Cody stared at the video playing on the screen of the laptop, fighting the bile that was climbing up his throat.

He was faintly aware of the fact that Counselor Blatt was still talking, but he couldn't make out the words, they blurred into an incoherent background noise that was barely audible through the ringing of his ears. The only thing he could hear clearly was the sudden burst of laughter in the background of that video, and even if Blatt hadn't said who had filmed this piece of evidence, Cody would have known that laughter in his sleep.

Kyler Park.

He should have known Kyler would find a way to get back at him, should have known nothing was beneath that sick and twisted piece of shit, but still—

Cody kept swallowing down the bitter bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't throw up now, not in Counselor Blatt's office. Nothing said guilty like puking on someone's desk while being interrogated for drug trafficking.

The image on the screen had stopped - it was a short video, only seconds or so - and Blatt clicked the play again, starting it from the beginning for the third time.

Unnecessary. Cody blinked and turned his eyes to Blatt's desk instead of the laptop screen. He already knew what was on the video, he had registered every single frame the first time he'd seen it. It was a short, simple clip, filmed with a phone, showing him and Nicky Addison from the junior grade during lunch break a couple of days ago. Even if the film was of somewhat bad quality, you could easily see the pill bottle he handed to Nicky, the cash she stuffed into his hands in return.

Stupid. Such a rookie mistake. He should have known better than to deal in school. And on such a crowded hallway—

But how the fuck should have he known Kyler was filming him? He hadn't even thought about that bastard in weeks, with everything that had been going on with Sky and Luke and Hawk and the play.

The only good thing about the film was that you couldn't see Nicky's face - she was standing her back to the camera and a hood covered her blond hair. Nicky was a cute girl with anxiety issues that she self-medicated with weed and pills. She'd been buying from Cody for a long time and had been one of the first customers who'd contacted him after he had put the word out that he was back in business. They had history with Nicky - had slept together a couple of times too, before he had met Sky of course. Nicky was nice. She didn't deserve the shit this video would cause.

"Cody, are you listening to me at all?" counselor Blatt's voice cut through his scattered thoughts, making his glance snap up to her face. "I asked you a question."

"Umm, sorry—" Cody swallowed the bitter saliva that kept filling his mouth and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "What was the question, Counselor?"

She pointed an angry finger at the frozen screen that showed Cody handing the pill bottle to Nicky, her short nail with chapped, red nail polish sticking the screen-Cody straight to his face.

"We have an anonymous student accusing you of drug traffic in school. This video is very discriminating. Cody, can you explain this? What are you handing to this girl?"

Cody wanted to laugh, but the sound came out all broken and twisted.

"That's just Tylenol. For headache. What did you think it was, Counselor?"

Blatt's eyebrows knitted on her forehead, forming an almost comical V-shape. "That's a lot of money for a bottle of Tylenol. You'd better not be lying, or trying to charm your way out of this one, Cody!"

Cody didn't bother to answer. He was well aware of the fact that Counselor Blatt was right.

He had fucked up, and this time there was no way out. He would go down, and he would go down hard, for being so fucking stupid— for wanting to make as much money as possible as fast as possible, to keep Enrique satisfied, to keep him far away from David and Leigh—

And now he would go to jail, and Enrique would be losing a lot of money again. Like a punch in the gut, Cody realized what that meant. Enrique would be pissed beyond belief. And who would keep Leigh safe from him now, when he came for payback if Cody was serving years and years and years for drug trafficking in the county jail?

No. No. No. No, he couldn't let that happen. There had to be a way out of this mess, if he could just think, if that woman just shut up for one fucking moment—

"Sorry, what?" Something Blatt had said had caught Cody's ear. "What did you say?"

"Why are you not listening? This is important!" Blatt snapped, annoyance making her voice thin and sharp. "I said that according to the school policy, we're going to have to search your locker. And your backpack. I'd appreciate your cooperation, but we'll do it without it if necessary."

"Right."

His locker. Shit— He knew exactly what they'd find there. Weed and more pills that he had planned to deal today. And his backpack wasn't any better. The panic had a taste of steel, it made his breathing thin and shallow, he would throw up here, throw up all over Blatt's desk—

"The locker," Blatt repeated. "But I need to inform the principal and the security of course—"

The security guards. Cody's stomach went tight with anxiety. So— did that mean Blatt hadn't informed anyone else yet? The police didn't know yet?

