"That. Was. Bullshit."

James shot him a sidelong look. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, baring his teeth, and gulped in air like his life depended on it (which, coincidentally, it did). He was hurt, red-faced, and sweating. Pushing off the door, the conduit stepped away and eyeballed the damage on his ward.

From what James could tell, it really wasn't all that bad. Small, black-rimmed acid burns sparsely dotted the brown leather jacket, burning right through wherever they'd landed. It was even possible that it'd melted straight to his skin. James guessed that was why Harry was grimacing like that, but he didn't care to make assumptions.

On the other hand, he could safely say that after procuring a nice new jacket, Harry was going to be pissed that it'd depreciated in no time at all. James hummed, inclining his head when Harry dropped his, and who then lamely straightened his posture.

"Son of a bitch," Harry grouched, unknowingly validating James while looking himself over. Being who he was, his first worry went to his jacket and discovered someone's unfashionable, unauthorized last-minute revision. He cringed and whimpered at the speckled leather. "And it was brand-new. Man.. I can't have anything nice."

"That was nuts," James stated, switching topics. "That whole thing was just fucking nuts."

Harry released a two-ton sigh. "No shit. I don't even know where to begin with that." He scrunched his nose, brushed the rest of the snow off his lower half, then turned his back to James, bracing one hand on the door.

His legs were sore, and he had to fix that. Lifting one knee, he quickly realized that holding the pipe and trying to stretch wasn't going to work out; it had to be one or the other. Muttering under his breath, he put it on the floor, snorted, and proceeded to fumble four attempts to grab his ankle. James monitored Harry's ungainly writhing, wondering what the hell he was trying to do until Harry succeeded. Heel encountered rear, and so commenced a thigh stretch.

During his routine, Harry made a little show of tight huffing through the aches and strain, his exhale profound when the stretch ended. Switching to the other leg, Harry faced James again and looked him up and down for signs of wear and tear. "You alright? Did she get you?"

Inspection determined, "Only a little." James flared his fingers, where burns reddened his knuckles. The author tossed him a sympathetic look.

"Ouch. Yeah, I heard you yell."

"Mostly took me by surprise, I think. I mean, it hurts, but.."

His sole slapping down on the vinyl floor reverberated in the domed, empty cafeteria. "Yeah. It'll heal up."

"Yeah."

The stretching concluded after a couple midsection twists, head tilts, and cracked knuckles. "Hhooooo-kay," sighed a man feeling refreshed and limber. He picked up and stuffed his weapon under his arm, harvesting his pocket for their trusty guide. Huddling closer to James to share, the conduit didn't even have time to blink before Harry spotted where they were. "Well, we're sorta where we want to be. This is the cafeteria, and the door up here leads up to the auditorium, and.. aaaand it looks like we can get to the biology room through there."

"Mm."

"Straight shot. Aw, fuck."

"Good job."

"Eh! We're not having a good run with knocking on wood anyway, so fuck it."

They pressed on.

Getting to the auditorium was a straight shot, indeed; all they had to do was follow the signs. The cafeteria exit led them to the adjacent hallway, and from there, they hitched a right at the flat fork. As the second set of twin doors clicked shut behind them, they walked into quite the generous corridor, where at the distant end, the auditorium's two sentries awaited.

It was wide and lengthy, ideal for a mass student congregation. Harry knew from experience that no high school hall could be ever big enough to fend off a traffic nightmare. Tall lockers took up the entire wall at their left, and at the right were centered big, paneled windows. Sunny days would have blinded students at their lockers and rainy skies soothing to watch through downpour-warped glass. Although the student body had mixed opinions about those windows, they had to agree that the yellowed fluorescent tubes affixed to the high ceiling didn't hold a candle to them.

At current, blueish, smoky hues filtered into the hall, furnishing the whole area with wintry, stormy weather's gloom. It greatly aided their visibility, an uncommon gift to them; even so, the flashlights remained on.

No doubt the hall, when filled with teenagers, would've been unbearably loud with overlapping conversations that needed to be shouted over all the noise to hear a full sentence, which only resulted in more noise, repeat ad nauseam. The volume would've been overstimulating to hell. (Harry's high school was so lawless that he learned stuffing cotton balls in ear canals could actually be done wrong.) Yet with their languid tread the only sound, the once-bustling hall seemed desolate, yearning for even the weakest vestigial proof of life it once had.

