"So what do we know about Liam Dunbar?" Stiles asks. A pen is flicking nervously between his fingers, the drawing board behind him is still empty, but that's about to change.

Scott's sitting on the edge of Stiles' bed, hands resting beside him. The coolness of the sheets feels nice on his sweaty palms. He's nervous. "We know he's on the lacrosse team."

"Yes!" Stiles replies, pointing at him with his pen. Scott smiles shyly, like a kid in third grade being praised for giving the right answer in class. "But that's not really relevant."

"Oh." Scott's face falls.

Stiles turns around, writing something on the board. "Okay, so we know he has a cut on his left arm and he's lying about how he got it."

"Yes."

"What else?"

"His coat is still fine."

"Hence the lying."

"But we don't know why he's lying," Scott points out.

Stiles nods, writing something else on the board: 'Possible reasons for lying'. Then he moves behind his desk and opens his laptop.

Scott gapes at the words. "Are we seriously going to write every possible reason down?"

"Yup," sounds the brief response. Stiles is already typing vigorously while browsing the internet.

Scott rolls his eyes. "How is the internet going to help us?"

Stiles shoots him a disgusted look. "It's the internet, Scott."

Scott shrugs a little, his left hand starting to pick at the sheets. "Okay, sorry," he mutters.

"Abuse!" Stiles then suddenly shouts. He gets up and writes it down onto the board.

His best friend scoffs. "Liam isn't getting abused. I don't think I've ever even heard about someone bullying him."

"That's not what this is about, okay, Scott?" Stiles sighs. "It's called brainstorming. We're just putting down everything we can possibly think of and then we'll go over the options one by one."

Scott nods. "Okay." He thinks for a minute. "Maybe he's being abused at home, then."

"Good. That's it," Stiles praises him, writing it down. "Maybe the cut was actually an accident, but what really happened is too embarrassing to tell."

"Could be," Scott nods along, even though something inside of him tells him that's not it.

"And, of course," Stiles says, "there's always the possibility that Liam's not lying…" He throws Scott an apologetic look, but Scott knows perfectly well that it's still an option. He hums affirmatively.

Stiles crawls back behind his laptop again and Scott takes his phone out of his pocket. They both search the web, but neither of them finds anything for a while. It takes time and Googling 'reasons for cuts' isn't very helpful.

After half an hour, when Scott's about to give up, Stiles breaks the silence.

"Have you ever heard of self-mutilation?"

Scott frowns, getting up from the bed and moving behind Stiles to be able to look at the screen with him. "No? What's that?"

"Apparently it's a general word for inflicting harm to oneself. The topic is quite dark, but…"

"What does it say?" Scott wonders, his voice a little lower. He scoots closer behind his friend, chin almost resting on Stiles' shoulder.

"It says that...people who suffer from a mental disorder often turn to hurting themselves. This can be executed in several ways, from something as simple as severe nail biting to burning, from purposely falling down the stairs to…" Stiles sighs. "…Cutting."

"You're saying Liam might've done it to himself…?" Scott wonders, having a hard time comprehending the possibility.

"It's an option," Stiles says, turning his head so he can lock eyes with his friend. In synchronized motion they turn to the board and Scott watches Stiles write it down. He even underlines the word.

"There's no way Liam would do something like that," Scott says. He has taken Stiles' seat behind the computer. "He isn't suffering from depression or anything like that. He always seems chatty and he's always smiling. You know his best friend? Mason? I've seen them joking around a lot at school. There's no way he's unhappy or thinking about…you know…"

Stiles is now behind Scott. "Yeah? Well, read this," he says, pointing at a paragraph a little further down on the screen.

Scott's eyes follow the lines, his teeth biting his lip as they do so. "Oh."

"People don't have to be crying all the time to be suffering from depression, Scott. They still experience joy. It's just that…" Stiles pauses, reading a bit more. "I think it's just that, when they're feeling sad, they don't know how to deal with it and they move to this extreme solution. Besides, what do we actually know about Liam? We don't hang out with him nor do we have anything in common, except for lacrosse."

Scott nods silently; slowly. His head is pounding and even though he's trying very hard to deny it, the boulder in his stomach has just become heavier, telling him all of this is somehow making sense. Even though it's heart breaking to even think about.

"Do you really think Liam's depressed?" he asks, slumping back into the seat.

Stiles puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, man…" he sighs. "…But it's a possibility."

That night, Scott's having trouble falling asleep. He keeps picturing Liam alone in his room, unhappy, maybe even crying, then suddenly taking a knife and…

He huffs out another of many breaths, rolling onto his other side again. He can't seem to get comfortable in his bed. The mattress won't suck him in like it usually does and his pillow just keeps adding tension onto his neck. It's past two in the morning when sleep finally catches him; taking advantage of the exhaustion from his overthinking.

