Jack grabbed Quinn’s wrist, lifting his arm out of the water before turning off the stove. Quinn’s fingers were red and puffy. He pulled back as Jack dragged him to the sink and continued to struggle as cold water ran down his right arm.

“It’s fine-” He protested, his pitch cutting out as his voice cracked. He pushed himself off of Jack’s shoulder in an attempt to get away. Jack tightened his grip, holding Quinn’s hand under the faucet.

“Bullshit. Can you move them?” Quinn stopped struggling but stayed tense. He didn’t wince while wiggling his fingers. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Jack asked, surprised.

“No.” Quinn wouldn’t look up, like a guilty dog. Jack exhaled, coming to the conclusion that he might have burnt himself on purpose.

“Come on.” Jack turned for the doorway, pushing past the baby gate with Quinn in tow.

“I can’t feel it,” Quinn said, panicking. They came to a stop halfway through the dining room. “I can’t feel it, you don't need to-its fine,” he insisted, almost in tears. 

A sickly acidic feeling built up in Jack’s gut, reminding him that this kid was transferred. Something major had to happen in order to get a transfer. He let go of Quinn’s arm.

“There’s a first aid kit in the med room,” Jack clarified without turning back to face him. He continued walking into the hallway. Quinn held his burnt hand to his chest and followed behind.

“Sorry,” Jack mumbled. Quinn stayed quiet.

The door to the med room had been left ajar. Jack pushed it open. The lights were on, but the person digging through the locked cabinet wasn’t Green. Jack held out his hand at Quinn to keep him behind.

Kyle threw a few bottles into a backpack that rattled like a snake. He hadn’t noticed them enter. Jack stepped backward, closing the door slowly. Kyle held a bottle out towards the light to read the label. Quinn stumbled, causing Jack to fumble the door. A low creak shredded the silence.

Kyle spun around, eyes wild and guilty. Jack’s stomach fell through the floor.

“Oh, this is too good.” Kyle relaxed, rolling his shoulders. “Get over here.” He demanded. Jack’s voice stuck in his throat. Kyle gave two boisterous claps and Jack flinched each time. “Now!”

"Sorry, I’m not interested. Flattered though," Jack said, trying to fake a front. He shoved Quinn who didn't take the hint to run.

"You don’t know when to shut your mouth, do you?" Kyle asked, stepping forward.

"At least I remember to brush." Jack shoved Quinn harder. Still, he didn't budge.

“You got a death wish?” Kyle lunged and swung him into the door jam. His spine grated against the wood. He gasped as cold pains shot up his back. 

Kyle yelped and fell forward. Quinn kicked the back of his other knee in, forcing Kyle to lose his grip. Jack slid back down to his feet. He didn’t have time to collect himself. He stepped past Kyle to grab Quinn by the arm and book it for the back exit.