"You remember how I always say that I'm here for you?" Zack tried to keep his voice steady, to reel Sebastian into a relatively calm state.

"BullSHIT!" the word was spat out. It hurt entering Zack's ears as much as it hurt leaving Seb's throat. Zack rationalized, told himself that his best friend did have a valid point, that despite saying he'd always be there, the times Seb needed him the most he wasn't there, but how was he supposed to have known if he wasn't told? Sebastian also knew that he didn't intend for his words to be so blunt, but a hurricane of emotions whirled through his mind, too many to allow him to think clearly. The last time he felt like this...

The walls were white, so bright they almost blinded his tired eyes. Lights engineered to mimic sunlight poured into a windowless room, and didn't help alleviate the pounding in his head. He didn't remember entering the room, or laying down on this bright-white railed bed and falling asleep. Then it hit him like a punch to the gut, waves of nausea overcame him along with a culmination of emotions - confusion, trepidation, anger, fear, sadness.
"Ah, Mr. Quinn, I'm so glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling? Ready to meet your new roommate?" a kind, gently authoritative voice asked. Sebastian nodded slightly and slowly stood up. He followed the voice's owner while he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. With his head and body slouched over, he noted the way his shoe-less feet (why don't I have my shoes?) followed a pattern of light green and blue floor tiles, his hands traced the wooden railing that lined the soft blue walls until he stopped behind the man who led him down the hall. Sebastian looked up to see a room almost identical to the one he had recently vacated, except this room had two neatly made twin beds without railings. On one bed there was an organized assortment of stuffed...things - a moose holding a maple leaf, a football, a spider-man - and in the middle of all that was Kevin Richards. Kevin's face radiated intelligence and exuded a sense of warmth.
"Mr. Quinn, this is Mr. Richards. Mr. Richards, this is Mr. Quinn. You'll be rooming together for the next couple of weeks," the voice addressed and gestured to the two young men as he spoke.
"Kevin. Dr. Youngblood, my name is Kevin." His voice was respectable and barely audible to Seb even though they were a couple feet apart.
"Sebastian," he introduced himself with a quick glance at Kevin. (Dr. Youngblood. Why is a doctor showing me a roommate?). It took some time for Seb to become adjusted to his new situation and to figure things out, but Kevin was good and Zack was there too. Zack visited him. He had Kevin and Zack and he was okay.

"We can work this out, man. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," said a patient Zack as he attempted to move closer to his friend, to close the literal and figurative distance between them.

"They'll take me away! It's your fault! You had to come out here and fuck things up!" Sebastian hoarsely yelled, his voice strained and worn. He continued to pace around, gun still in hand. Do I use it? Just cut everything out? Leave him here? The police are gonna show up and then what? "Why are you even here?" Tears began to form and slowly fall from Seb's face as the gravity of the situation started to weigh him down.
"I'm here because I care, the same way you care for me. And I'm not letting you out of my sight. No one's taking you away," Zack spoke firmly. "I'll explain this to the cops, tell them that this isn't your fault-" he was cut off by a scoff.

"The hell? 'Course this is me," Seb's voice trailed off as the tears kept flowing. The gun's here for a reason, you dipshit. It was waiting for you to take it from Matt's basement, waiting for this moment in time. Sure, you've unloaded and reloaded it multiple times before. But why? The fuck is wrong with you that you took it and now it's yours? You had to go out and cause trouble and this is the way out of it all. The bad sounds of police sirens are getting louder and louder and they can't take you. Not like this. "Save your breath," dejected words spoken from a tired soul.
"It's us. It's us, just like before, just like it's always been," Zack pleaded, desperate that his words would sound alright to his friend's ears. Zack needed Sebastian to believe him, to understand that it wasn't too late to call a do-over and talk things out before the authorities would show. "You've been there for me, least I could do is stay here." Being in each other's presence was usually enough to moderate a rough situation.

He peeled his t-shirt off slowly as he crossed the room to lock the bedroom door. He returned to his desk and pulled out a box of paperclips and a lighter that had been pushed to the back drawer. Five paperclips were taken out of the box and deliberately straightened out into strips. The lighter was flicked a couple of times before the flame ignited. One by one, each piece of metal was held between his left hand and his shirt (wouldn't want anyone to see my scorched palm) while his right hand passed the lighter's blue-orange fire beneath it. One by one those strips of potent metal were pressed deep into his bare chest and remained there until the heat was gone. Thin lines criss-crossed his chest, some a faded brown-pink and others a fresh pink mark. Zack then got up, threw his t-shirt into a pile of dirty clothes, wrapped up the remainder of what had once been paperclips and threw them in the trash, returned his lighter and the box of clips to their spot, and sat for a couple of moments while he stared at himself. (I did this. I accomplished something. I accomplished something and I feel like crap) He stood up to get his phone and scrolled through his contacts before he realized he couldn't talk to anyone. Instead he pulled on a hoodie and walked over to the only person he felt could help him by just being there, slightly oblivious that it was four in the morning.

"Team One, gear up," Winnie's calm voice filled the room.
"What are we looking at?" Ed asked as he adjusted his vest.
"A couple of teenagers at Johnson Forest using substances and fighting, with a possibility of a gun involved," Winnie said. "Aside from the emergency calls, nothing too concrete, but we have to look into this-"
"To keep the peace," the Team finished while gathering their equipment. As they made their way to the elevator, Spike remained uncharacteristically quiet.
"Man, you alright?" Lew asked him as they headed towards their Suburban.
"It's just...the woods. My people don't like 'em very much," Spike managed. Lew was confused.
"Your people? From Woodbridge?"
"No, Lew. Romans. Three times we fought in the forest against the Huns, didn't go so good," Spike explained. Lew smiled slightly behind his friend's back as they got into the car and drove onto the highway.
"Team One, here's what we're going into," Sergeant Parker's voice broadcast over the Team's headsets. "There's a relatively clear piece of forest, about a mile and a half of ground to cover. Ed, Jules, Lew-you'll be Alpha. Bravo-Spike and Wordy, Sam-you're my second tonight."
There was a collective "Copy, Boss" and then a brief silence before the calm would turn to storm.