Tw: This chapter may be triggering to those who have experience with self-harm. If you are one of these people, skip over Silas's pov and move on to the next separator to return to Cyrus's pov instead.

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"It's tragic, isn't it? But I'll survive... I always do"
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A few seconds... That's all it would take. Sitting in a hospital room, a boy was struggling to hold onto sleep. His face was worn and tired, the combination of the bruises and his baggy eyes might have made it easy to believe he was much older. The only thing that proved otherwise, was how tightly he hugged his knees to his chest. Anyone walking by would know he was just a little boy... A little boy who was so fucking afraid.

A few seconds. That was all it would take for a life he had fought so hard to keep to sleep through his fingers. Maverick ran his fingers along his little sister's hair and down her cheek. His heart ached as he stared down at her, still desperately trying to remember what once was rather than facing the reality.

The faint beep of a heart monitor was slow and spaced out. About a dozen tubes were attached to her face one way or another were the only things keeping her breathing. He took a deep and shaky breath as he picked up her small hand and brought it to his lips, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Lani" He whispered. He held her fist close to his lips, closing his eyes tight and holding on to what warmth was left. His entire body ached in grief and fear, but also because of the injuries he had sustained. He was sure there was something wrong with his ribs... Phil had hit them enough times and it hurt to breathe or move. The nurses had offered to look at him about a dozen times after seeing the state he was in, but he always refused. Why? Because a few seconds was all it took and he refused to leave Lani alone in those few seconds.

H

is phone rang for the fifth time and he caught the glimpse of Danny's name on the screen, but he didn't bother picking up. He knew something was probably wrong, but he just couldn't bring himself to take anything else on in those moments. So he made the mistake of ignoring him.

"I tried..." Maverick whispered after a few moments. "I'm sorry it wasn't enough... But I'll do better if you wake up... Please wake up" another tear slipped down his cheek and he didn't even bother to move when the door opened and his little brother walked in.

"Hey... Zackariah and Noel are eating in the cafeteria... I dropped Lucius off with our neighbors too" Isaiah hesitantly began. "You should eat, it's been days, Ricky. I'll stay with her"

"I need to be here if anything happens..." Maverick whispered, his voice groggy as he lifted his head up to look over at Isaiah. He looked more exhausted than Maverick felt. His tan skin had an ashy tone to it and his hair was unbrushed. The skin under his eyes was a dark purple and he still hadn't changed out of the clothes he had been wearing during the incident. Now that he thought about it, nobody had left the hospital since it all happened besides Isaiah dropping Lucius off.

"You can take a few minutes to go buy a sandwich" Isaiah reassured him.

"If she wakes up or something happens-"

"She's not waking up" Isaiah suddenly whispered. Maverick's heart clenched as he watched his little brother's face morph into one of pure heartbreak and grief. Isaiah rarely cracked... He rarely showed his emotions. It hurt Maverick to see him so upset.

"Don't say that" Maverick sighed, clutching Lani's hand a little tighter. Isaiah opened his mouth to argue with Maverick like he had a million times over, but no words came out. Maverick let out a long sigh before letting go of Lani's hand and walking over to his little brother. He wrapped his arms tight over his shoulders and it didn't take long for Isaiah to quickly hug him back and his light sobs to fill the room.

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"Why do you stay with him?" Dorian randomly asked as he tossed over one of his pillows to Jonah's bed. He grabbed a thin Christmas blanket his mom had gifted him before collapsing into the bed beside Jonah and rolling onto his side to stare over at Maze who was laying in Dorian's bed. This was a usual thing. When Silas didn't want Maze in the dorm, Maze stayed with Dorian and Jonah. Usually, Dorian happily gave up his bed and didn't mind sharing with Jonah in the slightest. He actually enjoyed sharing with other people...

Maze was silent for a while as he thought over Dorian's question. There wasn't a clear answer to it... Maze didn't love Silas, Silas didn't love Maze. All they did was argue and hurt one another. Throughout the past year or so he'd always been able to explain it away. Whether it was because Silas was good at giving him the physical intimacy he needed or because he enjoyed his company. Anyone who knew the truth about their relationship always asked him that question and he always had a response. But this time, he just couldn't bring himself to answer it anymore.

