Do you think this is a bit dialogue-heavy? I'm just doing an experiment… you see, I wrote a play that was loosely based on this fanfiction some time ago, but I changed the ending. Well, these last few chapters are ripped right off the play, which is, by definition, dialogue-heavy. Just kind of an explanation I guess? I sort of like it, but I'd love to know what you think.

Also: Kai-chan. I don't know who you are or why you remain anon, but thank you so much for all of your faithful reviews. I haven't got a chance to thank you properly, so please count this as such right now.

"I did it – Liet, Liet look at me!" Feliks gushed, dragging Toris into their dorm room and dancing a little, a jig, and his loafers clicked.

"I'm looking, really," Toris replied. He was looking – he was floored. There wasn't a thing that he could say; Feliks was standing right there, twirling. He looked so happy. Actually, he looked like he was freaking out a little bit – the little blonde grabbed Toris' shoulders and shoved their faces so close that they bumped noses. He giggled.

"Oh. My. God. I did it. I actually did it!" Feliks said, pushing Toris onto the bed and sitting next to him, leaning on a shoulder. Punch-drunk, the kid was.

"You did great, Feliks… you look beautiful."

Feliks laughed and fell back onto the bed, arms spread wide.

"I can do this. Wear what I want, be who I want. I can do it."

"Feliks… you know that it's not the end, don't you?" Toris said carefully, sadly.

"… yeah," Feliks agreed, sober but not anxious. Toris, however, was anxious.

"You didn't stay long enough to hear what they thought," Toris warned, pushing.

"I don't care what they thought!" Feliks announced, flapping his arms like a snow angel and laughing. "I don't care a bit!"

"But I do!"

Feliks stopped moving.

"…what does that mean?" he asked, sitting up abruptly so that he could stare at Toris, eyes searching, sharp and deeply… insecure. Toris noticed for the first time that he was insecure, had been since they stepped into the room.

"Is this embarrassing for you?" Feliks asked suddenly. "I mean, I … I didn't warn you. That was totally stupid. I should have told you, huh? I wanted it to be a surprise but I guess I totally understand if this… is weird for you. I just didn't think it would matter to you so much, what people think."

Toris frowned. Feliks sounded… not angry. He sounded hurt, a little. "Feliks, that's not what I meant. I swear to god you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Especially right now. I just – people are going to get angry. They're going to be mean or they're going to want to hurt you. I don't want that to happen, okay?"

"Not everyone is a villain, Toris," Feliks snapped.

"It only takes one."

Feliks flinched, broke their gazes, glared at his bare knees.

"Feliks…" Toris whispered, trying to reach for him. The boy shrugged away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are."

"Not as scared as you are!"

"So what if I am?" Toris demanded, clenching his fists. This wasn't fair. All he wanted was for his boyfriend to stay safe. Was that too much to ask? He didn't want anything to happen to him – what was wrong with that?

"I don't need your help," Feliks pouted.

"Remember what you just said?" Toris pointed out, childishly. "You didn't ask for it."

Feliks' entire body tensed, snapped into place, his back completely straight, his fists balled up in his sheets. He stared at Toris, eyes frozen.

"Should I have to?" he mumbled numbly, less of a question, more of an accusation, or at least that was the way it hit. Without another word, he stood and stalked out of the room.

Toris took half a second too long to process what had happened; by the time that he could move again, Feliks was gone from the room.

"Feliks, no!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet and trying to follow. "You didn't let me finish – I never meant –"

He ran to the door – only to be stopped by something warm and solid and soft and so cruelly familiar –

"Ivan-!"

"Toris, love, please," Ivan said, putting his hands on Toris' forearms.

Half a moment to grow from frustrated and worried for the boy he loved to terrified and trapped. Such a violent shift left Toris shaking desperately.

"N-no," he murmured. "No, Feliks, I have to –"

"Feliks ran away. It is too late to catch up. Please, Toris, let me talk to you."

Toris shook his head with a jerky movement, backing up a step, only to have the Slavic boy follow him. He was babbling now, but he couldn't stem it, couldn't think of anything beyond the figure in front of him. "No… no, my dreams were going away, I was okay. I didn't have panic attacks and Feliks and I –"

"Toris, please, just let me talk to you!" Ivan's face was twisted with something that could only be called grief but Toris could only step back further, wanting to fight, wanting to curl up on the ground, wanting to not be here. "Toris, love…" Toris' back hit a wall and his breath hitched; he was trapped. Ivan reached out, touched his cheek, and he flinched away, pulling himself as close to the wall as he could, wanting to disappear, wanting to die. "I know I have no right to be here, but I have to tell you that – that I am so, so sorry. Toris, do you understand?"