Colorful, hand-painted banners on construction paper haphazardly torn from a roll, occupied empty wall space as high as a step ladder allowed kids to reach. Spirit day, God's love, and congrats to the year-less graduating class weren't the only denizens taking up the wall. Two upright, roomy display cabinets were separated by two windows. They were antiques, crafted in chestnut and stain-treated smooth, custom-made in 1942 by J.J. Kramer as a gift - or so the grimy dedication plate claimed.

Peering in, the glass was so dirty that adjusting their flashlight beams for visibility and minimizing reflection played out like a two-bit circus. The pictures and descriptions of the school's historical origins as well as Silent Hill itself were a short, informative read. Silver-plated, fancy, and tarnished frames protected black and white photos of graduating classes from decades ago. Alongside them on the shelves lay vintage pom poms, trophies, a football cluttered by illegible signatures, and other prized school memorabilia coated in forget. Naturally it drew intrigue, and the two paused to tour the contents.

One of the large windows isolated another unit showcasing newer generational pieces. Highly-sought, garish crowns for the prom king and queen anticipated their next regal couple beside a standing plaque listing the names of former monarchs. Other trinkets included medals won by the marching band, a second place ribbon awarded to the drama club, trophies for the Midwich Cuckoos (which was, evidently, the name of the football team), and photos of the debate club working a statewide contest, to name a few.

Directly on the case's left, two rows of pictures decorated the wall to commend the school elite. Taking precedence in the first row were the gallant football teams - a staple to any school's worth - comprised of boys all puffed up and blocky in their armored uniforms. Royal portraits, forcibly humbled beneath the teams, honored the student-appointed societal leaders and their blue ribbon looks.

Prom was a habitual, heated popularity contest that strained relationships and sent kids into power trips. It tended to be a controversial affair at best. Teenagers were battling hormones and trying to find their place in the world as it were, and that was hard enough. It seemed superfluous to add an annual nail-biting pageant to their problems. But, one had to concede, it also served as an important lesson and exercise in navigating the real world.

For what it was worth, prom'd been a nice event that the author remembered fondly. Thinking about it always recalled the unnecessary superiority complex he'd adopted back then. Harry used to be one of those kids who stood at the fringes boasting their 'holier-than-thou and thine trivial concerns,' attitude, thinking themselves very brave for poo-pooing the norm. It'd been stupid then, brought embarrassment years after the fact, then gave him another knee-slapping reason to make fun of himself.

Besides: there was only one girl that deserved the prom queen title more than anyone, and in his mind, wore the crown every single day.

Harry pushed his hand into his jacket pocket and leaned in closer to the most recent prom queen's dazzling portrait. She was a pretty one. Blonde hair, blue eyes; a winning smile and lips painted glossy pink. The crown pinned to her head was absurdly large and gaudy (being the precise one that he'd seen in the case), and she wore it with pride. He smiled back at her.

"You remember going to prom?" Harry glanced over at his companion looking at the array of boys posing with their teammates. The verse of silence left him assuming there was no intent to answer, and Harry straightened his spine to continue browsing the museum of memories when James piped up.

"Yeah."

A spark of hope jumped into his voice. "Yeah? How was it?"

James lifted a shoulder. "Eh."

"Heh. Did you have a date or go stag?"

There was a bit of dilly-dallying before he looked at him. "I don't really remember."

"But you remember prom."

He shrugged. "Kinda. I didn't really like going to dances."

Harry shrugged too. "That's fair. They're expensive and rowdy and full of cliques. I don't mean to sound so negative about it," he added. "They could be fun. I enjoyed the ones I went to. It's not hard to ignore all the other bullshit if you're determined to have a good time. If you've got the gumption."

James nodded once. "Yeah. Sure." He looked back at the wall. Just as Harry turned away, he asked, "Did you have a date?"

The totally unexpected, but delightful question stopped him. "Yeah, actually, I did. Jodi. She was my high school sweetheart."