"I don't know anymore" Maze whispered after a long moment of silence. Dorian frowned and brought his attention up to the ceiling.

"You don't love him..." Dorian quietly mumbled after a few moments. "So why stay?"

"You still believe in that crap?" Maze asked as he sat up to give Dorian a baffled look.

"Of course I do" Dorian scoffed.

"It's not real" Maze deadpanned. "I know you think you've loved every douchebag that's marched through the parade of your exes, but you didn't"

"I know that" Dorian snapped back. "But it's real... I've been in love before" He paused and then added the next part much quieter. "Just not in a long time"

"Enough" Jonah cut in before waving Maze off. "Go to bed... You're just tired and in a bad mood" Dorian tuned out the rest of the conversation.

He had always been hopeful and optimistic about things. He tried his best to keep on keeping on and he liked to believe that the world rewarded those sort of things. He liked to believe that one day, all of the shit he went through would be paid back in the form of happiness and love.

He wasn't even angry about everything he had gone through anymore. He didn't regret most of what happened in his life. If he could go back in time and live his life with what he knew today, there was only one thing he'd change. Why? Because without all of the utter bullshit he went through there wouldn't have been any silver linings. As much hurt and pain as he suffered, it all led him to find the few people in his life he cherished and loved more than anything else.

He closed his eyes and twirled the fabric of his blanket around his finger, waiting patiently for the world to fade into nothing and to fall asleep. But that moment never came. It was long past the time that Maze and Jonah had fallen asleep, and Dorian was still wide awake and not interested in his own thoughts as company. He let go of what little pride he had left in life and rolled onto his side to face Jonah.

His face was much more relaxed in sleep. He seemed comfortable in silence and his hair lazily swooped over his eyes. His breaths were soft and even and there was a calmness to him. It felt like such a shame to disturb him, but Dorian just couldn't stand being alone. So he carefully tapped on his shoulder.

"Jonah" he whispered. He tried again, this time lightly shaking him awake until two dark eyes fluttered open. He yawned and pushed Dorian's hand away before rubbing his face in exhaustion.

"What do you want, Dory?" Jonah asked, not sounding the least bit frustrated and more concerned than anything else.

"I can't sleep" Dorian hummed, throwing his back against his pillow in frustration. He turned to face Jonah again to find that his eyebrows were furrowed together in curiosity and a bit of worry.

"Nightmares?" Jonah guessed, sending a pang to Dorian's heart.

"Not this time" He whispered, his eyes flicking away from Jonah's as a wave of self-consciousness washed over him. Why he couldn't hold eye contact was a mystery to him... It was Jonah. He knew Jonah better than anyone and was used to his intense stare by now. "Just... Stuff"

"Dorian" Jonah warned, instantly catching on. "We talked about this-"

"I'm not avoiding sleeping on purpose" Dorian's voice shot up before he quickly quieted himself down when Maze stirred. "It's not... On purpose this time" He added, much quieter. Jonah let out a long and reluctant sigh before sitting up and adjusting how he was laying knowing very well how this would end.

"You can sleep with me tonight... But you seriously need to work on learning to do this on your own. I'm not going to be there after we graduate" Jonah sighed as he extended an arm. Dorian felt a pang of guilt, but nodded as he moved closer to Jonah and let him drape his arm around him.

It didn't necessarily have to be Jonah... But it was a proven fact that Dorian slept better when with someone else. Fewer nightmares, he fell asleep faster, and he felt more awake when he woke up. Not to mention, Jonah was always very warm. If he tried he could almost trick his mind that he was back home laying on his clustered bed with Shawn. Watching a clock tick by as they talked about the world and laughed about everything that crossed their minds. He really did miss those days.

Nonetheless, it worked and it didn't take long for Jonah's steady breathing combined with the warmth and security Dorian felt to coax him to sleep.

