The two boys carried Luke's body between the two open doors of the house, having to rotate at just the right kind of angle to fit him through. Flynn was holding the upper part of his body, muscles slightly straining from the weight as he climbed the last step. He was soaked to the skin, blonde hair turned a shade darker from the poison of the sky's tears. His jeans clung to his skin so much that he felt as if he was wrapped up in cling film, the material securing itself around him until he struggled to breathe. He should have just left him there. It's no less than he deserved. He killed his parents.

He couldn't explain his actions. He couldn't explain why he had ripped the keys from her palm, wrenching the door open and frantically wiping off any traces of blood with his shirt. Why he had turned off the lights and shoved a murderer in his boot. He would have liked to blame it on the laws of secrecy, would have liked to assure himself that he only did it to obliterate any trace of suspicion and oddity. To remove the possibility of questions being asked. But he could only lie to himself for so long, and he couldn't really deny himself the truth no matter how much he was determined to convince the others. Luke was his friend. His mate. Even after all he'd done. They'd gone through way too much. He couldn't just leave him there. 

Liam couldn't bring himself to look his brother in the face, to see his face contorted in pain as blood trickled out of his nose and mouth. To see his hands painted with blood and a red T-Shirt concealing stains left by untreated wounds. A familiar gold chain around his neck and familiar words leaving his lips. Incoherent apologies, confessions, admissions, memories, people's names. His name. A few cries for their parents. A few pleads for her. But his eyes remained closed. And the blood continued to spill. He was in a close to unconscious state, not even aware of the words he was saying.

Liam had heard them all before anyway.

They all had.

Liam had become accustomed to ignoring them, having given up believing in his older brother a long time ago. There had come a point where it had become too painful for him to blindly follow hope just to have it ripped away again as soon as Luke's body lost the willpower to fight back. Which was more often than not. To him, his older brother had died the moment he drank his blood. And he was never coming back. Because, if Liam believed for one moment that he could be saved, it would surely break him. It would be like unscrewing a bottle of lemonade that had been all shaken up. Exploding everywhere in an uncontrolled mess. It had happened before. And it was something that he had no desire to ever experience again.

The two boys walked straight through the lobby, wet shoes squeaking on the tile as they walked past Nate comforting a shaking Eleanor. She wasn't saying anything, eyes following the body of Luke as they carried him into the living room. All of Nate's words seemed to be washing right over her head and Liam wondered, not for the first time, what the hell had happened. Eleanor hadn't looked that bad since the day of Thalia's death and, just as he had then, he wanted so badly to run over and comfort her. To wrap her up in his arms until they both felt okay enough to start insulting each other again. Because it was the fire in her that he loved so much, and he knew that there was something seriously wrong whenever that light went out. That burning flame was the fuel that kept her going, her spite and quick wit quite possibly being the only thing that stopped the world from eating her alive. And it made him want to strangle the universe when even a tiny gust of wind attempted to blow it out.

He remembered the first time he had seen her, walking down the school corridor with a few folders clutched to her chest. Glasses pushed back onto her forehead and eyes flitting around nervously as the other students stared down at her socks, one of which that had rolled down to her ankle on its own accord and the other pulled up to her knee, almost reaching the hem of her skirt. He remembered how she had smiled the whole way down the corridor, not wavering for a moment even when whispers began to circulate about the new girl. 

He remembered walking past the music rooms, trying to find Nate, and hearing the fleeting sweet sound of a girl singing. How he had felt drawn to that voice in a way that he couldn't quite describe. How he had heard the way her words climbed the scale effortlessly, and how he had felt the sudden need to find the owner of such a voice. How he had followed her song all the way to the large music room at the end of the corridor, looking through the glass to see her singing one of the most beautiful songs he had ever heard. Watching as she huddled herself on the piano stool, crying where she thought no one could see her. And he had suddenly felt an ache to rush over to her, a push to tell her everything would be okay even when he truly had no idea what was wrong. But he couldn't. And his whole self had deflated upon that recognition. He couldn't. His brother's words had been echoing in his head, and he had seen Thalia in the shadows, watching, and he knew then that he...he couldn't. He...he just couldn't. 

The two boys lay Luke down on the large leather sofa, their shoes leaving dark footprints on the plush white carpet as they did so. Liam was still refusing to really look at his brother, preferring to turn and glare at Flynn who was leaning against the armrest, staring down at his fidgeting hands as he rejected the challenge of looking his friend in the eye. "I...I'm sorry, Liam." His voice was barely a whisper, the quiet sound echoing in the silence of the large room as he shuffled his feet on the ground beneath him, eyebrows furrowing as he only just noticed the black marks they were imprinting on the expensive flooring. He sunk his front teeth into his bottom lip, sighing as he dipped his head to hang even lower. "I...I just couldn't leave him there."

Liam didn't say anything for a while, staring out of the large bay window into the darkness outside. There weren't that many stars out tonight. They were all covered by a thick layer of cloud. His racing thoughts had been compacted into one big, ginormous question. Would he have done the same thing? Would he have had the guts to leave his older brother to die? "What the hell happened, Flynn?"

Flynn sighed, finally lifting his head to look at Liam. Liam who was still staring out the window, hands clenched into fists at his sides as a muscle ticked over in his jaw. He looked tenser than Flynn had seen him in months, shoulders taut and rigid as his chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths. Flynn hated himself for doing this to him but he...he couldn't just leave him there. There was nothing else he possibly could have done. "I...I...I got there a bit late because I...I saw Samantha walking alone in the middle of the street at night and I...I...I had to make sure she was okay." Liam didn't say anything. Didn't move a muscle apart from the rise and fall of his chest. "And I couldn't call Eleanor to tell her because I didn't have her number." A muscle in Liam's jaw jumped. "I...I got there and she...she was standing outside the shop door and she...she looked terrified and then I...I ran out of the car because I...it looked like something was really, really wrong and then I...I looked through the glass and I...there was blood on the glass and I...I...Luke was just sitting there...coughing and I...I didn't know what else to do, Liam. I...I know he's not the same now but I...he's still my friend. I...I know he's still in there somewhere, I couldn't leave him."