This time, Harry waited to see if there would be any followup. Assuming the answer was no, he turned to depart again. James caught him with another question. "Was it fun?"

Harry paused and hummed, rocking on his heels. "Mmmmm.. yeah. We only went together once - senior year. I went stag the year before. She was a year ahead of me," he said, throwing James a cheeky smile. "I liked older women. Very scandalous, of course, a senior going out with a junior."

He got a short chuckle. "Heh. Wow. High standards."

"I liked the chase. We'd actually started dating when she was a junior and I was a sophomore," Harry recounted, idly swinging his pipe. "We called it 'official' at the start of the next school year, so when she was a senior. Apparently we surprised more people than we thought we would."

There was another nod for him, and then James fully faced his ward, absently bouncing the shotgun barrel on his calf. "What'd her parents think?"

"Oh, whew, heh," Harry laughed, shrugging bashfully. "Uhh, well, I mean.. I wasn't a bad boy by any means. I was pretty straight-edge back then: good grades, went to clubs, dressed well, no track record, generally well-liked— not to sound like an egotistical asshole or anything."

"Don't know why it'd make you sound like that." James faintly knit his brow. "You're modest. For the most part. .. I guess."

"Well, thanks." The middle aged man gave him a warm smile. "I appreciate that. But, uh.." Harry looked at the floor and tipped his head side to side. "I dunno. There was just some hesitation. And there were, uh.. some.. cultural differences. My parents were pretty wary about the whole thing."

".. why?"

Harry sniffed. "Well, I'm white," he said, "and Jodi was Mexican. .. it was stupid, and a bit racist from my parents' end.. but there was little they could do about it. They couldn't! There was nothing they could do about it." Although traces of resentment tinged his voice, when he looked up to find a surprised James, he smiled. "So there was that. Her family was nice, though. They were great. I loved 'em. I think that when they realized we were serious, like that serious, they started accepting me into the fold." Then, he grinned. "They saw I was good to Jodi. And I damn well was.

"And back then, I was trying to learn Spanish at the time, too; I started that after I first met her, to uh.. heh.. impress her? try to show her I cared, to.. relate with her? though I never really caught on - I'm just bad with languages - so that I think that endeared me to them. Or it helped to. Heh. They appreciated it, at least." Harry chuckled quietly. "They damn sure tried to work with me. I knew they were laughing behind my back, too, but hey - I'd probably do the same. I didn't mind it, anyway. It was pretty funny."

".. and your parents?"

James slanted his head at the raspberry. "Stubborn at first, though they never explicitly said why, of course," Harry replied, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, "but they eventually came around. They liked her."

"Mm." The conduit absorbed that. "So that was the only problem?"

He wasn't expecting a Q&A (not that he ever did), but Harry was more than happy to milk the moment. It felt nice to know that James actually invested in some amount of curiosity in him. "Nah. Wouldn't be interesting if it was, right?" Harry grinned at James's satirical frown.

"We ran into a little problem after she graduated," the author explained. "We were really serious and all but attached at the hip, but Jodi wanted to go off to college. I was still in high school. She had some offers out of state as well as in state, but her parents were concerned she wouldn't want to leave me behind and fuck up her chances."

"What was she gonna study?"

Another heartfelt smile brightened his face. This was exhilarating to have James bombard him with all these questions; they even seemed authentic. Harry hoped it'd last long enough so that he could hear a few things about James's high school life, too. "Well, she had an arts and music college looking at her for her piano playing, and a few other ones that saw her ambition in other things. She was thinking about getting a degree in behavioral science, which was totally fucking awesome to me. We all had her back, one hundred percent."

Suspense lifted James's chin. "But..?"

"Buuuuuut, she rethought it. She eventually came out and said that the behavioral science thing was something she was interested in, sure, but what she really wanted to be was an elementary school teacher." He watched James awkwardly bob his head. Though the incident at Midwich Elementary was still a fresh wound, Harry was not going to let this golden moment spoil in any way. He had to savor it.

"Apparently she'd been embarrassed by it for some reason. I think she felt like there was a lot of pressure on her to go to college and get a degree. Lofty expectations." He quietly sighed. "And yeah.. there were. There was disappointment all around. .. I still feel bad about it.

