That night, Miles told himself he'd get sleep.

His body was ready to accept that. His limbs felt weighted and his eyelids were drooping and the lounge in the library had never looked more comfortable. The problem wasn't about his willingness to sleep, though - he'd been trying to get a good night's sleep since the day he'd killed Ty. But just because he wanted it didn't mean it would happen.

So he lay there, completely still, staring blankly at the ceiling and just waiting for sleep to come. It wouldn't. There was only one other person awake, and that was Aaron, who was on his shift. Miles rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut like maybe that would help. There were voices in his head; voices that weren't his own. Voices of his friends, his family, throwing comments at him that they'd have never said if the voices were coming from anywhere but his imagination.

His own shift was going to begin in a little over an hour, so he almost settled for just lying awake until that time came. It seemed, conveniently, that just when he set his mind to that, his body finally welcomed sleep and he felt his eyes slip closed.

Just like every other night he'd tried to get a good night's sleep since Ty's death, he couldn't. Each night was accompanied by jarring nightmares that would plague him often into the next day. Sometimes he forgot them as soon as he woke up. Most commonly, he'd be jolted awake in a cold sweat at many intervals throughout the night, dreams haunting him. He'd been lucky to get a few hours sleep each night - he hoped he was more successful tonight.

Despite that hope, Miles was just as unlucky tonight. Almost as soon as sleep finally got a grasp on him, his head was brimming with flashes of scenes that he couldn't distinguish between memory or just dream. Whether or not he saw behind his eyes had even happened, it felt like everything was something he'd seen before - and it scared him.

He was in the dark for most of it, but the sensations were as vivid as they would be in real life. His hands were sticky - somewhere consciously, he understood that it could only be blood coating his hands. In his ears, there was the repetitive sound of metal on metal, sharp and ongoing sounds that could have been knives clattering to the floor or weapons against weapons. His head filled with bloodcurdling screams and Ty's voice.

Ty's voice telling him over and over that everything that had happened had been his fault. Miles, even in his dream, was mostly convinced that this artificial-Ty that his nightmare had constructed was actually right. Ty had tried to tell Miles, the night that the notification came through, not to leave.

But he'd left, and from there, everything had gone downhill.

Real emotions coursed through him - they weren't just in the dream. Nothing about the nightmare felt pretend. It was terrifying, and there was a voice screaming at the back of his mind to wake up. Maybe it felt so real because here Ty was, dying in his dream, half as gruesomely as he'd died in real life but just as gut-wrenching. He wished he'd made this all up - the Altered going crazy, Harvey and Ty dying, the fact that he and his group could be the next to find themselves dead.

Miles tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep without even realising he was doing it, thrashing against phantom hands around his throat and holding his hands desperately against bleeding wounds that weren't his own. There were other people in his dream - his friends from school, his family. His new friends, too. Aaron. Aaron was always in Miles' head - most notably over the last few days, even before Ty's death - whether Miles was asleep or not. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, to be honest.

On the note of Aaron, Aaron was beside Miles now. Saying his name, repeating it, over and over in a hushed whisper. Miles, still half-asleep, didn't process that Aaron was trying to shake him awake until he woke himself up with a gasp. His hands were sticky. Sweat, not blood. His throat felt constricted. Just the collar of his shirt. Miles sat up all of a sudden, grabbed Aaron's shoulder - Aaron was crouched beside him - to hold himself in that position while he gasped for air.

"Is it my shift?" Miles panted. It hadn't felt like it had been long enough between when he'd fallen asleep and just woken for Aaron's shift to be over, but he knew well enough that time in his dreams passed at a very different pace to the waking world.

"No," Aaron whispered, setting his hand on Miles' wrist in something like a reassuring manner. "No, you just looked like you were having a bad dream."

"Shit." Miles lifted his hand off Aaron's shoulder and Aaron let go of his wrist. He wiped his palms on his sweatpants, willing himself to steady his breathing. Everybody else was still asleep as far as he could see - they all slept more soundly than he could hope to. "I'm sorry."

"Why the hell are you apologising?"

