TJ could admit his weaknesses. Sometimes. He didn't have as much patience as people thought he did, not having someone to share his rather macabre interests left him feeling lonely occasionally, and he wasn't the best at adapting to change.

And he could only go a few days without indulging himself with a knife or razorblade.

The inside of the cabin was filled with nosey people who made it a personal mission to get him 'open up' or some bullshit. There wasn't nothing to open up about. Nothing but the pocket knife he brought with him. He sat outside on the cabin steps after checking if everyone was asleep.

Was he upset that he only lasted about two days? Yeah, but he didn't want to try to see how long he could last in the first place, so whatever.

It was still as cold as ever, but having a coat on got in the way, so it stayed in the hallway closet with everyone elses. In sweatpants, shoes, and a long sleeve t-shirt with the left arm rolled up, he held the pocket knife in his right hand. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon over the lake, which was a pretty sight, he had to admit. Maybe if he was into photography, he'd take a picture.

But that wasn't his focus. TJ knew he didn't have long before he couldn't take the cold anymore and absolutely had to go inside.

With that. . .

One. . .

Two. . .

Three. . .

Four. . .

The cold got to his fingers and he dropped the knife to the ground below. He picked it up, retracted the blade, and placed it in his pocket. The cold must've numbed him a bit because despite the blood running down his arm, hand, and fingers, the usual stinging was severely dulled.

"A waste of time," he huffed.

He turned and headed back inside to clean himself up.

The house was still quiet, which was good, because it was too early to deal with those guys. in the midst of cleaning his cuts with a alcohol wipe, the pain returned, and he got some sort of satisfaction from it.

ZZZ

Gus had his father to thank for his ability to get up at an ungodly hour in the morning. Even being a teenager didn't help curb the years long habit of being woken up at 5 am that his mind had gotten used to.

He rolled over in bed, debating if he should try going back to sleep or go downstairs and grab something to sleep. Routine dictated that he get up and do the regular exercises. He turned over again.

TJ was still in his bed. For the most part, the room was dark, except for the screen of his phone that illuminated every few minutes. Even though it was face down, it was still enough to get his attention. Was he getting texts? From who? He was thorough about telling them that he didn't have any friends.

Curious, he climbed out of bed, careful to be as quiet as he crept over.

For just a peak.

It wasn't like he was going to read the messages.

Just for a curious glance.

"What are you doing?"

Gus almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of TJ's voice. He was looking right up at him, fully awake.

"I was just, uh-"

"Trying to look at my phone," TJ said. He grabbed the phone, and turned back over, the length of the charging cord kept it from being unplugged. "Goodnight, Gus."

Gus let his shoulders fall and returned to bed. He had no idea what he expected to happen.

ZZ