"You aren't sorry." The answer was wooden and without inflection, but his body was tense and trembling.

"Toris, I am. I only wanted to keep you near me – I did horrible things, but I did them because I love you. Do you understand?"

"Feliks told me… that if someone loved you, then they wouldn't try to hurt you," Toris said, his voice a near whisper, still looking anywhere but Ivan.

"Then why was he crying?"

A deep and painful silence.

"W-what?"

"When he ran down the hall. Just now. He was hurt. If you are right, then you do not love him, because you hurt him."

Toris' head shot up at that, staring into Ivan's eyes with rage and hurt and desperation behind his gaze, at the boy, at Feliks, at the whole world, at everything that had brought him to this moment. "I love him! I never hurt him on purpose. But you did! You hurt me and you hurt Feliks and I can't forgive anyone who hurts Feliks, not ever!" He was almost screaming now, and maybe Ivan backed up a few steps, maybe he flinched.

"But you hurt –"

"I know! And be assured, I won't forgive myself so easily either!"

"Oh, Toris… I'm so sorry."

"I know. Doesn't change much. L-leave, Ivan."

"I cannot."

"Please. Leave." And surprisingly, Toris' voice grew stronger, not weaker.

Another figure appeared at the door – Yao, the floor prefect. "I heard yelling. It is almost time for lights out and I do not want to hear fighting, aru. I don't know what is going on, but I must intercede." He looked out of breath, as if he had run, as if he had been following someone…

Toris' rage had not died, he was mad with anxiety and fear and guilt and he turned it on the newcomer. "Then where were you last year, then, when all of this started? Why didn't you stop him then?"

Yao's voice turned hard. "From what I heard, Ivan only did it because you were unfaithful and heartless."

"No, no, Jao, I did not say -"

"What would you know?" Toris demanded. "No one understands, no one but Feliks!"

"I said stop yelling, aru!" Yao said, raising his own voice. "I will not hesitate to write you up for a detention."

"Detention? Is that all you can do to me? I don't care anymore!" Toris yelled. He really didn't – all of it, he just wanted to fall asleep, just black out for a day, a year, forget what was happening.

"Jao…" Ivan said, quietly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I didn't want to start a fight. I think we should go."

"But –"

Ivan shook his head, putting a gentle hand around his waist and guiding him out. "Toris…" he paused at the door. "Toris, I'm sorry."

Toris did not move. Ivan and Yao left. Toris watched them go, unsure if he wanted to cry or scream or pass out –

Berwald burst into the room, brushed past Toris, and began to rifle through drawers, coming up with some underwear and Feliks' pink pajamas. Toris, shocked into silence, watched him.

"He's st'ying 'n our room," Berwald mumbled by way of explanation. "I d'n't understand th' fight, b't y'can make up 'n the m'rning."

Toris stared. "I didn't mean – I only wanted to –"

"Keep 'im s'fe. Got 't." Berwald cut him off. "W'n't shut 'p 'bout it. 'e's s'rry, too. Go t'bed. Fix 't in th'morning."

Toris shook his head. "Berwald, can you tell him –"

Berwald looked straight at him with his piercing, glaring eyes, but there was a deep tenderness hidden inside them. "Tell 'im y'rself," he said kindly. Toris was silent as the larger man left the room, closing the door behind himself.

Toris sank to his knees, utterly exhausted. He wanted to sleep, but the bed looked so big … he put his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes.

It was a long time later, woven between blackness and blueness and greyness and half-sleep that Toris faintly registered the creaking of an opening door. He didn't look up, still groggy, unfocused. There was a paused of bare feet on the floor, then someone warm and soft and smelling faintly of cinnamon sat beside him, putting their head on his shoulder. Toris let out a breath, sure he was dreaming.

"Feliks…"

"I can't sleep. Like, why aren't you in bed?"

"Too big…" Toris murmured. They stayed on the floor, silent and warm, for a long moment.

"I totally shouldn't have gotten angry," Feliks said sadly.

Toris tried to get out every word that he had been holding up since Feliks ran out. "You know that I have never meant to hurt you. You said that if someone loves you they would never hurt you, but I didn't mean –"

"Shh… I know, Liet. Everyone makes mistakes, right?"

"You forgive too easily."

"You're right to worry. I know what the people here are like. I know it's dangerous."

Toris shook his head. "No. No, you don't have to worry about that, okay? Because…" he took a deep breath. "Because I'm going to protect you, with everything I have."

No response.

"Feliks, I mean it."

"I know…"

There were tears on Feliks' cheeks. Maybe there were some on Toris', too.