Scott yawned widely and flicked on the light. Wallace wasn't home- the apartment was empty, the bed made. It didn't worry Scott- Wallace often didn't sleep at home, but still, Scott thought, as he climbed into the empty bed... he liked Wallace's company in the evenings. Without him, the bed seemed much bigger and colder. Even if he did kick and snore, Scott preferred sleeping next to Wallace than alone.

When Scott woke up Wallace still wasn't home. He'd probably gone straight to work, from whichever one night stand's place he'd stayed at. Scott didn't think about it again until he came home in the late afternoon after band practice to find an empty apartment again. Where was Wallace?

Scott ordered a takeaway and curled up in the single chair, played video games until late, waiting for Wallace to come home.

But he didn't.

And when he didn't return through the evening and into the night, Scott began to really worry. By the time Wallace was still absent the next morning, Scott rang Stacey.

"Have you seen Wallace recently?" He asked.

"No, why?"

"He hasn't been home in a couple of days."

"Did you call his work?" Stacey sounded worried.

(Pause.)

"Do you know where he works, Scott?"

"Unimportant. I was just wondering if he'd texted you or anything."

"No," Stacey said. "The last text he sent me was... two days ago, about him and Mobile."

"What about Mobile??" Scott asked quickly.

"They had a fight by the sounds of it," Stacey said sadly. Then her voice turned harsh. "You should know that, Scott! Don't you ask him about his personal life?"

"Hey- I- he's not been home!" Scott said defensively. "How was I supposed to ask him?"

"Whatever. I'll call his work."

"Wait, you know where he works?" Scott asked, shocked.

"Of course I do! I'm his friend, Scott."

"So am I!" Scott said angrily. "His best friend! I'm just..."

"An idiot."

"I was going to say forgetful..."

"Whatever. I'll get back to you if I hear anything, okay?"

"Thanks." Scott put down the phone and fell into the chair, his face in his hands.

So Wallace and Mobile had argued?

Scott sighed. Stacey was right. He should ask Wallace more about his personal life. He had never even met Mobile, but in fairness, that wasn't for lack of trying.

What if something had happened to Wallace? Scott didn't know anything about Mobile. For all he knew, he could be violent.

He couldn't relax after that thought, so he went out for a walk. The snow outside was quite thick and falling again, swirling down and gleaming bright in the street lights. The sky was darkening, Scott could see his breath before his nose in a pearly shimmering cloud. He walked around the block and turned down an alley, walking vaguely in the direction of the park. There were no street lights here and the darkness intensified. Scott squinted through the blackness and suddenly heard something. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened hard.

There it was again.

A scuffle in the snow.

Scott looked around in case someone was sneaking up on him, but no one was behind him. The alley seemed empty.

Scott started around widely, noticing another, even narrower alley off the one he was standing in the middle of. There were bulging bin bags thrown down it and it was almost too narrow to walk down. Scott moved towards it and called tentatively, his voice sounding magnified in the snowy silence,

"Hello?"

A low groan answered.

Scott's heart faltered.

It was a familiar groan.

Scott began to panic. He forced his breath to be more even and tried to keep his mind clear.

That was Wallace, he was certain.

And sure enough, when he stepped into the narrow alley he instantly caught sight of his roommate's shoes. Wallace was lying, curled up like a child and huddled against the snow, his back to the wall.

"Wallace!" He hissed.

Scott almost tripped over his own feet his rush to get to Wallace, who was lying prone and unconscious.

"Wallace!" He said again as he dropped to the ground beside his friend. He placed a hand on Wallace's shoulder and shook him, with no response.

"Oh shit, what happened to you?" Scott moaned to himself as he saw the blood on Wallace's face.

Carefully, and groaning under his weight, Scott lifted him up and staggered out of the alley with him in his arms bridal fashion. Luckily they weren't far from the house, and about seven minutes later Scott was kicking open the door, sweating, Wallace hanging limply from his arms.

Scott laid him gently on the bed and pulled off his coat. Wallace's face twisted in pain. His eye was blacked and frozen blood ran from his nose to his mouth and down his chin. There was frost in his hair and he was shivering badly. How long has he been out in the snow? Thought Scott desperately. He quickly boiled the kettle and made two hot water bottles, pressing them against Wallace's numb body. He gently cleaned away the blood with a damp cloth. Wallace didn't stir.

Scott wrapped him in all the blankets in the house he could find and lay beside him on the bed, feeling him shaking through all the layers of material, hugging him gently.

The next day Wallace woke up late with a pounding head, an aching back and sore ribs.
He sat up slowly and groaned, rubbing his face with his bruised hands and staring around groggily for Scott.
He was lying on his back next to Wallace, gazing up at him with a worried expression on his face.

"How're you feeling?" He asked.

Wallace swallowed but didn't say anything.

"Where have you been?" Scott whispered, sitting up. "Wallace, what happened to you?"

Wallace's heart broke at the fear in Scott's voice. He took a deep breath.

"Walking home... and... and..."

"Was it Mobile?"

Wallace shook his head.

"We broke up," he whispered. "But it wasn't him."

Scott slid out of bed and walked to the kitchen.

"So who was it?"

Wallace watched Scott make him some tea before answering, mainly to give himself time to try and dislodge the lump in his throat.

