Miles was starting to consider Declan's point.

Perhaps he was useless.

He was currently making his way precariously through the halls of the abandoned house that shared the property with the treehouse. Bri had specifically said it was dangerous, but that was precisely why he had entered. Fear was a wonderful distraction from anger.

On a side note, being in here made him wanted to throw his guts up. This house was essentially twins with the one he'd found two dead bodies in just the other day.

Miles had to cherish the fright that came from being in this place. It was much better than anger, though it wasn't as refreshing. He'd been scared for days.

The flashlight illuminated dusty hallways and obstacles that he'd have to surpass, mainly consisting of fallen vases or photo frames or wonky doors. Miles was paying his surroundings very little heed.

His body was here in the abandoned house, but his mind was elsewhere.

He had almost killed Declan over the fact that he'd been called useless. It felt even more stupid now, because Declan might have been right.

Miles hadn't saved anybody since this thing - the apocalypse was a good name for it, really - had started. The only thing he'd managed to accomplish was watching people die or finding them dead.

Other people were saviours.

Lia had saved Aaron on that first night.

Bri had saved Miles' entire group, by bringing them out here.

Luca had saved Buddy, if that counted.

Aaron had done a lot of saving. He'd saved Miles in the alley that night before he was choked to death. He'd saved the group at Northside Boys High and managed to score himself a baseball bat.

He'd also saved Declan from Miles.

Miles had saved nobody and nothing.

Miles nearly jumped out of his skin when behind him, a floorboard creaked, and the light of another flashlight joined his own in illuminating the room.

"Hey, asshole."

It was Aaron.

Here to save the day again.

Miles was both relieved and scared and furious. Phantom hands still clasped his throat as firmly as Aaron's had when he'd torn Miles away from Declan.

"Get out," said Miles. "It's dangerous in here."

"Is that so?" Aaron sounded fearless, and that unsettled Miles. Aaron had lots to be scared of, in this house.

Unstable walls. Tripping hazards. Miles.

"Yeah. Get the hell out while you can."

Aaron didn't listen. He picked his way to Miles side and then they both stopped walking, turning instinctively to face one another.

Miles' flashlight shone towards the roof, Aaron's towards the floor.

Miles didn't speak as he stared at Aaron.

The blonde was handsome in the dim light, hair tousled and wild and face flecked with insignificant scratches. His blue eyes - tiny pools of sapphire - glittered like he was amused, but there was nothing entertaining about this setting. Miles, given an excuse to stare since Aaron was also staring, eyed Aaron's pretty face through the darkness.

Miles wasn't allowed to think like that. He didn't want to think like that.

Aaron was nobody to him. Ty was somebody to him.

Altered, distant, mature Ty.

The thought of Ty brought on a pang of agony that came from none of Miles' wounds, but his heart. It was hard to determine if this pang was because he was worried about Ty under the current circumstances, or because everything that had happened since Ty had turned 16 was all wrong. There were no more stars in Ty's eyes, no more desire or adventure or creativity left in him. If he was even still alive.

Even an Altered Ty was soft and fun, but he was hardly a shell of what he'd once been.

And here was Aaron, who had been, until now, nothing but an optimistic bundle of hope and reason and sense. But as Miles watched him, he wondered fleetingly if there was a whole side of Aaron that he was missing.

Aaron shifted his weight. "Don't be a bloody fool. Tell me what just happened." In any other circumstance, Aaron's British accent and cursing would have called for mocking from Miles like it typically did.

"You act like you deserve to know," Miles said. The longer he could put off trying to explain himself, the better. Though he knew it would have to happen eventually. "Why do I have to tell you?"

"Because this house is creeping me the hell out and I came in just for you." So he was scared. "Miles." Aaron's voice was suddenly softer. "You scared everybody, just then. And you nearly -"

"I know what I did," Miles snapped, and he didn't realise how harshly he'd spoken until Aaron flinched.

Miles flinched, too, upon suddenly realising that he was now a frightening person. "I'm sorry," he said a little desperately.

Aaron regained his composure quickly. "I just wanted to check on you. Normally that kind of stuff is an indication or a symptom of gr -"

Again, Aaron didn't get to finish before Miles interrupted. "No," Miles said softly, defeatedly. "No, it's... I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me."

"I never suggested there was anything wrong with you."

"No, but you were thinking it." Miles shrugged like he didn't care.

He did care.

He also cared that Aaron had had the nerve to traipse into a dangerous, vacant house in pursuit of a dangerous, vacant Miles.

Miles cared that he hadn't been left as a broken-down person all alone in a broken-down house with nothing but a flickering flashlight and flickering sanity.

"I'm sorry," was all Miles said. He sounded small and fragile and his words hung in the air for a long time.

Aaron opened his mouth like maybe he was going to say, You have nothing to be sorry for, but then he closed it again.

Miles had a lot to be sorry for.

Aaron said, "Miles," and then he stopped. He stared long and hard at Miles before finishing quietly, "Are you okay?"

He said it like he cared.

Miles said, "No," and then he stopped. He stared long and hard at Aaron before finishing quietly, "but I'll get there."

He said it like he promised.

Aaron stood and Miles stood and they kept staring at each other because sometimes, silence was the only thing they needed to hear.

He knew that grief was accompanied by anger and sadness and so many other things that he couldn't even wrap his head around - but Miles didn't have time to grieve. Not over Harvey, or Bronte, or anybody. He needed to make sure nobody else died.

Then Miles said, "I'm going to take all the shifts tonight. I think the others would appreciate it if I spend the night outside than with them. I won't be able to sleep, anyway." At first, Miles didn't really know why he was telling Aaron, and then he realised that it was because he wanted Aaron to say I'll join you.

"I'll join you," Aaron murmured, trying to flash a small smile. "Can't have you out there all alone."

Something in Miles' heart fluttered, and though he was quick to trample it down, he almost wished he hadn't. It was a nicer feeling than fright or anger.

"Okay," Miles said, and for one very short second, all of the weight on his shoulders lifted. He forgot about everybody who had died. He forgot about Percy's arm. He forgot about the virus completely. "Thank you."

Then it all came crashing back down upon him, and he almost didn't remember the temporary feeling of relief.

At exactly the same time, something else crashed down. Not onto Miles, though, which was fortunate. The crashing was accompanied by an extraordinarily loud noise that sent Miles skittering a fraction closer to Aaron as fear overwhelmed him.

Afternoon light flood into the house from the next room over.

Aaron, too, jumped, lurching back against the wall and waiting to see what came next.

Miles cracked open his eyes and peeked around the corner of the hallway. He pressed himself back against the wall. "The ceiling in one of the bedrooms just fell in," he breathed.

Aaron, astonished, leaned over to get a view. Sure enough, the bedroom nearest them was now nothing but debris and a concave roof.

The noise of it falling pulsed in Miles' ears.

"Scared the living shit out of me," Aaron exhaled, putting a relieved hand over his chest.

One second, two seconds, five seconds, they didn't move. Which was stupid, because if more of the house was going to fall in on itself, they'd probably be killed the next time around.

From the treehouse, a remote, unrecognisable-from-this-distance voice called, "What happened?"

Aaron laughed.

Miles laughed.

Miles didn't feel like he should be laughing. Not when he'd just nearly killed Declan and Bronte had been left to die. Not when countless other lives were probably being lost right now, somewhere around the world.

But he laughed because he was alive, and for some reason that was suddenly all that mattered, just for a moment.

"We should go," both boys said at the same time, and they both managed to laugh again.

Together, they made their way out of the house.

_________________

+1543 Words.