For some reason I thought this chapter would be easier to write but no. But there's only like eight chapters left so hopefully I can belt those out this month and maybe some Just Kids too as it's the Christmas chapters next and it'd be nice to do those at a seasonally appropriate time, plus my new year's LuxMold let's actually do that on time. Oh, and Finmass, and some commissions for IRL relatives. And finding a job. And this laptop is a cunt debris that doesn't work properly because I'm an idiot who spills drinks on electronics. Please end me before I inevitably succumb to a heart attack.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

...

There was a heavy sense of misery about the hotel lobby. Exhaustion was there too, threatening to pull the sorry group down with it if they would allow such a thing to happen, if they dared to stop thinking of what they saw, had heard in the hospital.

The hotel receptionist was the only other person about, ignoring them in favour of their phone and occasional email; none of the other guests bothered them and the hotel was closed for the night so they were all perfectly alone to sob and mourn, too tired and afraid of their thoughts to retire to their rooms but unwilling to say a word. The grand clock in the corner tick-tocked on and on, driving Michael up the wall and keeping him from getting completely lost in his little bubble of misery.

He was sandwiched between Matthew and Sam on one sofa in the corner, Hunapo perpendicular to them with Charlie curled up on their one good knee. Their daughter. Charlie was plainly relieved that all 'guardian' formalities had been dropped once and for all, under her despair. In the corner, Natalya slouched against the window, uncomfortable and trying her best to remain invisible.

Charlie was the first to succumb to the pulls of sleep. She cried herself into a deep slumber that couldn't be disturbed, even when Matt lifted her from Huna's arms to help them carry her to her room.

Mike watched them go, silent and feeling lower than he'd ever done before. Charlie had thanked him for saving her brother on the ride home and it was with a heavy heart that he'd said it was no problem, that Oscar would do the same and it was the right thing to do.

"Hey little man," Sam spoke up, "how ya hanging in there?"

Mike squirmed. "I feel like shit. I don't know what you want me to say."

"Well, I was hoping for something honest, so there's that." Her smile was shot down with a glare. "You probably don't want to hear this, but I'm proud of you. You're-"

"Damn right I don't want to hear this!" Mike snapped, "I ain't no hero!"

Sam frowned, "I don't understand."

"It's… it's..." Mike's face crumpled as he stifled a sob.

"Mikey..."

"It's all my fault he's even there," Mike refused to look at her, at anything but the floor. "I know you know we had a fight, and that's how we… I was the one who said it."

"Said what?"

"That I was entering," Mike's lip wobbled, "it was my stupid idea to do this to get back at him-"

"Get back?" To no one's surprise, Sam was struggling to follow.

Michael couldn't reply immediately, not about something like this. "We kissed, and for some reason he got the wrong idea and said- we had a fight. I wanted to hurt him, like nothing I'd felt before." He buried his head in his hands.

"I see."

"And fuck did I. Oscar wouldn't have entered this stupid event if I hadn't first and… it's my fault he's… he could die." He glanced up at his cousin, eyes searching for some form of reassurance. "How can I even look at Huna and Charlie anymore? When they tell me… when they thank me for saving him all I can think of is how I put Oscar there in the first place!"

"Well, I don't really know what to say," confessed Sam before pulling him into a hug. "I mean. You're both so damn stupid."

"You're not helping," Mike mumbled.

"But really, to enter an event you had no training for? Surely you and Oscar must've known what you were getting into? Like, you must've understood, right? It's dangerous for a professional!" She shook her head at that. "It's could've been either one of you, really."

"I don't think-"

"Freak accidents happen," Sam reasoned, "and you were brave for going up against a full grown bull. It doesn't matter what happened before; it was heroic as shit!"

Mike didn't look convinced in the slightest, so Sam just rolled her eyes. "If you're going to keep being an idiot, then fine. You can visit Oscar tomorrow and tell him you're sorry and see that he's fine and you both can move on."

"Fine?" screeched Mike, "he's probably dead already! How the fuck do I even explain this to his family?"

"Huna knows," Sam sighed, "Oscar told them and they told Matt. They don't care. You undid your mistake when you jumped into the arena to save him."

"My existence was a mistake," Mike groaned.

"Well that's not true in the slightest." Sam silenced him with another hug, Mike unwilling- and simply too tired- to protest.

"Samantha?" a clear cut voice caused them both to look up in alarm, and sure enough, there was Arthur, almost collapsed under the weight of all his luggage. He looked ready to drop, but bristling with excitement nonetheless.

"Honey?" Sam mumbled wearily.

"I'm back!" Arthur called in unusual cheeriness, with the expression of a dad who had completed his first lego set with his child; "oh um, this doesn't look so pleasant," his face fell at the sight of his tearful, miserable girlfriend. "Blimey, who died?"

And with that, Mike burst into tears.

...

Matthew's mind was a mess as he said goodnight to Hunapo and wished them well. Anything he said didn't seem to help in the slightest- and he thought he was good at this sort of thing by now- and if it had been the right thing to say, Huna was simply too exhausted to care. They seemed to appreciate the help getting changed and into bed though, seeing as they were more or less unable to function at this point.

Calling to him, huh?

Matthew was an idiot. Every warning, every Goddamn message hadn't been enough for him? His brother dying? One of his biggest idols wheelchair-bound and now a little boy lying critically injured in hospital was needed to tell him this was too dangerous? And to think he had actually wanted to get back into this stupid sport.

He still wanted to get back into this stupid sport.

Maybe Matthew didn't care that he could be cutting his life short. It was a risk he fully understood- they all did- and it wasn't like he was living a healthy, fulfilling life now as it was. He could spend time with his family again, except Mike was probably now too traumatised to ever compete again. How the hell had their roles been reversed just like that? Matt was certain he himself should be more adamant than ever, but he was just too tired of fighting himself and his family.

Natalya was waiting for him, and to his horror she was dragging her suitcase behind her.

"I know you probably want me to stay," she tried to look guilty about it- maybe it was genuine, though Natalya was never one for being entirely in control of her face- but she certainly wasn't relenting, "but I really need to go back home."

"I understand," he replied flatly.

"I know I said not to contact me," she tried to smile at that, "but I can understand if you need to... I'll be there for you; just give me a call whenever you need to. Until everything is sorted."

"Thank you."

...

I don't know much about how headaches are formed, but I think this one is from an artery bursting in my brain. Sorry for the whinging; it helps relieve the stress. Luckily I'm getting a new computer in April if all goes according to plan so that'll help a lot.