sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills

2. let's be alone together

Rogue and Sting are running, Natsu and Gray have nowhere to go. They're all lost and broken, but maybe they can find a home in each other.

TW for talk of self-harm, suicide, and mental illness

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I don't know where you going,
but do you have room for one more troubled soul?
I don't know where I'm going
but I don't think I'm coming home
and I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't want up dead
This is the road to ruin, and we're starting at the end
Alone Together, Fall Out Boy

The gas station is quiet and dark at three in the morning. Rogue sits with his legs crossed under him, and Sting is lying across the cracked concrete, head on Rogue's lap, fists tucked up under his chin. Sting is fast asleep, and Rogue keeps a hand on his back to feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths.

Rogue has no idea where they are or where they're going, but he's too tired to care. They've been running for nearly two days now – hitch-hiking and sneaking onto buses – and this is the first time they've sat still in hours.

They're so lost.

Rogue wants to cry.

Sting's face is bruised, purple and red lines spreading across his cheek like drops of dye in a glass of water. There's a cut through his eyebrow and Rogue bandaged it as best he could with butterfly strips he shoplifted from the drugstore, but it needs stitches. Sting's lip is still swollen, red marks dragging down to his chin.

It's all Rogue's fault.

He wipes angrily at his face as he feels tears escaping, hot and hard and rolling down his cheeks. If he hadn't kissed Sting, they wouldn't be here.

There's a soft hum as a crappy-looking car pulls into the station, headlights flickering as the vehicle shuts off. Rogue wraps an arm protectively around Sting, trying to melt back against the building and into the shadows.

Nobody else will hurt Sting.

Rogue won't let them.

The car door opens and when Rogue locks eyes with the driver, he relaxes his grip on Sting. It's a boy, not much older than him, with dark, sad eyes and messy hair. They stare at each other for a moment, then the boy turns back to the vehicle.

"Nobody's here." Rogue's voice is hoarse and he coughs a few times. "The pumps are closed."

"Shit," the boy says. He looks over to the passenger seat of the car and Rogue makes out another figure, curled up and fast asleep against the window.

The boy looks at Rogue again, hands clenching hesitantly at his sides. His gaze skips down to Sting and his brow furrows in concern.

"Are you... okay?" he asks quietly, tipping his head. The dingy fluorescent lights on the gas pump make him look like he hasn't slept in weeks. Maybe he hasn't.

Rogue just shakes his head and tips his face down to kiss Sting's head.

They're so far from okay that he doesn't even know what it feels like.

There's the sound of the car door closing, but instead of the vehicle pulling away, footsteps come towards them. Rogue looks up to see the boy crouching down in front of them, looking at Sting intently.

"What happened?"

Rogue can't say it, can't push the words through the lump in his throat. Everything hurts and the ground is cold through his jeans and he's so, so tired. His fingers dig into Sting's sweater and Sting stirs a little.