"Um, yeah sure," Maya stuttered, surprised at the sudden intrusion. She watched Miles as he stormed in past her, pacing back and forth, still breathing heavily.

"What's going on Miles?"

"It's Tristan, he-well I don't really know what's wrong with him. He's been moody and distant and I thought he was mad at me but I don't think that's it. He just looks so…scary." Miles rushed out, his words tripping over one another, waving his hands for emphasis.

"Wait, slow down." Maya sat on the couch across from him.

"What's wrong with Tristan?"

Miles joined her, collapsing on the other side of the couch, his heart still beating rapidly against his chest.

"He's," Miles let out a shaky breath, his emotions suddenly surging over him like a tidal wave as his body began to recover.

"I don't know, he won't talk to me, but something is really wrong. Maybe he's sick or… ."

Miles looked away from Maya's prying eyes, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

"You know, I did notice him acting weird at the Dot. Has he been eating?"

"What? Why wouldn't he be eating?"

Maya looked down, fidgeting with a loose strand at the end of her shirt, suddenly unsure.

"He, um, well, Tristan used to be bigger and he stopped eating to lose weight and he ended up in the hospital."

"Shit," Miles muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, suddenly, all of the pieces falling into place. The moodiness, the weight loss. God how could he have been so blind! Tristan acting so weird around food, always being tired, how faint he was at the Dot. Scene after scene flashed before his eyes. Miles felt like he had just been hit with a ton of bricks. He looked up at Maya, a dazed expression splattered across his face.

"I'm an idiot, how did I not realize what was going on?"

"It's not your fault, you didn't know," Maya reached out to put a reassuring hand on his back.

Miles just shook his head, "I should've known."

After several minutes of tense silence, Miles sat up, a new, determined hardness in his eyes.

"So what do we do?"

"I'm not sure…maybe we could talk to his brother, he might be able to help," Maya offered.

"You want me to tell on him?" Miles asked dubiously.

"Miles, it's not like he snuck out or something, he could be really sick."

"Well he's not really sick, he's just not eating."

Maya let out an exasperated sigh, "Seriously Miles, do you not listen in health class? If his eating disorder has come back then he is sick."

"How will telling his family help?" Miles questioned, still unconvinced.

"Because he needs help, Miles."

Miles looked around the room, his eyes searching for an answer that wasn't there. He hadn't realized that he had gone quiet until his phone buzzed, startling him back to reality.

I'm sorry about the fight :(. Can we talk?

"Is it Tristan?" Maya asked, taking note of the small smile that was tugging at the corner of Miles' mouth.

Miles nodded, his gaze not leaving the screen as he typed back an answer.

Meet you at our place.

"I have to go," Miles stood up, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

Maya nodded as she followed him to the door, her expression unreadable.

"Thanks, um, thanks for your help."

"Anytime."

Maya watched as Miles rounded the corner before shutting the door behind her.

"What was that about?" Zig leaned against the entrance of the living room.

xxxxxxx

Miles' eyes scanned the shadowy fixtures shrouded by the night. He rubbed his arms, the cold air pricking at them, causing goosebumps. He sank into the swing, his legs sore from the night's journey. His mind was still reeling, simultaneously searching for answers and a distraction. However, only the creaking of the swing offered any variation to the deafening silence that only amplified his persistent thoughts.

"Since when is the park our place," a voice rang out cutting through the darkness.

Miles turned his head towards the figure nearing him, letting out a quiet exhale, not realizing that he had been holding in his breath.

"Well you knew where to go, so it must be." Miles smirked at Tristan as he sat down on the swing next to him.

"I didn't mean to get mad at you like that, can we just forget it and move on?"

Miles didn't respond, instead looking out at the dim road ahead, illuminated only by a distant streetlamp. He wished he could just get up and walk away from everything, from all of the hurt and pain and confusion and fear. Walk until he just disappeared into the dusk, but he couldn't leave Tristan behind. Miles looked back at Tristan, who was resting his head on the swing chain, sadly realizing that maybe it was Tristan who had already gone off into the darkness and left him behind.

"I can't forget it," Miles replied.

Tristan traced the outline of the chain links, "My parents are getting a divorce and I guess I haven't really been dealing with it well," he spoke, his words slow and labored, like each syllable carried a great weight.

"I'm so sorry Tris," Miles got up and walked over to Tristan, bending down to hug him. Tristan rested his head against his neck as he wrapped his arms around Miles' back. Miles pulled back slightly, moving his hands up to cradle Tristan's face.

"It'll be ok," Miles pressed his lips against Tristan's, pouring all of his worry and longing onto his lips. Miles pulled away, his nose brushing up against Tristan's.

"Wanna go?" Miles asked as he straightened up, offering Tristan his hand. Tristan nodded, gratefully accepting it. His knees shook as he stood up, which he quickly tried to cover up by offering Miles a shaky smile upon noticing the immediate concern on his face.

Tristan could feel that he was slipping away, his head growing light as they walked along the dimly lit road. He shook his head, willing himself to hold on until he got home.

"Tris?" Miles' voice drifted off in the distance, Tristan looked over at him, his face blurring. He stumbled forward, his hand slipping out of Miles'.

And then the world went black.