[Leroy]

"My god," Marseille came through with something in her arms, heels clicking down the hallway before appearing at the door with the girl by her side. Anxious. "Oh my god! What have you—" She was up in flames and nearly lost for words; rare for an instructor like herself.

She came over, pushing past the other two standing around and unfolding the emergency foil blanket used in cases of hypothermia. "Whoever is responsible for this, individual or collective, you're all explaining this to Chef Allan when he arrives and do not expect a single word of help from me."

Marseille pried the layers of clothing off her student and tossed them my way, laying the reflective sheet over him and wrapping the excess around his body. She held out a hand for the muffler and had the bottom half of his face and his entire neck bundled up before ordering me to tie the coats and blazers around his torso and then the rest of his body.

"How did he get like this?" She directed to no one in particular, feeling his face in her hands. "The boy's freezing! Cox, are you done? Hurry up, we need to get him near a heater upstairs since there's none down here and if anything, it's oxygen he needs." Marseille gathered the remaining pieces of clothing we'd swapped the blanket for and helped Vanilla onto my back. He was limp.

"What are you three standing around for?" She snapped at the idle motherfuckers. "Help him!"

One of them got round to supporting him on my back, just in case his arm slipped, or he decided to fall backwards while we were going up the stairs. Someone else held doors open. His weight wasn't unmanageable in any way; still, I'd be lying if I said going against gravity with an additional fifty kilos or so wasn't tough. He was heavier now, compared to the previous time I had him on my back, mostly due to the additional layers of clothing.

I was spending most of my energy focusing on the next stable step upwards. Even I had any left to spare, I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to be thinking straight—lost in adrenaline and the god-awful sinking in my chest.

"I have the heating pads." Someone arrived at the top of the stairs, just beyond the electronic gates leading down to the storage cellar. I couldn't afford to look up, with him on my back and knowing that off-setting any form of balance was probably going to send him slipping down. "What happened to the boy?"

"He's been in the freezer," Marseille went ahead, scanning her ID and holding the gates open for us to pass through. "For at least thirty minutes."

"What! Dressed in that?"

I had one of them lay out a parka coat on the floor by a pillar for support before setting him down on it and whoever it was coming through proceeded to arm the coats and blankets with heating pads without directly applying the heat to his skin. It was only after taking a step back that I recognized her as the school nurse. She shooed me aside, checking his pulse and then his pupils.

"Where's the bloody medics? Are they coming or not?"

"They said five minutes some time ago..."

I looked up. The one who'd made the call was several feet down the hallway, pacing at the end of it right before the entrance of Roth hall. His head was lowered; somewhat preventing a clear view of his face which may or may not have given away his culpability. If remorse was an emotion he'd ever feel.

The girl spoke to Marseille while the nurse attended to Vanilla and though I was aware of exactly whom I should be keeping my eyes on, flames could be fanned and the danger was in forgetting to be a candle. Tolerating a bunch of idiots was one thing. Having to deal with them fooling around with life-threatening situations was another.

"Madame, we really didn't mean to do anything." She looked anxious. Scared, but not enough. "It was a—"

"Save it for later," Marseille wasn't in the mood. She held up a hand. "Not a single word until we separate you all into rooms. We can't have one person giving the whole account and everyone else nodding along or we'd be taken for idiots. Shut up and go direct the medics here when they come. One of you, get Chef Allan before I blow your brains out for adding to my plate because as you can see, I've got enough on my hands without you morons fooling around."

I watched the girl run off, hesitant. The other guy joined the one further up front in waiting for the medics, who'd most likely be pulling up right in front of the plaza where the fire access was. Then turned back to the bundle on the floor that was now shivering. A sign of recovery.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Nod if you can," the nurse addressed him, tapping the side of his face. He nodded. "I want you to take long, deep breaths. Okay? Count with me."

She started counting.

I did nothing but feel like a useless fuck for the entire duration. Even minutes ago down in the cellar, right outside the walk-in freezer—nothing. For the past hour or so, I'd done no shit but failed to realize something was up, to do anything about the situation, to get him out, to do something. He'd ended up saving himself. Probably figured out the presence of a hasp and linked that to the wing screw and the nut on the other side of the door.

Now, looking at him closely, trying his best to even breathe at the pace set by the nurse, I wasn't feeling very good. The rise and fall of his chest was feeble. The ends of his fingers barely stuck out from underneath all those layers but I brushed against them to let him know I wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Alright, is there any pain in your chest? And which part of your body feels the coldest?"

The nurse was keeping him awake and alert, feeding his mind some form of activity while the wait turned into painful seconds of dread.

I heard Marseille sigh, coming over to him and sitting by the pillar where he was. She seemed genuinely worried, and it wasn't the kind of obligatory emotion instructors often had under the responsibility of student lives. "It was foolish of me to think it alright to involve you in something like this. I don't know what I was thinking, approving that idea. The storage keeping was completely on me and... I should have been more careful. Goodness. Please be okay."

