Timeline note: Set in between the ROR party and the next morning.

Rating: T for a very faint mention of a very dark concept.

"Squishy. Squishy, stop crying."

Squishy did not seem to be hearing him. He just kept clutching onto him, sobbing his heart out. All five of his eyes were red and puffy, whether from crying non-stop since getting back to his mother's house or from the paint that he'd gotten in them at the party, Mike was not sure.

He had tried calming their youngest, but it was hopeless. Maybe cheering him up might have worked, if he himself had been able to find some shred of humor in the situation.

At a loss for what to do, he glanced around the living room, taking in the state of the others. Don, at least, seemed to have calmed down somewhat and had fetched a broom to solemnly collect a few of the stray flowers. Some of those were still tangled in Art's fur, too, but he did not seem to notice them, lying supine on the table and staring at the ceiling. Terri was furiously picking pieces off the ruined disco ball, with Terry dully staring at the proceedings and occasionally reminding him to not cut their hands on the shards.

Sullivan walked into the room at that very moment, rubbing at his fur with a towel. He had been the last to get the paint off. He glanced at Mike and Squishy with an unreadable expression and Mike half expected a gloat along the lines of "I told you we shouldn't go". But it never came, and Sullivan simply turned his head and planted himself on the cushioned footstool across the room, brooding silently.

Well, was this not the greatest party they had ever been at.

"Ouch!"

Everyone's heads whipped around when Terri cried out.

"I told you you should stop this!" Terry hissed at him, watching the bleeding finger with a look of pain on his own face.

"I didn't mean to…" Terri mumbled, clutching the injured hand with the other, tears welling up in his eye. Mike breathed a silent sigh of relief at that. At least he had not tried to deliberately injure themselves.

Terry's anger seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had come, for he let his expression soften and cradled his brother's hands in both of his own.

All of a sudden, Mike felt an overwhelming sense of envy towards the twins. Sure, it must have serious downsides to have literally zero privacy, but at least you were never alone. Especially not in times like these.

He sighed and averted his gaze from them. Somehow, he wished he got along better with his sister.

"I'll get you a band-aid," Don offered, abandoning the broom and heading for the door. He was very careful not to let it creak when he opened it, listening for any sound from the hallway for a moment, before quickly but silently heading for the kitchen. Even Squishy tried not to make a sound until the door was firmly closed again. They had an unspoken agreement about trying to avoid waking Squishy's mother – if someone had just humiliated you by calling you cute and adorable, running to your Mom first thing was not exactly the way to prove them wrong.

Averting his eye from the door, Mike's gaze fell on Art still staring at the twins. He had gotten the impression that the purple goofball had actually not minded the paint and glittery stuff terribly much himself – after all, he still made no effort to remove the last flowers – but that he had recognized this as a deliberate attack on his friends. And this was obviously where he drew the line.

Mike saw him reach out for the twins, but retreat his hand when Terry leaned his head on his brother's in a silent gesture of comfort and they closed their eyes. Art actually smiled a little at that, then let himself fall back to the table and resumed his silent staring. Mike wondered if he was pondering the ethics of this night or was just preoccupied with an interestingly shaped crack in the ceiling.

Don returned with the promised band-aid and wasted no time in applying it to Terri's finger. He then sternly took the Disco Ball as well as the scattered pieces from the table and placed all of it on top of the fireplace, firmly out of the brothers' reach. Terri just let it happen.

Squishy had kept his sobs in again until the door had been closed and he could be sure he would not wake his mother. The boy was still clutching onto him. Actually, Mike was not sure why he was the one who had been chosen as the figurative shoulder to cry on. Surely, Squishy could not be as close to him yet as he was to the others, right? It would have made way more sense to run to one of those he actually knew. Art seemed a logical choice, as offering to "cry with them" was one of the very first things he had done when he had first met Mike and Sullivan.

At the thought of the big, blue-haired idiot, Mike noticed that he had not said a word yet, so he shot him a quick look – and was surprised to find the guy staring at him and Squishy.

Oh, that was just great. He had thought they had gotten over that by now.

He narrowed his eye in defiance, but Sullivan's expression did not change. And, now that he thought about it, it did not seem angry or even condescending. It was more… sad? Maybe he would even have called it lonely, if that had made sense for someone who only thought about himself.

He absently started patting Squishy's head and that was when Sullivan finally averted his gaze, still not saying a word. And for all the contempt he held for the guy, Mike wondered if this was affecting him as badly as it affected everyone. He was the son of a legend, well-known to every occupant of a room before he even put a toe over the threshold. He got everything handed to him, everyone loved him – being humiliated like this must be a completely new experience for him. Was it eating at him? Had it humbled him? Or had it only served to embitter him and make him blame Mike for his misfortunes even more than before?

