Saive lay with his head on the cold toilet seat. He was pretty sure he'd thrown up everything he could, because now he was only dry heaving. His abs ached from the retching, and his head spun. He didn’t know how much longer his body could hold out.

He flinched weakly when the bathroom door burst open. Roenan stood there, dressed in a Vernajjian school uniform. He looked like he had just sprinted the length of the room to get there.

“What?” Saive asked weakly, squinting at the uniform. “Take that thing off and burn it,” He added, his cheek squished against the toilet seat.

Roenan threw a hand over his heart and let out a pent-up breath, closing his eyes. “I thought they’d taken you again,” he breathed.

Saive tsked, “They don’t have to be in the same room to torture you."

Roenan walked over and squatted beside him. His light brown hair had grown longer, waving around his face. The rims of his caramel and silver eyes looked a little red, like he had been crying, and he had a small swollen spot under his eye.

“Did your date go that bad?” Saive asked, just before dry-heaving again and aiming toward the bowl.

“It wasn’t a date,” Roenan said, then added, “And what did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“The torture thing.”

Saive let out a breath, “They’re giving me bad food,” his voice echoed around the bowl.

“Are you serious?” Roenan exclaimed. “How long have you been sick?”

Saive sat up and winced as he stretched his side. “I dunno. They space the meals out so it doesn’t kill me.” 

“This isn’t okay, Saive! You’re already skin and bones," Saive glanced over and took in Roenan’s worried look, as he continued, “I'm sharing my food with you from now on. Do not touch yours." 

“What? Were you expelled already?” He asked, gesturing at Roenan’s uniform. “You won’t be here tomorrow. I’m on my own.”

It seemed that Roenan had nearly forgotten, and his chest was heaving as he said, "That's fine, I'll have Drakke bring you food."

“You didn’t take my advice, did you?” Saive said bitterly. He was hoping the pink eyes and the wet lashes meant that he'd broke off the bond that the two had been forming. Saive shook his head in disapproval, "He's got you right where he wants you."

Roenan stared down at him with an expression void of anything. "I trust him."

"And I trust that they're about to come in here and let me walk free in a few minutes!" Saive shot back.

Roenan snapped, “Just because you’re in a shitty mood doesn’t mean you have to be insufferable every second!”

“I’m being put through hell and back almost every day! I’ve earned my right to have a shitty, fucking attitude.” Saive snapped back. “Do you need to piss or not?” he added, scowling.

“Um, yeah.” Roenan was flicking at the corner of a small paper in his hand.

“Then hurry up so I can get my spot back.” Saive forced himself to his feet, staggering. He shot Roenan a glare when he moved to try to steady him, before swiftly exiting the bathroom.

Saive sat down on the edge of his bed and looked at his frail fingers. He was skin and bones. He was sickly and pale. And he knew that they were still probably going to throw him into a boot camp, with Roenan, starting tomorrow. They wanted it to be painful for him. They wanted him to hurt, and scream, and cry. They wanted to break him until he offered them everything he knew and became a valuable asset to them. They wanted everything he'd sworn an oath to protect, so that they could finally discard his lifeless body into a pit.

He wondered if there were any forms of torture they hadn’t tried. His mind was fracturing. He blacked out more and more than he ever had. He couldn’t remember what he did during those episodes.

And his thoughts scared him. The kind he’d been trained to suppress. But he was tired. So tired. Was it really worth continuing on, or could he finally find a way to put it all to rest?

He’d never had a proper childhood. Or parents he could remember. When he came of age, he was sent into training. Destined to be a spy, they said. It gave him purpose once. But now, the thoughts of others like him—those who were dealt the same cruel hand, but continued to push on for the peace of their people—they were the thing that kept him going. He wasn't alone in this pain.

He heard Roenan throw up. Then flush.

“Unbelievable,” Saive muttered, shuffling back into the bathroom.

Roenan looked up at him, miserable. “The alcohol here is horrible. Don’t try it.” He pushed himself up and wiped his mouth.

“I don’t drink,” Saive said.

“Good for you,” Roenan replied. Saive couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or sincere.

Roenan passed him, heading to bed. Saive sat next to the toilet for another ten minutes before finally crawling to his own bed. He sank into the mattress. He probably wouldn’t feel this comfortable again for a long time, starting tomorrow. He wanted to hold on to the moment.

He considered warning Roenan—about boot camp, about what was coming—but decided against it. Roenan was too tangled up with his idiotic decisions. He preferred to keep his thoughts to himself, anyway.

He closed his eyes.

It wasn't clear how much time had gone by, when he awoke to the door creaking open. As always, he remained facing the wall, motionless.

Roenan stir behind him.

“Hey,” Roenan croaked, voice heavy with sleep.

“You feeling alright?” Drakke’s voice followed.

“As alright as I’m going to feel, under these circumstances.”

It sounded like he was getting up in his bed, maybe stretching, when the shifting suddenly froze.

“Why do you have two bags? You have class or something?” Roenan asked.

There was a pause.

“That’s not possible. Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Roenan, just, calm down for a minute. Some things are out—”

“No! You stop this from happening right now! He isn’t well enough to leave - they’ve been poisoning him! He’s going to die out there!” Roenan hissed.

“Some things are out of my hands. I can’t stop this,” Drakke replied evenly.

“But this isn’t right!” Roenan sounded distressed and it seemed genuine. It was strange having someone care this much about his well-being. He gulped loudly to hold back a tightness in his chest.

“Please - this isn’t fucking right!" Roenan continued, "Did you know this the whole time?!”

Saive didn't hear Drakke respond, but he heard one of them walk over to the side of his bed.

“Don’t touch him,” Roenan warned.

“Hey,” Drakke said firmly.

“What?” Saive snapped.

Drakke hesitated, caught off guard by the speed of the response. “You need to get up and get changed. You’re being sent to camp. Pack like you won’t be coming back.”

Pack what? Saive thought, as he rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the wall. He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s my shit?” he asked, hand out.

Drakke turned. “Roenan, could you hand me that?”

Roenan was staring at Saive with devastated eyes. Almost like he was pitying him. It did pissed him off a little, and he turned his sneer away as Roenan handed a bag to Drakke, who set it on the bed next to him.

"A uniform, sweats, and the shoes are in there - keep the bag with you. You have to change and be ready in ten." Drakke began to turn.

“You follow all the orders. You torture. And...” Saive glanced at Roenan before switching from Jaedan to Vernajjian. “You report on us too, don’t you? What aren't you willing to do for your country?” he spat.

Drakke turned back, expression dark.

“You torture? What is he talking about?” Roenan asked, voice wavering. He glanced between them.

“He’s trained to play mind games,” Drakke's face was still dark, as he stared down at Saive. “Sometimes you can’t even trust your own.”

Saive snorted, “That’s rich,” He continued in Vernajjian, snatching the bag from the bed, “You hypocritical, lying pig. I hope he finds out the truth about you, you absolute waste of life.”

Drakke scoffed, “Don’t drag him down with you. The last thing he needs is someone as deranged and disastrous as you, getting him involved in the absolute mess you've created for yourself. You have no business doing that to him." He looked Saive up and down. "You should've listened to me from the start."

“Over my dead body,” Saive snarled, whipping around to head for the bathroom.

Drakke gave a humorless laugh. “Looks like your days are numbered anyway.”

Saive froze and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth. He let a dangerous wave pass over him before he forced himself to walk forward through the bathroom door.

“What is going on?!” Roenan had desperately exclaimed, before the door slammed behind him, threatening the condition of the hinges.

Inside, Saive leaned his head against the door, breath shallow. “Guide me,” he whispered.