Updating early! :) Don't worry, you'll still get the regular wednesday chapter, promise.

As always, I don't own Misfits or Simon, I kinda just enjoy ruining his life lol

See you at the botom

...

Simon's fingernails tear through the flesh of his palms as he slinks lower in his seat, and his gaze goes to the clock for the tenth time since he got in the room. Only thirty more minutes before he can leave, scurry away from the quiet pounding of the room he's confined to and finally breathe. There's no air here, hardly ever is. The rooms are too small and it smells. It doesn't help that everyone is staring at him. He hates the way they stare, like at any moment he's going to fly off the handle and kill someone, kill himself. He can hear them assessing him in their heads.

"Simon?"

He has to force himself to look at him mum, to not scowl at her. She's never liked it when he pulls faces. He doesn't do it on purpose, really. It's simply a way to express things that won't leave his lips.

"Did you hear me?" she asks.

"Sorry, I- I nodded out for a moment," he tells her.

She sighs, but smiles a second later. "Doctor Lewis says you've made some progress. Interacting in group?"

His mind goes to the argument he had with Lucy in front of everyone. He'd hardly call that interacting, but from the way his mum seems pleased by it, he knows better than to say any different. "A little," he answers.

"That's good," his dad says. "You keep doing that and you'll be out of here in no time. You're taking your meds, right?"

Simon grits his teeth, and the lie comes smoothly. "Yes."

"Excellent, now all you need to work on is talking with the therapist more. She tells us you're still not participating during your one on one sessions. You know if you're going to get out of here-"

"What does it matter if he gets out?"

He balks and his eyes quickly land on Becca. She's standing near the door with her arms crossed, looking at the ground, kicking at it with the toe of her shoe. She makes no attempt to look at him.

"Rebecca," their mum chides.

"What?" she fires back. "I'm just asking! He's the one fighting getting help all the time. It's like he doesn't even care if he gets out. And that's all you guys ever talk about."

Shaking his head, he tells her, "I do care if I get out."

"Oh, yeah? Then why aren't you out already? You could have been out weeks ago."

"Rebecca," his father cuts in. "These things take time."

"No, it's stupid. Simon's just being a selfish twat. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. He's not there watching mum cry everyday! And you work more daddy, to pay for him being in here. And he doesn't care about any of it. He'd rather sit in here and not listen or do what he's supposed to."

"That's not true," Simon tells her. "I- I've been trying! I go to the places I'm told to go and I listen to all the rules. I- I made a friend!"

His mum inhales sharply. "A friend?"

He mentally kicks himself for letting that come out. He had no intention of saying anything about Lucy. He hadn't intended to say anything at all, really. His mum likes to make a big deal about things, which is why he's never been big on telling her about events in his life. He doesn't like the garnered attention it brings about. He sighs. "Her name is Lucy."

"It's a girl?" her voice is shrill and excited. She looks like she'll suffer a heart attack at any moment.

"Yes," he replies. "It's a girl."

"Wait," Becca cuts in. "So you'll talk to a stranger, but you won't talk to me? Does she even know why you're in this loony place?" Becca's a very intuitive girl, she'll know if he's lying about anything.

"Yes," he answers. "I told her."

"That... that's inane! I'm the one who found you, Simon. I saw you dying right in front of me. And you won't talk to me about it, but you'll talk to this... this stupid girl? God, you're such a wanker!"

Something in him snaps. "See, there you go," he all but shouts. "Calling me names because I won't do what you want. You- you bully me about talking to you. You're a bully. As bad as the rest of them, as bad as Matt!"

A stunned silence hangs in the air for a good minute, with everyone staring at him wide eyed. He's never yelled like that in front of his parents, never raised his voice at all. He's always been well behaved Simon... quiet Simon. He glance at his mum and can see all the questions behind her eyes, dancing on her tongue. He knows she wants to ask about what he's just said, wants answers more than ever.

Simon rubs his hands over her face and pulls them away with a sigh. "Becca, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"You'd really compare me to him?" Becca wipes furiously at her eyes with the back of her hands. She's more like him than she'd ever know, so unwilling to show emotion in front of people, hating herself when she does. He understands it, that need to pretend to act like nothing is wrong. "I could have left you there hanging," she tells him. "Is that what you wanted? You hate us so much."

"N- no, I don't... hate any of you. I don't, I swear."

"Then why won't you just talk, to any of us? I wouldn't judge you, Simon. I don't judge you."