…did the others blame him for this?

Mike sighed, looking away and faintly stroking Squishy's hair. Truth be told, he felt a little guilty about it all. Without him, the others would never even have thought about entering the Scare Games. If it was not for him, this might never have had to happen to them. But then again, maybe that was not true. Maybe they just could not have entered the games for being short on members. They had certainly seemed excited when he had proposed the idea to them.

He wished he had asked their opinion beforehand. Now, he was pretty certain they regretted the decision.

But if they were lucky, maybe this experience would make them more of a team. A real team. Not one born of necessity and mutual exploitation, but one in which they cared about one another, in which even someone unwanted, like he was, had a place.

Was he selfish for thinking like that? Maybe.

Was it wrong to want company? Certainly not… right?

He was not at all sure what to make of his own mixed feelings. While he did hope something good would come out of this, he still regretted that Squishy and the others had had to go through this. And had he been given the chance to spare them the humiliation, to keep them carefree, innocent… he would have taken it in a heartbeat. Even though it was nice to have someone understand. Because all that he knew for sure was that what had happened was really not as bad for him as it was for the others. He had been through this before, countless times.

Somehow, he hoped the others would rely on him about this. If people constantly pick on you, you either break apart or learn to cope. He was proud to say that he had managed the latter, and was determined to show the others how to get through things like these, things which did irreparable damage to your self-confidence if you left them unaddressed. With that kind of backstory, it had to be up to him to make sure the others did not break apart, either. Yes, all right, maybe that was just the urge to make himself important to someone… but really, if it helped the others, then did that even matter?

Then again, was he reliable in this regard? He should have seen this coming. Especially because he knew what it felt like. He should have seen the signs, should have stayed with his friends instead of wasting time in the trophy room, should have known that this would not end well. The other fraternities and sororities had ridiculed them from the start – had he really believed that barely staying in the game until now had changed their minds? Heck, he should be realistic about this, everyone had made fun of them. Even Randy had been part of it.

Randy…

Mike was immensely surprised to find tears pricking at his eye and firmly shut it against them. That was the one thing that really got to him about this. For all that he had gotten familiar with humiliation and segregation, the betrayal was what he found himself unable to cope with. He had finally, finally found a true friend. Sure, he had had a long string of "best friends" in his life, outcasts just like him, people who thought it was better being with him than being alone, who only stuck with him as long as they had to, but it had never been like this. This had been someone who liked him, laughed with him, hung out with him, learned with him, actually enjoyed quizzing him on stuff, someone who cared about him…

But Randy had made his decision.

Mike smiled bitterly to himself. And, really, it was not as if this had come unexpected. Friendship never lasted. He wondered why he still deluded himself every single damn time.

"There you go."

Looking up, he saw Don holding out a tray of steaming cups. The contents smelled like cocoa. Funny, Mike had not even noticed him leaving the room again. Judging by his expression, he seemed just as helpless about the situation as everyone else, resulting in this rather clumsy attempt at cheering them up.

More for accepting the gesture than because he actually wanted to, Mike took what was offered with a nod of thanks, then took another cup for Squishy when the little guy made no attempt to react. Don patted their friend's head, then went over to the two on the sofa. "Careful, Terri, you don't want the hot cup touching your injury."

Even Sullivan accepted his cup when offered, and Art went even further and took one of Don's hands for a moment, practically radiating something that felt like support and making the crease in Don's brow lessen a little. Mike almost smiled at the wordless exchange.

A gasp drew his attention. Looking down, he noticed that Squishy's crying had silently turned into the first signs of hyperventilating. Helplessly, he tried to get the boy untangled from him and make him look him in the eye. "Squishy, please, I really think you should try and calm down."

"But… but… " Squishy seemed unable to express himself, blubbering unintelligibly for a moment, then threw himself at Mike yet again. "They don't think we're sc-sc-scary!" This was not really an improvement, but at least the speaking seemed to have gotten his breathing back to normal. Well, that was something.

Terry rolled his eye. "Shocker," he quipped bitterly.

"Of course they don't think we're scary!" Mike snapped at him – sarcasm was about the last thing they needed right now. "And with idiots like these, you can't even expect them to! How can they feel great about themselves if they don't have someone to look down on?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sullivan flinch at that, but couldn't quite place the reaction and didn't let it deter him. "But that they don't think we're scary doesn't mean that we're not scary! There's a huge difference there! Don't let other people's opinions get to you like that!"

"But, Mike…" Don broke in quietly. "If it's everyone, then… I mean, they can't all be wrong, right?"

"Do any of them truly know u-…" But Mike bit his tongue, hard, thinking of Randy again. Don seemed to understand what the sudden hesitation was about, but did not comment. They had all seen him turn his back on them, after all, had seen him stay completely indifferent to the pleading of someone who was supposed to be his friend.

