collab 2009!

The famed collaboration that features the debut of two original characters. Need I say more? Enjoy the trip down memory lane!

---

He knew this wasn't the place for him.

For years he'd lived in that house, surrounded by so-called "family". For years he'd been neglected, summoned forth only when there was a task to be done, or when someone needed a victim to bully.

The house itself seemed to mock him, imprisoning him within its cracking walls, dim hallways and chilly rooms. Most of his time was spent up in the attic, where, despite the sourness hanging in the air and heavy clouds of dust, he could find a moment's reprieve.

He knew he had to get away. Today was going to be the day.

♦

The sound of the other person's breathing was the only thing suggesting he wasn't alone in the kitchen. There was no bonding of any kind, no idle chatter or praise one would expect between a mother and her son.

"Pass the salt."

It wasn't a polite request. It was simply a demand.

Erik Wolfe begrudgingly surrendered the silver saltshaker to his mother, who was seated opposite him at the breakfast table. She accepted it haughtily, without giving the boy a second glance.

"You're welcome," Erik muttered darkly, before he could stop himself.

His mother's head instantly snapped up. "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

It was a feeble reply, but his mother seemed satisfied by the answer.

"That's what I thought," she said, with an icy smile.

Disgusted, Erik pushed away his plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs. He was no longer hungry. How could he be? The atmosphere made him sick.

A full fifteen minutes passed before his mother spoke up again.

"I'm working late tonight. You'll have to make dinner yourself. Do the dishes for me, and don't forget to empty out the laundry..."

Erik closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. It was all too easy to tune everything out.

He was contemplating whether or not to excuse himself when a set of red fingernails dug into his shoulder.

"Boy, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course, mom," the blond responded, wincing slightly. "Your message is loud and clear."

He daintily pried off the manicured hand and rose to his feet.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to school."

♦

Erik felt a weight lift off his shoulders the moment he left the house--no, not the house--the prison. All he had with him was a battered green backpack and a black bomber jacket, and that was all he needed. He strode down the driveway, which had been cleared of snow and doused with salt. He remembered all too well the hours he had spent maintaining it so that no one in his family would slip. The corner of his upper lip lifted slightly in a weak grin when he realized that he would never have to do the back breaking labor again.

Everything would finally be over.

His footsteps were light as he deftly dodged piles of dirty gray snow. Flakes swirled from the sky, dusting everything with white, making everything more pure. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes with a hand as snowflakes drifted into them. The thought of wearing sunglasses in this weather amused him vaguely. People would probably think he was crazy.

He squinted against the snow as it began to fall harder from the sky. He passed all the familiar houses that lined the sidewalk which led him to school--the second prison--without acknowledging them. Some of Erik's classmates probably lived in them, and he hated his classmates. Therefore, he indirectly hated their houses too. At least that's what he told himself; he was also envious of everyone around him at school. Their houses weren't full of lies and the ever stifling cloud of tension that one breathed instead of air, like his prison was.

Erik wasn't going to school, as he had told the bitch earlier. He was going to be hopping on a bus and riding it for as far as it would go. Then he would get off and catch another one. He had some cash from his part time job at a crappy ice cream joint. Maybe then, after riding all the buses and hitching all the rides he could, Erik would end up somewhere new, preferably somewhere warmer, where it never snowed. The thought of lying on a beach and listening to the waves nibble at the sandy shore caused him to break out in another tiny smile. He briefly wondered, for the umpteenth time, if he were mentally unstable. It seemed eerie to only smile when no one else was around. Happiness was supposed to be shared, but Erik Wolfe had no one to share it with.

He didn't care much anyway. He was beyond the point of wanting the attention of others. It never led to anything good. People would always leave, and then you were left with nothing. It was better to take care of yourself and live your own life without interference.

The school loomed up ahead of him, a dull building of a faded cream color. If they repainted it, maybe something brighter, it could have been appealing. But it was just an ugly box. The trees planted around its perimeter were covered with snow, and Erik wondered if they would break. They look too weak to support themselves under the weight of the frozen water.

Students laughed and chattered as they sauntered into the building. Their carefree attitudes drifted off of them and towards Erik. He surprised himself when a sudden urge to join them slammed into his gut. He hesitated briefly, idling nearby, but no one looked in his direction. He bowed his head and kept on moving forward, and the school was at his back.

"Erik?" a voice called from somewhere behind him.

