at Brendan when she thought he wasn't looking. "If he's here, he'll be here."

Brendan hadn't really left much time for thought at the coffee shop, grating on the two friends for any information they might happen to know without leaving much room for judgment of his character. Or, at least, any judgment that wasn't negative. The guy wasn't exactly what Oscar would class as an approachable person, a little rough around the edges both in looks and personality. And, although, admittedly handsome, he didn't quite have the same boyish charm as Elijah. Elijah.

He was significantly nicer to Oscar than he was to Samantha, flinching away from her every touch or glance as if there was some sort of electric wire between them that pulled taut whenever they came into contact. It was painfully obvious to Oscar that they knew each other, despite their harsh denial. Almost as evident as the attachment Brendan had to Elijah. His expression always seemed to lighten a bit whenever he was mentioned. And, perhaps if it weren't for the tense circumstances, Oscar would have found himself tumbling down into the dangerous spiral of jealousy.

Apparently, the ginger guy he had seen in the coffee shop was extremely important. And he was here. Dangerous. And the reason that Brendan had so cautiously walked into the building in front of them, looking for Elijah who would most likely be with this mysterious coffee shop dude. He hadn't shared any more information than that, although this was not particularly surprising. The only reason he had allowed Oscar to come with them was because he "didn't want to waste any time."

The blonde boy had practically begged Brendan to tell him if Elijah was okay. To demand what was so threatening about this ginger guy and how his sort-of-sort-of-not-boyfriend had gotten caught up with him in the first place. He honestly couldn't help the growing hole in his heart, the way it spread to his lungs and swallowed his chest from the inside out. Churning. Spinning. A toxic drug enveloping his senses and enhancing his every emotion to the point where it became physically painful to even think. It was as if the world wasn't quite itself anymore, a little tilted off the axis as everything blurred together in one big mess. Each individual object crafted to remind him of how horribly wrong this all was.

How stupid had he been? Wallowing in his own self-pity whilst Elijah could have been suffering. Oh...oh lord. What if he was hurt? His heart stopped at the thought, breath kept hostage in that ever-growing cavity sucking up everything in his chest. The twirling fairground just seeming to stop. Float. Illuminations of flashing green lights consuming his face as he felt his entire being refuse the mandatory act of existence. A huge wave collapsing on top of him, folding over and dragging him along the sharp, jagged rocks of the seabed. Regurgitating him out under an infinity of darkness. Water both soft and hard at the same time. Too deep to make out colours. Not even green. Lungs doubling over one another and withering away until they became tangled up within themselves. Skin shrivelled and creased from the exposure to such a harsh substance.

He...he had to be okay. He...he just had to be.

Brendan burst out of the worn wooden door, not even sparing the empty paying booth a glance as he erupted from the house, the large building to seeming to shrink under the pure might of his expression. He had a familiar looking girl tucked under his arm, his free hand roughy dragging a certain, flaming tuft of hair that Oscar immediately recognised.

The pale body of the boy was thrown to the floor with the sort of ceremony and grace that resembled tossing a corpse onto an already overflowing pile of lifeless bodies. The sort of violence that the boy plunged to the ground with completely wiped Oscar of any disappointment he had previously felt at not seeing Elijah. The expression fastened to Brendan's face was barbaric, lips pulled back into a sneer as he screamed out words that Oscar couldn't quite hear. Face coloured with the pigment of rage as he drove his foot repeatedly into the boy's stomach, either not caring or too caught up in rage to notice how the fragile human was crumpling up like a bit of screwed up tissue paper. Coughing up blood.

"Don't you dare even think about coming anywhere near her again," he roared, the sound bounding off the strangely empty fairground and crawling back up to echo in the ears of all who heard. It sent webs of fear shooting down Oscar's back, slinking down his spine and wrapping its tendrils around every tendon in his body. The dark of the night only served to illuminate Brendan's domineering presence, how the rest of the world seemed to wane around him. His rage took up all the oxygen available for breath, consuming the rest of the space and leaving no possible room for anything else.

Oscar had no idea how to react to such a situation. He had never truly been exposed to such violence before. It was always something that he had co-existed with behind the safety of a television screen. And he had, of course, like any sane person, imagined himself being a complete badass when he was put into such a circumstance, swiping left and right, knocking out all the bad guys and being claimed the hero at the end of the day. He had expected his reflexes to kick in or something. But now...he just...he just didn't know how to...how to do anything except watch helplessly as a man was beaten half to death in front of him.

