The frigid night set in, never mind that it was summer in Ohio. Some freak cold front had swept in, dropping the temperature. Any sane person would be off the streets by now.

Yet three teenage boys sat, huddling together for warmth. At least, two of them did. One was unconscious.

They all shared the taste of coppery blood in their mouth. They couldn't get the images of what had happened out of their heads.

The tallest one thought it was a dream, or a nightmare to be more specific. Nothing like that could've happened. Not to him and his friends.

They had not been attacked; they were all just sharing some daydream, like on those sci-fi shows. The hockey team hadn't joined up with the football team to attack them.

He hadn't been raped.

The boy on the other end was darker, more aware of the horrors of the world. But he hadn't expected it to ever happen to him and his frien- acquaintances.

He remembered every blow, even if he'd thought he was one of them. He should have been beating up the two other boys with them, not been beat up himself.

Yet he was thankful that he hadn't been forced to make that decision.

The boy in the middle was obviously thought of as the fragile one, with his pale skin and petite status.

Yet he was much stronger than others thought and had dealt with many horrible things. But what had happened had him ready to shatter like a glass mirror.

He was used to being on the receiving end of the abuse, not to have his arms pinned to the wall as he watched the others attack his friends.

He couldn't erase the images from his mind, even in sleep. Yet his mind always went one step further and wondered what could have happened.

What may have happened if he hadn't got away from Azimo's grip and taken a blow for the boy whose face was already just full of mottled bruises.

If the athletic team's players had just continued. Would they have killed both of the other boys that they herded into the dark alleyway with him? Would they have left him to stare at the bodies?

The tallest one shuddered from the cold, at least partially, and his friend on the other end placed a reassuring hand around him. To tell him to was alright. But it wasn't.

The boy on the other end rested his head on the boy in the middle's shoulder out of exhaustion. He felt as if he could die of tiredness at any minute, but hung on. He was the strong one.

The boy in the middle awoke slowly at the boys head by his neck, yet didn't complain. He needed to help them, yet he couldn't stop himself from grasping for both their hands.

The three boys sat there as a group, giving silent comfort. It was the best thing to receive at the moment. They didn't even flinch when tiny drops of white floated down from the sky.

Finn was numb from the impossible nightmare. Kurt was shattered from the helplessness he's experiences during the viewing. Puck was weak from the strength he tried to show.

What had happened to them was as rare as snow in summer.