I miss my claymore, I think to the empty cafeteria.

I love coming in early. The faster I can walk out of the house, the better... although I actually had some kind of rationale behind it today. Serena catches me before I can catch Evan, even though I came to school half an hour early. In fact, this is possibly the worst strategy, but I could care less. I'm too desperate to see him to think straight, which is pathetic but not pathetic enough to stop me. People are staring at me, their eyes uncomfortable on my back, and I want to hit someone with the business end of a sword, but that's a whole other can of worms. By worms, I mean festering issues with my psyche, but hey, neither are pleasant.

Serena sits down at my table instead with her tall coffee cup. It's black, instead of a frappucino- she means business today. "Ser," I say, respectfully.

"You might not find him today," she says, twitching at the old nickname. "We don't even know if he'll show up. We can't get any word from Anthem, can we?"

"Don't care," I respond. "Hey, have you noticed that everyone in school's staring at me, or is that my rampant paranoia kicking in?"

"There are a lot of rumors about you." Serena says. "Most of them, I know about, of course, like the one those bitches from the Naval Brigade started perpetuating about you and Evan making out...."

"Nah, that's true. We made out in the hallway. Tongue to tongue." I say.

"Oh?" She stirs her coffee. If we hadn't faced hell together a dozen times over, I can not imagine how pretentious I would find her.

"I'm screwing with you," I explain. "We cuddled a bit, but this was way before... it was a while ago." My knuckles are white against the desk.

"Right. See, there's also this rumor that someone saw you in a stoner den? By that, I mean there's footage of you in the stoner den on Dunahan street. Someone commented on how white you were, someone else commented that bad behavior is universal, there's a massive flame war... lots of stupid jokes about it. You're lucky your parents haven't gotten involved in it."

"That's... a long story. Remember the intel I got? That's where I found Evan." I fold my hands. "With any luck, my parents won't find out. I wouldn't worry about it."

Serena frowns, lipstick-brushed lips pursed ever so slightly. "My parents were worried sick about me, especially after that third quarter B. Turns out you need sleep in order to function, or something. Then they took me in to get tested for drugs after that power withdrawal..."

"My parents are kind of hands off." I say.

"Seems that way." Serena mumbles. "Maybe a bit too lenient. Still, I've got your back, Adam. And Harper's, too, even now that this is over. We've gotta take care of her. No matter what."

I roll my eyes. "Harper can handle herself fine. She was arguably better pulled together than any of us. Guess who didn't have a mental breakdown or threaten to quit once, all while pulling double her weight in ass hauled?"

"Then maybe she can take care of us. Sound better?" Serena says, looking off to the side. She flicks the straw again. Her fingers clench around a stone that isn't there. "I hate myself for saying this..."

"We really do have a lot in common, don't we, Ser?"
She casts me the blankest, most degrading stare you can imagine. With a wistful sigh, she continues, "I'm going to miss it."

"I thought I would," I lie, "But honestly? I feel pretty empty, right now. It'll kick in eventually."

Her lips twitch. The bell rings.

I get up and practice my daily grieving as I stalk to first period, made easier by my lowered standards- physical symptoms are no longer a requirement. Still, I like to tug up the old well of feeling, to ensure the guilt is still broiling beneath the surface. It's the only way to convince me this wasn't all a dream, that I'm still capable of feeling anything, and that the most opportune timeline is remembered by the singular travesty instead of the eight kids who got out, because someone has to take care of Megan.

Harper will be fine.

I am invisible throughout my classes, still searching for Evan, who seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. He's not at gym, which is unsurprising, but I at least thought I'd snag him in the halls. I'm about to march out of school, try texting his possibly defunct number again, when I'm stopped by Jack.

"Hey, Adam." he says, nervously.

"Have you seen Evan Drake?" I ask, more than a little impatient. "Half my height, dark hair, looks like he wants to murder someone."

"Wanted to ask you about that, actually... dude, a lot of people think you two are-"

"Yeah. He's my boyfriend." I say. "It's cool. Don't bother denying any more rumors on my behalf."

Jack nods. "I don't get the appeal."

"Boys?"
"No," Jack says. "Evan Drake. That said, good luck out there. If you ever want to hang again, we kinda miss you at parties. Promise, most of my friends are cool with... I mean, it's a liberal area, but teenage guys are teenage guys."

"Friday?" I ask, not bothering to tell him the person he's asking got stabbed in the ribcage a few months back

He gives me a thumbs up.

I exhale hard when he's gone, unsure of what I'd expected. I don't know if I want to go to a party, to be anywhere, but it's something on the agenda- something stable and solid. I call Will up, to check on him. He answers at once.

"What's up?"

"I'm going home."

"So, who's house?"

"Home. Seriously." I say.

"I'll be at Amanda's. Naval Brigade is preparing for a convention. You should come."

"You all are nerds," I say.

"We'll let you mess with a model claymore. I know you're itching to have a blade in your hands again."

I frown, because he knows exploiting the latent desires of my post-Diosite frame of mind is the best way to get me to do anything, and I hate that, but I really want to mess with a model claymore, like a starving animal being given a chew toy to pacify them. It's insulting, but I'm not going to say no. "Next time."

"The next time is tomorrow."

"Next time it is. Adios." I hang up and take the scenic route home.

---

Will busts down the door to our room, and I stand up.

"I'm going on a walk," I say.

Will puts his hands on his hips, like our mom, or Amanda. I'm half sure Megan did it too, making it just an aggravating maternal gesture. "Adam."

"There are still things I need to work out," I say, already heading for the door. "Alone."

"I just got home."

"And I'm just going."

Will pauses. "Can't stop you."