"Stop it, Brendan, you're going to kill him!" Samantha screamed, face awash with panic as she suddenly seemed to snap out of her stupor and rush to his heaving form. It seemed that even he was struggling to comprehend his own overpowering emotions, shaking as his foot raised to deliver yet another kick to the boy's stomach.

His lips lifted into a tight-lipped smile at her words, not even bothering to look at her as the darkness that was his eyes devoured the trembling bowed down at his feet, explosions of blood ejecting from his mouth as a sort of garbled sound floated into the stale air around them. Something frighteningly akin to laughter singing from his throat. "Good," Brendan snarled, setting his jaw in a line so sharp that it looked ready to be used as a weapon of its own, "the bastard deserves to rot in hell."

It was in that moment that Oscar realised something about Brendan. Something that future occasions would only serve as evidence to. The guy was insane. There was no possible way that a normal, sane human being could be willing to take someone's life. It really made him question just what kind of friends Elijah had. Or if he was the person he had thought him to be at all. But he decided not to dwell on this, because the time they had shared together had been such a perfect illusion of romance that it physically hurt him to think of it as anything otherwise.

"D... Brendan... stop... I... I think... he can... he can tell us where the boys are."

"The boys?"

"He... I think he might have Nate, Flynn and Liam somewhere."

The girl that Brendan was conversing with was someone that Oscar really hadn't been expecting to see here, or ever again, in actual fact. He could still remember their brief encounter at the coffee shop, how she had seemed to be all the right kind of girl, if that made any kind of sense. She had giant mega-watt smile and facial features that somehow managed to be sharp and soft at the same time, the sort of timeless beauty that wasn't really executed by any kind of outward appearance. She had a sort of glowing warmth about her that just drew an onlooker in. But to see her here... eyes wide and horrified as they alternated between the deformed body on the ground and Samantha, looking especially disturbed by the presence of Samantha, it was... odd. Out of place. And he couldn't help but feel any words that he had had to say dry up in his throat. Too many things were happening at once. Too many normal things turned abnormal as easily as the flip of a coin. Toss. Coin toss.

The body at Brendan's feet was something that Oscar struggled to classify as human, limp figure curled around itself as if the bloody beating had somehow forced his body to reset to one of a fetus, whipping back in time to where all thoughts were prohibited and no harm could come to the unborn baby. Somehow still garbling out mismatched words that twisted around themselves before they reached anyone's ears. Incomprehensible. "Where are they, Luke?" Brendan didn't bother with formalities.

The boy, Luke, only grinned, the white bone of his teeth tainted with blood and menace as yet another severed chuckle protruded from his lips. "Why the hell would I tell you?"

Brendan crouched down, squatting in front of him so that he loomed just above his head. Staring down at him as he sported a sadistic grin of his own. Reaching down to fist the bloodstained shirt in his hand and drawing Luke closer until his fragile victim could feel the hot breath pooling on his face. "I'm going to assume that Fate told you about me. I'm going to assume that you know exactly who I am and that I am very much capable of breaking every single bone in your body only to put them back together and break them again."

Luke didn't bother to respond to his threats, preferring to purposely choke up blood and spit it in the direction of his attacker's face, splattering the glowering menace with the very same blood that he had driven out of his stomach with his foot. Oscar's head was spinning, even more so than before. He had to grip onto a nearby candyfloss stall in order to prevent his legs from giving out. But he probably should have found something a little more reliable to lean on because what happened to next absorbed what little breath was left in his lungs.

"As much as the little prick deserves to have all the blood slowly drained from his body, I would really prefer it if you didn't," a voice that was all too familiar said from the eclipse of darkness surrounding the fairground. The sound ricocheted off the wall of Oscar's head, reminding him of cold winters wrapped up by the fire and harsh winds brushing against the mountains all at once. It was the particular set of baritone notes that he had longed to hear for so long. Something that he had dreamed about, so much to the point where he had attempted to recreate the melody for himself. But now... now that he was hearing it...it...it sounded all wrong. It... it was the same instrument but it was... it was playing a tune that was unfamiliar to him. The wrong sort of key. Somehow... out of tune.

Brendan's eyes had zeroed in on the darkness, seeming to search for that all too familiar set of glowing green eyes. "You're seriously telling me that you don't want to see this guy strangled to death by his own intestines?"