"Anyway…" Mike continued – stopping now would be as good as conceding the point. "The last thing you should do is to let yourselves be convinced by their idiocy. What they did was wrong on so many levels that there should be no doubt about who the 'bad' guys are here."

If that's how you treat fellow contestants, I know what kind of fair sportsmen you are.

The comeback only now came to him. It was very blunt, but also very true. Would he have stooped to their level by attacking their honor like that? But saying that to Worthington's face could maybe have frozen the superior grin there, might have made everyone choke on their laughter, would maybe even have salvaged the situation somewhat, if only for the mental states of the members of Oozma Kappa…

But too cruel was what had been done to them. Especially the fact that the party-goers had gone to the trouble of making them happy first, gotten them glowing with excitement and a sense of belonging, only to pull the rug out from under their feet afterwards. That level of brutality had left him dumbfounded, rendered him completely speechless. He now wished he had said something, anything, but things being as they were, they had more or less scrambled out of the building in shock, the laughter following them outside, haunting them on the entire trip back home.

Mike raised his head in wonder.

Home. Huh. When had that happened? The place held no meaning for him except that his fraternity lived here. It was not as if there were any fond memories to look back on or something like that.

Was it the people? After all, if he was honest with himself, it was not so much his own misfortune he was pondering here. Did he simply care too much? Or was he maybe too quick to care?

…was this why he still had not learned to fight friendship?

He dully wondered how long this one would take to break apart.

Maybe it had been Mike's little speech, but by now, Squishy seemed to have mostly overcome his crying fit, lapsing into a bout of quite hiccups. He was still grabbing him so hard he almost cut off his air vents, though, but Mike just hugged him a little tighter and let it happen. He had to admit it to himself, the little guy really had grown on him. They all had. Well, maybe not Sullivan so much, but then, he was just in here for his own selfish reasons.

"They all knew."

Everyone glanced at Terry when he suddenly spoke up, with various degrees of shock in their eyes. Even Squishy stopped sniffling to stare at him.

"You don't know that for sure," Terri pointed out uncomfortably. But Mike was not at all surprised that Terry had come to the same conclusion he had, being the most cynical out of the bunch and all.

"They all knew," Terry repeated. "Everyone was in on it. The PNK sorority even made sure we were actually coming. This was meticulously planned and mercilessly executed. Everyone knew why we were on that party, every single one of them. And none of them bothered to warn us about it."

"Terry…" his brother tried again.

But Terry still kept going, talking himself into a fit of rage. "And even if there was someone who wasn't in on it, well, they certainly had a good laugh at our expense."

"Stop it," Terri mumbled.

But too late. Squishy burst into a fresh fit of wails. He pushed Mike away and left the room, loudly thumping up the stairs to his own room.

"Squishy…!" Mike called after him.

"Yes, maybe we should all go to bed," Don interjected. "We still have a few hours left until we need to be in classes. Maybe tomorrow… things will look different… somehow." He did not appear too sure of his own words.

"No, wait…" Mike tried again. "Let's stay together, we shouldn't be alone right now…"

"Yes, sleep," Terry interrupted him, looking too exhausted to even feel guilty about what had just happened. "Sounds great. You comin'?"

Terri sighed. "…sure." They left.

"Guys…" Mike pleaded with them.

Don gave him a sad look and also made to leave.

Mike turned to glare at Sullivan. He really felt like the guy should say something, seeing as he was part of that group as well. Plus, he had more self-confidence than anyone else in this house, which would really have been useful as a form of support if he had just bothered. He was in this, whether he actually wanted it or not, so he really should involve himself in the situation.

But Sullivan only sighed and refused to look at him. He, too, was about to leave the room before he saw that Art had fallen asleep on the table. With another sigh, he hoisted the smaller monster up on his shoulders and left.

Mike sank back into the armchair and clenched his hands into fists, absently glaring at the untouched cups on the table.

This was just great. So much for them relying on him.

And so much for thinking they could rely on him. Had he managed to calm anyone? Nope, any improvement there was they had managed by themselves. Terry was probably making things up to Squishy in their room right now, with Terri mediating between them, Art was a presence of silent serenity, Don did everything to care about his younger friends…

What had he done? Holding all the answers and keeping them to himself, that was what he had done. How useful. Watching everyone's reactions and hiding his own. Getting them involved in this in the first place. Did they even need him? Were they not better off without him?

Mike closed his eye at that in shame. Yes, this was his fault. Things like these happened to him all the time, so he really should not have expected them to stop just because there was someone standing next to him.

And this also meant that he was the one who needed to mend this. Not just for his guilty conscience, but also and especially for their states of mind. He needed to find something he could do to help them.

Something.

Anything.