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Cyrus pulled up a chair in his English class and was surprised to find a list printed out on his desk. He carefully picked it up and flicked over the names of countless classic literature and stories he had long forgotten about. He did recall reading one, in particular, a few years back. A story called Metamorphosis. He had found the concept of it all interesting but the main character and the ending a bit strange and depressing. A small smile quirked on his lips at the thought of it.

He glanced at the door as three familiar boys flooded into the class, all three of them looking entirely exhausted as they retreated to the back of the classroom. He glanced up at Mrs. White who was scribbling away at a piece of paper on her desk while she waited for her students to take their seats. After the bell rang, she stood up and shuffled the papers in her hands before moving to the front of the classroom.

"Good morning, class" Mrs. White announced.

"Good morning Mrs. White" The class reluctantly and tiredly mumbled back just to appease the woman. She had a knack for handing out detention if she didn't like a student's manners and nobody wanted to spend their free time helping the janitor or doing kitchen work.

"It's long past time we started our quarter project" She began. "As you can see, I've passed out a sheet with a list of some of my favorite classic stories. I'll be assigning you into groups of two. I will not be hearing any complaints about said partner as I have carefully chosen partners based on what I believe will give you the highest academic success"

She paused as she surveyed the classroom before frowning and smacking a ruler against a kid's desk to startle him awake.

"Fix your posture, O'Brien. Your desk is not a bed and I don't want to see as much as a slouch from you" She whisper hissed before continuing. "I want each group to pick three stories, read them through thoroughly, and a fall analysis on them. Then, I want you to compare and contrast them and present your work by the end of the quarter... I assume you all are fully capable" She paused before glancing down at Murphey O'Brien before sighing. "Well... Most of you, anyway"

She added in a mutter before licking her finger and flipping to the next page of her lesson plan.

"You will have two days a week to work on it during class time, but I do expect you to work on it outside of school as well" She briefly explained. "As for partners, I have my list here" She lightly shook her paper before beginning to read off by student's last name.

"Moore and Burbank"

"Yang and Jefferies"

"Garcia and Nathanial"

"Adams and O'Brien"

"Young and Hamada"

"Cullen and Armstrong"

"Wilson and Kim"

"Finally, Kahele and Amari"

Cyrus's face fell the moment she read out his last name and the moment it did, a hand from Maze shot up behind him.

"Yes, Kahele?" Mrs. White sighed as she set down her papers and crossed her arms over her chest.

"All due respect, Mrs. White, but you said you paired us on what would bring us the most success... And honestly, as much as I love interacting with my classmates more, Jonah and I have always done spectacular work together... I'm sure you can make some arrangements?" Maze bargained.

"Nonsense" Mrs. White scoffed. "Cyrus Amari is one of the brightest kids I've had since- as much as it pains me to say this - since a young writer I taught my first year teaching here. His genius combined with your unearned confidence and surprising ability to pull off presentations will make for a project I'm eager to watch"

If Cyrus wasn't so uncertain about working with Maze, he might have been flattered. But the loud groan of the dark-haired boy was enough to tell him that Maze wasn't a jerk to him because he had a bad day. He was a jerk because he genuinely didn't like Cyrus and that just made for an uncomfortable situation.

"I appreciate the compliment" Sarcasm laced in Maze's voice as he spoke and slouched into his chair, pure annoyance written over his face. One thing was for certain and that was that this was going to make for an interesting project.

Down the hall, up the stairs, and in a small dorm room identical to the rest sat a small and distraught boy. His blonde hair fell over his eyes in loose and wire-like strands. His pale eyes were locked on nothing and everything. He was gone, lost from the world and completely numb. Occasionally a wave of emotions would slam into him before retreating as soon as he arrived. His thoughts were torture, he was a prisoner of his own mind.

He felt like snakes were slithering around him, crawling up his arms and legs, hissing cruel words in his ears. Cruel words he full-heartedly believed in. He was a disgusting human being. He didn't deserve to live. He didn't deserve anyone in his life. He was broken beyond repair, he was cruel and a terrible person all around. He deserved to die a slow and agonizing death at the hands of everyone he hurt.