"But! After that, she decided to stay local and go to community college to get her teaching license, or whatever. I think that was the point when her parents started thinking I was a bad influence on their daughter. But hey, it wasn't me that told her to stay," Harry stated, wagging the pipe at James in his defense. "I mean, I liked that she was gonna be around, but I had nothing to do with anything else she did."

James met his eyes and had a little smile to go with it. "Mm. Yeah. Sure. .. dream killer."

"Trouble is as trouble does," Harry agreed, chuckling. He broke eye contact then, taking them to the floor. Talking about Jodi simultaneously swelled his heart with love, and pulverized it to a bloody pulp. She, right along with Heather, marked his favorite subject to blab on forever about (which all his friends knew too well). Bittersweet as it was, the aging patriarch was chuffed that James asked at all, drumming up all those beautiful memories of his youth. A tiny smile faced the floor.

Oddly, too, something else happened when he'd caught James smile. Perhaps it was because they were uncommon, and a mood booster when they happened, that led to pleased little bounces in the center of his chest today. Harry swiftly made necessary cynicism out of that in the next second, striving to remind himself of the mantra: You cannot trust James Sunderland. (Except that he felt that sounded a little harsh right now. The idea was still there, but he thought it'd be okay to lighten up on the leash.)

Or maybe, the subject matter made his inner cheer more plausible. Whatever was responsible nevertheless felt good to think James was better warming up to him. That meant great things. Their road was uphill in a blizzard, and Harry had to be thankful and optimistic for each developing step.

He faced his protector again, and regarded him kindly. "Oh, well."

A neutral beat followed. Harry quickly detected a pattern, for when he assumed the conversation was finally over for the third time, James had more to ask. "So were they mad when you married her?"

"Who?"

"Her parents, your parents..?"

God, what an odd duck - but he wasn't complaining. If James wanted to hear him chatter, then he'd gladly oblige. "Yes, and no," Harry replied. "With her parents, yeah, kinda, because - get this - I got a job fresh out of high school and didn't have any solid plans to go to college. Wasn't for me. Kinda funny, huh? that her parents were disappointed I'm not going to college?

"I wanted to get a job and start making money for us when we moved into our own place; it was important to me. I wanted to start supporting us, moreso Jodi while she was in school. They really liked that. I was determined to give their girl a good life and start by getting out there working ASAP, so I was mostly forgiven. .. I think they admired that."

Then, he frowned. "Mom and dad weren't too thrilled, but that's a whole 'nother thing." His eyes flicked to the set of green. "They got better, they'd come around like I said, but some things still stook." The patriarch waved his head to and fro. "Really? What chapped both our parents' asses," Harry smirked, throwing away the crestfallen air trying to sneak up on him, "was when we did a courthouse wedding, and didn't tell them until we'd invited them out for dinner. Ooooof, heh heh," he chuckled. "Yeah, that was a bit of a mess. But whatever. They were shit outta luck to do anything about it."

"Mm. Rebels."

"Hooyeah. But it honestly wasn't as big of a problem as I'm making it sound. Ultimately they were happy for us, though we were kind of forced to have a proper ceremony and reception to appease family and friends. So, we did. She wore a beautiful dress and walked down the aisle. I cried like a baby. The cake was good, too. It made everybody happy.

"Everything moved really fast, when you think about it," Harry murmured. "Dating at sixteen, seventeen? Married by twenty, twenty-one? Yeah. Not unheard of by any means back then, but it was quick."

"Twenty-one?" surprise asked. "Yeah. I'd say that's pretty quick."

"Yeah. We loved each other. Makes you do crazy things."

".. mm."

Harry lazily observed him. James kept their stare steady. The hall fell quiet in the wake of a whirlwind tale as old as time. In the newfound silence, the school's climate felt lonelier then when they arrived.

While they bided their time for whatever came next, Harry retained stagnant focus on the conduit. His thoughts drifted from memory to memory. When James had pointed out the upswing of memory lapses, the patriarch had no insight into it. Harry chose to do some brain mining just to see what was missing and today, learned that Jodi had not been stolen. Harry's weighted, reminiscing eyes slowly closed and then, when they opened, everything changed.