"Sorry— Of course, I'll cooperate," Cody said, a bit breathlessly. "Obviously this is all just a misunderstanding. I was just handing Tylenol to my friend, and the money had nothing to do with that. She was paying me for a record I sold her a couple of days back—"

Cody knew he was blabbering, but he tried to keep his voice calm, his words slow. He was an actor, wasn't he? And this might just be the most important role of his life. He could pull this off. He fucking had to.

"We'll see about that. If there's anything in your backpack or the locker—"

"Ther isn't. I swear." Cody held Blatt's stare, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Like I said, just a misunderstanding. I'll show you the locker right now if you wish. The sooner we get this sorted, the better."

"Fine," Blatt's eyes seemed to soften a bit. "I'll call the principal. It'll take just a minute."

"Okay, that's good," Cody leaned back in the chair, faking a relaxed posture but his heart was racing in his chest. "Counselor Blatt, Umm—- I was wondering…"

"Yes?" she glanced at him, picking up her phone.

"Can I use the bathroom? There were burritos at lunch, and there must have been something in them— I really need to go, or I don't know, I might be sick—"

He didn't have to fake the pale, green shade of his face or the cold sweat on his forehead, and Blatt's mouth turned into a tight, a bit disgusted line as she noticed them. Holding the phone in her fingers, she glanced at Cody, then towards the door.

"Alright, you do that while I make the calls. Use the one down the hall, and leave your backpack here. And your phone. And try to be quick, will you Cody?"

Oh my God, how fucking stupid is that bitch? At any other moment that would have made Cody laugh, but now all that came out was a tense breath and a quick nod.

"Of course, I'll be right back, Counselor."

Cody slipped his phone from his pocket, laid it on the table fighting to keep his hand from shaking too much. His phone— he had hoped he could keep it, but it couldn't be helped, it was lost just like his backpack with all the stuff that was in there. Thank God his keys were in the pocket of his jeans, without them he would have been screwed.

He managed to keep his cool until the moment he stepped into the hallway, but as soon as the door closed behind his back, Cody bolted.

Past the bathroom, down the hall. He ran faster than he ever had in his life, his feet hitting the tiled floor with a beat so frantic that he was practically flying. The panicked, scattered thoughts flickered through his head. The locker, I should get what's in there— shit, no, it's too late, I bet Blatt's already finished the first phone call— was it to security? Or to the principal? Fuck, fuck, fuck, how could I be this stupid—? No, I have to get out. I can still make it. Just leave everything. The locker doesn't even matter, they already have my backpack—

The school bell rang just as he hit the ground floor lobby. The hallways that had been empty, were suddenly filled with loud, laughing teenagers as the school day ended. Cody didn't slow down, he couldn't afford to - he ran straight into the crowd, trusting that people would step aside. Most of them did, but not everyone was fast enough. He bumped into some kids, a girl's water bottle smashed to the floor tiles, water and sharp glass flying everywhere, someone's books flew into the air. Hey, what the fuck? - Sorry, sorry, sorry–

Out.

No one stopped him at the front doors. Jesus Christ, he was out. He could still make it. Had Blatt even realized he was gone? If not yet, then at any moment now. Cody sprinted down the front steps, stumbled and almost fell, but managed to stay on his feet. His heart was bursting through his chest, the sunshine was suddenly blinding, so bright it hurt his eyes, and squinting, he stopped to catch his breath. The taste of steel filled his senses, his heart was bursting through his breastbone. His car, he needed to get to his car, and then home, and then—

He didn't finish that though. It was too big. Too heavy. Too scary. He would think about that later, once he was home.

One thing at a time.

The car. I have to go. Now.

He burst into motion, scooted down the sidewalk, reaching the parking lot within seconds. He dove into the crowd of kids, the care keys already in his shaky fingers—

"Ouch! What the fuck—?" the person he'd accidentally bumped into, turned around—

Everything stopped. The crowd around them disappeared, the world stopped spinning. A spear of longing pierced Cody's chest killing him where he stood. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, trying to pull himself together, but the tears were already on his cheeks, he had been crying since the moment he had stepped out of Blatt's office.