The Friday after, there's lacrosse practice again, and, on Stiles' advice, Scott's keeping a close eye on Liam. If he really is depressed, there is no way he can fake being happy all the time. There has to be some moments when his mask will fall off.

But it doesn't. Much to Scott's annoyance, Liam's smiley, excited and fun as ever, which means Scott has to wait until the end of practice, when they need to shower. Never has

he wished for someone to be shirtless so badly. Okay, maybe during make out sessions with Allison. Then he would pray to every God for her to take her shirt off.

But those were moments elicited from excitement and this was one from anxiety. This moment was going to be scary; confrontational.

Scott watches Liam during the entire training session. He's doing well, very well, actually, which Scott isn't because he's unfocused and distracted. Coach is giving him shit for it, and Scott tries to care about his leadership of the team, but he can't. He keeps watching Liam intently without any regard for the rest of the world. Stiles has noticed this, but has so far refrained from commenting on it. He knows his friend too well to try and make him snap back into reality. It would be no use, not when Scott's caring about someone else's well-being. It's such a sweet quality, but at times also a little self-destructive. It causes Scott to forget to take care of himself. A trait that ironically enough, would Liam really be harming himself, he could relate to.

The final blow of the whistle sounds like music to Scott's ears, the boy keeping track of Liam while the team moves to the locker rooms. Scott tries to blend in, chatting along about the weekend that has just started, acting as casually as he can, and trying not to show he's secretly spying on Liam. During a brief chatter with Stiles about the game tomorrow, the one where he'll finally be playing, Scott notices Liam's taking off towards the showers.

He nudges his best friend, which is enough for Stiles to follow him towards the steam filled part of the room, and both boys remain quiet while they try to spot Liam. Scott squints his eyes, trying to see through the steam to catch a glimpse of Liam's arm. Unfortunately, he fails, because when he looks to the left, Liam's body is clean and he's towelling himself off.

"Any luck?" Stiles whispers into Scott's ear as they walk back to their lockers.

"No. You?"

"Nothing. Couldn't see."

Scott's cheeks fill with air before they empty themselves through his mouth. "Alright, just…just keep watching him, okay?"

"Don't mind if I do…" Stiles mumbles, eying Liam, who has just put on a clean pair of boxers.

Scott glares from behind the door of his locker, watching while Liam's putting on more and more clothes and, with that, lowering the chance of Scott spotting something unusual. Liam sits down on the bench, rendering Scott totally unable to see the backs of his arms. The boy puts on his socks before getting up again. From his bag he retrieves a long sleeved shirt and Scott's heart sinks into his stomach. But Liam looks at the clothing before he starts straightening it out and putting it down next to him, carefully looking for a dry spot on the bench. Air leaves Scott's lungs in relief when Liam grabs his jeans. He has trouble getting them on, the jeans being too skinny to get over his calves just by putting them on while standing. Scott curses inwardly, because it means Liam has to sit down again, his wrist out of sight.

When his bare feet are finally poking out from the legs of his pants, Liam stands back up. Then, Scott suddenly notices the belt and he can feel his heartbeat rising when he realizes Liam has to fasten it. It almost bursts out of his chest when Liam also turns to his right, causing his left wrist to become visible.

And that's when Scott sees it. The observation hits him as quickly and with as much ferocity as getting hit by a train passing an intersection.

There's a second cut on Liam's arm.

It's situated almost parallel to the first one, but a little further down. Scott can only identify that much in a fraction of a glance, but it's there. He's sure. Well, he's ninety-nine per cent sure.

He throws a hastened look at Stiles, who only nods at him sternly. That grants Scott the last per cent he needs to walk up to Liam.

"Barbed wire again?" he confronts him, pointing at Liam's wrist.

Liam looks, his shocked expression clear in almost every one of his facial features. He opens his mouth to respond, but then seems to change his mind, and from the way Liam's face falls, Scott knows the boy realizes there's nothing he can say to excuse himself.

"We have to talk. I'll meet you outside in ten minutes, okay?" Scott says, softening his jawline.

Liam has averted his gaze shamefully. He just nods quickly, covering his wrist with his right hand.

It's enough of a confirmation for Scott, a sense of success washing over him. He has achieved his goal. After watching Liam for three days straight it has now finally paid off. The smile on his face almost reaches from ear to ear as he turns back around.

But that feeling of accomplishment fades rapidly, like snowflakes in the warm sunlight, when he catches Stiles' gaze. The earnest look in his eyes snaps Scott straight back to reality, like a hammer hitting an anvil, making him realise that this isn't something to be proud of.

This is serious.