No, Oscar thought, no, he doesn't want to see that. Because that isn't him. He doesn't want to see violence, much less create it. He's not dangerous or sadistic like his insane friend. He's kind and loving and he would never do something like that. Because I would have seen it. He would have told me. He wouldn't have kept a part of himself hidden like that. He couldn't have. I must have mistaken his voice for someone else.

But, as his figure emerged from the shadows and he caught the glowing gaze of his eyes, he knew that he was not mistaken. No one else had those eyes. Not a soul. Even if the malicious intent captured in them was something completely foreign to him. It was him. There was no way it could be anyone else. It was Elijah. But not quite. There was a kind of aura around him that had him shrinking away into the safety of the light emitted by the stall. Something dark. This may have been Elijah. But it was most certainly not the Elijah he knew.

Elijah smiled. But it wasn't the one that Oscar remembered. That vengeful and predatory gleam somehow more unbelievable than the three boys that were suspended in the air behind him, almost appearing to be asleep. "Trust me, Brendan, that truly sounds like a dream come true. But I can't let you do that."

The man in question stood taller at his friend's defence of the psychopath, dark gaze meeting bright green eyes that held so much in them it almost made him step back slightly. This wasn't the same man who had stormed out of the gates of heaven. Oh no, this was a completely different man altogether. And Brendan didn't quite know what to do with that information. It did set straight one thing for him, though. His suspicions appeared to have been correct. "What's he blackmailing you with, μοίρα?"

Fate moved his jaw to the side, feeling the tense muscle generate just the sort of pain he needed. Seeing his best friend again was not something that he had prepared himself for that evening. As a matter of fact, the reunion could not have been more ill-timed. He was already eating himself up inside over the night's events. It was the first real time when the ginger weasel had given him errands to run. From clearing out a fairground to knocking out three boys, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell that maniac had in store for him next. He may have been doing all of this to protect Oscar but... the things he was doing... they weren't him. They were cruel, calculated moves that honestly made him question if it was just best to protect Oscar from himself. Oscar had the kind of innocence that was almost too pure. And he was pretty damn sure a guy like that wouldn't want a guy planning to murder someone. Even if it was to save his goddamn life. Protecting Oscar would probably mean losing him in the process. It was what that evening had brought him to realise. And, as much as he didn't regret his decision or intend to change it, it made him a hell of a lot more pissed off than he already was. "None of your business, θάνατος."

Fate was well aware that Death had probably been looking for him. And, although the guy was a bit of a sadistic bastard more than sixty per cent of the time, he had missed him too. They had quite literally gotten each other through hell and he was the only person that he considered to be family. A sort of brother to him. He had absolutely no doubt that he had looked for him. Meaning that he had probably been expecting a more joyous greeting after so long. Which was why the string of Grecian curse words aimed at him wasn't exactly surprising. Not that he was necessarily paying attention, more focused on the girl with dark hair and tan skin standing behind him, looking about ready to pass out as she studied the figures of the three boys still hovering above his head. He knew immediately that that was the girl he was meant to kill. Eventually. And it made him sick.

"I'm sorry, θάνατος," he looked his friend in the eye, holding up a tired hand as a way of silencing his fuming companion, "but there are things that I'm just not willing to risk."

Brendan took a moment to really take in Elijah's facial expression. The sort of resigned features that banded together to form an increasingly heavy weight, pulling down both the light in his eyes and the corner of his smile. He remembered how his friend had smiled when first telling him about Oscar, how he had laughed a little more than he usually did and rejoiced in the bliss of what it felt like to have someone make you feel mortal. Like you weren't just some omnipotent prick up in the sky who had no purpose other than to carry out your job. And then he remembered the person who was standing just beside him. Who had caused him to feel something remarkably similar. And he knew. Whatever blackmail this lunatic was using on him, for whatever dark purpose made his best friend disappear for four years... he would have done the same thing. He understood. "It's okay, μοίρα, I get it. I understand."

Fate smiled, genuinely. He couldn't help the sort of gratefulness he felt for his friend in that moment. That, in the long life that he was forced to live, he had a brother to stand by him. To understand his decisions and not judge him for them. To just get him in a way that no one else seemed to. This man in front of him, who was often made out to be some sort of devil incarnate, was the best friend he could have ever asked for. And he hadn't realised just how much he missed him. His dry humour that was often used to balance out his own sarcastic mentality. The way he always seemed to find a way to make a happy situation depressing. The way he would pretend to get drunk whenever he had too many beers even though they both knew he did not have the ability to. The way he would always laugh at cringy and unrealistic death scenes, only seeming to find horror films hilarious as he pointed out how awful the special effects were. The way they would both sit on the railing of their balcony and watch the sunset go down. Silently accepting that they had many more to come. The sudden memories made him tear up a little and, before he knew it, he was walking over to his brother. Pulling him in for a tight hug and just savouring in the presence of something that he was familiar with.