He looks away and pushes the words past the lump in his throat. "It's... difficult. I don't know how. I'm not... ready."

"Simon," his mum says, "we only want to do whatever it takes to make you happy again."

"You want to get out of here, right?" his father adds.

"Yes," he answers slowly. "But maybe not just yet."

When Becca looks at him again, his gut twists. "I love you," she tells him in a quiet voice. "And I want you to be okay and come home. I want us to make popcorn and watch Battlestar Galactica and Stargate together. I want us to listen to music together on your iPod again. I... miss you. A lot."

His teeth ache with the force at which he's grinding them together to keep from getting emotional. He'll save her words for later, in the privacy of his room, where he can properly break down. "We'll do that again soon," he says after a minute. "I'll come back and it'll be like nothing's changed."

"You love me, too, right?" she asks, a quiver in her voice.

It's strange to him that she'd even have to ask. "Of course I do."

The door to the room opens and a nurse pops her head in. "Time's up."

Simon has to stop himself from sighing in relief. Before his parents have even had time to get up, he's across the room giving them half hugs and telling them goodbye, anxious to get out of the room. Becca surprises him by wrapping her arms tight around his waist and squeezing him for a long time, for once, saying nothing. He stands there stiff until she lets go.

He tells them all to drive safely and that he looks forward to seeing them soon, but the minute they're gone his legs turn to jelly and he feels like he'll be sick. He leaves the visiting room and quickly walks the halls back to his own room, where he shuts the door behind him and slams his fists into the metal until his knuckles crack and split and bleed. He sinks to the floor, cradling his messed up hands in his lap, biting back sobs that threaten to wrack his whole body. It's easier to get angry. Aggression is easier, feels better than sadness. It's better to be mad.

After a few minutes, he gets up and walks over to his pillow, holds it tight against his face and screams until his lungs feel like they'll pop. Then he gathers himself up, puts himself back together, and ventures back out.

He's fine. Everything is fine. Who is he trying so hard to convince?

...

"What's got you so blue, quiet boy?"

Emma's found him. Thinking he could hide in a place like this- in the rec room, no less, was a ludicrous idea. It isn't that he doesn't want to see her, he does. He always does. He just doesn't want her seeing him like this, an emotional mess.

"Oh, shit." She slides into the chair across from him. "What happened to your hands?"

He slips them into his lap and sets his gaze on the table. "Nothing."

She scoffs. "Bullshit. Who'd you knock about?"

If he weren't sure of the sincerity of her question, he might have laughed. Him, in a fight? A fight that he'd win in? Instead he tells her, "Perhaps you've heard of door? We had a bit of a scuffle earlier. I won."

Usually Emma laughs at his dry humor, but she's having none of that right now. "Seriously."

"Seriously. I punched a door."

"Wow, why?"

He glances up and shakes his head. "I don't-"

"It's fine," she cuts in. "You don't have to tell me. Are you at least going to get that looked at and treated?"

"No, they'll ask questions."

"Ah, yeah." She gets it. He likes that she gets it. She taps her fingers on the table, bright orange fingernails clicking against the metal as she looks around. "So... where were you earlier?"

There's no doubt how hard he flinches isn't noticeable. He curses himself for having such a visceral reaction. How is he supposed to hide things if his body is always giving everything away?

Emma sucks in air between her teeth. "Ouch. Not a good question?"

Simon sighs. "No, it's fine. I... had a visit with my parents today."

"Oh, well," she lets out a heavy breath that blows her bangs out of her face, "that explains a lot."

"Does it?"

She nods. "One day out of each week, you seem more... on edge. Like something's upset you. I get it now."

He chews at the inside of his cheek for a moment, turning her words over in his head. "You notice that?"

She smiles. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I? You're my friend."

Warm tingles spread through his stomach, so strong he has to look away. "We're friends?"

Emma scoffs. "Uh, yeah?" A serious look passes over her face, then. "Why? Are we not?"

A small chuckle escapes him, his first laugh of the day. Of course it would be from Emma, it usually is. She knows just how to pull him out of his own head and make him feel better. "We are... if you say we are. I've learned not to make assumptions."

She becomes serious once more, staring at him with intense focus. "You're different, Simon. From all the others here. You don't look at me and see my suicide attempt. You don't... treat me different. Like I'm crazy."

"You're not," he's quick to tell her. "And... you don't look at me like I'm crazy."

She smiles. "Well, other than attempting to burn someone's house down, I'd say you're not."

