That wall that Miles had built up so carefully around his emotions was tumbling and it was tumbling fast.

Seeing Aaron so upset had only made Miles' own sadness swell like a pool ready to overflow. When that pool overflowed, Miles was in trouble.

Being alone didn't help.

Emotions were something that took experience to hide, that's for sure - but once one had kept them concealed for long enough, it was almost like they didn't exist. But all it took was one rattling event to shake said person back to the reality that they couldn't lock their feelings away forever.

Miles was realising gradually that he was rapidly losing the control he'd always had. He was so sick of blinking back tears and biting back his cries and maintaining that stupid facade.

Blurry tears welled in the corner of his vision.

How many times had it been predicted in storybooks that by this time in the future, they'd have time machines?

They didn't, but Miles wished desperately that they did. There were so many things he wanted to rewind.

Miles was currently on the first floor of the library, by himself. The sun had set and the moon had started its climb into the inky sky, making it relatively dark inside the library. Miles wasn't lonely, but somewhere in the back of his head, there was a wish for company. He wasn't desperate enough for it to return to his friends on the second level, so he stayed here, wandering thoughtlessly through the shelves.

When his mind was so distracted like this, sometimes he could swear his hands were sticky with blood, that his hands were dealing with the weight of knives. It was so easy to forget that that was all just his imagination; it felt so real.

He reminded himself that in reality, it wasn't even imagination. It was a memory.

Miles stopped in his tracks to kick one of the shelves with his shoe. It felt good, so he did it again, harder this time. The smart half of him told him that there were countless, more productive ways to express his anger, but it didn't matter to him. With nobody down here with him to witness his absurd, childish tantrum, Miles kicked the shelf again and again until he started aiming his violence at the books instead of the structure to hold them up. He cried and he tore books from their shelves and hurled them at the ground, entertaining the small voice at the back of his head telling him that destroying things would make him feel better. It did, even though he knew it was wrong.

Miles kept going, a reckless creature. He was yelling - at nobody, about nobody - just yelling. Most of what he shouted wasn't even coherent or comprehensible. He kept kicking and shoving things until books were all over the ground and shelves were splintering. He just wanted to wear himself out, or at least give himself a distraction.

"Miles!"

Miles had almost forgotten that he wasn't the only one in the library. He was making enough noise to alert his friends, that's for sure. A sudden thought struck him and he realised that he could well have alerted more than just his friends. Things that meant no good. Altered.

But there were no Altered that had found their way here yet.

Lia's voice was full of panic when she called his name for a second time, and this was enough to have Miles take a step back.

When Lia appeared, it was just her. It would have been a relief, but there was nothing relieving about her stricken expression or the way she hovered a few metres away like she was scared.

Miles stumbled. He wiped his eyes with his wrist and let himself actually take in what he'd just done.

"What," Lia breathed, "did you do?"

Miles didn't have an answer for that. "I'm sorry, Lia." It came out as something between a gasp and a cough. More tears coursed from his eyes.

It made him feel vulnerable.

Lia broke away from where she'd been standing before and picked her way from place to place, each time closer to Miles, trying to avoid standing on any carelessly sprawled books on the floor. Upon finally reaching his side, Lia didn't yell at him or push him or do anything that Miles had been expecting. She just grabbed his hands and gripped them so tightly it nearly hurt. "You don't need to apologise."

He felt as if he very much so did need to apologise; he'd been pointlessly destructive. "I wasn't thinking." His voice was still hoarse and muffled. His hands were limp in Lia's, but he let her hold them. "I didn't mean to."His excuses were weak.

Lia's pitiful expression would have, any other day, irked Miles. But right now, he didn't even think twice of it. Very slowly, Lia looked away from Miles and surveyed the damage. He watched her let out a small breath of concern. "It's okay," she said, already sounding tired. She redirected her gaze to Miles. "Will you help me clean it up? Please?"

There were two messes in this room: there was the mess of the strewn books, and there was the mess of Miles. One was an easier fix than the other.

But Miles was responsible for both of the messes, and he didn't want anybody else to have to think they'd need to help him clean them up.

"What?" Miles couldn't keep the surprise from his voice, even through his sniffling and weeping. "Lia, no, this isn't your responsibility. I'll do it."

Miles wasn't prepared for a hug, but Lia pulled him into one anyway. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered. "Friends help one another."

This earned another sob from Miles; this time it came from a short burst of overwhelming appreciation.

It had really taken an apocalypse for Miles to realise that it was people like those in his group that were real friends - not what he'd had before. Friends weren't meant to be a stairway to popularity. His stomach fluttered with one of the many feelings that drifted somewhere between happiness and sadness. It lasted a few seconds before Lia let go of the hug, and he was back to just being despondent again - but somewhere distant, that temporary emotion in limbo still existed.

"Thank you," he sighed, finally finding the control to reign in his tears. "Thank you, Lia."

The girl smiled with her eyes as she lowered herself to the ground. "We can get this done quickly, if we start now."

Miles knelt down too. His wobbly knees thanked him for it.

Miles felt increasingly guilty as they started working on picking up all the fallen books. Some of them, he'd torn pages from - some he'd even managed to pull apart the covers. He could see how upset this made Lia, and he knew that for somebody who appreciated books much more than he did, the whole thing probably made her sadder than it did him. For the disappointment that he lacked, though, Miles just felt disgusted that he'd even done such a childish thing.

Miles and Lia took their time returning the books, attempting alphabetical order as best they could. It was a time-consuming, boring process that was broken on occasions by sparce conversation and difficulty organising.

When Lia suddenly stopped working, eyes fixated on the cover of one specific book in her hands, Miles felt his interest pique. "What's that?"

Lia looked up at him, and her eyes were brighter than he'd seen them in a while. "Look," she said, and turned the book so the cover faced him.

The title read, The Language of Technology.

Miles realised quickly what she meant. "It could help with the e-Screen."

Lia nodded. "Yes! Exactly!"

Miles didn't have the energy to be proud of himself for destroying the shelf of books just so that she could find that one, but he was glad she had. "You go take it back to the group," he said. "I'll finish up here."

"Are you sure?" Lia turned the book over in her hands, flicking through the pages. "It can wait."

"No, really," Miles pressed. "This was all my fault anyway. There's not much left to do. You can go show that to the group. I'll be up soon."

Lia hesitated for a few beats before a grateful smile stretched slowly across her lips. "Okay. Thank you."

As she got up and sped away towards the escalator, Miles sat back and wondered why on earth she'd thanked him. He also realised that claiming he could do this on his own had been a mistake. There were still plenty of books to put away and it felt like the load was double without a friend to help him.

With one long breath that he hoped would calm his still-buzzing nerves, Miles got back to work.

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