"So did you find out anything?"

They still had to tell Gus what they saw that night. The guy didn't handle blood very well, not even his own, but he was still in on this whole thing. And really, after what they saw last night, it was definitely the right choice for him to stay out of this one.

"We went with a few questions, and left with even more," said Gretchen. "It was. . an experience."

That was putting it lightly. Hearing that he liked to hurt himself was one thing. That was something they could deny and tell themselves he was messing with them. But seeing him slice up his arm and sew himself up like a ragdoll was another.

"It was pretty bad, Gus. He was cutting himself up like it was nothing," said Vince. "He needs help."

"So what do we do, now?" Gus asked. "Do we tell someone?"

That was starting to look like the only option that was going to get them anywhere. Between being present while he cut himself and Spinelli's screaming not phasing him in the slightest, it didn't look like they were getting through to him.

"I wanna keep trying on our own," Spinelli said.

"Really? You were the more upset out of all of us," said Gretchen. "At least last night."

"I know, I know. Can you blame me? He's acting like this is normal and we aren't getting through to him," she said. She gestured to across the lunch room where the topic of their conversation sat, at his usual table by himself. "Anyone else have any ideas?"

The others shrugged, just as empty for ideas as she was.

"Well, what about Alias?" Gus asked.

"Alias? That number people text for advice?" Vince asked. Gus nodded. "What about it?"

"Maybe whoever it is can give us advice about how to handle this," he said. "If they can help other people, they might be able to help us, too."

"It's worth a shot," Vince said.

With that, Gus

ZZZ

It wasn't like he didn't have hobbies. Sure inflicting self harm and sharpening knives were a few of them, but TJ wouldn't say he was completely obsessed with it, despite what a certain group of 5 may be thinking recently.

He walked through the drawing aisle of the a local arts and crafts store, looking at the different sketchbooks available. So many sizes and prices and types of paper, he had to wonder how much of it was genuinely needed and how much was just for making money.

The only reason he was even buying one of those things was because he kept filling up his notebooks with sketches instead of notes.

He opted for one of a similar size on the cheaper end. No need to buy something expensive for a hobby he didn't take seriously.

He left the store with a sketchbook and some cheap pencils before heading home.

ZZZ

598-7477: is this alias?

: Yep.

598-7477: I need some advice. See I have this friend right, and me and my other friends just found out that hes hurting himself

598-7477: we're trying to get him to see that he should stop but nothing is getting through to him

598-7477: do you have any advice?

: If he's your friend, why wont he listen

598-7477: we uh, haven't hung out in a while.

: idk, try talking to him until he talks back

:

ZZZ

One of the most horrifying sounds TJ would say he ever heard was his mothers scream.

Specifically when she caught him slicing up his arms in his room. He was 13 at the time, right at the beginning of his budding fascination of masochism and before he thought too much about ways to keep it hidden. Like locking his bedroom door.

Really, being a 13 year old boy alone should've taught him that.

His mother screamed, grabbed his arms, called his father, and he was rushed to the hospital for stitches. He was bombarded with questions about it for hours during and after they came back home.

He had to deal with two years of therapy after all that. It could've been worse, he supposed. By the end of it he left with a 100% diagnosis of not having any of depression, anxiety, or schizophrenic disorders. That, and seeing their son didn't have any new scars was enough to convince his parents he didn't need therapy anymore.

As it turned out, he was a fantastic actor.

ZZZ

"So did that alias guy ever answer you, Gus?"

The five of them, despite having things that pulled their attention away, still had their traditions for spending time together, occasionally. Even before what they were calling 'the incident'. It used to be getting something down at Kelso's, on a Saturday, before the old guy retired to Florida. Luckily there was a diner not too far by that was good enough.

"Yeah," said Gus. "They said that we should keep trying to talk to him."

"What kind of advice is that?! We're right back where we started," Spinelli said. She slammed down her thankfully empty glass.

"For now I think that might be our best option," Gretchen offered. "I've been giving it some thought. It's been so long since we've all been together, he doesn't trust us. But if we're persistent, he might start trusting us again."

"If you say so. I would say we should knock some sense into him but he might actually like that," Spinelli said.