He paused and turned around; he made sure that a smile was carefully arranged on his face. Why did she have to be here? She was always late. She wasn't supposed to see him. Erik wanted to run away, but as usual, her brilliant smile kept him firmly rooted in position.

The raven haired girl skipped up to him, dark eyes glowing. "I thought that was you! Why were you leaving the school?"

"I feel sick," he stated softly. "I need to go home."

She impatiently tugged at the red and white striped scarf that was wrapped around her neck and stepped even closer to him. He backed away and gave her an apologetic look.

"Don't come near me. You'll catch it, and that wouldn't be--"

"So, you just walked to school and suddenly felt sick?" She stared at him, arms folded. "If you're skipping, I'm going with you. I don't have anything important today."

"We have important classes?" Erik replied despite himself. He wanted to be with her for just a little longer.

She laughed. "You're right. Every day should be a skip day, huh? So, where are we going?"

"You're not going anywhere but there." He jerked his head in the direction of the school. "I'm going home."

With that, he continued walking to the bus stop. He heard her protest behind him, but knew that she wouldn't come after him. He wasn't her only friend; she didn't need him as much as he needed her. But he was on his own now and she was a part of his past. Besides, she didn't even know where he lived. If she had, she would have known that he was headed in the wrong direction.

It was time to make new memories.

♦

He was gone as suddenly as he came. Not even a goodbye, not even a single backwards glance. His slouching form grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared altogether behind two bent trees decked with snow.

She stood there sullenly, clutching the scarf she meant to give him in her hand. It was always like this with Erik. He never allowed anyone to get close, not even her, one of his closest friends.

But why?

Her thoughts drifted back to the day they'd first met. It hadn't exactly been instant fireworks, that was for sure. At the time, Erik was a cashier at the ice cream parlour a block down from the school.

She closed her eyes, vividly recalling how he chuckled whenever she said she'd come again tomorrow.

"You'll get fat," he teased, every time she burst in through the swinging glass doors. And she'd reply with her usual, "I don't care", sticking her tongue out at him through a mouthful of crisp waffle cone.

That was three years ago. Even then he'd kept his distance, though it was nowhere near as bad as it was now.

It might have been her imagination, but the Erik in her memories seemed... happier.

"What are you doing?"

A soft voice broke into her thoughts. She was momentarily taken aback by the ebony-haired boy that suddenly came up beside her. It was none other than Faust.

"Faust!" she exclaimed, clutching a hand to her chest. "I-I didn't see you there."

Faust had the uncanny ability to cloak his footsteps, sealing them to silence if need be--even when it snowed, as it did now.

"Shouldn't you be heading inside?" he asked coolly, reaching out to shake the whiteness from her hair. "It's freezing out here, and you'll be late otherwise."

She appreciated his concern; he was always looking out for her. However, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

"I saw Erik today," she blurted. "He just left. He said he wasn't feeling well."

"Really? That's a surprise." Faust arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Wolfe hasn't come to class in weeks."

Her eyes widened at this new piece of information. She never thought Erik would disregard his studies like that. Sure, he complained about school, but what self-respecting student wouldn't?

It was only then that she realized she didn't know much about the boy at all. His taste in music, his favourite colour, or his opinion of Batman were all a mystery, yet she couldn't stop herself from feeling that they shared a special connection.

"He walked right past the school, headed for the bus stop," she said finally. "Something must be wrong. I'm going to follow him."

"No, you're not," the older boy said firmly. "You can't afford to miss class, with exams coming up."

"What about Erik?" She protested. "I'm worried about him. What if he collapses of exhaustion and doesn't make it home? In this weather, you never know what could happen!"

"I'll go, then." The words left Faust's mouth before he even stopped to think about them. He was intrigued by his own willingness.

She stood there gaping at him. Faust, the perfect student, who made Principal's List every year, was volunteering to skip for her. She hadn't been this shocked since she discovered tomatoes were actually a fruit.

"I-I guess," she stammered, "if you're not afraid of tarnishing your record."

"I'll be fine," he reassured, taking the scarf she held and wrapping it several times around her neck. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'll make sure he gets home all right, then come straight back here."

She reluctantly obliged. "Okay. Be careful."

"You're starting to turn blue. Hurry and get to class."

He made sure she was safely inside the building before zipping his coat up over his dress shirt and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't know what he was getting into, but he'd find out soon enough.

The final bell sounded, echoing through the deserted courtyard just as Faust was leaving it.

