“Sorry. I would’ve cleaned up a bit if I’d known you were coming.”

“It’s fine, T. You know it is.”

Clearing some space on the floor so that they could actually see the carpet, they dropped their bag on the exposed area and practically flipped onto the bed, their head hitting the pillow as if they’d done this exact thing a thousand times over - well, maybe it wasn’t a thousand, but it was close. They couldn’t remember when sleepovers at T’s house transitioned from fun nights to recovery nights, then back again, and now back yet again. The memories became muddled and fuzzy in their mind when they even tried to unpiece them, so they let their mind be and sank into the mattress.

“Scootch up a bit, Jey. It’s my bed too.” Smiling, even though they knew his mind would be filled with dark, dangerous thoughts of murder and other such lovely topics, he sat on the end of the bed and lightly poked them. “Might as well be yours though, considerin’ how much time you spend here.”

“We could stay at mine.” They pointed out, pulling themself up and leaning against the wall, the back of their head touching a spot somehow not covered by the various band posters which plastered the rest of the off-white walls. “Quiet. And I can make nice pasta.”

“How come your’s is always so quiet, anyway?” T turned to look at them properly, putting down the TV remote which they had been holding for a moment. “Your parents are, like, never in.”

“They work a lot.” They shrugged quickly, glossing over the subject. “Any energy drinks left, or is it all beer now?”

“Don’t get sassy with me.” He rolled his eyes, passing them a brightly coloured can. “I know you’re still gloating about that whole Jarvis business.”

“Not gloating.” It hissed and spat as they opened it, letting the vile liquid which they had become far too acquainted with trickle down their throat. “Just happy you’re okay.”

“It was two years ago, Jey.” He’d grabbed himself a can - predictably, not of the off-brand energy drink which he’d given them - and had switched the TV on, going through bland grey menus until the Xbox logo appeared on the TV screen. “Christ - two years. Fuck, here you go, making me pull up the past and all that shit.”

“Sorry.” Taking another drink from their can, they pulled out an Xbox controller wedged between the bed and the wall, pressing the button and waiting to see the comforting green lights circling the logo. “But that’s kinda why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Not this time.” Suddenly, his features became stern, as he turned to them, and they experienced an almost-nauseating wave of deja vu. “Or did I punch Chancer in the face again for nothing? Did I get myself thrown in Ice for nothing? Did I-”

“You need to stop doing this shit.” Sighing, they looked down at the navy-blue duvet, their fingers brushing against the soft material. “School’s gonna get the pigs involved if-”

“You should get the fucking pigs in!” T growled, suddenly frustrated, his infamous short temper flaring. “The amount of shit that prick’s put you through; it’s not fucking right, and I know it ain’t legal. Fuckin’ nonce. Just-” And, as he usually did after his outbursts, he checked himself and deflated, lowering his head. “A’ight, sorry, I know I’m getting too heavy too early for you, but at least tell your parents, Jey. He can’t just get away with this shit. What if he does it to some other poor Year Seven, and screws them up too?”

“So I’m screwed up?”

“We’re all screwed up.” He looked back into their large, hollow eyes, wanting nothing more than to hug them and tell them that everything would be okay - but that wouldn’t help right now, not that anything really could. “But what he did- no, does to you? That’d screw anyone up, more than this world alone ever could.”