"Hey, I said I'd do the Naval Brigade thing tomorrow, so you know I'm not avoiding you. Can't wait to hold a piece of cardboard in a threatening manner and ruminate on the state of my life."

"That's the spirit," Will says.

"Walking," I tell my mom, "Alone."

She looks up, smiles, but lets me go. I'm not sure if this adds credence to Serena's disdain at my 'lenient' parents or is evidence of the trust between my mother and I, although, for the record, if I was going to chuck myself off a bridge, now would be a great time.

I do not chuck myself off a bridge. Instead, I walk the neighborhoods, down the winding roads to Megan's house, and past it, Evan's, even though I don't plan to stop at either. I think about Anthem's blank expression on our last night, the little things about Megan that have started to die out in my memory, the embers of her that death has stolen from me, and imagine a more optimal timeline.

I'd be lying if I didn't also mention the woman, the woman whose life I spared that final night, whose face haunted me in the papers when she showed up dead from a particularly gruesome suicide. In all likelihood, she should have gone under the blade for Megan, let alone all the missing people whose bodies cropped up around the woods later. People were really confused about Ignatius's murder, even moreso by the Delegation victims, but no one's ever going to piece it together. Every theory offered lately is somehow more fringe than the last. Someday, we're going to end up on one of those awful back-of-the-internet conspiracy boards, and maybe, someday, someone will work it out.

Then said person will get mugged by a cherub in an alley in the Veins. I chuckle, if only because Anthem with a gun is a great image and Anthem would never, in a million years, do her own dirty work. In reality, said person would get mugged by a cherub-controlled six year old. Holding a gun.

Gun powers.

(Someday the cherubs will find a town where it's easier for people to pass over those thin lines.)

I walk the path near the main road at sunset, the path obscured by trees. I think I see a dark shape along the edge and blink, expecting it to disappear, but instead I get a distant red blur behind my closed eyes, like infra-red, and my heart stops cold.

I hate that Anthem's still in my head, even to such a minimal extent, I hate that she knows I'll go for this and I hate that there's anything to go for. but I know that deep scarlet signal.

Evan is by the edge of the main road along the bike path, by a hole in the fence, and his eyes watch the cars. His face tenses, an infinite well of light in his eyes, and his shoulders slacken, strings cut. One foot swings out towards the road. I tackle him from the side, all my my superhero instinct kicking in, and we both hit the broken fence before falling over each other on the concrete, a tangled mess of limbs and regret, two-thirds of a bad ending.

He looks up, empty in a familiar way. "I was so close this time." he whispers.

"You can't do this," I yell. "I can't be there all the time. Do you realize what could have happened if I- I've been looking for you all day in school- and... damnit, Evan." I finish stumbling over my own tongue.

"I killed someone. You don't go back from that. You don't get better. It's going to haunt me until the day I die and then after that. I'm going to hell." Evan whispers, hoarsely.

"You believe in an afterlife?"

"I need to believe there has to be something for her afterwards... something. Anything. I went to her fucking funeral. I was there across the row from you and I could hear every word over the Echo Chamber's fucked-up delirium. There's nothing in the world I wanted more in that moment than to believe that somewhere, somehow, we were both going to get what we deserved."

"You don't deserve that, either." I say.

"Remember when you and I talked, back at that house? I... I wasn't kidding. I did mean it. I would have done anything they told me to do. I was so giddy every time they lessened the pain just a little bit. I was revelling in it." he whispers. He looks like the woman. It's going to kill me. I hate the look in their eyes so much.

I can't tell him that.

"I'm not a hero, Rosenbloom." I'll admit I almost smiled at the mention of my last name. It was a bitter, melancholic feeling- how long had it been since Evan had referred to me like that? "Now get out of my fucking way before I hurt you."

"I'm not scared of you, Evan." I promise, my grip intensifying on his wrists.

He snaps and I flinch, half expecting fire to flare up between his fingertips like old times. It's quick, instinctive, but I can feel the movement shake my body, and my hands break free of his. "Yes, you are." he whispers. He knocks me off, swift as ever, and stands, a snarl etched into his features.

"I'm afraid of myself." I tell him, scrambling to my own feet. "I killed people too. More than one- how much collateral do you think there was in the aftermath of the Delegation? Anthem told me- to my face- that the reason the groups had to be divided was my shit leadership, because I'm dangerous to everyone around me."

"Anthem what?" Evan asks. "That weasel bitch-"

"Let it go. Give her the Diosite, move on." I say.

"Can't." He twitches.

"You can. They don't have you anymore. I need you to move on, because I'm here, on the other side, and I need you to keep going." With a feigned sigh, I add, "Plus, I uh, already told several people you were my boyfriend. The rumor might be circulating the school."

Evan blushes.

"Fuck, I hate myself for saying this, but... for her?"

"Yeah. You're not allowed to say that." he mutters.

"She'd want you to be happy."

"Stop that." Evan steps away from the fence, looking down the road. The sun continues to set in the sky, staining the land blood red, and Evan's black shirt gleams with light. He takes the sediment out of his pocket, looking at holes in reality that only he can see, and says, "Thirty minutes from now, before I get rid of this for good, go outside. I have to give you something."

---

I wait beneath a twilight sky with four stars, going on five, and he steps out of a void in civilian clothing, bearing a familiar jacket. He puts it around my shoulders, and I smell them both on it. I internally remind myself to get warmer clothing for Evan, sometime. I place the chapstick, unopened for months, in the hoodie's right pocket, and put an arm around his waist. He leans in, tries not to stare up at me even though he's a good four inches shorter, and eventually raises himself onto the balls of his feet. I taste smoke as I meet his lips. I run a hand up his back, his uncut fingernails grace my arm, and we drown in each other long enough to make ourselves forget we have to let go.