Note: I'm uploading this really quick from the car, so I didn't have time to go in and bold or italicize words. Sorry, but enjoy either way.

Ross came home on Sunday night unsure, but at the same time happy. This has been the happiest he had been in awhile... but I mean, why wouldn't he be. He just confessed feelings that he didn't even know he really had, through a kiss, and maybe everything will work out. But... he still couldn't overlook the fact that his new "boyfriends" have killed people, are wanted in their city, and are... well much different.

Despite this, he still came home with a smile plastered on his face. He even stopped by the kitchen to say hello to his mother, who he was still a bit upset at. When he walked in though, he froze.

Sitting there in a chair from across his mom, was a man with an unmistakable badge on his black uniform. Ross gulped, as he walked completely towards the fridge past the policeman, questions running through his mind along with nervousness and guilt.

"Mum, who's this," Ross asked, pulling a water out of the fridge before turning around.

"My boyfriend, sweetie. He's an officer at the station nearby, just came over for a bit tonight. Listen, next time tell me before you go out... um, Richard was just informing me about a girl who was reported missing a couple days ago. She still isn't found, poor thing," his mother explained, babbling on and on. Each word making Ross' stomach sink lower and lower, and felt something pushing down on him harder and harder.

"Oh. Well, I hope she is found soon. I'm just gonna go upstairs and..."

"Ross," the officer suddenly spoke up, making Ross freeze and gulp.

"Yes, sir?"

"The girl, she was from your school. Ms. Leanna Jackson. You know her," he asked.

"No, sir. Um, at school I usually just stay with my own group, ya know," Ross chuckled nervously.

"Hmmm, well alright. Here," the officer muttered, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Ross. "You recognize her? Maybe you just saw her around?"

Ross opened the piece of paper, to show a blonde girl smiling up at him. Her eyes were bright blue, and her hair was pulled back in an almost perfect ponytail. He felt his stomach lurch at the sight, "N-no.... Sorry."

He quickly handed the paper back. "Ross, honey? Are you alright, you are turning green!"

"Fine, mum. Just... tired. I think I will go in for the the night. Nice.... uh... n-nice meeting you, sir. G-goodnight," Ross murmured quickly before racing out of the kitchen and towards his room. Instead of heading into his room though, he ran past it and into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

He closed the white door behind him, and looked around in the bathroom. Since when have the walls been red? I swear they were blue the other day...

It was peculiar. Almost everything in the bathroom was tinted red, as if a filter had been put on over his eyes. His stomach lurched once again, and without much warning he felt the food he had eaten earlier rush up his throat.

He jumped towards the toilet bowl, getting there just in time as he felt all of his food come out of his mouth and into the toilet. He coughed violently, spitting the rest of the foul tasting substance into the water before flushing and sitting up against the wall.

The red slowly faded, but the heavy feeling on his shoulders remained, weighing him down as his head throbbed and spun, making him feel dizzy as he sat on the dirty floor of the bathroom.

~~~

Ross could barely get the words out of his mouth before both Trott and Smith yelled," COPS?"

He had managed to flag them down and they were all in the boy's restroom during third period. The bell was bound to ring any minute now, but at the moment they were too preoccupied with what they were talking about.

"Your mum is dating a cop? Bad news, Ross. Bad news," Trott groaned, bringing his hand to his face.

"How long do you think it will last," Smith asked, crossing his arms. He seemed a little less worried than Trott, as he wasn't pacing around like a maniac, but then again, Ross couldn't see his face.

"I dunno. The longest boyfriend she's had lasted a month, but... who knows. With my luck she might keep him around for awhile," Ross shrugged. He didn't bother telling them about the sort of episode he had last night.

"Well, just be careful. Don't leave your phone out, don't mention us... fuck don't even talk to him if you can avoid it," Trott muttered.

"I won't, I won't," Ross replied.

~~~

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks, and still nothing... except for two messages telling him to stay away from the house until next week. Sure he saw Trott and Smith at school, but to flag them down was impossible.

It hurt, Ross, a lot. Driving him to insanity. He hadn't remembered the last time he had craved two peoples' touch and presence so much. He so badly want to feel Trott's soft touches and kisses, and Smith's comforting but possessive touches and kisses.