"How about we start now? He's right outside," Mikey said. He pointed to the front window of the diner. The others looked and saw the subject of their conversation walking by. Since it was Gus' turn to pay this time around, he stayed behind to take care of the check while the others chased after him.

ZZZ

TJ was well aware that 90 percent of the time he looked like he was lost in his own thoughts, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of his surroundings. Especially lately. He just wanted to enjoy his walk home and not be followed but the universe just didn't have that in mind for him tonight.

He didn't need to look back to see he was being followed by the others, and he certainly wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of looking at them.

"Hey, man," Vince said, catching up with him first. "What are you up to?"

"Minding my own business," said TJ. "I'm going home. Stop following me."

"C'mon, it's Saturday night. There's plenty to do instead of spending the night at home," he said. "What's in the bag?"

There was this short two lane bridge over a river on the way home. Of course there were faster routes to take but this path was much more peaceful, so it was the way TJ preferred when coming home from the city.

While the others continued to try and talk to him, TJ ignored them for the mot part. He shouldn't have told Gus to keep being persistent. It was only a matter of time that one of them would text "alias" for advice, but some part of him was hoping the five of them thought the whole thing was stupid. But telling them to leave him alone, that would've been to suspicious. Truly, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Half way across the bridge, TJ stopped. He thought he heard something, and listened again.

. . .

Something had to be down there.

"What are you doing, Teej?" Vince asked.

"Don't call me that," he answered, though it was much quieter than his normal voice. He turned to the edge of the bridge and leaned over, just enough to look over the side.

Yeah, there was definitely something down there.

He placed his bag down and climbed on the edge of the bridge.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Nothing."

TJ didn't answer them. Instead, he swung his legs over to the other side.

"TJ, are you crazy?! You're gonna fall!"

"It's fine."

He was never one to have a fear of heights. a childhood spent climbing a jungle gym that was taller than the school was the cause of that. Besides, falling down to the river below wouldn't be that bad. Tt was pretty deep, so he wouldn't hit any rocks, and tonight, the water was calm. He'd be fine.

"See, he's out of his mind!"

Probably.

"I told you he had to be suicidal!"

50/50.

With his hands gripping the edge tightly, he twisted his body until he faced the bridge. Slowly, he lowered himself until his feet touched one of the edges under the bridge. But he couldn't get any further, when his arms were grabbed by Vince and Mikey.

"Can you let me go?" He asked.

"No! We're not just gonna let you kill yourself, Teej!"

". . . .oh my God," he groaned. They were still working with that theory. "There's something down here I'm trying to reach. Let go of one of my hands so I can get it."

"Any how do we know you aren't gonna jump?" Spinelli snapped.

"If I wanted to, I would've," he said. "It's right by my foot, alright? If it makes you feel better, then both of you grab one arm."

While they were still unsure, Vince let go of his left hand and quickly held on to his right arm. Him and Mikey were both ready to pull him back over the edge if he tried anything.

And they almost did when he leaned down further over the bridge.

"One of you grab this."

With his free hand, he held up a damp, tied potato sack. Once Gretchen had it, he climbed back onto the bridge and took back the wiggling sack. It took a bit of work to undo the knot, but once he did we was greeted by a small litter of soaked kittens that were climbing on top of each other.

"Are you kidding me? You were trying to save a bag of kittens?"

"You should've called someone. What if you slipped and fell?"

"It's fine."

"TJ IF YOU SAY 'IT'S FINE' ONE MORE TIME I'M GONNA KNOCK YOUR TEETH OUT AND I DON'T CARE IF YOU GET OFF ON IT."

By some miracle they didn't fall over the edge and drown. Some people were so inhumane. It's not like there weren't animal shelters around here. He knew; he worked at one. And kittens get adopted so fast, too. They had a decent amount of weight to them, though. They were probably old enough to eat scrambled eggs, just a substitute until he could take them to the shelter in the morning; it was closed now.

"-are you gonna with them?"

"Huh?" TJ asked. He was busy looking over the kittens in his arms rather than listening to whatever it was they were ranting about.

"What are you going to do with them?" Mikey asked.

"I'm taking them home," he said. "Please stop following me."

For once, they actually left him alone.