a/n: I do not own any American Horror Story characters.

As he walked along the perimeter of the house, Tate grinned to himself in gratification. The droplets of morning dew that clung to the grass felt cool against his bare feet. He witnessed Hazel breaking from the inside out the previous night under the stars. His fascination with the destruction of her bright spirit was something he could not place. It was like suffocating a fire, watching the glorious flames be doused into the quiet murmur of embers and being left with nothing but ashes blacker than a smoker's lungs. That familiar glimmer he found in her eyes when her family first arrived was dim at best. There had been a time in his life when he would have been nothing but enamored of her; the way that she saw beauty in something as simple as sunlight filtering through the curtains, the fact that she felt so much life pumping through her that she spilled it out onto a canvas. He was older and wiser now, and knew that the naivety of youth ultimately ran dry. It was inevitable. She was a clueless child in dire need of guidance; in his own corrupt way, he was helping her. He figured that he was merely softening the blow that would have rattled her later on in life. To his surprise, he found himself thinking that he couldn't wait for Hazel to awaken. He walked up to the door, anticipating her answering it in her usual irritated state when it came to him.

Nothing but silence greeted him.

He scoffed, only slightly aggravated, and knocked louder. She had to be able to hear him.

He stood at the door quietly, his anger multiplying every second.

Banging on the door in rage, Tate willed himself not to stop until he saw her face.

Marilyn swung the door open, draped in a robe and shielding her hangover eyes from the morning sunlight. "Ugh, Tate, honey, what do you need?" she asked in a groggy voice, motioning for him to step inside so she could close the door.

"Oh, uh, me and Harvey have plans for today," he said with a small smile, "I didn't mean to wake you." The apologetic tone with which he painted his words was nearly nauseating.

"That's fine dear, you can see yourself to his room," she mumbled, stumbling back to her bedroom.

Immediately concealing his presence, Tate set out to find his entertainment for the day. Hazel must be awake by now; she always is. He decided to search her room first, yet found nothing but an empty and neatly made bed. Skulking through the house, he made his way to the hallway of guest bedrooms, certain that he would find her in one of them. Soft music was floating through the air, and it sounded like it was coming from the end of the hall. He stalked down the hallway and into the last bedroom, which was adorned with a large window overlooking the trees in the back yard. There she was, still in her pajamas, doing morning stretches, seemingly oblivious to his audible disturbance. He was fuming. She heard me knocking and she chose to ignore me. What a big, big mistake.

Tate stepped over to the dresser, still cloaked by invisibility, and swiped his arms across the surface, sending trinkets and figurines that decorated the dresser soaring through the air and crashing to the floor. With each shatter, he became increasingly irate, and began kicking the walls and sent his fists flying through the panes of the enormous window. He heard Hazel scream from behind him and dash out of the room, and then the booming slam of a door. He wiped his bloodied knuckles on his shirt, ignoring the shards of glass that remained embedded beneath his skin. Shaking, he tried to control his breathing, and sank down to his knees. "Nobody ignores me," he muttered quietly to himself.

After collecting his thoughts, Tate headed to Harvey's room to take his mind off of his anger.

"Y'know, you hang around here a lot," started Harvey, setting up their video games for the morning. "Any reason we never go to your place?" He fiddled with the virtual reality glasses in his hands and avoided Tate's eyes, which were glaring in Harvey's direction.

It's gonna be a long day.

Hazel could hardly catch her breath as she leaned against her closed door, clutching her chest and sliding down to the floor. She had been experiencing paranormal events in the new home for quite some time now, but that was by far the most violent incident. She actually felt threatened, as if she had done something to aggravate the spirits that crept through the house. The very thought of being targeted by a dark force made her blood run cold. After taking in a few deep breaths, she couldn't bear the idea of solitude after nearly being attacked. Besides, she figured Harvey could help her conjure up an excuse as to why the windows were shattered before her father returned.

She made her way to her brother's room and raised her fist to knock, only to hear Tate speaking on the other side. Hazel sighed in annoyance and had every intention of banging on the door regardless, but paused when she heard Tate's voice speaking with a softness that contrasted with his typical harsh demeanor towards her. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened intently.

"What I told you about my mom being a control freak before was true. But not because she wants to keep me close to home. I guess I was trying to pretend I have a normal family. Sometimes I just feel like she couldn't care less, even if I died, ya know? As long as she has a drink morning, noon and night, she doesn't care what happens to me," Tate said bitterly. "It's like I don't fit in anywhere. I get real fucking lonely out there, man. I guess that's why I like coming over here," he said, figuring that offering the sob story of a life he had when he was physically living would be enough to silence Harvey's questions.

