- Friday, May 13th, 2016 -

– 3,5 months after the disappearance –

The loud noise of music pumping in the house is about the only thing keeping me awake while I'm sprawled on the couch, feeling dizzy and nauseas because I ended up getting a headache and I took a painkiller to prevent from it ruining the night, probably pissing off Stan even further.

But that wasn't a good decision after all the alcohol drinks I had.

The world is now spinning, voices annoying me, flashing lights blinding me and my head still hurting a bit, while my stomach is protesting the intake of intoxicating stuff.

I'm vaguely aware someone is talking to me with a bit of annoyance in his voice, or worry, or amusement. I can't really tell since I can't even make out the words he's saying. I just want to sleep, have all of this noise and pain and the overall shitty feeling to just go away.

The world starts to spin even worse and I notice a couple of hands holding onto my arms, before I feel like I'm flying, only to be held down by a pair of arms holding me down; or up. I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Muffled voices, noises clashing – dying in the distance after a soft thud.

More spinning, before I feel like I'm in heaven, comfortably lying down, rolling over to my side.

"Cristian?" A faintly recognizable voice is close to my face, but I'm too far from reality to put a face along with the voice, let alone remember a name that's fitting. "Are you awake?"

"Uhu."

"You know where you are?"

"No."

"You know who I am?"

"No?" I groan, trying to roll over, but whoever he is, he's stopping me from doing so.

"Do you remember anything from tonight?"

Do I remember anything? What is there to remember? Stan took me to a party and I ended up with a headache and a huge amount of alcohol running though my veins. Stan nowhere to be found to take care of me.

"Where's Stan?"

"Don't think about Stan." The voice is southing, while a hand is pushing back my hair, holding onto my head gently. "You don't love him, do you? You hate him."

"No..." I whine. "No hate."

"But you want to leave him."

"He won't let me..." I feel tears prickling in my eyes, suddenly all feelings of fear, sadness, loneliness catching up, crashing down on me. "He hurts me."

"Cris, you really are ungrateful, you know? A cocky brat who doesn't appreciate the things a guy does for him." The grip on my hair grows tighter, pulling on it painfully.

My eyes fly open, but all that I see is a mixture of dark spots, noticing the room is covered in darkness.

"You should learn to appreciate what you've got, instead of thinking you deserve more. Because you don't."

It takes one fist in my face to send me into blackness. The combination of still recovering from a concussion, the alcohol nearly blacking me out and the pain his fist caused is enough to lose contact with reality.

* * * * *

The blackness I'm is like a dark hole sucking me in while parts of me still feel like they're in contact with reality. But all around me is darkness while a faint booming sound is heard somewhere far away from me. I find myself back in the playground, with Finnley in front of me, looking at me in anger.

"You were supposed to keep going the way you were, not fuck everything up!" His voice is full of anger, annoyance, hatred. "Now Stan fucking knows and we're both dead guys!"

I want to answer him. Barely any sound leaves my mouth, no other words forming properly but his name; "Finny..." in a faint whispering sound. It's a begging tone-of-voice; begging for him not to be disappointed in me. I didn't know Stan found out. I didn't tell him anything. I didn't do anything.

Finnley keeps telling me I broke his trust, how he's disappointed in me. How we're both dead guys.

I try to get to him, while I'm being pulled away from him by groping hands.

Stan is on the left of me, calling me a liar, a cheater, a slut. All the negativity he shouted at me during any of our previous fights. How he doesn't want me to embarrass him, how I can't break up with him because he decides when we're done.

All the while, hands keep pulling at me, plucking at my clothes, hitting me all over my body, pulling me away from Finnley and towards an even darker gaping hole. And as much as I try to fight them, even with little to no energy in my body to really put up a fight, I can't get the hands to leave me alone, to let me go near Finnley to tell him I didn't mean to be a disappointment to him.

But they keep pulling me and eventually I have no energy left, letting the darkness consume me, my tormenter Stan and the love of my fucking life disappearing into thin air, giving me some much-welcome peace.

"This is you, keeping him safe?" A snappy voice that's mixing with loud music is creating an explosive headache the second I feel like I wake up from a very weird and confusing dream. Although it didn't feel like a dream since my entire body is sore. The hitting with fists, the painful hands holding back my arms, the hands pulling me somewhere else; it all feels like that had been real.

"I tried to find him sooner!" Another muffled voice sounds angry. "They kept me distracted with bullshit about your stupid boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend and you shouldn't be focused on him, goddamn it. You promised to keep Cris safe!"

"And I tried! That idiot wanted to break up with me in front of the whole fucking school. I tried everything to keep him with me!"

"What, with the same charming tactics you used on Scott?" The first voice sounds both sarcastic and mocking. "Let me guess, you forced him. You tried to scare him into staying with you."

"He wouldn't listen!"

"No one who's right in their mind listens to anyone who forces them!"

