This story is the threequel to "Endstone," and it is very, very, very loosely based on Lachlan's parody "I am Believing," which always sends my brain off on strange tangents.

Lachlan:

I saw it.

I saw what happened.

I saw what Vikk did.

Vikk… Out of everyone there, he was the one I would've least expected to do something like that. But I saw him do it.

I saw him kill Mitch.

Worst of all (or perhaps best of all), I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who saw what happened. No one else has a clue, as far as I know. I'm the only one who can turn him in. Or am I the only one who can save him? Since no one else knows, I'm both the only person who can harm him, and the only person who can save him. The question is, what do I do?

Do I turn him in to the cops? Do I give him up before he can flee the country and testify at the trial while he stares up at me at the bench? Or do I keep my mouth shut and just let everything work itself out? Right now, it seems like it would be worked out in Vikk's favor – I doubt they have anything they can use against him when they have no witnesses and no tips. But should it work out in Mitch's favor? In Jerome's? In Preston's? In Rob's? In mine?

See, this is where things get sketchy. If I don't step up and turn him in, everyone else's lives go to hell, mine included. I know what really happened yesterday. I saw it happen. I see it over and over again every time I close my eyes. Every time I blink, even. Mitch is just dead. Jerome is savage right now and he's on the warpath to get some blood. Preston is beyond himself with horror and grief and hasn't stopped sobbing since it happened. Rob is a giant puddle of syrupy mush trying to hold Preston together and keep Jerome away from him. And I can't sleep. I can't even put my head down on the crispy, starchy pillows in this god-forsaken hotel room. I can't ignore the pain from the bruises that make my face feel like it's about to explode. I can still hear his scream as he started to fall. I can't stop imagining the sound and feeling of his neck snapping as his head smashed along the slope. It's like the Silent Hill version of nails on a chalkboard.

The only one who isn't bothered by this is Vikk. And logically, he should be the one who can't sleep, who can't move, who can't talk, who can't forget. He should be the one getting punished, not me and Jerome and Preston and Rob by extension.

So does that mean I should turn him in?

But this is Vikk we're talking about! He's my boy, my mate, my bae, my partner in crime. I'd do anything for him, even if he doesn't feel the same way. He knows how I feel, he knows how he haunts me. He knows everything. He knows me. But if I don't do something, I will be his actual partner in crime and be just as guilty as him, maybe even more. I have the chance to get him, for all of us, but can I bring myself to actually do it? Can I be the one to stuff Vikram Barn in a cage for the rest of his life? Can I afford to lose him?

I never had him in the first place. He was never mine. He never will be… unless… But could I do that? Could I use Mitch to get him? Would I be willing to use Mitch's dead body as barter for a relationship with Vikk? Could I live with myself if I did that? But could I live with myself if I turned him in? Is that any more moral? He's just so… perfect. He's perfect. We're perfect. Or we would be, if he could just see that. But now I can make him see that. Now I can make him see me. I finally have the chance I've been waiting for. Tonight's gonna be the big night, and it's definitely worth the big fight. It took Mitch's death to make Vikklan and Poofless real. It's a shame he had to die, yeah, but I'll take it.

Me: got a few?

BaeStar123: For what?

Me: just want to talk, mine or yours?

BaeStar123: I'll be over in a few.

What took him so long to reply? My guess is he's packing so he can get the hell out of here at first light. Vikk was never the stupid one. He doesn't know for sure if anyone knows, and he wouldn't wait around to get nailed by the cops. I need to make up my mind before he walks back out the door of my room.

But my mind is already made up. Isn't it?

About five minutes later, he's knocking on the door of my room, fully dressed to run with his backpack on and his suitcase behind him. I'm the only thing keeping him here now. I beckon for him to come in and stick my head out in the hallway to see if anyone else is around to listen in. It sounds like Preston finally stopped bawling across the hall. I wonder what Rob had to do to get that to happen.

"What's going on, Lachlan?"

"Huh? Oh. Not a whole lot. Just… got a migraine from his crying. You're lucky you got the room next to Jerome."