He jerks his head up, eyebrows raising. "How did you-"

She shrugs. "I've known about you since my second day here. I might have asked around." Almost as if she can see the panic on his face, she tells him, "It's fine, though! No judgement here."

The words don't stop the tightness in his chest. "So you know everything?"

"Hey, hey!" He jumps a little when she grabs his hand. "Sorry," she says with a nervous chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Simon. Whatever all that was, whoever you were then, you're not that person anymore. Those experiences don't define you."

He peeks up at her, anxious and unsure. Her words aren't entirely reassuring, as he's never been one for being able to believe someone when they say nice things to him. But her hand is warm and feels nice against his own. "So... everything?"

Her shoulder raises in a half shrug. "Not everything. Why... do you want to talk about it?"

He never would have expected his next words to be, "I think I might."

...

Emma's back is pressed tight against his chest. He can hear his own heart pounding furiously in his chest, the sound so loud in his head. If Emma notices, she hasn't said anything. Instead, she shifts her shoulders and slides down a bit, and he bites on his tongue until it bleeds as a dozen mental images pass through his head, all those things he thinks of doing with her. Those things that'll never happen.

They're friends, he reminds himself. Just friends.

Still, she's warm and smells good, and she applies more pressure to his cock each time she slides just a bit further down. She called it getting comfortable. He thinks of it more as something that will drive him mad. During dinner, she'd asked him to sneak out of his room later and come to hers. "Sarah's a hard sleeper," she'd told him. "And even if she wakes up, she won't care. We keep each others secrets."

So he had, without any second thought. He knows he'd probably do anything she asked of him.

"I had a review today," she tells him.

"I know," he answers. "I saw you go into the office."

"I haven't been here very long. I wondered why they'd do a review so early. Guess my knob of an ex has been starting shit again."

"W- what did he do?"

"Been chatting up my dad, telling lies. Said I was stalking him before I got put in here. Now my dad's talking 'bout making me stay longer. It's bullocks, Simon. I never did those things he says I did. I'm not like that."

"I believe you."

She sighs. "At least someone does."

Simon clears his throat and lets his eyes wander to the ceiling. "Matt never had to make up lies. I was mental."

He can almost hear Emma rolling her eyes. "No, you weren't. Cut that shit out. Matt is a bully. He was cruel and he hurt you. You had every right to retaliate. That twat deserves whatever comes to him, and it will. Karma always does."

"I'm going to get out of here someday." His stomach twists at the thought. "I'm... scared. Of what will happen."

"Don't you go to community service when this is all done?"

He swallows hard and nods, the thought nearly making him sick. He tries his hardest not to think about what comes next.

"Well, there ya go. I'm sure you'll meet people there you can make friends with."

He wants to tell her that's probably not true. He doesn't make friends with people, has never really , tried. Most people are quick to write him off, or show no interest in getting to know him. He chews at the loose skin in his mouth until it hurts and lets go. "Emma, if we weren't in here together, would you... do you think you would have talked to me? Outside this place?"

She turns to look over her should at him. "What?"

"S- sometimes, I feel like- like we're only friends because we're in here, and there's no one else. Like you never would have attempted to talk to me outside this place."

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Sarah makes a noise from the bed, a small cough, and he listens as the sheets shift as she rolls.

He cringes. "It's just... how I feel."

She's quiet for a few minutes, and he finds himself matching his breathing to her own, still in anticipation of what she'll say next. "Okay," she finally breathes out. "Maybe... maybe you're a little right. I wouldn't have talked to you. I would have been too busy hanging out with my mates and partying, dealing with a bullshit boyfriend. I wouldn't have taken the time to talk to you and get to know you."

"I thought so," he quietly replies.

"But... but I have!" she's quick to add. "Gotten to know you, that is. And I'm really glad I have. Because you're a great guy, Simon. You're kind and sweet and smart. And funny! Oh my god you're so funny. I like that. I like that you can make me laugh after a bad day. Or how you're willing to sneak out of your room at night just to sit with me, even though you could get in loads of trouble. There should be more guys like you out there. I'm glad I got to know you."

Heat creeps into his cheeks and he goes to duck his head, but Emma's soft lips find his instead. He pulls back with a small cry of surprise.

Emma leans far away from him, and he can see how wide they are even in the dark.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"What?" he splutters. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I- that was so inappropriate. I shouldn't have- god you must think I'm a proper slut." She covers her face with her hands and groans.