It was all his fault. He had been given the best hand possible throughout his life. He was born into a well-off family with caring mothers and a perfect brother. He never had to worry about discrimination from his family or to feel unwanted. All that was asked of him was to be a basic human being and he couldn't even do that right.

Even in Westwood Asylum, a place with kids that were supposed to be just as fucked up as him, he was a freak. Somehow he still managed to shock and hurt the people who had already seen and felt it all. He didn't deserve Maze or Marco or Wesley. He didn't deserve Noah or any of his countless hookups. They should all hate him as much as he hated himself.

His eyes flicked down to the shattered flowerpot he had thrown at Maverick. His fingers itched to feel the sharp shards glide across his skin. To cut so deep he felt everything and nothing all at once. To be done and to spare everyone the trouble of having to exist with him. It was so easy... Everyone would finally be rid of him. They'd finally be happy he was gone...

For the first time in over a day, he climbed off of his bed. His legs were shaky and weak. They instantly gave out as soon as all of his weight was on them and he fell to the floor, instantly bruising his knees. His vision was blurry and unfocused from the exhaustion and lack of fluids and protein in his system as his shaky hand reached for one of the bigger shards.

His fingers closed around it, feeling the sharp, glazed clay dig into his skin. The rough edges broke through with one small squeeze, pooling his hand with crimson blood and the air with a metallic smell and taste. His eyes stared unmoving at his hand, squeezing a little harder and letting it dig a little deeper. His entire hand stung and ached, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop until the liquid was dripping through his fingers and overflooding his palm.

His other hand finally dug the shard out of his palm, watching the small shards too small to pinch linger in the cuts. He wiped his hand down his leg, to rid it of the blood before inspecting it again. His leg hair was tangled and sticky with the familiar smell and the cuts on his hands slowly began to produce more of the dark liquid. He wasn't sure if felt better or worse, but he felt something and that was an improvement.

So he flipped over his wrist, his eyes drawing shapes in the long scars running across and up his arms. He pressed the tip of the shard to his wrist, let go of his breath, and dragged it vertically up his arm.

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"What stories do you want to do?" Cyrus asked, attempting to keep an upbeat attitude.

"I don't care... You pick" Maze shrugged as he rolled a pencil back and forth across the table.

"Alright..." He hesitated before scanning over his list and sighing. "How Metamorphosis, The Brothers of Karamazov, and Crime and Punishment... We can do it on mental health and growth"

"Not really feeling it" Maze shrugged.

"Okay" Cyrus took a deep breath deciding this was just a bump in the road. "How about we do an adventure theme? The Count of Monte Crisco, Oedipus, and Don Quixote?"

"Nope" He hummed, making Cyrus let out a quick sigh in frustration.

"Okay, are you sure you don't have any ideas?" Cyrus asked again.

"I don't care, whatever you want" Maze shrugged. That was when it clicked. It didn't matter what Cyrus suggested, Maze just wasn't going to be interested and was just making things difficult on purpose. He let out a huff of annoyance.

"Fine. We're doing a theme on racism and social justice. To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, and Mudbound... I'm not budging on this one" Cyrus decided, hoping that setting a firm boundary with Maze would make things better. He was wrong.

"What? No. Everyone is going to want to use that topic. Can't we do something more original?" Maze instantly began to protest, making Cyrus let out a long sigh in frustration.

"Quit being such a brat and just pick one of the options I gave" Cyrus deadpanned, making Maze's eyes narrowed in defiance and his jaw clenched before he gave in with a huff.

"Fine. Metamorphosis, those weird brothers, and that one about kinky Russians" Maze muttered, waving off Cyrus with a huff. Cyrus sighed in relief and highlighted the three he had first suggested.

"So... Have any family visiting this afternoon?" Cyrus sighed in an attempt to make conversation.

"I guess you'll figure that out later" Maze muttered. "Quit trying to be my friend" This was going to be one long and bumpy project if Maze kept this up.

Question of the chapter: if you called your friends now and told them you sold your soul, what would they think you sold it for?