Desmond had decided that the recipe for his 'perfect' morning was a heaping helping of Monday, a tablespoon of feeling sick, a dash of self loathing, and a half cup of spite. His tolerance for idiocy was already fairly low, but mix that with how awful he was feeling and he was left to wonder if today might actually be the worst day of his life. He knew he was just being dramatic. There were plenty of days in his life that had been much worse. He could survive the burning fire in his throat, and the chills that ran down his back despite the 80 degree heat (32 degrees Celsius); he could face Logan; he could probably even face Patton after this day was over.

Pulling his jacket around his body, Des continued to push his way towards campus. He had thought about not going to school today, just staying home and resting, but he was beginning to hate the quiet of his apartment.

The problem with silence was that it was so damn loud. At least when he was surrounded by people and distractions, he did not have to listen to the static inside of his head.

"Desmond, are you quite well?" Logan was walking over to him, concern knitted on his brows. He hated that, the look of concern and pity, but he didn't have enough energy to be angry.

'Fine' Des signed, not wanting to deal with the lecture that was about to come.

"I do not believe you. I am unsure as to why you would need to lie in this matter, but your physical appearance suggests that you, at the very least, have a cold, and at most have something much worse. You should return home and rest."

He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to be in that quiet lonely place. He didn't want to be told what to do. Desmond threw up his middle finger at Logan. It took too much effort to explain, so he didn't. Instead he began to walk faster, pushing past Logan.

"Was that gesture strictly necessary? I, more than anyone, can understand a passion for learning but your health is also important. I can take notes for you, and if you insist on continuing to work and learn, I can have my notes running on google docs so that you can follow along. Just, please, be rational, go rest." He stayed just one step behind Desmond, never pushing past him.

Why did he care, why did Logan find it necessary to butt into matters that didn't involve him? Des spun around looking at Logan, his hands flying wildly and his face contorting with emotion. He told Logan off, pushing all of his energy into explaining how he didn't need help, how all of this was a waste. The look of confusion was obvious on Logan's face but he seemed to understand the last few words.

'Why bother?'

"Because, you have shown yourself to be an interesting person, I have very few of those in my life. I was being sincere when I proposed we begin the rituals of friendship. I apologize that I can't communicate more effectively with you yet."

Des froze. His hands had stopped moving, every emotion danced through his mind; Happiness to hear those words; frustration at not being understood; exhaustion from fighting so long. How long had he been fighting alone?

'You-' He began to sign something but what could he say?

"Desmond, I may not be the person that needs to say this, and I might be completely missing the mark with my assumptions, but it's okay to let people in. You don't have to fight alone."

Silence.

Then a laugh, a broken, strained, humorless laugh. What did Logan know? What did he know of everything Des had gone through? He didn't know anything. Then why did those words feel so warm? Why did those words feel like everything he needed to hear? Why did relief flood his body?

His laugh devolved into a cough as he throat fought against him. His air was stolen from him again as he fought to control his breathing. He had techniques. He needed to remember them. He needed to breathe, but his mind was hazy, and his body hurt.

"Desmond? How can I help?" The words sounded like they had been said through water. His doctor was going to have a field day with this. He really should have been going to his regular appointments.

"Wait a minute, I'm going to call the ambulance." Desmond didn't fight it. He began to lie back, when had he gotten to the ground? It didn't matter. He was tired.

"Try to breath," There was panic in that muffled voice, but Desmond wasn't worried. He met the darkness like an old friend. He was just so tired. 

AN: Do you all mind that these chapters are a little shorter? I normally prefer them to be at least 1K, but that just hasn't been happening for this book, but I feel the chapters are still impactful... I don't know. Let me know your opinion! Love you all!