A backdrop of snowy light flooded from the broad windows and brushed a man so painfully ordinary that some of the wonder was lost. White highlights outlined the clunky hills and valleys, from the backpack straps to his olive green cuffs. The beam accentuated some shadows on his face - most notably, the depths of his eye sockets - and sickened his abnormal, sallow complexion.

James should've looked ethereal. A dreary, lambent world around set the perfect stage; but James was as bland as a stick of off-brand gas station gum and, truthfully, just as forgettable. Nature's spotlight wanted to jazz him up a little bit, create a filter specifically for James that told a couple innocent white lies about his looks. Harry was disappointed. The conduit could've pulled it off if he'd wanted to. But James didn't have the faintest idea what Harry saw, and if he'd had, he'd've actively ruined it, anyway.

Backdrop and subject showed an amateur's promise. There was a particular vision in mind and the light's execution upon James washed him out instead of giving him wings. It wouldn't've been right, anyway. James looked phony and misplaced.

Harry couldn't understand it. He felt like something had gotten lost somewhere; the vision was incomplete. But then, floating dust particles twinkling in the rays caught his eye. Their glittery, carefree drift effortlessly tweaked how the light fell upon the conduit, and because of them, James looked a little less average and faraway standing in that halo.

He wrinkled his brow. That hit a hazy, old memory: he'd seen James in a halo before. But when? Where..?

Harry felt a bit disturbed. This last-minute, spontaneous attention to detail would haunt him for a long while - because he didn't know why.

"I didn't meet her in high school," James told him, interrupting his thoughts. "We met at a party."

James's willful mention sparked some hopefulness within the father. "A party?"

"A friend dragged me along. I didn't go to parties," he said. "I don't know if you could tell, but I don't jump at the chance to be social."

"News to me," he laughed airily. As supportive as he was for this ultra rare, should-be happy occasion, something was off. It'd just begun and Harry had trouble enjoying it. His study intensified while his companion went on.

"I saw her there. She was talking to other people. But she stood out to me. But I just didn't know how to talk to anyone, much less girls."

No, something was wrong. A deep frown brought Harry's brows lower over his suspicious leer. He sucked on his tongue as he searched vacant green eyes that weren't so vacant just a minute ago. The most blatant tip-off came from that jagged, un-James-like speech. He'd come to know his cohort to be stilted when he talked, but not stiff. James sounded like he was reading off a half-assed script. Now looking harder at his details, the red flags blared brighter than neon. Harry didn't know who was talking to him, but it wasn't James.

"Hey, James?"

The man's jaw audibly shut before he could get another word out, teeth hitting teeth - a clack that drew parallels to an animatronic. Talk about unsettling.

"Why're you telling me this?"

And right before his eyes, the 'No' before the 'Vacancy' sign turned on. The changes were deeply noted. Conduit and father stared guardedly at one another, waiting on the other for the first move, waiting for their dynamic to relapse when it'd just gotten better.

"I don't know."

Harry's lifting brows slowly lined concern on his forehead. "You okay?"

Harry felt as vetted as James did; he hadn't been answered yet. Not that he didn't already know the answer, but if his declining memory served, he couldn't recall it ever taking this long. James was stalling at best. He tried to knock a little harder against the resident's mighty fortress door. What's taking so long? Are you okay?

"I'm fine."

Because of course you are. "Okay. Just checking."

Their progress took four steps back. Harry looked on the bright side - it was nice while it lasted, and he'd seen James smile. So he revived his own, then, to ease the tension. He beckoned James with a jerk of his head. "C'mon. Think there's anything cool waiting for us in the auditorium?"

When his back faced the citizen, his smile fell. Stop worrying about me, James'd snarled, so harsh back then. Keep your focus, okay? Just stop. It's pissing me off. Harry's jaded, despondent sigh was only heard by himself.

Sorry, James, Harry now answered him, his silence back then his reply. I just can't do that. I wish I could. But I can't.

Behind him, the click of motorcycle boots mixed with his heavier tread. Harry was too wrapped up in his miserable thoughts, terrible for such an empathetic man like he, because he didn't notice the fear, and the minute, tender thanks in James's sad green eyes when he joined him at his side.