Companion

He clinched his teeth almost painfully as he played with the draw strings of his electric-crimson jacket.

Hunter Hollingsworth was not insane. He was not sick, he was not crazy, and he had no problem yelling that to the sky much less whichever lack-luster intendant was trying to convince him that he needed help. Hunter knew he didn't need help. He never needed help… except for the time his brother convinced him to drop the gun.

Hunter shook his head and his stomach clinched at the thought, and he just wanted to hide himself in embarrassment that existed only in his head. His fingers found their way to his mouth, and he hissed as he bit just a little too far one of his finger nails. He sucked on it to dull the pain, and only now did he notice the droplets of blood dripping down his fingers.

Great, he thought. Now these nutjobs will think I am insane.

He stood up and walked to the door. It was locked. He was dangerous they said – to himself, they would claim, but he knew they were really afraid of him. He was a psycho after all.

He could see his parents talking with his doctor. He could imagine their words now: his mother would be spouting nonsense of some sort, and his father would be asking how long they can keep him in here – better to keep him locked away until he's better than let him ruin his father's career. After the way his father treated his sister last spring, he had no doubts that he would be discarded as well.

He saw Frankie now, crying behind their mother in Miles' arms. He frowned, suddenly sad that he would be locked away from her – away from her for the first time since birth. It hurt, and despite the fact that they hadn't been close in years, they both knew they could always go to one another when they needed it.

Hunter closed his eyes at the memories of Frankie's tear-stricken face as she cried out to him. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have stopped you from nearly dying in that car accident. And, is it true? Did you…" she had paused to gulp, and he saw her throat undulate with motion as her hands shook on his shoulder. "Did you bring a gun to school? Could you really hurt someone like that?"

Much like with Miles, he couldn't answer his sister. The only person he had wanted to hurt after that night had been himself – it was those words that doomed him to this prison as Miles told their mother without hesitation. Hunter had to laugh at the thought – can't people joke these days about wanting to kill themselves? Perhaps crashing a car hadn't been the best way to convince Miles' otherwise though.

He hissed again as he broke skin, and only now did he realize his fingers were back in his mouth. It had always been a nervous habit of his. Often while gaming, he would nip at his fingers to the point of pain, or dig at his cuticles to the point of a week of dull throbbing down his fingers. But today was different because he didn't feel it; he always did while gaming, and accepted it as part of the stress, but today was different in a way he couldn't describe.

He grabbed at the draw string in his free hand, and it put it in his mouth. He brushed his teeth over the taunt fabric, and he felt his shoulders relax in relief as he pressed down on it. See, a healthy coping mechanism, he would tell the shrinks. Can I go home now?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of his brother. A weird thought on any other day, but it brought him back to the day his brother had saved him. He still remembered the cold metal of the gun in his hand as he thought about killing himself – there was no coming back from losing all your friends and bringing a gun to school. Miles had stopped him; Miles had hugged him; Miles had saved him, and the scent brought him back to a moment where he knew he was okay. He wasn't crazy, he was just misunderstood. Those idiots will understand one day.

But at that moment, he was happy he had grabbed Miles' jacket from the floor on the way out of the house.

He opened his eyes to find the door opening in front of him.

"Hunter, sweetie," his mom said. "We're going to leave you in here for the night. I'll be back first thing in the morning. It's for the best."

He nodded blankly as he sucked on the cord of fabric in his mouth. It was soaked in his saliva now, and it tasted of stale air, detergent, and whatever cologne Miles had worn last.

"See you, kiddo," he father said giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll definitely drop by before the weekend. I'm going to be busy brushing this all over. Don't worry, once you're out it'll be like you were never in here. You need the help, but no son of mine is having a psych ward on his record."

Hunter shook his head in disgust, and he saw his siblings show their disgust in their own ways. Frankie froze, and her lips twisted as if she wanted to tell their father what she really thought. Miles' eyes narrowed and he took a half step forward before stopping. They all knew it wasn't worth it.

Frankie fell into his arms with a sob. "I'll be here first thing after school," she whispered. Hunter returned the hug, and for a moment he felt the connection between them that he hadn't felt in years.

Miles was next, who promptly gripped him in a hug. "You're going to be okay, little bro. I love you," he whispered. "Let the doctors help you."

Hunter nodded, teeth gritting over the string to stop him from expressing his love back. He wanted to so badly, but he wasn't one to let his thoughts explore the world outside his head. Whenever he did, people were convinced there was something wrong with him. And if there is one thing he wasn't, it was crazy.

Miles clasped a hand on his shoulder, then turned to lead Frankie out of the room after their parents. Hunter eyed the door as it shut, and he contemplated quickly throwing the arm of his jacked at the lock to stop it from clicking shut. But that would be a bad idea. His family would catch him and see to it that he was locked up again. Later. There's always later.

Alone now, he looked around the room. It was barren save a bed and desk. He didn't bother looking around for anything else. As far as they were concerned, he was a suicide risk. He hit the light switch, and felt his way over to his bed.

He took off the jacket and threw it on his pillow before stripping of his shoes, socks and then pants. He hissed as his bare feet hit the icy floor, and he felt the world slow around him as he climbed into bed. The sheets were cold, and he felt so alone. Incredibly, incredibly alone in a way that made his isolation after the snowball feel like a simple, boring vacation.

He could feel the walls closing in around him as he settled into bed. He was alone. He had nothing. Everything was grey around him – devoid of life, emotion, and love – and his body shivered with the icy cold of loneliness.

His only companion was the red jacket that caught his tears.

I put this fic together really quick after the promo of Hunter running around the psych ward in a red jacket – a jacket the Miles' wore during Don't Look Back. As season 2 starts tomorrow, consider this an AU one-shot of Hunter being checked into the psych ward. Doesn't coincide with some facts, such as Hunter having all laces removed on the show.

Please share your thoughts :)

Edits: 6/1/2016