♦

Erik shifted slightly on the hard wooden bench that he was sitting on at the bus stop. His looked to the left and then the right, before letting out a sigh. His nose was freezing, his hands were numb, and his ass hurt. But, despite the fact that the bus was running late due to the weather, he felt better than he had in a long time.

He was really doing this. He was going to get away.

The snow had ceased falling, and the sky was a milky gray. Erik stared up at it, wondering if it would look any different if he were somewhere else. Probably not; it was the way he felt at any given moment that dictated how he saw the world. If he were happy, there could be a hurricane and he would still be able to find it interesting. Erik wondered briefly if this was true for all people, than dismissed the thought. No one else probably gave a damn about that kind of thing.

Cars rushed by, one after the other. Honks erupted as impatient drivers couldn't wait the briefest of moments to continue on with their lives. Erik watched the traffic and wished that he could have gotten his driver's license. It would have made all of this much easier. If he had a car, he wouldn't have to spend him time hanging around bus stops. Erik didn't have anything against public transit, besides the "public" part. Being surrounded by people wasn't his favourite thing in the world. He was glad that he was alone and thus, not being judged.

Erik stared out into the street, the gray in his green eyes enhanced by the sky. Maybe he would have liked it if she had come with him. Hell, it would prevent him from over thinking things too much, as he was prone to do when alone. That was one of his weaknesses; he ran things in his mind over and over again until there was nothing left. It was almost impossible to make decisions, analyzing everything the way he did.

"Hey," came a quiet voice.

Erik blinked as a familiar boy with dark hair sat next to him on the bench. He kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead, although he could see Faust from the corner of his eye. What was he doing here? Class had started quite a while ago, and everyone knew that Mr. Perfect didn't skip. It was practically a school legend. Faust was a school legend.

"Greetings," he replied, wincing inwardly as the word rolled off his tongue. Would Faust think he was stupid for saying that? Normal people would probably think he was some kind of weirdo. But it's not like they didn't think that already.

"So," Faust's tone was contemplative, "what are you doing here? You realize it's a school day, I'm sure."

Erik could feel the heat radiating from Faust's legs and he shuffled further away from him. The bench was small, but not that small. There was no need to sit so near one another. Erik took a breath and looked at Faust, making sure that he had a carefully crafted smile firmly on his face. He would have to deal with this; it was probably Natalia's doing.

"I'm going home because I don't feel too great," Erik said hoarsely. He coughed and rubbed his mouth against his sleeve. "Sleep's what I need."

Faust turned to look at him suddenly and Erik resisted the urge to recoil. Faust's eyes were a shade of purple that one would think only otherworldly beings would have. Human irises came in variations of two colours: brown and blue. Those strange eyes were probably another reason why the whole school seemed to fawn over him.

Faust didn't reply, but merely kept his gaze on Erik's face.

"What?" Erik snapped tersely.

"You don't look sick at all."

"You may be a lot of things, but even you're not a doctor," Erik replied, looking away from Faust's troubled face. He wiped his hands on his dark jeans. His palms had begun to sweat; it always happened when he was nervous. Why wouldn't Faust just leave him alone?

Faust chuckled. "You're right. I'm here because of her. She was going to follow you, but I needed some fresh air, so I'm here instead."

"Tell her not to worry," Erik tried to keep his voice bright. "I'll be back at school on Monday."

They lapsed into another silence, which was suddenly broken by the roar of a bus as it pulled up to the curb. Erik got to his feet and tossed Faust a sideways look.

"Well, see you around," Erik said, desperately wanting to get away from the boy that he could never live up to. A hand landed on his shoulder and he automatically shrugged it off. He turned to see Faust on his feet, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I'm coming."

With these words, Faust walked past him and into the bus. Erik watched him go with a clenched jaw, but he didn't go back to the bench to wait for another one. He didn't want Faust to think that he hated him like he hated everyone else. Faust was the one person in the school who always acknowledged him, even with something as simple as a nod. Erik felt as if he mattered when Faust noticed him.

However, Erik was not going to let the Purple Eyed Wonder ruin his plans; he would ditch his unwanted tag-along at the soonest possible opportunity. Erik stepped onto the bus and the doors closed behind him.

♦

Erik wasted no time in flashing his bus pass to the driver, a bearded old man with a hacking cough. He immediately made for his usual seat in the back corner. It was the farthest away he could get from the busybody parents, their squealing children, and the elderly civilians who rode the bus at this hour.

Thoughts continued to run wildly in his head.