"He's not still in there, Flynn. My older brother is dead." His voice held no emotion, and if Flynn hadn't seen his eyes close for more than the time that it was appropriate to blink, perhaps he would have believed him. 

"He's your brother, Liam."

The laugh that escaped his lips was almost terrifying, so unfit for the situation that Flynn almost had to check to see if he had heard it. And, when he turned around, he certainly wasn't smiling. Oh no, his dark brown eyes held an emotion in them that was too strong for Flynn to decipher. He had to refrain from jumping back when he jabbed a finger at his brother's blood-soaked chest. "This is not your friend, Flynn. This is not my brother. This is a murderer. This is the guy who killed your parents. Who killed my parents. Who killed Nate's mother and sister as well as so many others. Can you honestly look him in the face and say that you don't hate him just a little bit?" His voice was rising, but not with anger. It was fuelled by the same incomprehensible emotion that was in his eyes, a pain born of so much sadness, death and loss that it was too torturous to name. "Because I look at this...this thing and I...I don't see my brother. I see a murderer that should rot in hell."

Flynn gulped, shaking his head at the boy in front of him. This wasn't Liam. This was the mask Liam put up whenever he was close to crying inside. He had seen it so many times, but not for so long. He had been doing so well for so long. He...he hadn't had to hide his true feelings for so long. But Luke...Luke would always be there to haunt him. He would always be looming over him as a reminder of all that he had lost. And all that he had left to lose. It hadn't been fair on him, to bring Luke back, he knew that much. But what else could he do? He...he couldn't have just left him there. He just couldn't have. Luke was...had been the most loving, caring person to ever walk the earth and he...it didn't seem fair to just...to just let him die like that. He...he deserved better than that. He deserved better than this. 

"What would you have done, Liam?" Flynn's voice was quiet, contrasting Liam's outburst so much that it was almost swallowed by it. "Can you honestly tell me that you would have just left him there?"

Liam didn't take his eyes off his brother, hand shaking as he gently knelt down next to him, grasping the gold chain around his neck. The light of the room seemed to bounce more off of his eyes, watery tears brimming on the surface as a trembling smile lifted at the edge of his lips. His whole body was shivering with the effort it took to hold back the tears, swaying side to side slightly on his knees as he looked his older brother in the face after so long. "I...I gave him this," he said in a quivering voice, holding the pendant in his palm and using his other sleeve to frantically wipe at his eyes. He turned to look at Flynn, that sad smile still coating his face. "I gave him this."

Flynn nodded in agreement, mirroring his smile as he knelt down next to him. Slowly and gently, so as not to frighten his fragile state of mind. He shuffled a little closer to his friend, pressing his lips together in order to hold back his own tears as he saw a tear leak from his friend's eye. Wrapping a brotherly arm around his shoulders, he pulled the ginger-haired boy into his side, rubbing his arm as he felt his head rest on his shoulder. "You wouldn't have left him there, would you?"

"No." The word was quiet, almost unheard. But it was enough. It was a signal to both of the boys that, no matter how much you tried to hate something you loved, that love would always come back around. No matter how much you tried to put it off. Especially if that love was for a family member. 

"Oh, how touching."

The two boys jumped round in a split second, immediately on guard as they noticed a shadowy figure standing in the corner of the room. His bright green eyes seemed to glow in the dark, dancing with what almost appeared to be amusement as he stepped further into the light. He was tall, dusty brown hair covering his forehead and a harsh jawline to compliment the rest of the sharp features of his face. His eyes were almost cat-like, following the two boys' every movement as they shakily rose to their feet and pulled themselves back into self-defence mode. 

He was wearing all black, dressed head to toe in the colour and...strangely...there were handcuffs binding his wrists, each with a chain hanging off each end. But the chains appeared to be...broken...snapped. Almost as if he had...broken out of them. He smiled at their confusion, seeming to find the whole situation almost humorous. The amount of calmness about his manner was almost terrifying; it was too relaxed. Almost as if he knew the outcome of every situation the world could possibly throw at him. "You really should take more care of Eleanor, by the way." His tone was airy, floating around the room in an almost taunting manner as he saw the two boys flinch at the mention of her name. His smile grew. "You really shouldn't leave her alone at night. She's a little too easy for someone to catch. A little too easy to...kill, wouldn't you say boys?"

Liam didn't like this guy at all, but, for some reason, despite never seeing him before in his life, he seemed somewhat familiar. "Who the hell are you?" His voice was growled out and low, heart pounding at the thought of not himself getting hurt but his friends and the girl he was so desperately in love with who was most probably still in the household somewhere. He had given up caring for his own wellbeing a long time ago. He only cared to protect those who mattered most to him.

The man chuckled, the sound a dark and humourless sound that bounced off each of the four walls and echoed out onto the tile of the next room. "I'm only giving some advice as to how to keep your little girlfriend safe." There was something in his words this time, despite their first appearance of being taunting. "And, not that it really concerns you, but my name is Fate. And as much as I would love to stay and get to know you all, I really must be off. You see, that psychopath over there is holding my boyfriend's life over my head so I would really prefer it if he were alive and under my care. I agree it is a shame to part so soon and it's been a pleasure to get to know you both but I really must be on my way."

And, with that, before either of the boys could even begin to comprehend his words, he had clicked his fingers. And both he and Luke disappeared into thin air.