"Cody," Sky's eyes widened. "What— is something wrong?"

He shook his head and wiped his tears but more kept falling. His throat was so thick and dry he knew no words would come out, and what was there to even say? Sky looked like an angel, standing there in front of him, and an angel she was, a heavenly creature, the only person he wanted, he needed to see now, that his world was crumbling to pieces.

"No, it's—-" he croaked, clearing his throat. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You're crying. What happened?"

She stood so close to him, wearing her signature black jeans and a hoodie, but her sneakers were pink, and so were her cheeks, her lips, the cute little star-shaped earrings, and he breathed in every little detail about her, the way her hair fell to her shoulders, the way her lips curved into a hesitant smile, the green of her eyes, so breathtaking, like a forest in the spring. Her voice was kind and soft as if she truly cared, and even if it was probably just another lie, Cody let himself fall into that lie for this short moment because it was all he had, it was all he would ever have with her, it would give him the strength he needed to get through this.

"Sky—" he rasped, that word coming out shaky and broken. "I— I'm so sorry about what I said the other night. That you are selfish. I never thought so. You're not selfish, you are amazing. I'm sorry that I said that— You— you coming to see the play meant the world to me."

Her eyes grew serious, she stepped a little closer and her hand was on his forearm, gripping him through his burgundy sweater. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who fucked things up. I'm sorry—"

"No, wait, listen—" Cody interrupted her. He didn't have much time, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. He knew the security would catch up with him at any moment, maybe even the police, he knew he had to go, that stopping for this talk was stupid— but maybe stupid was all he had now, maybe it was the only thing left in the end? There were still things in his chest he needed to say, that he needed to get out, before—

"Sky, I have never loved anyone but you," his words flew off his lips hasty, blurring together with panic and purpose. "I never will love anyone but you. You are the love of my life, Sky— and I just—- I just need to know— Did you ever love me, at all? Or was it just— was it all just a lie?"

Her lips parted and her lower lip started trembling. There were tears in her eyes now too, but the couple of small teardrops didn't match the streams that were still running down Cody's cheeks.

"I— I did love you. Just not—"

"Just not as much as you loved him?" Cody's voice broke. "It was always gonna end this way, was it?"

She looked miserable, she wrapped her arms around her body and the tears made her voice wet. "Oh God, Cody, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a horrible person— I never should have gone out with you—"

"Don't, please don't—" he breathed, barely getting the word out. His chest had never felt this heavy, he could feel the individual ribs cracking under the weight of his breaking heart. "Don't apologize for that. Don't apologize for what was the happiest time of my life."

"Cody, no—"

"I wouldn't change a thing," he rasped, bringing a hand to her hair, running it softly through her messy curls, not giving a shit about the fact that it was wrong, that she wasn't his to touch anymore. "It was all worth it. And Sky— please, don't be sad. It's not your fault."

She blinked away the tears in her eyes, but more followed. She was beautiful. She had loved him, even if it was just a little bit, she had felt something for him and that was more than he had ever deserved. His heart ached so that he feared it would stop.

"What's not my fault?" she asked, looking up at him teary-eyed, breathless. "I don't understand."

He tried to smile through his tears. One last smile.

"Nothing. Nothing is your fault. Don't worry about it."

He didn't ask for permission, just pulled her close and she let him. It was a short embrace, too short, always too short, but he would remember it for the rest of his life. The way her body fit against him as if it was made for him, the scent of her hair and her tears. He loved her, he loved her, and in that, he had no regrets.

His lips brushed her temple, pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her cheekbone before he let her go, forced himself to take a step back, then another. It was impossible to let go of her, it felt like ripping out his own, beating heart - but it was the only thing he could do, his last gift to her. Valentine's Day— it was Valentine's Day, and he was sure Sky had plans, she would go out with Hawk, and By God, more than anything he hoped Hawk would treat her well, that he would make her happy.

"Cody, wait— Are you okay?" Sky tried to reach a hand, to touch him, but he backed away. Over. It was over, and he had used too much time.

"I'm fine— have to go, sorry— I'm sorry."