Faust, of all people, was an implication in his plans. Never in his life had he considered the possibility of being stuck in a situation like this with "Mr. Perfect".

It didn't make sense.

He crossed his arms over his chest and made a point of gazing out the window. The glass was blurred, partially frosted-over, but that didn't bother him. In a few hours, he'd be out of this dump of a city. He hoped the money he had on him would be enough to rent a room in a hotel for a week or so, until he managed to find another job.

A new job sounded wonderful. He was thankful for that. He never wanted to return to the ice cream parlour again. The place only served to remind him, and he didn't need that.

As for Faust, he was nothing more than a minor, albeit annoying, nuisance that would soon become a forgotten memory, like everything else he was leaving behind.

Erik watched as Faust deposited two dollars into the fare box to receive a ticket. The boy was graceful even when performing the simplest tasks. He was exactly the type of son Erik's parents wanted him to be: intelligent, well-mannered, and flawless.

But that wasn't him, and never would be. They'd never understand that.

Faust pocketed the transit ticket and glided over to where Erik was sitting. He preferred to stand, leaning against the hand railing for support. He managed to keep his balance effortlessly, despite the fact that the bus jolted violently at irregular intervals.

Neither boy had much to say to the other.

♦

Erik reluctantly turned away from the window, where he had been watching nothing but the bored faces of people in automobiles. Faust met his gaze at the precise moment Erik chose to look at him. Erik forced himself to maintain eye contact; there was no way he was going to appear weak.

"Where are you going?" Faust asked, hands in his pockets.

"Home," Erik retorted. "I told you already."

A smile crossed Faust's face before disappearing. Erik didn't know what to make of it. Did Faust know something about his family? Erik's throat was suddenly very dry and he swallowed.

No one could know what his prison was like. They would never understand the reason why he had stayed for three years, despite such degrading treatment. If any of his classmates had been the ones being so coldly treated, Erik was sure that they would have called the police. But he couldn't have done that. The only chance of a good life was for him to get away from it all.

"It's strange how I don't believe you," Faust said.

Erik slouched in his seat. "You know nothing about me. Leave me alone."

Faust was about to reply when he suddenly looked out the window behind Erik's head. Erik swivelled in his seat to follow the violet gaze. The bus had stopped at a red light in the heart of downtown. People were bustling on the streets and stores were beginning to open.

"We're getting off at the next stop," Faust told him.

"Excuse me?"

"I need to get something."

Erik's mind raced as the bus lurched into motion. If he got off with Faust, it would be really easy to ditch him. There were so many people, it was so busy...it made perfect sense. Then again, he could just stay on the bus and Faust would get off and disappear from his life...

"Wolfe." Faust's tone was persuasive. "If you don't get off with me right now, I will continue to follow you until I see with my own eyes that you are safe at home." He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I made a promise."

Erik blinked. What the hell? Wolfe?

"Let's go." Faust strode out the doors which had just opened and Erik got up and followed him, compelled by curiosity.

Cold air blasted Erik in the face and he huddled further into the depths of his new jacket. It had been rather pricey, but the fact that he wasn't freezing to death made it all worth it. He shifted his shoulders around; the straps of his bag dug into them. Faust's elegant form was in front of him, and Erik made sure to remain a couple of steps behind. When the moment was right, he would make a break for it.

♦

I've got to get away. Erik repeated this to himself over and over, in sync to the crunching of his footsteps. He was definitely not a happy camper.

Faust caught sight of Erik purposefully lagging behind, shoulders hunched and kicking at the curb.

"This will only take a moment," he reassured, after seeing the discontent written all over the other's face. "The store is down this boulevard."

"Whatever." Erik buried his face further into his jacket collar and faked another cough. "Hurry up, so I can get home and rest."

"As you wish." A pause. "You might want to--"

"What?"

Faust fell silent. His flicked his gaze up to the crown of white crystals settling on top of Erik's wild blond hair.

Erik briskly patted the slush from his head. "Better now?" he huffed, to which there was no reply.

They weaved into the crowd in silence. Faust walked at a brisk pace, regardless of the icy pavement. Erik noted this and deliberately took smaller steps, awaiting the right opportunity to break away.

"See you," Erik muttered silently, smirking devilishly as he prepared to dash off. He might have succeeded, if something hadn't slammed into his leg at the last second.

THWAK!

Doubling over, Erik slipped and tumbled into a drift of hard, brown snow. A broad-shouldered man had run him over with his tank of a briefcase--and kept walking like nothing happened.