"If you wouldn't have gone behind my back he wouldn't have tried to leave me in the first place! You could've at least told him I was on your side!"

This whole conversation is confusing and it's causing my head to explode along with the music that is so much louder than I can remember. Since the music is loud and the voices are coming from a distance, I can't really make out who is arguing with who. A dozen other muffled voices, some false singing, a bunch of idiots screaming and loud laughter all mix in with the two hotheads who are obviously a bit closer than the rest of the voices and noises.

"Get him out of here, or I'll make Nathan pick him up. And if any of those guys ever come near him again without you killing them for so much as pointing a finger towards him, you're just as much in shit as the rest of them, do you get me?"

"Don't act all badass, fool." The second voice closes in, revealing itself as Stan. "I agreed on your stupid plan and we had a deal."

"We had a deal and you didn't keep up your end of it, twat." This is all too surreal, because I swear the other voice is Finnley, also coming closer right before a door closes with a soft thud.

"I tried!" Stan hisses. "This is your stupid plan that I told you not to go through with in the first place."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry for not accepting a bunch of tacky criminals forcing me to make a living as a fucking rent boy."

"None of this would have happened if you would have listened to me in the first place." Stan grumbles. "Stop arguing with me. I only called you because I am no good at first aid. And the rest of the fools here can't be trusted or are too freaking drunk or high out of their minds."

"Good to know I'm useful for something more important." Finnley snapped in a whispered voice, right before a hand pushes back my hair.

"Just make sure he's okay and tell me what to do. Then leave and go make sure your fucking plan can be executed."

"It could, if you keep him safe." Finnley sounds like he's mocking him in a whispered tone, more talking to himself than he is talking to Stan. "Asked you one thing. You wanted to be part of it..."

"Yeah Finn! I know I fucked up! We're not all as smart as you are. Although you are a freaking fool for not listening..."

"Oh shut it." He snaps, making me groan at the noise. "Shit, Cris? You awake?" His voice went from upset, angry and snappy to worried in no-time.

"Finny..." I whisper, opening my eyes to find him. It's dark in the room I'm in; the little bits of light coming in from under the door aren't nearly enough to illuminate his face. But the contours of his face and messy haircut are enough for me to know it's really him, even though I can count three Finnley's in front of me. "You're here..."

"Yeah..." He whispers, scooting closer, his hand sliding down my face to my cheek. "Are you in pain?"

"If feeling like dying means I'm in pain..." I whine, whimpering the second I tried to move my arm, a jolt of pain going through my shoulder.

"Is he okay?" Stan appears behind him, keeping a safe distance. "Tell me he's okay."

"Cris, what day is it?"

I stare at him, feeling a bit confused, wanting to answer it's Tuesday, but it doesn't feel right. Because I wouldn't go to a party on Tuesday, right? And I am at a party, that much is obvious. "Seeing we're at some party... Friday? Or Saturday."

"Yeah, but what does your memory tell you?" Finnley takes in a deep breath. "What's the last thing you remember clearly?"

"Kissing you." I whisper, again whimpering because I moved my arm to touch his face, not succeeding, which is frustrating me to no end.

"Off course he remembers that." Stan grumbles, crossing his arms.

"I'm dizzy..."

"Are you nauseous?"

"A bit..."

"How many fingers do I hold up?" Finnley shows me a couple of fingers and I count six. "Six... which isn't right, right?"

"You should get him to a hospital." Finnley turned around and I protest by whining again, making him turn around to face me again.

"Hospital? Tell them what?" Stan hisses.

"I don't know!" Finnley turned around fast, making my world spin a bit in the process. "Frankly, I don't care. He'll be safe in hospital anyway."

"You want to call him?" Stan shakes his head, again creating a weird feeling of vertigo with his quick movements.

"Yes." Finnley got up and this time I protest by grabbing his wrist, touching him, but failing to grab him since the pain in my shoulder is causing me to cry out loudly. "Cris, stay still." Finnley calmly tells me, while the two of them share a look I can't decipher.

"Don't go..." I beg him in a soft voice, tears forming in my eyes again.

"I have to..." His voice breaks halfway throughout his answer, making me swallow. "Listen, Stan's gonna get you to a hospital and I gotta take care of some shit. But I'll be back, okay?" He presses a kiss on my nose and forehead, his hand going through my hair in a loving way. "I'm doing this for us, trust me."

Again, he's asking me to trust him. But it's getting harder and harder to see him walk away from me, which he does; again.

So, for some reason, he's leaving me with Stan, who is part of the reason he went missing in the first place. He has a fucking phone because Stan called him to come over here for help and they have some kind of deal over keeping me safe. But I thought it was Nathan who was supposed to keep an eye on me, not Stan. So, what is Stan's part in this, and what has Nathan got to do with it?

Meeting Finn twice only made stuff a hundred times more confusing and weird.

Why won't he give me any fucking answers?