Three days after Miles had killed Ty.

His mood hadn't improved.

If anything, it had worsened. With every morning he woke up, he felt as if the burden on his shoulders gained weight. Feelings welled up inside him and he wished there was a way to get them out that didn't involve tearing down another bookcase. Or crying in a corner, which was a method he'd resorted to despite the fact that it made him feel no better.

He was hungry, but he hadn't eaten any proper food since he'd come home from the store with blood on his hands days ago. He was tired, too, but every time sleep felt close, he woke to another nightmare. He didn't know how, on that first day that he'd killed Ty, he had managed to comfort Aaron just hours later. Wherever the hell he had found that optimism, he wanted it back.

Energy and hope completely depleted, Miles spent his days doing notably less than all of his friends. While they searched books - particularly the one on programming language that Lia had found - and organised resources and made use of their space, Miles would mope about and participate in any activity for a few minutes before leaving for a reason he didn't have. Most of his time was spent either crying or sleeping or thinking. It was messy.

Percy was on the top of a bookshelf again. It seemed to be a habit of his, now, scrabbling onto the tops of shelves with just one hand. He claimed it was for fitness purposes, but Miles guessed it was more to make himself feel better about having to live with just one able hand. Miles hoped, for Percy's sake, that once all of this was over - if it ever was - Percy would get a new prosthetic.

Miles got to his feet from the chair he'd been seated in and started to move towards the shelves. Not near where Percy was perched. Miles felt ill. He was hungry and exhausted and his wounds were still agonising as he moved. And his head - all it did was ache. Aaron was doing his best to take care of Miles' wounds as well as he could, but there wasn't much that could be done for the pain.

Especially the pain in Miles' heart. That wasn't even a physical injury.

Miles didn't actually know where he was going - just that if he didn't get up and do something soon, he'd start overthinking, and that was the last thing that would take his fancy. His current idea of a good distraction was a book, for as much as he disliked reading, he wasn't sure he'd find much of an alternative in this library.

When there was a soft thud behind him, Miles sucked in a sharp breath, already knowing what was coming for him.

"Miles!" Percy picked himself up from where he'd met the floor after jumping from the shelf and hurried to weave his way between shelves and find his way to Miles' side.

Knowing that interaction was inevitable, Miles gave up on his quest to find a book to read and just waited for Percy to get to him.

"Miles," said Percy again when he reached Miles. This time, Miles could detect how Percy's tone was brimming with worry. "You look terrible."

"Thanks, man," Miles retorted, making to turn back around and walk away.

Percy grabbed his sleeve. "No, I'm serious. I haven't seen you eat or get a proper amount of sleep since... since, you know."

Miles slapped Percy's hand away from him, which ended up being a little harsher than he'd intended. He didn't apologise. "That's none of your business." Self-conscious about himself now, Miles heard the hoarseness in his tone, felt his eyelids drooping, noticed how empty his stomach felt.

"It is," Percy said, his words coming out as more of a plea than anything else. "Really. You're going to get sick if you keep it up."

"I'm not your responsibility, Percy." Miles' voice was sharp. "Nor am I anybody else's but my own. I can deal with my own problems."

"So you admit that it's a problem."

Miles was getting exasperated. He was ready to turn around and just ignore the fact that Percy was hardly ready to conclude the conversation, but then Percy pointed to his right arm. The arm - the prosthetic, rather - was still limp and unusable, as it had been since Miles had had to break it. "See this?" said Percy.

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"Remember how I was ready to completely give up? I was feeling like total shit, and I definitely didn't trust you when you said you'd have to break my arm." Percy let out one short, humourless laugh. "But you kept persisting. And lucky you did, or I'd be dead. I know I would."

Miles shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. This was probably the most gratitude Miles had received from Percy since he'd managed to locate and fix the problem with Percy's arm. He didn't know why it was coming now, though. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that there's no way you were giving up on me, even though I was sick and it was technically my responsibility. So I'm not going to stop hounding you until you eat something and get some sleep." Percy's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're not the only one your actions are going to affect in the long run."

Miles' gaze dropped. He hadn't thought Percy had it in him to be so convincing. Or so considerate, to be honest. Not only was Miles starting to realise now how stupid his behaviour had been the last few days, but he was also suddenly aware of how his actions had taken a toll on his body. He'd never been so simultaneously hungry, exhausted, and emotional in his life.

Percy seemed to notice that Miles had seen sense in his argument. "We still have plenty of food. Come eat something. Please."

Miles opened his mouth to protest, but found that he had nothing to say. He let Percy grab his wrist and lead him out from behind the bookshelves without even asking what Miles had been doing there.

Percy and Miles walked out into the centre of the room, where the lounges were and where the bags of items were kept, organised. Eira was sprawled over one large chair, eating peanut butter straight from the jar. She looked highly content. "Holy shit," she breathed when Miles followed Percy into the middle of the room, "a wild Miles has appeared! It's been a while since we've sighted one of these..."

Miles found this highly entertaining despite how much it also annoyed him, and a cough of laughter caught in his throat as he tried to bite it back. This amused Eira, and with a grin, she pulled herself to her feet to approach. "You're finally hungry, huh?"

Miles tipped his head from side to side uncertainly. "Sort of," he replied, which was obviously code for, starving.