"I feel that, dude. You've seen our mom," Harvey replied, attempting to offer the comfort of empathy.

There was silence for a moment as the boys focused on surviving the zombie apocalypse in their virtual reality game, then Tate spoke again, "and it wouldn't even matter to me that much if I felt like she was treating my sister right. Like, that's my girl. I stick up for her whenever I can; I'm her protector," he chuckled to himself, "even though she's older than me. I used to be a lot better at that, but there's only so much I can take before I have to get outta that hell hole and breathe for a minute," he said solemnly. "Shit," he murmured, realizing he had lost control of himself and died in the game. He respawned and couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if he could have a restart, if dying didn't need to last forever. Maybe he would have run away with Addie and lived somewhere that had a canopy of towering trees and deep valleys, someplace that flourished with wildflowers and lush, green grass. He daydreamed of a place that overflowed with life.

"If I'm being honest," he started, unable to control the words spilling from his mouth, "I haven't seen my Addie in a while. And it makes me feel like a no-good piece of shit, 'cause I should've…" he stopped himself before revealing too much information. He needed to maintain a certain level of anonymity, but something was seeping through the cracks in the foundation of his bitterness, and he could hardly ignore it.

"It's not your fault, man," Harvey paused their game and removed his virtual reality glasses. "You feel a responsibility to protect her, but you also need to protect yourself sometimes."

Tate bit his tongue for a moment. The last thing I need is a fucking therapy session from Babe Ruth over there. He didn't regret slaughtering his high school peers, but the repercussions of his actions had separated him from his sister for the most part. He could no longer watch over her and protect her from their mother's cruel words. The night that she died ensured that he would never be able to be with her again. At least she found peace and was not forced to spend an eternity watching other people live a life she could never have.

"Dude, do you wanna play video games or do you wanna have a pity party? I can grab some tissues ya know," Tate joked.

"Haha shut up," retorted Harvey. "But seriously, don't beat yourself up over shit like that," and with that, he slipped his glasses back on and resumed playing.

"You got a lot of nice stuff," said Tate as he maneuvered his way through the virtual world. "I can't even remember a time when I had a game like this."

"I guess, but this isn't even next gen technology," Harvey complained as he dodged a hoard of zombies. "If you think this is impressive you must've been born in like, the last millennium or something," he chuckled.

Tate decided to keep his mouth shut before he blew his cover entirely.

Sitting in the gazebo in the back yard, Hazel contemplated everything she had overheard through her brother's bedroom door. Her first instinct was to feel sorry for Tate; she understood all too well what a neglectful parent could do to a person. The idea of Tate Langdon caring for anyone other than himself seemed foreign to her, but she couldn't help but be moved by how much love he expressed for his sister. That seemed like a trait he would want to keep to himself, lest he be seen as anything other than invincible. For as many emotionally charged issues he had been dealing with, he was a master at keeping them buried under piles of arrogance and inconsideration. That was what made it hard to trust anything he said; he was manipulative and cunning, constantly having an endgame in the forefront of his mind.

"Thought you'd be out here," she heard his eerily calm voice from behind her.

"You were right," she responded shortly.

"Last night was fun, don't you think?" Tate persisted, aiming to get a rise out of her. "Were you able to get that stain out of your dress?"

"I was, actually! Thanks for asking," she said, not even turning her body to look at him. He noticed. "And yeah, last night was fun. I had a bubble bath and meditated after dinner. Very relaxing, you should try it sometime. It would probably help with any anger issues you might be dealing with," she offered sweetly. Her brand of manipulation was different than his; after all, her father always taught her that one catches more flies with honey than vinegar.

He scoffed and pushed a few strands of dirty blonde hair out of his eyes. "Things don't get to me like that," he said confidently. "I have nothing to meditate about, I'm not nearly as messed up as you are," he barely believed himself.

She remained silent for a moment and turned to face him. "I overheard what you said to Harvey you know, about feeling alone, like you don't belong," she started. "I just…I get that," she said with a small smile, looking up at him.