"We fought. It was bad. I said... god... I was twat, Scott, I really was. So I was... W-Walking home from Mobile's..." Wallace almost choked on the words. Scott had to place a hand on his shoulder and force the tea into his hands to stop him clutching his head. "Just left his house... he runs out to talk to me, to try and make up, but we end up having this even bigger fight, this stupid fucking fight, in the middle of the goddam street... and he tries to kiss me, right? And I push him away... he tells me to forget it then, to fuck off, so... I did. I ran. I ran off Scott," he moaned, "and now he'll never fucking take me back."

"But," said Scott, pressing on determinedly. "But- What happened? Who attacked you?"

Wallace swallowed. The lump in his throat was painful.

"There were four of them. Must've heard the fight- or seen, or something- shouting in the middle of the fucking street- Jesus- anyway, they... they followed me. Started yelling stuff. You know... "fuckin' fag"... "queer"... "faggot"... "Nancy boy"... you know..."

Scott was watching him.

"And... oh god- it was so stupid of me-" Wallace had tears sparkling in his eyes and his voice was catching in his throat. "But I- I was just so mad and so I turned around, right, and confronted them-"

"And they attacked you?" Scott breathed, horror struck.

Wallace shrugged, sucking air in through his teeth sharply at the pain it caused him.

"Basically... one thing led to another... and yeah... we scrapped, they chased me into that alley, knocked me out... I dunno... I dunno what they did to me... after... after that..."

Scott stared into his friend's face, tears in his own eyes too. He reached out and put an arm around his shoulder.

"Wallace... buddy... I'm so sorry..."

Wallace was crying properly now, his head in  hands.

"H-how long... I mean... when was this? You've been gone for two whole days and nights. When were you at Mobile's? I... how long were you unconscious?" Scott asked desperately.

After a pause, Wallace said,

"I stayed at Mobile's place the first night. The second night was the fight. And the... fight."

"Right."

They looked at each other, calculating how long Wallace had been unconscious in the snow. Wallace reached the conclusion before Scott, but waited for him to catch up. After a moment Scott said, his eyes wide,

"You were out cold- uh, no pun intended- for a whole day. Twenty four hours, man. That's rough. You're probably concussed."

Wallace shrugged.

"Drink your tea, you need to be warmed up on the inside as much as the outside," Scott said, suddenly commanding.

"I don't need you to baby me, Scott," said Wallace tiredly.

Scott said quietly, "When I fell apart after Envy left me, you were there to look after me. Let me do the same for you."

After that Wallace said nothing for a while. He could feel Scott's eyes on him, and Scott suddenly said,

"You've lost weight."

Wallace could tell from the concern lacing Scott's voice this wasn't a compliment. He averted his eyes from Scott and hugged himself, noticing how correct his friend was. His clothes hung off him. His chest was hollow.

"Not much," he muttered. "It doesn't matter."

Scott immediately jumped up and pulled some bacon out of the fridge, set it sizzling in a pan. Wallace sighed and pushed himself to his feet, wincing, and went over to the kitchen.

"Gimme that," he said, moving over to Scott. "You'll set the house on fire."

"I can cook, Wallace," Scott scowled, but he handed the frying pan over. Scott noticed the bruises on Wallace's knuckles as he took the pan from him. So he had fought back, Scott thought.

"I don't need you to look after me," said Wallace sharply, with much more venom that he intended.

Scott did a double take but quickly recovered.

"You need to eat. I noticed you haven't been eating properly since, like, a week ago."

Wallace averted his eyes and flipped the bacon over.

"Whatever."

"No, come on Wallace," Scott put two slices of bread in the toaster and pushed them down. "You remember when Envy and me were dating, how she called me fat and made me lose weight? And I didn't really know how to stop? I got really thin. You basically saved my life, and I can't let the same thing happen to you."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Scott," scoffed Wallace. "I didn't save your life, I just pointed out that you were losing weight a bit too fast and I didn't want you to be in any danger. And I wanted to you to remember what a bitch Envy was. She made you feel so insecure... it ruined me. I couldn't stand it, her calling you names... bringing you down... I didn't save your life, I just, I don't know, tried to improve it."

"Wallace, that was different..." sighed Scott, thickly buttering the toast. "Envy was... different. But still, you should eat. Why haven't you been?"

Wallace scowled and said shortly,

"I have."

Scott snorted disbelievingly.

"Uh, we do live together, Wallace. I'm not stupid. I notice things, sometimes, you know."

"Oh really?" Wallace smirked, tipping the bacon onto the toast. "Like what?"

"Like how you skipped breakfast for four days in a row at the beginning of the week," Scott said at once. "Like how you didn't mind that I ordered a Tai takeaway when you hate Tai. Like how you don't take a snack to work with you anymore."

Wallace blushed.

"Well... Whatever. Like I said, it's not important."

Scott watched him take a small bite out of the bacon sandwich.

"Why?" He asked, in a small voice.

Wallace sighed.

"Mobile and me have been rocky for a while. When I'm stressed I'm less hungry. That's all."

"Really?"

"Really."

Scott looked at him.

"Alright. But I'm watching you."

Wallace managed a small smile and took another bite out of the bacon butty.

"You know, if you were concussed you should probably try to sleep it off," Scot pointed out.

"Nah. I'm going to have a bath first. Try and warm up," Wallace said, shivering a little. Scott nodded.

"Give us a shout if you-"

"I will," Wallace said, smiling.

He paused in the doorway, leaning against it, looking small and weak.

"Thank you, Scott," he murmured.

"Hey, guy, what are friends for?" Scott smiled. "And anyway, you know I'm right- I owe you for picking up the pieces after Envy."

"Yeah... yeah, I guess."

He sloped off into the bathroom and Scott heads the tap running, thinking in shock and rage of the homophobes in Canada.