It honestly didn't feel like it was enough. Personally. Since I hadn't a clue what exactly it was she was talking about and that it probably had something to do with whatever Raul was trying to tell me. Something that Vanilla couldn't even tell me about.

I was glaring before I knew it and the only time I realized this was when both Marseille and the nurse averted their eyes, lips drawn into a line as though they had nothing more to say.

It was sirens first in the distance, growing in intensity and volume, accompanied by flashes of red before it was shouts and footwork and the slamming of doors. Those at the entrance were directing the first couple of them over; a mix of the fire department and a medical team with the former heading down the hallway with what looked like a sledgehammer but with a pointed end, presumably for lock-breaking.

By the time they were filled in and realized that a stretcher and portable space heater was going to be of better use, Allan had arrived on the scene and spoke to Marseille in a heartbeat.

They set him up on a stretcher with a raised backrest, supported by multiple pillow cushions and blankets. The man who'd picked up him looked as though he'd done the exact same thing to people four times his weight and the school nurse got to reporting his condition to one of the medics before the team requested everyone to give them some breathing space. Then it was placing a mask over his nose and lips, asking for his name, and talking to keep his focus grounded.

The girl tailing one of the medics around refused to back away. "Does he need to go to the hospital or something?" They ignored her.

"How are you feeling Mr. White? Any discomfort in the chest area?" He nodded once. "Right now, we're administering some direct humidified oxygen to warm your airways. This will help with the tightness in your chest, okay? Don't worry, we're not going anywhere near the cold until your body temperature's fully recovered indoors. Think you'll be able to drink something?"

He nodded again.

"He needs something warm to drink," said the medic to Marseille. Allan gestured for her to leave while he kept an eye on the situation in her place. She appeared hesitant, glancing between the medics and those involved in the incident before heading for the stairs in broad strides.

"The nurse and I will stay with White." She concluded. "You four—Chef Allan's office. Now. No excuses. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I watched her go. Turning back to where he was, under the care of those who actually proved to be of some use, unsure of what it meant to be a candle burning in a house on fire—of drowning in flames that weren't my own.

*

"You do know that the three of them have given vastly different accounts from your own, Mr. Cox?" Allan had fingers pressed against his temples. I was the last to give the story a go. "It doesn't help your case that you were the last of everyone to arrive on the scene. You can't be sure what happened beforehand."

"Just check the cameras." I was done.

"Yes, and we will. But I'm telling you that the cameras are in the freezer room. The one outside has its view obstructed by a stack of boxes," he sighed. Glanced down at the papers. "Are you even listening? I'd really appreciate it if you were a little more cooperative sometimes."

I ignored his comment. Staring at a spot on his office desk. "Yeah but did the three of them give the exact same story? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure they aren't capable of telling the truth."

"No Cox, I'm asking you what happened—"

"And I told you everything."

"In very loaded language filled with profanities that I can never translate into a legitimate report," Allan stressed. "If you're not going to calm down and explain, objectively, what happened, it is only going to make the case for you and Mr. White much harder to resolve. It doesn't make any sense. I've never seen you so emotionally charged against three students you've barely met. Who aren't even in your academic year!"

I said fuck it.

"This isn't the first time."

He paused, looking up. "Sorry?"

"It's not the first time they've done something to him." I'd let slip, and the rest of it was a slope. "The festival? They sabotaged the booth décor."

Allan frowned. "Cox, they're in the same class—"

"I have proof."

"Why would they do that? And even if this really is the case, why didn't you say something about this before?"

I stared at his pen. In too deep. There really wasn't much of an option, by this point; and if I was going to make things work, some form of a trade was at least necessary. I told him about the frying pan and how Li or Meyers got that bruise on the side of his face that hadn't exactly recovered completely. I showed him the nasty things people have been putting up on his blog for reasoning. That, and photos of the décor remnants Chen had salvaged from the barn and kept in a storage room. Allan did not take this well.

"... Leroy. You're a... a talented chef and as your mentor and dean, I have always regarded you as a model student we haven't had in a long time." His looked away. It was hard to tell exactly what he meant. "And here you are, admitting to... something I must necessarily punish you for and I wasn't even sure if I could handle the expulsion of three students, let alone four and one being the most skilled in culinary arts across the school."

He was quiet for a while. I let him think. It was hard to do that, in my case.

"For now, I will be suspending your involvement in the W-interschool. Which, by this point, I'm not even sure is going to continue at the rate things are escalating with Chef Pierre and the headmaster." Again, he massaged his temples. "You may leave. I will discuss this with Chef Marseille, regarding your case, and review the camera footage before arriving at a conclusion. If the three of them are indeed found guilty of inflicting physical and mental abuse on a classmate, they will face expulsion. Take care."