Timidly, Simon reaches out and grabs her wrists, pulling her hands away so she's looking at him. "You're not a slut," he tells her firmly.

"You totally weren't expecting that and I just sprung it on you."

He finds himself smiling. "It's fine, I don't mind. It was nice."

"Yeah?"

"You're b- beautiful, Emma. And you're nice to me. What do I have to complain about?"

"I've got proper loads of baggage, Simon."

He shrugs. "I tried killing myself."

"Holy shit!" Her shrill cry makes him jump, and Sarah make another noise from the bed. They both hold their breath for a moment as Sarah moves once again.

A beat later, there's a panic in his voice as he asks,"Did you hear someone coming?"

"Wh- no," she says with a breathless laugh. "I just... you've never admitted it out loud before. I've never heard you say it."

"Oh." He shifts uncomfortably, feeling a little too in the spot light for his own liking. He hadn't even really thought about what he was saying. It merely slipped out. It happens a lot when he's talking to Emma. She makes him feel comfortable enough to be himself. He doesn't have to think so much about what comes next, or how to act. It feels natural.

"Simon?"

His attention goes back to her. "Sorry?"

"Did I say something wrong? You got... quiet."

"N- no, it's fine." He sighs. "All I meant was, we all have baggage. I don't mind yours."

"You're just saying that 'cause I kissed ya."

He chuckles. "Maybe."

She gasps in mock offense and turns around, drawing to her knees across from him. "Maybe?" She pokes at his knee until he pulls them back with a laugh. "What a wanker thing to say!"

He moves back and forth, trying to escape her small jabs. "It was a joke." He puts his hands up. "A bad joke."

Her hands get trapped in his and she raises her eyebrows. "Getting bold, are we?" she asks with a slight smirk. "What will you do now, Simon? Kiss me?"

He contemplates it, he really does, because it seems like she wants him to. He's never been good at picking up signals before, but this moment is telling him he should be kissing her. So why doesn't he, he wonders as he slowly shakes his head. He tries to pretend he doesn't see Emma's face fall.

"Do you... not like me?" she asks.

He shakes his head again.

"Lucy?" He looks up, eyes widening. "Well, I guess that face says it all," she says with a small laugh.

N- no. Lucy and I..."

"I know," she cuts in. "But you're friends. And lord knows I've seen the way she looks at me. An us would kind of make things messy, wouldn't it?"

He doesn't want to say it, but she's exactly right. He sighs instead. "I'm trying to work on me," he tells her.

Emma sighs, as well. Then she's turning around and lying back against his chest again. "I guess this is okay for now, then."

Resting his chin on top of her curls, he finds himself agreeing.

...

"What 'bout Lucy?"

Simon nearly chokes on his drink. He turns to Emma, wiping soda from his shirt. "What... what about her?"

"You know what. She's off her probate period today. We'll be seeing her at dinner. You really think she'll be okay with us being all buddy, buddy like this?"

He looks away from her, to the table. "I... I don't see why she wouldn't. You and I are just friends."

She gives him a look. "I'm aware of that. But she doesn't strike me as the type to give up her thing to another girl."

"There is no thing. Lucy and I are friends. That's it."

She rolls her eyes and takes a hit of her cigarette, blowing the smoke up in the air. "We've so had this talk. She likes you. And I know some part of you likes her. It's pretty obvious, Simon. Why do you think I backed off the other night?"

He furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"

She laughs, a slightly dark sound. "Okay, come on, I know you're not that naive. It's just that I've watched you two together. You're like magnets. You move, she moves. Your personalities are a lot a like. I don't know, you just... fit. Like puzzle pieces. It's good, I guess."

It's not. The words don't pass his lips, regardless of how much he wants to say something, wants to tell Emma everything. But if Lucy ever found out? He nearly shudders at the thought. He'd never say the words out loud but he knows- somewhere inside him he's realized now- Lucy is almost... dangerous. She terrifies him down to his bones and yet, he also knows that Emma is partly right. He does like Lucy. In a different sense than Emma. Lucy makes him feel normal. With her, he is a freak. But he's okay with that.

Lucy is... a definite. It's everything else that feels fleeting. Like Emma.

"Hey." Her soft voice pulls him back. "Where'd you go?" She stares at him with wide, curious eyes, and his gut twists before his next words even leave his mouth.

"It doesn't matter what she thinks. You're my friend, she's my friend. It'll work out."

Emma leans into him. "Don't get mad but... she's kind of scary."