Who would've known snogging a couple times would've got him hooked. It was like a drug, the effect it had on him- make him happy and feel free, like nothing could touch him. It made him forget about the real problems that faced them, the problems that were approaching rapidly and needed to be addressed as soon as possible. And just like that, being away from them for a certain period of time, he was falling from his high, hitting the ground hard. It gave him whiplash, which is accompanied by confusion... the periods of time where everything he saw was red.

Here he was, walking home for the second Friday to a horrible home. It would usually be quite. His mother was still dating that cop... but for some reason Ross didn't trust him.

The yelling was constant, almost always following up with a new bruise or scratch upon his mother's pale skin. She was looking awful lately. The dark bags under her eyes made her look much older. The bruises on her skin were always hidden, or attempted to be. The purple blotches would always peek out from under her sleeves or when her shirt rode up or when her shirt collar hung down slightly.

She always told Ross,"It was nothing" but he wasn't sure anymore. This guy... he didn't trust him. Besides the fact that this guy was hunting Smith and Trott, Ross was pretty sure he was hurting his mother. He wasn't an idiot, it was quite obvious.

Multiple times he had been so close to just... to just knocking the guy out, maybe even worse. He would always get these sudden urges to hit, to hurt. The guy deserved it after all, being that he was definitely the cause for his mother's pain.

But that Friday, that fateful Friday night was the last straw.

It had been particularly hard for Ross that day. Smith and Trott filled his mind with happy thoughts. Thoughts of them kissing, or cuddling, of just enjoying each other's presence. He always bit his lip when it happened, the thought of just feeling one of their skin's under his fingers overwhelmed him. So much so that multiple times he found himself in the bathroom getting off.

He was grumpy coming home, after texting Trott multiple times and getting no answer. Even a simple," Not today" would just make him feel better. Ross even considered just showing up... But he didn't want to upset them or walk in on something.

He came home, not even bothering to call out to his mother that he was. Not like she really cared anyway. She was probably banging her abusive boyfriend, and if not she was nursing or figuring out how to hide a new bruise.

The eerie silence was unsettling, a cool breeze wafting through his small house. Ross licked his lips, walking through the living room to get to the hallway. He wasn't feeling very hungry, so he didn't even look into the kitchen for that reason.

No. He looked into the kitchen because of the strange scent that drifted through his nose. It smelled metallic, irony even. The scent made him shift his head to peek through the doorway, and when he did- he almost screamed.

The sight scent rage through him, and uncontrollable shaking. The blood that pumped through his veins seemed to be made of fire, and he thought he could hear his own heart thumping.

On the corner of the kitchen counter was blood, enough to drop down onto his mother who lay limp on the floor. The red sticky substance was all in her hair, matting it down around where she was hurt, and you would have to be an idiot to not know what it was.

A bullet hole went through her head, right beside that a chunk of her skin and skull were missing, probably from where her head was banged against the counter.

And all Ross could do for that moment was just stand there, losing all control of the rational part of his mind and dropping his bag on the floor. He ran forward, kneeling down next to her limp body.

He turned her over, revealing that the bullet went all the way through her head, leaving a hole in her pale forehead. Blood seemed to leak down her face, leaving little patches of it all over her cheeks, running down her chin and leaving marks on the floor. Her usually brown eyes rolled back in her head, making it look like something from a horror movie. Bruises littered her face, arms, and neck. The shirt she was wearing barely hid two obvious hand marks that were around her neck, showing up right red.

Ross didn't even cry, he wanted to. He wanted to sob so loud that the neighbors called the cops and they found him lying with his mom in a puddle of her blood. They wanted to arrest the obvious guy that did this- her boyfriend for gods sake. Not only that, but someone who was supposed to protect the people from this sort of thing.

It was completely silent, and it would almost sound peaceful if it weren't for the way Ross' blood boiled through his body, the way he wanted to kill the guy did this to his mother.

Then suddenly, he heard it. The faint sound of his phone ringing and it made his heart jump in his chest. He turned quickly, lunging towards his backpack and going towards the front pocket.