"What the hell!" he growled, clutching at his leg angrily. Why did all this crap have to happen today? Life probably hated him. It wouldn't be the only thing that did.

"Are you alright?"

Faust was instantly at his side. How did that guy move so fast in this crappy weather?

"Don't touch me," Erik snapped, wincing at the pain pulsating from his knee. Ignoring the sting, he hastily struggled to his feet. "Whoever did this is going to pay. Big time."

The man was still in view, partially blocked by the occasional passing pedestrian. Erik narrowed his eyes dangerously and rolled up his sleeves. He took about two steps before stiffening on the spot.

The rude bastard with the steel briefcase... was his father.

For the first time in a long while, Erik trembled. The blood drained from his face as if someone had pricked a hole in his skin. He nearly collapsed again; it took all his effort to remain standing.

Had his father seen him? Was that why he did it? The man wasn't even supposed to be here; he was supposed to be in Iraq for four more years!

Whatever the case, he wasn't sticking around for answers.

Erik impulsively seized Faust's arm with shaking hands and yanked the boy into the nearest alleyway. His earlier wish was to get away from everyone, but now the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

The past really could come back to haunt you.

♦

Erik leaned against the graffiti covered wall behind him. His limbs continued trembling and he couldn't make them stop. Faust's arm was still in his grip; Erik didn't want to let him go. If he released Faust, Erik felt as if he would drift away. He needed to hold to something solid.

"Who was that?" Faust asked, a hardened edge to his normally soothing voice. "Do you know him?"

"Just some random asshole," Erik replied, sweat trickling down his back.

Erik suddenly dug his fingers into his Faust's arm as a blast of pain swept over him from his injured knee. He doubled over, clinging to his only source of support. Faust hoisted him up gently, keeping his hands on Erik's shoulders.

"You need to see a doctor."

Erik shook his head, gritting his teeth. "I've been through worse. This is just a sprain."

"Let me see."

Before Erik could blink, Faust had removed his jacket and placed in on the fresh snow. Faust nodded towards his jacket, clearly wanted Erik to sit on it.

"I thought you said you weren't a doctor," Erik muttered, but he lowered himself onto the jacket. "Don't blame me if your fancy coat gets--"

Erik fell silent as Faust rolled up his jeans. The taller boy's eyes were thoughtful as he stared at the swollen, red knee. He reached out with long fingers to check if it were broken, but stopped mid way when Erik cringed.

Faust offered him a reassuring smile. "It won't hurt, Wolfe. I promise."

"I'm not worried," Erik retorted, squeezing his eyes shut despite himself when the cool hands landed on his knee. As promised, there was no pain. Faust's fingers gently probed around his knee for a moment, before Faust spoke up.

"It's not broken. You just need to lie down somewhere and elevate your leg so the swelling goes away."

"Okay." Erik watched as Faust rolled his pant leg back down. "Is your father a doctor, then?"

"That…would be my mother." Faust remained in his crouching position. "My father is involved in other things. Business, primarily."

Erik swallowed, a sudden lump having risen in his throat. How the hell would he be able to escape now, with his injury? He would have to go home. All his plans were ruined. He felt Faust's eyes on him, and he forced a grin for Faust's benefit. Faust straightened up and offered an outstretched hand towards Erik, who took it after a moment's hesitation.

"Fuck," Erik growled when both feet were on the ground. "This is just great, getting my knee busted up today of all days." Stupid asshole of a father, he added inwardly. His family always knew exactly when he was down and kicked him in the face.

Faust picked up his jacket and dusted the snow off of it. "It's a good thing you were already headed home."

Erik nodded mutely in response. His life was going to hell. His mother would know that he had skipped, she would wonder why he had been injured, but insist that it had been his fault. Of course, his father was back, so he would certainly have his fanatical army mentality to deal with. Tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked them away angrily. Boys didn't cry; hadn't his father told him that enough over the years? The only safe place in the whole world was the attic, and yet that was in the prison. He smiled bitterly; how ironic.

"Are you ready?"

Faust's voice broke into his thoughts, and Erik jolted in shock at the sound. He had already forgotten that he wasn't alone. That was what he was used to, but now he had Faust with him. Mr. Perfect.

"Yeah. Let's go," Erik replied.

