For the first time in a long time, Alexandros felt happy.

He had long ago decided that it was a waste of time to feel like this, like he was floating in a cloud, that everything would be fine, that he was not a cursed boy wandering through the world. The disappointment he always felt at the end was never worth it, he would cry and scream and rage and grieve all over again. He had done it so many times before, and honestly, he didn't know if he could take it one more time.

They were in his apartment, in his bed, and Danny was asleep on his lap, cuddling. He was just looking at the ceiling - sleep had escaped him for so long he couldn't remember how to do it well. Or how to dream. It was all part of the package.

He felt the tear fall down his cheek, creasing through the scars. So this was happiness, again, mocking him? It was ridiculous - they've been dating for a month, six weeks and he was in love? What was he, a romantic idiot that Eros would happily smack around like his little bitch?

Yeah, he totally was.

He felt the pang in his torso, the reflex catching up with him. He felt the scent coming up his throat and the softness in his bowels. Carefully he dislodged himself from Danny, not an easy task since the boy - his boyfriend - was no lightweight, all muscles and bones and lacrosse injuries. He got up and closed the door after him.

His apartment was spartan. After a while he had realized he didn't like to have that many possesions at hand, so when he moved to Beacon Hills he barely decorated - a couple weapons just to be safe, and some paintings so it wouldn't look that empty - and some modern necesities of a high schooler - books, computer, video games. Anything he needed to play the part. It would be difficult to find anything that didn't belong - even the weapons did after saying his family collected them. It was all carefully crafted to make him look normal.

Was it a part still?

The bile in his mouth reminded him that yes, it was still a part, even if he had come to enjoy it. Grimacing he took out the second first aid kit - the large one - and after a couple retches he was able to steady himself and open it. Three in the morning. If he hurried up the stitches wouldn't be noticeable under his shirt by the time Danny woke up. He took out the scalpel and sliced himself up.

He still remembered the first time he had eaten food after the ravaging and how it had gone stale in his bowels, stinking him from the inside. A couple decades later, being Galen's slave, he had learned how to take it out and patch himself up without making too much of a mess, even if he was forced to drink hemlock later. At least liquids would bypass him more quickly.

Just because he had done it several times before it didn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a bitch. Particularly slicing the stomach open. He would wear the nitrile gloves even if he knew he couldn't get sick - the idea of sticking his own hand to take out undigested sushi without protection still creeped him out.

He looked at the black sludge pooling on the floor. He would have to clean up before Danny woke up, and he didn't know if club soda would work well with aged blood. He didn't trust those new chemical cleaners.

Stitching was always easier, even if the pain was stronger. After all, it is one thing to slice yourself open, and a completely different one to insert a needle back and forth through your stomach and four different layers of muscles and skin. With the last one he tugged a little bit too hard and the pain almost made him scream.

He remembered that Danny was sleeping in his bed. He mustn't wake him up.

His reflection looked back at him, all scars and long hair and green eyes and brown skin and achillean nose wondering why it was taking him so long to find the reason they were in this little town. The cries he heard at night. The bodies piling up one after the other. The beacon singing sweetly to him of power and magic and destruction and peace. Asking him why he was fooling himself, happily playing house with a child so much younger than him and loving every second of it. Pretending that he wasn't cursed and that part of it was the fact that he was not supposed to be happy.

That he was alone, like he had been, like he would always be.

Six in the morning. It would still take him three hours to do the whole procedure. He could already feel his muscles knitting themselves back together, but he grabbed a t-shirt and put it on, hiding the trace of the stitches.

When he opened the door he found Danny looking for him, rubbing his face and avoiding the sun that was coming through the window. He never had blinds - he loved to have the moonlight caressing him. Reminded him of old times.

"Alex?"

"Hey..."

"Are you OK? You look a bit pale..."

"It's alright. I don't sleep that much, and I look like crap when I wake up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. C'mon, sleepy head, we need to get up if we want to get breakfast before school."

"You have nothing on your fridge."

"I'll pay for Minnie's."

"You always pay for everything, don't think I haven't noticed that."

"Hey, I don't mind. It's the only thing I can do."

"Last night you did quite an assortment of things I didn't know were even possible."

Alex chuckled. He had learned a few tricks after all.

He had earned it, being happy. Fuck the universe - he was going to enjoy it.