He fumbled with the zipper, his hands shaking as he took the phone from the pocket and slid the answer button on the screen. He brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

His voice didn't even sound familiar to himself. It sounded broken, scared, like a stuttering mess.

"Ross? Ross? Are you alright?"

"Trott? TROTT? You have to come to my house now."

"What? Ross what happened I-"

"She's dead, Trott. SHES DEAD YOU NEED TO COME-"

"Ross? Who are you talking to," a voice asked from behind him, entering Ross' ears and making him shiver.

The blue eyed teen turned slowly, his eyes widening at the sight behind him. There he stood, a man in uniform, an abusive man who his mother had fell for.

Ross felt like he was lit on fire, like something ignited inside of him as he stood up slowly.

"You killed my mom, you sick bastard? And that's what you care about," Ross spat, looking at the man with utter disgust.

He crossed his arms, smiling as he shook his head staring at Ross. "But it's not a big deal! I think it is two in one to be honest."

"Two... two in one? What the fuck are you talking about you prick," Ross asked, not allowing himself to look anything other than upset and intimidating.

"What I am talking about is... well... getting rid of a prostitute, quite a nasty one at that. Her sex wasn't even that good," the man shrugged, biting his lip as his gaze shifted over to the kitchen briefly before meeting blue eyes. "And... well solving a bit of a mystery. Ya know, your friend is good at making himself impossible to trace, but not yourself Ross. I have everything recorded, the texts, the phone calls, a gps to track where you went. It's only a matter of time before..."

He trailed off, allowing Ross a few moments to process what was going on. The man watched Ross' eyes shifting around, looking for an escape probably.

"There's no way out, Rossy," he laughed.

Then, Ross lunged forward, in the process grabbing the knife that had been lazily strewn across the counter. Ross was much smaller than this asshole sure, but it took him by surprise and sent the two tumbling to the floor, ending with Ross pinned down by the wrists.

The man laughed above him. Disgusting. His nose much too large for his face, his eyes too close together, the way his laugh sounded.

Ross struggled under his grip, attempting to get free and stab the knife through his arm. He wasn't that strong though (as that had been proven last time he got into a fight) and it did nothing.

Then he heard it. "Ross? ROSS!" The familiar voice shouting from the entrance of the house, a door slamming. The sick bastard above Ross visibly gulped, his puke colored eyes widening before footsteps could be heard entering where the two were.

"Your screwed, you piece of shit," Ross laughed, moving his knees forward and pushing upwards- resulting in pushing the man backwards and hitting the floor with a thud. Within seconds, Ross was above him, bringing the knife down hard and fast to his throat.

Once...
Twice...
Then much to many to count as the blade was pulled out of the piece of flesh and then stabbed back in harshly, shredding all arteries and veins inside that were essential for a human to live. Blood spurted out, spraying Ross' grey shirt-not that it mattered to him.

Red clouded his vision as he did so, adrenalin pumping through him, the only sound was the sound of his own heart thumping madly. The sight below him was somehow pleasurable, watching the man suffer as he was stabbed repeatedly. His eyes were wide open, almost popping out of their sockets as blood leaked from his throat, the stream of red slowing down. It ran down his flesh, staining the carpet underneath them in deep red.

After a few minutes, Ross leaned back, looking down admiring his work for a moment, before allowing his blue eyes to scan his surroundings. In front of him stood Smith and Trott, there eyes widened and looking unsure of what to do- how to comprehend what they just watched.

"He was a very, very bad man," Ross explained, and if his mind was thinking correctly and not still blurred with red, he would've been able to hear how his voice didn't belong to him, didn't even sound close.

"R-Ross? Where's your mum," Smith asked, raising an eyebrow from behind the mask that was still on. Ross frowned slightly at the thought, his mind slowly returning to him. He was still much too calm for what had just happened. For God's sake, two practiced killers in front of him were about to have a heart attack from what they had witnessed.

"She's in the kitchen. She's..." Ross could see normally now, the colors coming back to him. He trailed off, looking down at his hands. A knife clutched tightly in his right hand, smeared with the blood that covered him.