Miles didn't know. "I'm - not. I'm not. I just -" he pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead, silencing himself just so he could take a moment to take in a deep breath and calm down. "I need water." Miles didn't have his bottle of water with him - it was where all the food was kept. The thought of going through all those bags while everybody slept didn't sound sensible.

Aaron obviously had the same thought. "I... have my water bottle?" He seemed to reconsider this immediately, though, and added without hesitation, "Actually, that was a dumb suggestion. Let's go get yours."

Miles didn't care enough about sharing the bottle to consider that it might have come across as weird. All he knew was that he was desperate for water, and that Aaron's was within his reach. "Aaron, it's fine. We both have boy germs or whatever." Unsteady, Miles leaned forward and reached behind Aaron to where his glass bottle of water sat on the knee-height table.

It was too dark for Miles to see it, but Aaron's cheeks turned rosy. "Okay."

Miles hadn't waited for confirmation and was already at work popping open the lid. He took a drink and immediately felt himself calming down. Remnants of the dream drained away, his head felt clearer, and with his mouth not so dry, he was much more comfortable.

Miles leaned back, taking in one steady breath. Aaron asked, "What were you dreaming about?"

Miles didn't have a straight answer for that. "Twisted stuff."

"Lame answer."

"You asked, not me."

As Miles was closing the lid to Aaron's bottle, he cast his gaze to one of the windows. Because of the fact that the windows were a coloured glass, it was hard to distinguish clearly what he was looking at outside. But the moon was bright and obvious, a big round light in the inky sky. Its light lit up the room enough so that Miles could see Aaron, but not the smaller details about him. Not his freckles or the darker streaks in his hair or the other things he subconsciously spotted about Aaron when he didn't even know he was looking.

Aaron chewed on his bottom lip, taking his bottle when Miles passed it back. "Miles, I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about, Aaron." Miles wanted that to be true. There was no way, after seeing Aaron dance away his own problems for hours earlier that day, that Miles was about to confess how glum he'd been feeling. As if it wasn't obvious already. "I'll get over it."

"No you won't."

Aaron was right. Maybe one day, Miles would be able to accept to himself the reason why he'd killed Ty - but in no way would that make it any easier. "Fuck," breathed Miles, sinking into his too-big shirt when he realised his hope not to overshare with an already-troubled Aaron would be going nowhere. It made him feel more selfish than he already was. "I'm never going to be able to get it out of my head, Aaron. I killed somebody. Not even just somebody." He felt his throat close over and the threatening prick of tears behind his eyes, but there was no way he'd let himself cry right now. "I can fall in love with other people, but that doesn't change the fact that Ty was such a big part of my life."

In love. It sounded ridiculous, now.

He felt vulnerable, as he always did, when saying things like this. He felt even worse, because he knew he did it only because Aaron was such a good listener. "I'm so fucking done for. When this is over, his parents are going to wonder what happened to him. So are my friends. You know what I'll have to tell them? That I killed him."

"Miles, you can't predict the future," muttered Aaron. He set down the bottle of water back down on the table with a soft clank, and then climbed up beside Miles on the lounge. Miles hadn't expected it, but he wasn't objecting. "Who's to say they're all going to be alright when this is done? Who's to say that the Altered will ever be sane again? You're crazy for thinking that they're going to be the same. It's impossible. And if, somehow, they go back to the way they were... they won't blame you for killing him."

"Say Eira died tomorrow," said Miles. He felt Aaron stiffen up beside him. "Say you killed her, Aaron. How would you feel?"

Aaron fell completely silent. Miles waited for an answer, but he realised he wasn't going to get one after almost one minute of completely no response from Aaron. "I'm sorry," Miles said finally. "I shouldn't have asked."

Aaron made a small movement that might have been a shake of his head. "Miles, I'm sorry about what happened. Really. There's no way anybody can even pretend to know what you're feeling." Aaron closed his eyes and rested his head wearily on Miles' shoulder. "I know you're broken, but broken things can be fixed."

"Can they always?"

"They always can."

Aaron fell asleep right there on Miles' shoulder.

Miles didn't drift back to sleep for the remainder of the night.

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+1771 Words.