"Yeah, it worked out pretty well, all things considered." He slides his backpack off and sits down on the bed, normal as you please. He doesn't look happy, sad, guilty, anything. It's like nothing even happened. I guess it's a good thing he's leaving in a few hours or that'd give him away. Nobody looks like that when one of their best friends bites the dust in front of their eyes. "What did you want to talk about?" I walk over and lean against the wall in front of the foot of the bed, our eyes locking together as he studies me. Before I know it, I'm trapped in his calm, coffee-coloured eyes, and nothing else seems to matter. He's mesmerizing. I can see the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk, and I notice that a sizeable layer of stubble has grown along his jaw overnight. What I wouldn't give to grow a beard that didn't make me look like a fourteen-year-old. A few more seconds pass before he starts laughing, and the sheer adorableness that is Vikk sends a hot flush up my neck and all over my face. I guess this is what they mean when they say someone is 'hot.'

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what?' You're like fifty shades of pink right now," he chuckles as he runs his fingers across his forehead to bring his hair back into line.

"You mean 'fifty shades of gay'."

"What?" Crap. I guess my mind is officially made up now, huh?

"Look, Vikk… I… Damn it. Why is this so hard?"

"If you're trying to say what I think you're trying to say, I just want you to know that I already know."

"Oh, really? And what is it that you know?"

"I'm not stupid, Lachy. Everyone knows you like me. Even Mitch knew that." Wait, has Jerome been telling people behind my back, or… am I just that obvious?

"Then do you like me?" This seems to take him by surprise somehow. He gets this weird, unreadable expression on his face. This doesn't look good.

"Lachlan, I…"

"You what, mate?" He laughs and straightens his hair again, trying to buy himself more time. Was this the right choice? Should I just let him leave and call the cops when the door shuts behind him? Can I even do that?

"Yes, I do like you. But it's because I like you that I can't like you."

"Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you actually serious right now?"

"It's not you. It's something I've done. I can't let it hurt you, so I have to let you go. You have to keep your distance from me, Lachlan."

"And why's that?" He sighs and pauses for a few seconds, his eyes locked onto mine while he rubs his hands together nervously.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"I just can't."

"But maybe I could help you!"

"There's no helping me, Lachy. You just have to let it go."

"No. No. Now is not the time for singing, Vikk. I… I know what happened. With Mitch. I know what happened with Mitch. And I didn't tell anyone about it. You can trust me, Vikk. Just let me help you." It's like he's frozen in place in absolute horror. But it doesn't take long for him to pull himself together. He looks angry for a couple of seconds before he looks almost relieved. So does he trust me?

"You knew? And you still didn't tell them?"

"Of course I didn't tell them! How could I tell them? How could I let them-"

"You don't feel guilty?"

"I love you, Vikk. I wouldn't – I couldn't – do that to you. You had your reasons, I'm sure. I've got your back, mate." He nods gently and just stares down at his hands for a few seconds before he gets up and walks over to the window, looking down over the tops of the buildings as the sun starts to rise behind our hotel. I give him a few seconds of space before I walk over to join him, peering down at all of the tiny people on the street below crunching through the hard snow. It's so cold out there I can even feel it through the window. I catch Vikk staring at the side of my face, but I don't look over at him. It's nice, knowing he's looking at me. It sounds strange, yeah, but after not knowing what he thought of me for so long… It's just nice. I'll do anything, I'd go anywhere for him.

"Hey, Lachlan?" he whispers as he puts his hand up on my shoulder and starts rubbing small circles through my jumper.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Vikk:

I grab my bags and slip into Lachlan's denim jacket, using the sleeve to open the door to the hotel room before I can hear the first scream from the street down below. There's a loud bang in Preston's hotel room, so they must be up already. I'm surprised I can't hear Preston sniffling yet. I need to get out of here before anyone can discover what really happened in the last twenty-four hours. With three different plane tickets booked at two different airports under three different names, let's see them try to stop me now. For all they know, I've already left the country and Lachlan jumped because he couldn't deal with losing Mitch. He always loved his Hunger Games.

I'll never forget the look on his face before his head hit the glass. Confused, shocked, scared, resigned. He had to have known what was going to happen when he told me. He had to have seen my trap to get him to admit that he knew. Lachlan was not a stupid person. A little naïve, yes, but not stupid, not like Preston. Preston would fall for anything, but Lachlan would only fall for me.

Yes, he fell for it.

Yes, he fell for me.