"Dead..."

The realization hit Ross hard, much harder than it had earlier when he had just observed what had happened. It was like watching your favorite character in a video game die. Sure it was your favorite character, but they weren't very important, usually didn't cry about it until after you took revenge on whoever killed them. His mother... was gone. No longer here... she was dead.Never to talk, eat, breath... devastating, but now you had a job to be done- the job being to go kill the asshole who killed the ever again. Not only that, but he was a murderer. A cold blooded killer who just let his rage out on a cop's throat.

"Oh my... Oh- oh my god," Ross mumbled to himself, visibly shaking as he looked down at his hands in utter disgust.

Tears dripped from his eyes, the stream of salty water getting increasingly faster as the seconds passed. For a moment he forgot where he was- it was just a blur of sadness and disbelief. The fact that he had killed someone settling into his bones.

He was broken from the trance by two soft hands gripping his shoulders. "Ross, Shh, it's alright." The dark haired teen looked up to see Trott, kneeling down (careful not to touch the dead body) and looking Ross in the eyes.

Ross' mouth hung open, shaking with the struggle of trying to say something- anything, but failing. His mind was a useless jumble of letters and thoughts and emotions, everything unprocessed.

"No. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Pack a bag and go?"

Ross nodded, standing up absent-mindedly and steadying himself by leaning on Trott. The shorter of the two lead him to the bathroom, sitting Ross on the toilet seat. "Stay here, alright?"

Ross nodded, sitting nimbly as Trott walked away, only to return in a couple moments with a stack of clothes. A pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie, some underwear and socks and shoes. He set it on the countertop before turning to Ross. "You wanna take a bath and rinse the blood off?" Ross nodded again, the thought of warm water surrounding him sounded nice.

Trott smiled, grabbing the bottom of his shirt as hoisting it over Ross' head. He flung it behind him, turning to see that the blood indeed leaked through his shirt and onto his pale chest, smearing it all around. Trott guided him to stand up, helping him pull off his shorts, leaving him boxer clad and cold. "I'm cold," he stated, making Trott chuckle.

The shorter of the two turned around towards the bath, turning on the water and waiting until it warmed up until plugging the drain. "I know. Just give me a moment, alright?"

Trott grabbed a bottle of body wash and poured a good amount into the water as it rose, almost to the brim. Bubbles formed, clouding the surface of the water.

The brunette helped Ross step in and sit down, settling comfortably by leaning on the side of the tub. "Pull off your boxers, I can't see anything," Trott requested, and Ross did as he told, dropping the wet pile of cloth carelessly on the floor besides Trott's feet. The water splashed up,"Oi! Don't get me wet!"

Ross smiled, giggling lightly at the brunette.

"I missed you guys, a lot," Ross muttered light-heartedly, enjoying the feeling of Trott's fingers running through his hair.

"We missed you too. We just couldn't risk it-"

"He found out. That's why I killed him. He threatened you guys," Ross muttered suddenly, making Trott raise his eyebrows.

"Oh. Well, looks like you're an official member of the team, eh?"

Ross nodded solemnly.

~~~

They took him to their house for the night, Trott driving quietly with Smith and Ross in the backseat. Ross was slowly being killed to sleep by the car ride, Smith's fingers running through his hair and rubbing small circles on his thigh.

"Take off your mask," he would demand quietly from time to time.

"When we get home," Smith replied, chuckling lightly as he answered.

Behind them, Ross' house was ablaze, burning all evidence quite well. All they would recover was a corpse remains holding a knife and a woman dead, if even that. Ross would be contacted about it, and Ross would tell them that he was at a friends house. Where things would go from there, he wasn't sure. Wasn't like it really mattered at the moment.

~~~

Ross woke up in a strange bed, the mattress underneath much softer than either of his own. Sitting up, he looked around to realize he was in Smith's room. He faintly remembered going through it when he first tried to escape.

He turned his head to see Smith laying there, an arm braced over Ross' chest and pulling him close. The other side of the bed was unmade, the covers in a pile near the edge of the bed. Trott must be awake...

Ross carefully grabbed Smith's arm, pulling it off of himself and laying it back down on the bed. He got up carefully, then quietly made his way over to the door.

