eunoia ; malum

07

AT THE END OF THE DAY, JUST AS ASHTON PREDICTED, LUKE WANTED TO MEET HIS PARENTS. He tried dismissing the subject, but the blond just wouldn't let it go. With a little help from Jackson ("Why do you hang around this guy? He's in year twelve."), Luke was no longer convinced and was three-quarters of his way home before wondering why he didn't go to Ashton's.

The group walked in different directions to the warehouse, used to taking caution in case hunters were around. Sometimes safety wasn't in numbers. Especially when they wanted to hunt you.

Mel was talking to Jack, a few nice thoughts radiating from her flower-crowned head. They were talking about Ashton and how to calm him down. Calum knew Ashton wouldn't like that, so he dumped all of the work he didn't do on the table in front of Jack.

"I don't know how to do this. The words and letters are all jumbled and I don't know what X equals."

"I think I should put you two in Special Ed. . . ."

"What's that?" Ashton asked.

"S'for stupid people." JJ snickered before walking upstairs.

"It's not for stupid people. It's for the intellectually challenged."

"That's just a fancy way of saying we're dumb." Ashton grumbled, crossing his arms.

He walked upstairs, but Calum stayed. When seeing that Jack continued to ignore him, he went over to Stacey, who was doing her homework on a table that looked like it had been there since it started.

"Can you read this to me?"

He added a pout to really sell the deal, but he knew Stacey would've said yes anyway. She had a crush on Calum, judging by her thoughts. She had half a chance – Calum was bisexual. He always favoured boys more, though – less bitching.

She read a chapter of his book to him, smiling a little when the boy got sleepy. He was sprawled across the table, using it as a bed as he complained about how it wasn't his fault the Socs tried to kill Ponyboy, so why would he want to read it?

He didn't want to read about people's problematic lives; he had his own.

The diploids and hunters reminded Calum of them, even though he didn't like the book that much. (Calum didn't know good literature; stupid Calum.) He tried to stay out of the hunters' way, but they were looking for trouble.

And Calum was like Johnny. He didn't mean to kill that person, but he did, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was in self-defence, but he knew the hunters wouldn't see it that way. It was a matter of opinion.

"Ashton's like Darry . . . or is it Dally? I don't know, I can't tell the difference between the two."

Stacey furrowed her eyebrows a little before returning to a neutral expression. "How come you speak so well when you're so shit at English?"

"At school, you have to see the words. I have two functioning ears; I can hear the words, but that doesn't mean I know how to spell them." He huffed, starting a rant. "English is stupid anyway, the word 'cat' is not a cat, it is a word that means nothing. You can't tell me otherwise."

"Every word has a definition, Calum."

The Maori was done spending so much time and effort on a subject he hated, so he walked away, leaving Stacey's thoughts about his ass to go to Ashton, who was considering if he should call Luke or not.

"No, Ash, not now. It's not safe right now. They know where you hang out." Calum said, leaning on the doorframe.

"They also know I can beat the shit out of them." He grumbled, dropping onto his mattress.

Calum rolled his eyes, going over to the sink that was in every room and studying the tap like he had a purpose so he didn't have to leave. His feet shifted around, bored at the fact he was standing at the basin.

"Ash," he mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes, because hearing his thoughts were pretty much the same thing. What? "I . . ."

He didn't know what he was going to say. He felt like he was going to give Ashton some big truth that he had been holding in for so long, but that would mean he had been lying. Calum hadn't lied; he just hadn't bothered to tell his best friend everything.

Come on, Cal, tell me. "I don't – I don't know." He stammered. "Fuck, I don't . . . I don't know."

Calum felt his eyes water. He didn't know what was going on. Was this his breaking point? All throughout going to the institution when he was young, to breaking out when he was fourteen, to getting chased by hunters for the first time, Calum had not broken down once. A panic attack or two, yeah, but never had he fully been hysterical.

Maybe this was the time.

He wanted his break-down to be private, so he headed back to his room, locking the heavy door from the inside. (It was probably the newest thing in the room; maybe the person who stayed in it before him wanted to break-down in peace, as well.)

He wrapped his arms around himself as he faced the wall. He cried silent tears as he heard Ashton politely knock outside, even though he was panicking. Eventually, the blond-brunette got tired of the politeness and broke the lock in half so he door swung open.

"I w-would've answered if I wanted you here, Ash."

You wouldn't have gone to my room if you didn't want me here. "Shut up." Ashton said softly, getting onto his knees and scooping his best friend up in his arms, treating him like he was a teddy-bear. "Come on, Cal. I know you want to say something."

"I'm so fucking scared. I d-don't want powers. I don't want an-anything to do with this."

Jesus, you're a mess, Cal. I'm sorry.

Everything was all too much for the black-haired boy. It was all coming back to him. The memories of the institution and running away and being chased and being homeless and spending nights in an alley with Ashton were all coming back to him.

And what they used to do to him in the mental hospital . . . oh god, how could he forget? They tried everything on him when they found out he didn't bruise or scar, no matter what was thrown at him. When it's not just your mind that's the freak, and it's your body as well, people get curious.

The memories of old men trying to take advantage of Calum and Ashton when they were young kept entering his mind. This was when the two boys didn't know what they were, they just knew they were something. Ashton knocked him out, but it didn't seem to stop his thoughts.

"Do you remember when we, uh, spent that week in an alley with these other guys," he tried to say, but none of it was coming out the way he wanted it to. "I could – I could hear their thoughts. They wanted to do some weird shit to us." He trembled.

"Calum, we're not there anymore. We aren't in an alley, we aren't in that old warehouse, you aren't in the institution, and I'm not homeless. We're living with people just like us, and we're fighting people. Nothing is okay. It never was. But it's better."

After Calum was reassured he didn't look like he'd been crying, they went downstairs to see Jack was plating up spaghetti. Calum sat himself in between Jackson and Ashton, and didn't talk much. Jackson almost hypnotised him into telling him what was wrong, but Calum didn't look in his eyes.

Later that night, when everybody except for Jack was sent to sleep, Ashton got to his feet and hauled his mattress in Calum's room. Jack looked at him in confusion from the bottom storey, but the strong boy didn't say anything to ease his silent questions.

He dropped his mattress next to Calum's and laid there for a while, waiting for his best friend to speak, even though he was pretending to be asleep. Soon after, he started to snore, and Calum was thankful.

All through the night until the early morning, Ashton's words stuck in his head.

Nothing is okay. It never was. But it's better.