==========

Ten minutes to midnight.

I was outside the infirmary, where Marseille said he was going to be put under close watch till the next morning. The hallway was empty and I was alone, seated outside on a bench. Waiting. Listening to muffled voices inside the room before the click of an open door and footsteps.

Someone from the fire department, accompanied by a medic, walked out with a duffel bag and a clipboard, which the nurse was asked to sign at the doorway. They were nearing the end of a conversation that did not seem to register in my head; filled with thick black smoke, rising from ruins. It was hard to think.

"Can I go in?"

They turned to give me a look. As though not exactly noticing I was there in the first place. The fire guy and his medic partner gave a brief rundown of his condition before looking away in seconds and, after retrieving the signed document, nodded my way and took their leave. I stared down the school nurse. "They said he's awake."

She sighed. "You're not seeing him. It's nearly midnight, boy. Go back to your lodge and enjoy the luxury of sleep while you can."

"Are you keeping him warm?"

Her jaw dropped. "I am the school nurse you moron. Of course I'm taking good care of him," she had the door half-closed. I jammed a foot in the gap and had another hand on the edge. She glared. "What are you doing?"

"I brought him tea." It was in a vacuum flask. Chamomile.

"Do you not understand what the word 'no' me—"

"I can't sleep if I don't see him," I finished. Final.

The nurse was looking at me with eyes that deemed none of this any of her business but, after glancing at the clock on the inside of the room, rolled her eyes and left the door ajar. "Midnight and you're out. No talking for more than five minutes. Both of you need all the rest you can get."

I headed past the doorway and straight for the curtains, parting them to reveal the first sick bed at the end of the room. He was seated up straight, back propped against three pillows stacked atop one another. Two quilts keeping him warm as he hugged his knees and looked up at the sound.

His cheeks were tinged red. "You know, I can hear you." So... not from the cold, at least.

"All planned." I shrugged, stopping by the side of his bed, uncapping the flask. Using the top as a cup for his chamomile fix. He peered up, reaction slow.

"Oh. That smells..." He paused while accepting it. I brushed against his fingers. They were trembling. "Good. Thank you." He somewhat laughed—short and breathless.

I sat on the edge and he leaned closer, resting his head against my shoulder. Something I never expected him to do without warning but was pleased that he did. I waited for him to recover. Listening to his quiet breathing. His sips were soundless.

"I heard it, you know." He wasn't speaking at his usual speed or breath intake. Everything was much, much slower than usual. Dazed. "Someone trying to break in from the outside and... well I assumed it was a malfunctioned lock. Which it had to be, of course. I mean... the rational conclusion was that they'd noticed the safety bell and... tried to open up but found that, well, it wasn't working. Of course... I unfortunately do not possess a photographic memory and hadn't exactly noticed the type of lock they had on the other side of the door so... I wasn't too sure what kind it was. But then... when I heard the impact of the force—it was you, wasn't it?—trying to break the overriding lock system on the outside, it felt... it sounded like a sledgehammer. Which meant that it couldn't be an electronic or a master key and so then... I had to consider the presence of a padlock. Which meant that there would've been a hasp to hold it there. So... so then I saw the wing screw on the inside and made the connection."

He breathed, leaning further into me and I caught the side of his head. Refilling his cup. Letting him take his time.

He peered up. "Thank goodness for the sound of the impact. I wouldn't have noticed the wing screw, otherwise... it was... it was really cold in there."

Ah, fuck.

I was leaning down, into his shoulder. Hiding there. Fuck.

"Leroy?" He sounded shocked. "I-I um. Are you... are you alright? Is there a... it's warm." He must've felt the tears on his neck, but figured it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to be pointing out. I held him in my arms and he froze for a bit; before sinking into my chest and holding onto the fabric at the back of my blazer. "W-well, I don't really know what to...um."

"Stop talking, dumbass." I pulled the back of his head closer to the flames. Where it was the warmest. He was somehow able to angle his head otherwise and plant a kiss on my jawline.

"Sorry if I... caused you any concern. Or worry. Or... well, you know what I mean."

"No shit you did."

"I'd like to remind you of your extreme worry-inducing tendencies as well and as such, we are," he stopped to catch his breath, cough once, and then sink further into the hug. "Even."

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A/N: Ahh! I'm so sorry it's a relatively short one. I just really wanted to resolve this in an entire chapter and wrap things up on how everything is slowly coming to light and to a solution. Most things in the next chapter have to do with a lot of accumulated tension so expect some exploding volcanoes but otherwise! :> I'm excited to see where this is headed. I honestly can't wait.

Also, Chip's birthday is in September, which is soon! Hehe. Can't wait to give you guys some of that ANNUAL dose of white stuff. I say annual because it's true. It's like three a year or something, knowing me.

-Cuppie.