He began limping down the alleyway, black spots flashing before his eyes with each step. Faust walked right along beside him with graceful strides. Erik noted that Faust's hands were no longer hidden in the pockets of his jacket as they had been for most of the time since they had met at the bus stop. Erik eyes drifted to the waistband of Faust's dress pants. He narrowed his eyes when he saw something black and metallic sticking out of it. Was that a gun?

Erik's feet slipped out from underneath him and he landed on the hard ground. He nearly passed out from the pain in his knee when he got it injured again.

How fucking embarrassing. Faust probably thought he was retarded, having to be saved all the time. He grew aware of the fact that Faust was holding him, but he didn't pull away. It felt...nice to have someone touch him in a way that didn't hurt, even if that someone happened to be Mr. Perfect, who may or may not have been carrying a weapon. He let out a sigh and opened his eyes to see violet ones staring back at him.

Faust leaned in closer and whispered, "Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong, Wolfe."

Shivers raced down Erik's spine at the feel of Faust's lips brushing against his ear. Faust pulled back just an inch, giving Erik a heart stopping smile. Faust glanced down at where the gun was concealed, before looking back up at Erik.

"You can find your own way home, right?" Faust pulled a couple of twenty dollar bills from his pocket and slid them into Erik's hand. "Call a cab."

♦

Erik stared at the wrinkled bills, momentarily stunned. Cold wind blew into the alleyway from the outside streets. A cluster of yellowed newspapers skidded by, ushered along by the sharp gale. Even without a jacket, Faust remained relatively unmoved, unaffected. He turned his back, proceeding to walk away with his hands buried in his pockets once more.

From his spot on the floor, Erik clenched his fist to his side. He wasn't going to accept pity from anyone, especially not Mr. Perfect. Fleeting kindness was something he could live without.

"Don't you walk away from me," Erik spat, as boldly as he dared.

Faust halted at the entrance of the alleyway. "There's nothing left to be said, is there?" he asked complacently, though it was more of a statement than a question.

His evident indifference only served to piss Erik off even more. What began as an incoherent whisper slowly escalated into a torrent of pent-up emotions. Pressing a hand against the filthy alley wall, he stood, backed by newly found bravado.

"You think you're 'all that'. You think you know everything! But you know what? I don't need you, or anyone else, feeling sorry for me." He hurled the bills Faust had pressed into his hand to the floor. "Keep your gracious charity!"

Time seemed to stand still. Faust remained silent. He waited until Erik's outburst was over before speaking.

"What are you so afraid of?" he said quietly. "It's not wrong to accept help from others."

"Don't lecture me," Erik hissed. "As if you have the right! And another thing, I'm not fucking going home, what do you think of that?"

A triumphant grin crossed his face as he finished. He would have liked to rant some more, but his head was starting to spin. He was probably going to regret this later, but at present he just didn't give a damn.

♦

"I was right after all." Faust didn't bother to pick up the bills from the dirty ground. "You lied about going home." He stared at Erik. "You lied to her about being sick."

"I guess I'm a liar, then," Erik snarled. "See you around."

Erik forced himself to walk past the gun toting boy without limping. Sure, every step was agony, but he was not going to appear weak and needy. Faust didn't try to stop him, and for that Erik was grateful. He would at least have some dignity left intact.

He found himself back on the street again, surrounded by people he didn't know and didn't want to get to know. Erik felt their eyes watching him, but shook his anxiety away. No one cared what he was doing downtown on a school day.

A pay phone loomed up ahead of him, and Erik managed to take the last few steps toward it without staggering. He swung his bag around and rummaged through it, pulling out some change. He put the coins into the slot and pressed the receiver to his ear.

Erik took deep breaths as he held himself up by leaning on the glass wall of the booth. Everything would be fine. He would call a cab company, ask the driver to take him to a cheap motel. Then he would rest, just for a few days, until his knee felt better.

If his family tried to look for him, they would stop eventually. Erik's guess was that would happen sooner rather then later. No matter what fate seemed to want, Erik would fight for his freedom. He was going to have a life and be happy; screw whatever anyone else wanted for him.

The dial tone echoed loudly in his ear and Erik realized he hadn't entered a phone number. He shook his head back and forth, trying to clear it. His mind felt very fuzzy all of a sudden. He frowned and looked down at his knee.

When had that stopped hurting?

Erik jumped as a hand thumped on the glass box he was encased him. He looked to see Faust staring at him, his face expressionless. Erik was about to tell him to fuck off when the whole world seemed to move as if he were on the teacup ride at an amusement park. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain from his forehead before everything faded to black.