Simon swallows hard and looks back at the table. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, just, she always has this look in her eyes. Like... like she could snap at any moment."

He thinks about what Lucy said to him in the past, about there being a rage inside him. How he's just as crazy as she is. He didn't realize until that moment just how right she was.

"She's a little mental," Emma whispers.

What does that say about him, he wonders.

...

"Let me talk to her," he says to Emma, licking his lips. Being nervous makes him parched, so his throat feels like sandpaper when he swallows. He could get a drink, but he's worried he'd sick it up. He wishes he had Emma wasn't sitting so far away. He doesn't feel so scrambled when she's close to him.

"There she is," Emma whispers.

Lucy comes into the cafeteria with her head down, hair hanging around her as usual, and her sketch book gripped tight against her chest. She weaves between a few stables until finally looking up, and Simon swears his heart stops in his chest. There are tear stains on her cheeks, and the area around her eyes is red and splotched. Lucy's been crying.

His mind has started to race with questions of why she could be upset, but he manages to give her a tiny smile, and watches as the corner of her mouth raises a bit, as well. Then her gaze shifts to the left of him, enough that he knows she's seen Emma. The way her expression instantly changes tells him as much. She looks... surprised, eyes raised and mouth slightly agape. Lucy's stare finds his own again, and she does something he never would have anticipated: she smiles. A big, wide grin at that.

The tightness in his chest is so strong by that point, he feels he may pass out. Emma has to remind him to breathe. He wants to tell her that that's easier said than done. He can already sense that something is wrong as Lucy all but skips to the table they're sitting at, the sadness she'd shown just moments before suddenly disappeared.

She slides in across from them with a breathless, enthusiastic, "Hello."

This isn't right. This... person sitting there isn't Lucy. At least not the Lucy he knows.

Of course, Emma is naive to it all, so she smiles at Lucy and holds out her hand. Lucy is quick to shake it. "Hiya," Emma replies. "You must be Lucy. Simon's told me so much about you."

"Has he?" she asks, turning her head to give him a look. "Funny, he never mentioned you."

Emma smiles, looking a bit embarrassed. "Oh, well, we just became close recently."

Simon finally manages to find his voice. "This is Emma."

"I know who she is, silly. We have group together."

"Right." He digs his fingers tighter into the bench. "How's your day been?" He braces himself for whatever harsh words will roll off Lucy's tongue as she unleashes, the way she usually does when he asks her anything about herself. He's thrown off guard when she shrugs.

"Same old. Rather boring, actually. Oh, I did help Doctor Lewis water her office plants while we chatted today. That was nice."

Simon balks. Lucy, talking? Lucy talking to Doctor Lewis and calling it... nice? "Chatted?" he asks, trying to keep the accusatory surprise from his voice.

Lucy smiles. "Of course. There was so much to discuss. It was wonderful."

Faking, he thinks. She's faking everything, right down to the smile she's wearing. And Emma falls for it without second thought. Why wouldn't she? She doesn't know Lucy like he does. She doesn't see it's all an act. A charade, just for him, he thinks.

"Doctor Lewis is amazing," Emma tells her. "She's been helping me so much. I really like her."

There it is! Simon can see the way Lucy's lip twitches in annoyance. She hates Doctor Lewis. The true her is quick to slip back into her role, though, nodding her head. "Oh, definitely. So helpful. And... sweet." The way the words drip off her tongue is like acid. "So..." She leans forward a bit. "What brings you to our table?"

Emma dips her head with a small chuckle. "Well, me and Simon here have chatted a bit and decided to be friends. I thought maybe all of us could be."

"Oh, that's great.," Lucy trills. "It's great Simon found someone to keep him entertained while I was locked away in my room ninety percent of the day." He catches the way her smile drops, the way it keeps slipping. She's getting more annoyed.

Emma lets out a gust of air. "I'm sure that sucked! But, hey, you're here now. We can all hang out and-"

"Well, actually," Lucy cuts in with a sigh, I really hate to cut this short but I'm not very hungry and I think I'm going to go back to my room."

"Aw," Emma pouts. "Are you sure?"

She nods and stands up. "Besides, I'll just end up seeing Simon later tonight, in my room. If you know what I mean." She gives Emma a knowing smile and waves goodbye to him before walking off.

Simon sits there stunned, mouth slightly agape. He watches until Lucy's gone, but he can feel Emma's eyes on him the entire time. He doesn't care to look at her, doesn't want to see whatever expression she'll be wearing in her eyes. When he does finally catch her expression, he balks slightly at her smile.