Tate thought that if he had a heartbeat, it would have stopped in that moment. Was she trying to use his personal experiences against him? He considered telling her that he made it all up to maintain his stoicism, but she would most certainly tell Harvey. The last thing he wanted to do was confirm the truth about what she overheard; it would be far too embarrassing and he would feel vulnerable from that point on. Somewhere between deciding to lie or own up to his insecurities, he found himself at a loss for words and just stood there silently, stunned that she would use his sensitivities against him.

"If you ever need to talk, you could talk to me about it, you know," Hazel offered. She found it difficult to decipher whether she was merely acting according to plan, or if there was any truth behind her proposition. All she knew was that she wanted Tate to stop targeting her, and if psychological warfare was what it took, then so be it. She was killing him with kindness, and figured that extending the offer to be his confidant would confuse him and keep him away from her. Even she had to admit that her plan was a bit unorthodox, especially if he had decided to take her up on her proposal.

"Listen, you don't know jack shit about me, alright?" he snapped. "Don't try to diagnose me just 'cause you've read a psych book or two." She had struck a nerve, and she could see an unravelling behind his chocolate brown eyes.

Shrugging, she simply stated, "maybe I know more about you than you think I do."

He could feel his anger rising like a tidal wave seeking the destruction of anything that dared to get in its way. Slowly making his way over to her, he applied one of his go-to intimidation tactics and placed his face mere inches from hers, feeling superior as she was still seated on the wooden bench. "You don't fucking know me," he said in a low, threatening tone. She could feel the warmth of his breath brush against her cheek, and his lower lip quivered slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

"Whenever you're ready, you know where to find me," she said calmly. Her heart was beating so rapidly she thought it would rip through her chest, but she maintained her tranquil façade despite the fear that built up with each passing moment.

Tate stood up straight and stared into her eyes with a menacing look in his own. Without a word, he turned and made his way back to the house, eyes fixated on the ground.

Hazel felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins as her heart attempted to quiet its pounding. For once, he was the one walking away like a wounded puppy. A pang of guilt darted through her chest for a moment; she felt invasive for offering her kindness, like she had been caught peeking through the curtains of the window to his soul. If she were truly cruel, she would have made a mockery of his pain like he had done to her on more than one occasion. A peace offering seemed reasonable in comparison to the snide remarks and judgments he subjected her to. As if he would actually take me up on it, she thought as a cool breeze blew her wavy hair behind her shoulders. He's far too prideful for that.

Hidden behind his invisibility, Tate cursed to himself under his breath as he paced the living room, trying to control his anger before heading back upstairs to Harvey's room.

"Aw, rough day?" he heard a deep, yet soft voice ask in a jeering tone. Chad was standing in the doorway, holding a portfolio of some sort.

"Mind your own damn business," Tate said, brushing his hands through his hair and sitting down on the couch. "Don't you have any better way to spend your pathetic existence?"

"I'm the new interior decorator. I guess the wino had a few glasses too many and could use some assistance," Chad mumbled as he flipped through curtain samples. "Besides, your little soap opera is too juicy to not get involved," he smirked a bit. "What are you gonna do with her? Drive her to suicide?"

Tate rose from the couch almost too quickly and made his way over to Chad. He smacked the portfolio out of the man's hands and leaned in close, "Keep talking to me like that and I'll cut your tongue out, you hear me?" Chad merely gulped in response. With that, Tate walked over to the staircase and returned to Harvey's room before he got suspicious. As he and Harvey played foosball, he couldn't stop thinking about what Hazel had said to him out on the gazebo. Why would she be willing to listen to him after how he had treated her? Surely she had an ulterior motive, everyone did. What could she possibly gain from hearing all of the dark thoughts that plagued his mind day in and day out? It's not like it matters. As if I'd ever take her up on an offer like that.

The sunlight had faded to moonlight as Hazel added the final details to a piece of abstract art she had been working on. Creating art out in nature was one among many of her favorite outdoor activities, but it was too dark to see the colors on her palatte anymore. She collected her things and carried them inside, placing them just inside the back door. After filling a large glass with water, she made her way up to her bedroom to do some reading before drifting off to sleep. She switched on the light and set her glass on the oak desk as she sifted through the shelves, deciding which book to read.

"Hey," she heard a voice say quietly from behind her.

No… She turned and leaned on the desk, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw Tate perched upon the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap.

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a/n: Thank you for reading, everyone; I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a review if you'd like, and if there are any Supernatural fans out there, check out the collaborative fic I'm writing with my best friend. You can find the links on my profile!

Lots of Love,

China