Miles walked into class, his eyes quickly scanning the lab before giving a dejected sigh and sitting down, his eyes flitting towards the empty seat next to him before reverting his gaze as he pulled his phone out and placed it in front of him.

"Hey," Miles turned around to face Winston.

"Hi," He greeted Winston, struggling to force a nonchalant attitude.

"I haven't seen you in a while, what's up?"

"Nothing," Miles answered, fighting the urge to grab his phone.

"How are things at home? Frankie said-"Winston stopped when he noticed Zoe strolling in. Miles quickly turned around, looking hopefully at his phone while Winston and Zoe bickered about their chemistry assignment. However, his phone screen remained black and empty, no new messages. But just as he was about to put away his phone, it lit up.

Not coming, don't feel well.

Miles' heart sank. He wished he was more surprised, but he had grown accustomed to this. Tristan hadn't been at school all week, and the weeks before he barely showed up, and when he did he was quiet and distant. At first, Miles had thought that it was because of what happened in his bedroom, but it became increasingly apparent that it was something else. Miles now had a better appreciation for how Tristan must have felt when he used to cut class. He tried to pay attention but his thoughts kept straying to Tristan, he hadn't seen him all week, and he knew Tristan asked him not to come over but…

His thoughts were interrupted by the bell. He hurriedly gathered his stuff, eager to leave the classroom and its gaping empty seat, not wanting to be reminded any more than he already was that Tristan wasn't there.

"In a hurry?" Frankie stood outside of the room, waiting for Winston.

Miles tried to walk past her but she moved in front of him, blocking his path.

"He wasn't here, was he?"

Miles shook his head sadly, his hand curling around the phone in his pocket.

"Why don't you just go and see him?"

"Because he said-"

"Since when have you listened to what you're supposed to do?"

Miles gave her a small smile, "Well maybe I'll just go to make sure he's ok."

"Good," Frankie moved aside, pleased with herself as she peered into the classroom to see what was taking Winston so long.

Miles gave a few tentative knocks, waiting to hear footsteps. After five minutes he heard the lock on the door click, but he wasn't prepared for what he found behind the door.

Tristan had a red and blue blanket wrapped around him, trailing on the floor behind him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks hollow, and his collarbone peeking out from under the blanket was jutting out too far, but what struck Miles most was his eyes. They looked so empty.

"What are you doing here?" Tristan asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Tris-I-What the hell is wrong with you?" Miles stepped forward, instinctually reaching out to hug Tristan, but he stepped back, tightening his blanket around him.

"You should go home Miles," Tristan continued backing up until his back hit the railing of the stairs.

"I can't leave you like this," Miles made to move closer to Tristan but he just shook his head in protest.

"Please, don't," Tristan's voice cracked, making Miles' insides constrict.

He stood frozen as he watched Tristan move to the couch, so slowly and lethargically that he gave off the impression of a ghost. His legs felt like lead when he finally followed Tristan, trying to process what he had just witnessed. What was going on? Why did he look like that? How did he not realize that things were so bad? Questions swam in his head, his worry intensifying. Miles' eyes still on Tristan, he sat on the couch next to him, watching with bated breath to see if he would stay.

"Talk to me," Miles pleaded, "Let me help you".

"I don't need any help, I'm fine." Tristan insisted, refusing to face Miles.

"Like hell you are. Look at you!" Miles could hear his voice rising, but he couldn't help it. Why won't Tristan let him help? He was tired of this vague and distant guy, he wanted his boyfriend back.

Tristan finally turned to look at Miles, his eyes wide with shock at the sudden anger in Miles' voice.

"Everything is fine Miles," Tristan lied unconvincingly.

"I'm not an idiot, I know everything isn't fine," Miles spat.

Tristan extracted a frail hand from under his blanket and rested it on Miles', his icy hand sending chills up Miles' arm.

"What is going on, Tris?" He said, his voice growing softer.

Miles' words hung in the air, the hollow silence between the two boys stretching out endlessly. Miles could hear his heart beating in the silence along with Tristan's shallow breath.

"You're reading too much into this," Tristan finally spoke.

Miles looked at Tristan in disbelief, was he really supposed to buy that? Tristan's eyes pleaded with him to accept his excuse, to continue pretending that everything was ok, but he couldn't do that anymore, he had let this go on for too long. He could feel the anger building as he stood up.

"You know, I've tried to stand back and not say anything but I can't stay silent when I see you wasting away before my eyes!" Miles shouted.

A flicker of anger flashed in Tristan's eyes as he rose to meet Miles.

"Well if you feel that way, then leave." Tristan voice strained as he tried to meet Miles' volume, but failed.

"What?" Miles faltered.

"If you don't want to be with a waste, then leave."

"No, I didn't mean-"

"Leave." Tristan said, the hardness in his voice disarming.

Miles studied Tristan, looking for even a hint of softness in his eyes, but Tristan just continued to watch him with a cold glare. Slowly, Miles turned around and left, closing the door behind him. He walked towards his car, but instead of getting in he just went right past it, the insistent thoughts swirling around in his head making it impossible to sit still.

So he walked. He walked until the sun set and the night chill settled over him. Tristan's words echoed in his mind, his shadowy face etched in his brain. He needed to do something. Miles' gait picked up as he began to speed up until he was running. The night wind lashing out against his skin as he tore through the dark.

Miles slammed against the frame of the door, steadying himself against it as he rang the doorbell.

"Maya, I need your help."