"Just friends, yeah. You're a dog," she teases, pushing at her arm with her hand.

He involuntarily flinches, already disliking the idea Emma seems to have about their relationship. "It's complicated."

"Aw, I'm a good listener. Try me."

Simon sighs and buries his face in his hands for a moment, almost hating Lucy just then for the position she must know she's just put him in. She just had to say something. Now Emma wants him to talk, and it's not something he's entirely comfortable sharing. Not talking about whatever he has with Lucy makes it easier to pretend that it is nothing. That they are just friends, that she doesn't make him feel things that he doesn't quite understand and maybe never will.

He finally pulls his hands away and looks at her. "It's like... it's kind of like you said. She and I, we get each other."

A smirk plays on her lips. "And you two just happen to end up together at night?" She giggles. "Have you shagged her?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Did you guys fuck?"

The tips of his ears and back of his neck quickly heat in embarrassment. "No! It wasn't like that. We never..." He takes a deep breath to steady himself. "We mostly talk. Sometimes we do... other stuff."

"What sort of other stuff?"

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

This throws him off. "Why?"

She shrugs. "Because... I don't know. You two have a history together and it fascinates me. I want to know more."

"It's not a big deal," he replies, his frustration rising a bit. To him, what he's had with Lucy seems simple, like there's nothing to really explain. "We've fooled around. We hang out. That's it."

Emma continues to smile and begins to play with the edge of the table.

"What?" he presses.

She shrugs. "Oh, nothing. Nothing."

He snaps a bit. "Why are you doing that? Why are you making such a big deal about this?"

Her eyes lock on his. "Why do you care so much why I care about it?"

"Because..." He takes a quick look around, like he's sure that the moment whatever he is going to say next leaves his mouth, Lucy will pop up out of nowhere and find a way to make him regret saying it. He sighs. "I like you, Emma. Sometimes... sometimes I think I like you more than I have ever liked her. And I'm confused right now."

She peeks over at him, with those piercing eyes that make his stomach flutter. "Yeah?"

He nods.

Emma's sighs. "All right, sorry for pushing you, then. I guess you two will hang out later and work it out, huh?"

Does he detect a somewhat sadness in her tone? Swallowing heavily, he tells her quietly, "I guess."

They're both quiet for a long moment, him staring at the table and she still playing with it. They'd seem like right mental's to anyone watching them at the moment, he thinks. Or suspicious. He straightens up and looks around to see if anyone might be watching them, if Lucy might be watching them.

"Simon, can you do something for me?" Emma finally says.

He looks over at her, sees something in her eyes he can't quit understand. "What is it?" he asks slowly, slightly worried about what she'll say. For the briefest moment, he considers she might ask him to never talk to her again.

"Don't do anything with her you aren't comfortable with, okay? If you don't want to, just don't."

A sigh of relief nearly escapes him. "What, you don't trust me?"

"I do," she's quick to tell him. "It's her I don't."

Her words send a cold chill down his spine. They sit there quietly staring at one another until break is called off.

...

He wants to run away, contemplates it quite hard, really. He wonders how far he'd get before someone caught him and brought him back. Sitting in the dark of Lucy's room, at the end of her bed, he really wants to run. Fleeing and never coming back to this spot is a nice thought. He wants to stop feeling like he'll be sick, as his airway constricts for the fifth time since he entered her room. The threat of a panic attack seems imminent.

Lucy's been quiet. Far too quiet. And yet, it's as if he can hear her thoughts, screaming at him.

"You're upset," he musters.

"No," she quietly replies. "I'm not."

"Really?"

She laughs under her breath. "Did my lie really sound that convincing?"

His chest hurts. There are so many thoughts racing through his mind, things he wants to say to her, but doesn't at the same time. Lucy doesn't let him, anyway.

"I can't say I'm surprised. I see the way you look at her."

"I don't-"

"Don't try to lie, Simon. You suck at it."

"Sorry," he mumbles.

She shrugs. "It is what it is, I guess. We're friends, right? And now you and her are friends. We'll all just be great friends, huh? Except you like her."

Licking his lips, he tells her, "I like you, too."

Lucy laughs and the sound unnerves him. It's not a kind, happy laugh. It's mocking. "Oh, come on. You know it's not nearly the same. I don't see you look at me like that. And, it's fine, I guess. You and I both know who you'll come crawling back to when shit hits the fan."

