Disclaimer: I don't own any characters of Skins, or any rights to Skins.

Set: End of year 12, summer holidays. Cook is at a gig, drunk, high and unsure of how he got there.

Cook's POV:

The beat is reverberating around my body.

Somewhere a bird's falling, a cloud's forming. Maybe I can breathe easy tonight.

I don't know where I'm going.

There's a girl looking at me and I'm looking back, winking, smiling, acting. I don't think I even told myself to do this. I just am. This is where I hide, in the flashing lights of chaos. Which band is playing?

"We're breaking into shadows, finding circles everywhere"

I don't know. Shit band though.

She's fit as fuck, if I'm honest, but I'm looking through hallucinogenic colours so how could I know? Dark hair is snaking around her shoulders and she's smiling at me ever so slightly, knowing blue eyes striking through the moments of black, in-between the beating lights. I draw nearer. I never go anywhere alone, I feel slightly exposed without Freddie or JJ to fall back on. Fuck them though. I love them, but fuck them.

Her outfit's dark and skimpy, her eyeliner heavily put on her face. Maybe I shouldn't look at her – I have just downed a bottle of vodka. Maybe I should just feel, for once, tonight. I place my arm around her and lean in.

"Crap tune. Want someone to show you a good time?" I ask cockily, a voice full of confidence. My eyes are flickering over her body, but it's for show - I can hardly see anything. There's a pause as she ponders my request. I'm full of impatience, it's a yes, it's always going to be a yes; who could refuse?

"Sure," she says; a deep emotionless response tainted with the smell of weed. Maybe she's fucked up in the head.

I don't care.

I take her hand and lead her outside, shoving through crowds of jumping teenagers. Someone shoves back.

"What the fuck? You prick," I shout back at one boy who thinks he can mess with me. He doesn't reply. A wise choice. Finally we're at the back and I press my hand against the cool metal bar of the fire escape door, savouring the loss of energy while wishing I had constant energy. I could do anything I wanted then. As I open the door, the air hits me like the truth in a lonely room, just so I can appreciate the warmth of her hand. Her other hand snakes around my waste, but I don't even know her name. I don't care. But wait, it's the polite thing to do isn't it? Fuck polite.

I close my eyes and turn around. These are the moments when I don't think of anything, I just do it – I just go for it. It's too dark to open my eyes, I won't see anything anyway. I know I'm inches away from her face and I'm pulling her closer to me, drinking her in; anything save for looking at her. She's just a tool. I'm just going to use her, like she's just going to use me.

I make the mistake of opening my eyes.

I know this face; I've seen it a million times. I know those eyes and the way they look like the Earth as if it had no land, as if they speak. But this girl is a copy, her skin isn't the same complexion, her eyeliner is shoddily done, she just isn't the same. And it's all too much.

I swear loudly then pull away, running blindly into some woods but images are flashing in front of me. The boat. The dance. The drive. Waking up on a road together. The woods. Oh, fuck, the woods. Am I in them now? Why can't she just leave me alone; why is she everywhere I go? She's following me now; I can hear her replica's footsteps. I miss the way I just knew she was like me, she could understand me – we could understand each other. How she hardly spoke but when she did I wanted her to never stop. Her cool exterior, her skin, her eyes; her eyes.

"Just me and you now, yeah?"

The girls drawing nearer, laughing manically - clearly high.

"Did I scare you?" she asks tauntingly.

Someone's got to bleed for this, someone's got to hurt. And it's not going to be me.