Percy let go of Miles' wrist to fish through the food bags, and Miles didn't bother asking why Percy was getting food for him. Eira said, through a spoonful of peanut butter, "You look even shorter today, Miles." Eira was as tall as Miles - if not even a little taller - and he'd noticed how much she enjoyed making sure he knew this. Keeping her peanut butter jar in one hand, she slung an arm around his shoulder and held him fast when he attempted to wriggle free. "Does the fact that you're so hungry make you shrink? Or maybe I've just grown."

"Ha-ha," said Miles with not a single hint of laughter. "You're hilarious, you know that?"

Eira nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I do."

Percy stood up again and tossed Miles a bag of too-many-types of nuts. "Eat," said Percy, and that was it.

Miles snatched the small plastic bag from the air and examined its contents, satisfied by it. "Thanks," he said, and it was easy to tell that he meant it. Eira unwound her arm from his shoulder and he fiddled with the packet to tear it open. With only the occasional snack over the last three days, Miles was dying to actually eat something that would fill him up. At the back of his head there was still the voice reminding him of why he'd avoided eating properly for days; with his stomach churning like it was, he was worried that anything he ate, he'd throw right back up again. He told himself to force down the food anyway.

Percy smiled at him. Miles hadn't seen Percy smile much, except when he was with Lia, but it was so bright and friendly that Miles found a grateful smile leaking onto his own face. "Okay," said Percy. "I'm not going to force you to hang out with me or whatever. You can go now."

Miles didn't fancy doing any of the stupid things that Percy did, like climbing shelves or flirting hopelessly with the two girls in the room, so he took this as his invitation to turn around again. Eira was content enough to go back to her peanut-butter-eating without stopping Miles from walking away. Almost as soon as he was walking in the opposite direction, Miles' smile fell away from his face. He hadn't really expected it to last long, anyway.

He passed Lia, who was half-asleep, reading on the carpet, as he moved towards the back of the big room. The second floor of the library - and it was probably identical on all other levels - was just one big room full of bookshelves and an area in the centre of the room with the lounges. Well, there was one other room on the level, but it was only the room for staff, and it was mostly empty. The staff room wasn't incredibly small, but in comparison to the large library floor, it was insignificant. On the first floor of the library, there was also a small room, but it was a bathroom instead of a staff room. Miles only started to head towards the staff room when he decided he was unwilling to spend more time in the main room with the other members of the group.

He walked slowly, tipping the nuts from the bag into the palm of his hand in small mouthful-sized-portions before putting them in his mouth. He shuffled towards the door by the checkout desk, passing shelves upon shelves of books and the occasional inactive helper-bot.

When Miles reached the door to the staff room, he nudged it gently and it slid open without a sound. Miles realised with a shock that he wasn't alone in the room. Aaron - who Miles should have noticed was missing from the main room of the library - was here already, and it was easy to tell he'd been here for a little while.

Aaron's cheeks were pink, as if maybe he'd been crying. Now, though, he was smiling. It was a smile that reached both his eyes, and his elegant movements.

He was dancing. Jumping and spinning and performing all kinds of things that looked like they would probably break the bones of somebody who wasn't flexible enough to take them on. Aaron made it look easy; all of it.

He looked beautiful when he danced. Miles could watch it for hours on end and he was sure his fascination would stay intact for the entirety of that time. Aaron's movements just flowed, and though he looked like he was concentrating hard, he was also so at ease.

Aaron looked at home, and it was perfect.

Miles felt like by standing here and watching, he was interrupting something. But when Aaron came to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily and letting his eyes fall on Miles, he let out a laugh. A real laugh - a noise as wonderful as his dancing. "Miles," came his breathy, surprised remark.

"I'm sorry," Miles said, taking a step back. "I didn't realise you were here."

"Don't be sorry," Aaron responded, tone full of that same happiness that was sprawled all over his face. "Join me! It'll be fun, I promise." Another laugh. "Dance with me!"

Miles was both taken aback and flattered by this offer. He wished he had it in him to accept. "Oh, I can't dance."

"Of course you can. Everybody can dance."

Miles nearly pointed out that nobody could dance how Aaron had just danced - the whole performance had been breathtakingly splendid, and Aaron hadn't even realised he'd had an audience. "No, really," Miles insisted. "I can't dance."

Aaron pouted. "Aw, come on."

Miles was smiling before he realised it, but shaking his head too. "No, no. I don't want to ruin your show." He closed the door gently behind him with his hand that wasn't holding his food. "Keep going, though. Can I watch?"

Aaron laughed again. It was like he couldn't stop. If that's what dancing did to Aaron, that's what watching Aaron dance did to Miles. "Be my guest," Aaron said pleasantly.

Miles padded softly into the corner of the room and seated himself there. "I'm going to stay in this room as long as you are."

"You'll be here for a while."

Miles got comfortable. "Good."

Aaron started to dance again without another word. It came so easy to him; he practically just slipped into the first movement and it all gushed from there. Miles could almost feel the emotions that Aaron was channelling into his dancing - Miles himself could sense himself temporarily detaching from the thought of everything that had been plaguing him up until this point as he allowed himself just to get lost in admiring the dancer.

It was impossible to tell where one dance ended and another started, or if the whole thing was just one dance. Aaron shifted between so seamlessly. Sometimes he was jumping and stomping and sometimes he was treading light as a feather. Whatever music was playing in Aaron's head must have been a marvellous track.

If Miles could just stay here forever, he'd never have a care in the world.

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+2381 Words.