Downstairs, he found Trott reading on the couch, the book's name was scratched out for some reason. "Trott," Ross whispered.

The brunette immediately turned, smiling when he saw Ross. "Good morning, sorry about Smith. He's a cuddler," Trott chuckled.

"I could tell," Ross trailed off, a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach as he remembered last night.

Flashes of red ran through his mind, the memories of his actions coming back to him. It made him sick, what he had done. I mean, the guy deserved it, but he had brutally murdered him, he had enjoyed the feeling of taking somebody's life.It did feel quite nice, though. Stress relieving, anxiety relieving, anger relieving-

Ross ran towards the front door, swinging it open and immediately falling to the ground on his hands and knees. He felt the familiar burning sensation in his throat, the feeling of the food he was forced to eat last night coming up from his stomach.

Trott stood back for a moment, watching the reminence of food empty itself onto the front of the house. That would smell, and attract ants...He allowed Ross to finish, or get to the point of dry heaving since he had nothing left in his stomach, before walking forward and helping him up.

"It's alright," Trott hushed him, ushering him inside and sitting him on the couch.

The brunette kneeled in front of him, holding his cold hands in his own. "Ross, look at me," Trott insisted.

Ross shook his head, whispering something inaudible. His blue eyes were glued to his lap focusing on the plaid pattern on the pajama pants he had on. Green, intersecting with blue, intersecting with brown. He wasn't a big fan of them, the colors seeming a bit mismatched, but that didn't matter much as he was trying to hold back his tears.

"Ross, what is it? Please tell me."

"She's gone, Trott... and I... I... I k-k-killed someone. Trott, I am a murderer," Ross muttered, just loud enough for Trott's ears to pick up.

"It was his fault she is gone, Ross. You did the right thing," Trott assured him.

"I could've called the cops," Ross muttered.

"No, he would've blamed it on you Ross. He would've associated you with us... I... he hacked into our computers and texts and calls. I picked him up the other day on my laptop, he would have exposed us and blamed you for killing your own mother. You did the right thing," Trott repeated, his voice soft like silk in Ross' ear. He placed little kisses along the knuckles of his hands," You saved us, Ross."

RING.
RING.
RING.

Ross turned his head, seeing his phone sitting out on the coffee table along with the duffle bag that he packed last night. He gulped, reaching forward and grabbing it tentatively, making eye contact with Trott to see if it was alright before answering.

"H-hello?"

"Hello, may I speak to Ross Hornby," a woman asked over the phone, her voice sounding sweet and calming.

"This is he," Ross replied.

"This is the local police calling," she started, making something in Ross' stomach drop. "I am sorry to inform you about a tragic accident, your house was found burned down this morning, your mother and her boyfriend inside." The words made his stomach lift back into it's right position.

"W-what," Ross faked surprise," I-impossible."

"I am very sorry, Mr. Hornby. Where are you right now?"
"A friends house. I was staying over for the weekend," Ross muttered under his breath. "I-is my m-mum..." he trailed off.

"I regret to inform you that your mother did not survive the incident, nor did her boyfriend. I am sure you are aware he was a cop, a close friend of mine actually," the woman explained, her voice sounding sympathetic towards Ross.

"Y-yes. I am, he was a v-very good... good boyfriend to my mother... Oh my god," he gasped," T-this can't be happening."

"I am sorry. Can you come down to the station immediately, to discuss things," she asked.

"Y-yes... o-of course, ma'am. I will have my friend drive me," he replied, his voice sounding broken and sorrowful.

"We will see you in a bit," she replied, before hanging up.

"Nice acting, Ross," Trott smiled at the darker haired.

"Yeah, can you drop me off at my friend's house," Ross asked curiously.

"What," Trott gasped," Are you insane? Are you actually going to the police station?"

"That's why I want you to drop me off at my other friend's house, they can take me. And Trott, what are they going to think when I just go missing as my mother dies from fire? That I tried to run away to escape going to jail from my crime. They will probably just find some place for me to live and go through their wills or something," Ross replied.

"Fine, I'll go tell Smith."