His brows furrow as he turns her words over in his head, but the understanding of it just isn't coming to him like it usually would. Maybe because he's so nervous? "What do you mean?"

"Don't act like you haven't already thought about it... wondered when she'll get bored playing with you and bail. It's how it always goes when it comes to people like us, Simon. Outcasts."

Jaw tensing almost of it's own accord, he tells her tersely, "She's not like that."

"Oh," she scoffs. "Okay. Keep telling yourself that. Whatever makes you feel better."

"Why-" Realizing how loud his voice as gotten as his temper started to rise a bit, he brings his voice down to a whisper. "Why do you do that? Why do you try to hurt me?"

"Try? I try to..." She laughs again. "What was it you said about me? 'You're just honest,' right? Simon, I don't have to try to do anything. You're already a mess."

He'd disagree with her if he didn't think she wasn't right. In a lot of ways, he is a mess. But not when it comes to this. With this, with Emma, his head is clear. "You're my friend. Friends don't say the things you do to each other."

She sucks in air through her teeth. "Is that what you call this?" He jerks back slightly when Lucy crawls down her bed towards him, swift as an animal. She gets close enough to bury her face in the crook of his neck and skim her nose along his throat. He holds his breath, annoyed by the way his body responds to hers.

Her lips fall against the under side of his chin, as she places her hand on his chest and moves it lower. He turns his head just enough that her hungry mouth finds his. She kisses him hard and rough, teeth biting into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The sting of it snaps him back. He reaches up and grabs her shoulders, pushing her back.

"What?" she asks, breaths heavy and loud.

"I... can't."

"Oh, don't be such a wanker." She attempts to kiss him again, but he keeps her held back.

"No, Lucy. Emma-"

"Fuck Emma!" she all but yells.

There it is, he thinks. That anger he was waiting to see surface. He wondered what it would take for her to reach that point. Apparently being denied something she wants was the answer. And all this over simply wanting to reiterate what he's said to both of them, they're friends. Anything more with either of them would be too confusing. And yet, he's already crossed so many lines with Lucy, already.

"Fuck that slut," she spits.

"Don't call her that," he shoots back.

"Yeah, or what? What will you do, Simon? Hit me? Set my room on fire?"

That one hurt, immensely. He didn't know, at this point, that there was anything left she could say that would hurt him so bad, but that does. It almost makes him cry. He's quick to get to his feet and move away from the bed. "Goodbye, Lucy."

"Simon! Wait!" She gets to her knees. "Wait, please. I-"

"No," he cuts in. "You can't... you can't expect to keep treating me the way you do and have me want to stick around. I'm not your door mat."

She sighs and leans back, "So this is it?"

He swallows hard. "I guess."

"We'll still see each other during the day though, right?" she asks, her voice sounding so small and vulnerable, just then. "We'll still hang out? You, me, and Emma. Big pals?"

His eyes are burning by that point. "Maybe."

"Well, that won't be the least bit awkward."

"It wouldn't. Emma's-"

"Simon," Lucy interjects. "I really don't care."

It's best not to say anything else, he knows this. She's the calmest he can ever remember her being and he doesn't want to ruin it. He's almost thankful for it. "I should go," he whispers.

"Whatever."

He leaves the room with that one heavy word hanging between them. Sneaking back to his own room, his heart feels heavy, and there's a numbness down to his bones that he doesn't understand. Then again, he's never experienced something like this. Before being in the unit, he couldn't even get one girl to look at him, now there are two, and one so different from the other. He feels pretty terrible about how things with Lucy have gone. Despite the bad things that have happened between them, he does still care about her.

The worst of it is that he can't stop replaying what she said over and over in his mind, that she'd still be there when it was all done. Like she knows how it's going to end. And maybe he does, too, but his eagerness over something new, the freshness of liking Emma and the way she makes him feel, he's too wrapped up in that to see things any other way. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't feel so scared about what will come next, at least not as far as Emma's concerned. She makes him feel... hopeful.

And maybe that's the problem?

Here, in this unit... there is no hope.

Back in his bedroom, he crawls into bed and sits with his knees pressed tight against his chest and wills himself to think about something, anything else. His mind wanders to Star Wars. He'd been watching Return of the Jedi before the altercations with Matt and ending up here, catching up on a series he'd grown to love since he and his father watched it for the first time.