But it was in that embrace, when he opened his eyes, that he saw him. Standing there, eyebrows pulled down almost like a picture frame that was far too small for the photograph. Brown eyes watching him with a mixture of confusion and something else that Fate didn't really want to think about. It had been so long since he had seen him in person. Too long. And, while still being clutched in a tight grip from his best friend, he couldn't help but take him in. All of him. The blonde hair messily ruffled on top of his head. Eyes so warm in colour that they sort of resembled chocolate. Tall and thin, large hoodie draping over his form like some sort of blanket. His hoodie. Staring at him as Fate's lips slightly parted, ready to give some sort of explanation. To apologise and grovel at his feet to earn his forgiveness. To beg him to take him back even though he was the one that had left in the first place. To just wrap him up in his arms and give him the kiss that was long overdue.

No words came out.

Brendan pulled away, seeming to sense that his friend's attention had been directed elsewhere.

"Elijah?"

"H...hi, Oscar." Fate couldn't remember the last time he had stuttered.

"W... what... why? I... I don't understand."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"What? Why?"

"I miss you."

And, just like that, Fate became Elijah. A young, vulnerable teenage human who was so lovestruck with this boy that he would literally do anything to make him smile. "I... I miss you too." He didn't even try to mend the crack in his voice, feeling it break just like the rest of his resolve. How the hell had he been able to stay away from this boy for so long? "So, so much. You have no idea."

"Then why... why did you leave? Where did you go?"

"I... I can't..."

"Was... was it me?"

"No, no definitely not. I... I just... you don't... you wouldn't understand."

"Then help me to understand Elijah, because I... I... I'm not okay without you, okay? I... find it physically difficult to function without seeing you every day and now you're here and I... I don't think I can let you go again."

Fate closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he took a deep breath. If he didn't, he would be leaping over the distance between them and smothering Oscar with all the love that he had forced him to miss out on. He couldn't do that to him. It wasn't fair. This isn't what love should be like. Love was meant to make you stronger and all he'd done... all he'd done was hurt him. That wasn't right. He'd left without an explanation and completely messed him up in the process. Goddamnit, he'd already hurt him so much. And he was a pretty complicated guy, who was to say that he wouldn't do it again? Oscar didn't even know the dark side of him. And he was pretty damn sure he would never be with him if he saw it. He wasn't good for him. Even without a death threat hanging over their heads, it would never work. He would just do his usual stunt and mess everything up. As much as it physically tore his heart into shreds, he needed to let him go. It may have not been the wish of his heart, but that part of his body had already been tossed in a blender and screwed up anyway, following it would be pointless. It was in so many pieces that he didn't even have a chance of going in one direction.

"I... I'm not good for you, Oscar. Just... just forget about me. I... it'll be better for you."

He swallowed. Hard. Screwing his eyes shut and massaging the muscles in his forehead in an attempt to hold back the emotion that was threatening to leak out of his eyes. He didn't want to see Oscar's expression. Because he was sure that it would gather up all the leftover pieces of his heart and piece it back together again. And that was what he was most afraid of. Because once that organ was fixed, there was no stopping him. He would be all over the boy he loved regardless of the constant target aimed at his head. Regardless of the poison he held on his lips.

With a click of his fingers, the three boys fell to the ground, breaking back into consciousness with a series of curses and groans. He then turned his glance to the beaten body by his feet, letting out a resigned sigh as he realised that he would soon be returning to the hellhole that had been his home for the past four years.

"Don't worry about him," he said with the sort of exasperation that fully demonstrated the overall exhaustion of his being, both in mind and body, "he only did this to scare you. From what I can tell, he enjoys terrifying people. He's not coming for you. Not yet, at least, but I... don't fall for any of his tricks, okay? Even when he threatens the things you love the most. He knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's good at it. He got me to fall for it and look where it got me, absolutely nowhere. We don't need any more people under his influence. He's done enough damage as it is."

And, with that, he and Luke were gone.