And then he was running again, tears blinding his vision as he rushed away from her. He didn't look back, knowing he would crumble if he did. And he couldn't afford to fall apart now, not yet, not yet, not before he got home—

His car was where he had parked it this morning, a thousand years ago, his keys were in his fingers. He could still make it, he could if he just breathed, if he could just keep his shit together, if he drove fast enough. Home. He had to get home.

It was a miracle he didn't crash the car. He had never driven that fast in his life, he didn't even stop at red lights. Trying to unlock the front door was a struggle, the keys kept falling from his trembling fingers— and every time a car passed their house, he panicked, looked over his shoulder sure that this was the end, that it was the police, that they were coming to get him—

He wasn't going to go to jail. Never. Anything but that. Going to jail meant losing everything. Even if he got out one day— no acting school would take him after that, no production would hire an ex-convict. The video at Blatt's screen had destroyed his future, all his plans lay shattered on the floor of her office.

Oh, it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. Kyler had taken everything from him by showing that video to Blatt. He hated Kyler with a burning rage, but he hated himself more. Stupid, so fucking stupid. He hadn't just lost Sky. He had lost everything.

Finally, he managed to get in, rushed through the hall and went straight to the stairs—

Mom.

He ran into her on the stairs, and one look at her stone-cold face told him she knew. She froze when their eyes met. In her fingers she was holding a phone - the school must have called, which meant the police were probably on the way—

That thought filled him with awful, bitter dread.

"Mom—" he gasped, but without a word, she slapped him across the face, her sharp nails cutting the skin of his cheekbone. He brought a hand to that cheek and it came off bloodied.

"You ungrateful piece of shit," Mom hissed, not caring about his tears, his blood, his breaking chest. "Drugs? You brought drug trafficking into our house? Into our family? Did you think about us at all? About David and Leigh? Drugs?! How could you do this?"

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his chest collapsing with guilt and shame and sheer desperation. "Mom, are David and Leigh—?"

"Still in school, thank God. I won't have them see how the police drag you out of this house in cuffs! The shame you've brought to us all—" her voice cracked, she brought a hand to her lips to fight the emotion, but when she continued, the sharpness and the steel were back. "Grab a bag and get your things. And then get the Hell out of here. I never want to see you again, you get it? Never!"

"Where am I supposed to go?" Cody breathed. "I have no place—"

"I don't care," Mom spat the words at his face, her eyes burning, her lips trembling. "I should have done this a long time ago. You are poison, you always were, and I want you gone. Now!"

Something broke in Cody's already broken heart. David and Leigh, the only reason he had hurried. He had wanted to see them one last time, to hug David and tell him he was the best little brother he could have wished for, the funniest, the smartest. He had wanted to hold Leigh in his arms and tell her how amazing she was, how cool and how brave. He wanted them to know he loved them, wanted to tell that to them one last time, but—

But they already know that. They know I love them. And what I'm doing now, is to keep them safe too, even if they'll never know. Even if they'll hate me for it.

Cody brought a hand to brush Mom's blond locks behind her shoulder, his fingers slow, hesitant. He remembered playing with those curls when he'd been small, when Mom had still hugged him, let him sit in her lap as she read a book to him, but now— she stiffened as if his touch was toxic, as if she couldn't stand him near.

He let that hand fall.

"Please, tell David and Leigh how much I love them. And— Mom, I'm sorry I couldn't be the son you wished for. I tried. I really did."

He didn't stop to wait for an answer, just pushed past Mom and rushed to his room, as fast as he could. There was nothing Mom could say to change the way things were between them, there was nothing he could say, it was too late and he had lost too much time already. It was a miracle he had gotten this far.

And then, suddenly the world was silent. He stood in the middle of his room, and breathed, breathed, breathed, allowing himself half a minute to calm down. His room - white, clean, perfectly organized. Some books on the nightstand, Anna Karenina, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Cloud Atlas, but barely anything else to make this look like he had lived here for 13 years. This room had never truly been his, like this family had never truly been his, like Sky had never truly been his.

Cloud Atlas. His glance stopped at the thick novel for a heartbeat. He should have given it to Sky. He should text her that she could keep it. "Find me beneath the Corsican stars where we first kissed." That he should have text her, but he couldn't, his phone was on Blatt's desk next to a cup of coffee and a picture of her dog, and he was running out of time.

Enough. Enough already.