He thinks of The Force, compares himself and his situations to that of Anakin Skywalkers, torn between the light and the dark side. He thinks of all the good moments with Emma and the way she makes him feel, how much he cares for her. And that's when he remembers that, in Star Wars- with Anakin Skywalker... it was the dark side that won.

...

It's surprising to him, that Lucy leaves him be. She ignores him as much as possible. He also didn't expect it to sting as bad as it does, her blatant rejection. Other than forced interactions at group of meal times, Lucy avoids all contact with him. She turns her nose up and scurries away if they pass one another in the halls, or she'll make sure to leave when he enters a room. She doesn't even try to hide not wanting to see him.

In a way, he knows he deserves it. After all, he did turn her away when it was her wanting him. But that was different. He sees her as a constant companion, and she sees him as a human punching bag. Funny how he even seems to miss her slight jabs when they'd talk. Things feel weird with her not around, not like when she was in trouble and wasn't allowed to have contact with him. She can come see him, and is choosing not to. This was what he wanted, and yet, he's never felt so alienated. It's worse than it was with Matt, he thinks.

If all these thoughts weren't enough, while Lucy may have shut him out, she and Emma seem to have gotten closer. It sneaks up on him, their new friendship.

"Check it out." Emma slides in across from him at the lunch table and holds a piece of paper out to him.

"What is it?" he asks taking it slowly.

"Chill, it's just paper. It won't bite, I promise."

"All right," he says with a small smile, unfolding the sheet. His reflex at what he sees makes him inhale sharply and drop the paper as if it's burned him.

"What?" Emma asks in alarm. She snatches the sheet up and smoothes it out. "What's that look about? I thought you'd like it. I asked Lucy to draw it up so I could give it to you. Now you'll have a picture of me you can hang up in your room." She catches the look he's wearing, an apparent scowl, and her face falls. "You don't like it."

"No," he protests, shaking his head. "I- I do like it."

"Then what's with the faces?"

When he doesn't answer straight away, Emma raises her eyebrows in an expectant way. "Sorry," he sighs. "Just... you with Lucy... I don't know."

"Uh, what's there to know? We've hung out a few times."

"I know." The words come out clipped, almost acidic. He thinks how much he must sound like Lucy does when she's mad about something. Is he mad?

"Then what's the problem? You don't like us being around each other, what?"

He sighs again. "I don't... trust it."

Emma frowns. "Trust what? What's there not to trust?"

"Her," he bites out. "And those aren't my words. You're the one who called her-" He pauses and checks to make sure no one's close enough to hear what he's about to say. They wouldn't like it if they could. "Mental," he finishes in a whisper.

"Yeah, well," she shrugs, "maybe I was wrong. She's been really nice to me, Simon. She drew me that picture and said I should give it to you. She supports us being friends. Wants all of us to be close. You said she wouldn't."

"Emma-"

"Look, I'm not having this argument. You of all people should cut her some slack."

"What... what's that supposed to mean?" he asks, his defenses closing in around him like a suffocating blanket. Her words make it seem like she's implying something, and that thought itches at him.

"N- no. I didn't mean it like that, Simon. Just... you two are a lot alike-"

"We're not."

She sighs. "I don't have many- there aren't many girls to make friends with here, all right. It's nice for me."

"There are other girls here," he argues. "Your room- mate."

She rolls her eyes. "I love Sara, but we're very different people. And she deals with her own shit. The last thing she needs is to be burdened by mine. So who else is there? Nosey Nancy? Bi- polar, Betty? Simon, I mean girls I can really talk to. I can chat with Lucy. She listens. You know that, don't you?" Reaching across the table, Emma takes his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "We're all lonely here and need people to reach out to. That's okay, innit?"

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a couple deep breaths. It's clear he isn't going to win this debate. Emma's already made up his mind. And if he wants her to keep liking him- and he does- apparently that means finding whatever she and Lucy have together okay. At least in her eyes. "I suppose." Looking back at her, he adds, "Don't talk with her about me. Please."

Emma grins widely. "No promises. You know how it is, girl chat and all that, yeah?"

"Emma," he groans.

She rolls her eyes with a laugh. "Fine, then. Now," she spreads the paper out in front of him. "Where do you plan on hanging this in your room? I was thinking on your ceiling? Then we can awkwardly hang around each other and try and pretend like I don't know you wanked off to me."

When his eyes widen, and his pale skin no doubt turns a deep shade of red, Emma laughs. The sound echoes around him and, despite his awkward embarrassment, he finds himself laughing, as well.

...

Thoughts?