He yanked open the door of the closet, where he kept his clothes and his stuff. Mom had told him to grab a bag and get the fuck out of here, but—

Instead of taking a bag, he reached to the upper shelf, pushed the pile of old comic books to one side, and slid his fingers behind the T-shirts until he felt the cold, smooth surface of the case where he kept the gun.

He had gambled and he had lost. This was the only way out.

He had known it all this time, ever since he had seen his face on the screen of Blatt's laptop. The evidence against him was overwhelming. If he got caught, he'd be sentenced to jail. He couldn't run. He wouldn't survive on the streets, that was not the life he wanted. And Enrique—

As long as Cody was alive, Enrique would try to get his revenge. As long as he was alive, David and Leigh would never be safe. But if he was dead— Cody swallowed hard, opening the case and picking up the gun, a tremor running through his spine. If he was dead, Enrique would have no reason to harm his family. He had only threatened David and Leigh to make Cody scared, to make him obey, but— it was impossible to threaten a dead man.

The gun was cold and heavy in his sweaty hands, his breathing came in ragged, broken sobs as he walked to the bed and took a seat on it.

The thoughts were running fast in his head, rushed and scattered, and he couldn't slow them down.

He thought about Carol and JD, about the baseball bat, about his favorite pants, those with pictures of happy, smiling hippos and giraffes. In his head Carol was screaming, like she always was, You disgusting little shit, what did I do to deserve you?! And he thought about his birth mom who had died at the age of 17, alone and broken, and for the first time ever he didn't feel hate towards that girl who had left him to die in a Walmart parking lot, next to the trash cans - he only felt pity, and sadness, deep sorrow that things had ended like that for her, that things had started like that for him.

But more than anything, he thought about Sky,

He thought about that night when she had come to this house asking for drugs, and he had told her to kneel. That memory still hurt, made him sick to his stomach, he regretted that moment more than any other moment of his short and pathetic life. If only he had chosen different words, if only he had been kind instead of cruel, if he hadn't said anything at all, then maybe things could be different. Maybe she could have loved him.

But that was all water under the bridge. The gun was cold in his fingers, cold and heavier than it should have been. The silence of this room was suffocating.

Whoever had said that suicide was the easy way out, the coward's choice, had known nothing. It took tremendous courage to do this, to cock the gun, to bring it to his temple—

On the temple, not in his mouth or under his chin, he couldn't afford to just get injured, he needed to get this done with one, clean shot. But God, how his hand was trembling, how his breathing came in fast, ragged sobs, how the tears still kept flowing even if he told them to stop, stop, stop, they showed no sign of drying out.

One shot, that's all it would take, but—

The sunlight entering the room through the thin, white curtains was so hauntingly beautiful it took his breath away.

Eighteen years. Was that really all he got? It wasn't fair. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die. Oh, God, he didn't want to die. He was so scared, so fucking alone. Oh God, oh God, oh God, how hard he was pressing the gun against his temple, bruising and scraping the skin it touched, but the trigger was anything but easy to pull.

The sound of a car stopping in front of the house, tires screeching, entered his foggy thoughts, making him cry out loud. His voice broke, his throat was raw, painful, and the tears turned his cry wet and broken, pathetic. The police were here. It was over. He had run out of time. It had to be now but fuck, fuck, fuck, his hand wouldn't do as he told, the trigger wouldn't move.

Arguing voices in the staircase. Mom shouting. Too late. He had pushed this on for too long, and this is how it ended, he would be taken from his room in handcuffs like a fucking loser, he'd go to jail and all of this had been for nothing.

No. No. No, Not like this—!

He gripped the gun harder, drew in a deep, trembling breath, trying to stop the tremor that was making his hand shake uncontrollably. He'd done this a hundred times as Neil, practicing for the Dead Poets Society. This was no different. This was just a play. This wasn't real. In the audience Sky was watching, and she was proud of him, she loved him, even if it was just a lie, but he would take that lie and turn that into the most beautiful thing in his life. This was just a lie too, a play, this wasn't really happening. The gun on his temple, the last breath— He just needed to pull the trigger and let the gun fall to the floor, and the audience would give a standing ovation. I can do it. I'm not me, I'm Neil and this is just a play. Justdoit, justpullthetrigger, justdoit, justpullthetrigger, justdoit, justpullthe—