IDEALISM

Chapter 1

Stephen regretted his entire life being late to school that day.

His phone didn't have any battery left because he forgot to charge it last night. So, when he woke up, it was already past noon. So when he rushed to school, he saw Gray falling down the rooftop. So he rushed to his best friend, his angel, falling like forsaken Lucifer, as if there even was a chance he could catch Gray.

Fortuna wasn't often merciful. Today was an ordinary day, like any other.

The blood splattered across the pavement, Stephen couldn't see straight. He felt dizzy, his brain could hardly accept the truth, nor could his eyes see just what happened. Perhaps that was why a layer of liquid blurred his vision.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Gray was still bleeding out.

Inhale, exhale, inhale —

Hospital.

The brunette adjusted his anchor*s body as softly as he could, afraid that even the slightest force could turn him into blood splatters. Corpses rot faster than most would like to admit, after all. Stephen especially could not ever admit such a thing. Not when Gray was still alive.

Right?

Then, the ambulance.

Stephen hurriedly took out his phone, the blood on his hands making it harder for the phone to identify which was his fingertips and which was not. He typed in the phone app 119 as fast as he could, even messing up once. Any more panic, and he would've called a foreign number. He probably wouldn't even realize, in his fright.

Soon enough, ambulances arrived. They took Gray away from him. As much as it was vital for Gray to get treatment, Stephen simply could not let go of him. It wasn't as if he could follow the medics into the car, was it?

Actually, he could. The law dictates that one person, guardian or friend, is allowed inside the ambulance. So he hopped in and they drove off, the siren ringing less and less into the other students' ears.

Into the hospital, it took two extra nurses to keep Stephen away from Gray. They were trying to seperate him from his best friend, just like Bryce Oh and Osward Yang. It didn't occur to him that there was a third person, but he hardly mattered, that stupid, cowardly, heartless, rotten bastard.

One nurse offered Stephen a change of clothes. Another asked of him to at least wash his hands. A third offered him some green tea to soothe his nerves. He refused. He'd probably throw his own organs out from the sheer distress in his entire system. And so, time passed. Minutes, then hours, though it felt to him as if days and seconds passed simultaneously. He doesn't remember when Gray's mother sat besides him, the same terror running through her veins.

The doctors exited the emergency room. They mumbled some incomprehensible words to Gray's mother, which Stephen barely managed to piece together as "Gray's in a coma" and "Gray's alive".

And what. That's it? Gray's life was cut short like a flower whose owner decided was too pretty to continue flourishing? Like a weed whose owner pulled out because it wasn't pretty enough?

Was this Fortuna's way of mocking Stephen's vow of Pacifism?

Either way, Stephen threw this ideal in the trash. Yes, ideal. The same idealism that promised him Gray would be safe if he just took the bullying himself. The same idealism that, essencially, landed Gray in this white room, stuck with tubes and machines, as if this was any dignified way Gray was supposed to live life. His best friend was supposed to become great, earn lots of money for the good cause and maybe save lives like these surgeons standing in front of him.

He was not, in any way, supposed to become one of the people they saved.

He stood up, with the strength Hercules used for all twelve of his Labours at once, to drag himself to Gray's new, machine-infested bedroom.

"Hey... Wake up, sleepy head," his voice was hoarse. "We know you're pretty, so no need to cosplay as the Sleeping Beauty." It was also shaky, as stable as his hand, which eventually clung to Gray's own, which would've been normal if it weren't for the IV fluids constantly pumping into his veins.

Stephen wishes it were himself instead. It was a selfish thought, because surely Gray would be in great pain if they switched places. But it should've been him. After all, he was the one being bullied, he was the one who didn't take action, like the coward he was. He was the one who should've, and would've been on this bed if it weren't for his stupid, stupid phone who ran out of battery that night, and —

He was blaming someone else. Well, it wasn't a someone but a something, but same differences. He was turning his guilt into anger and projecting it onto another. Just like how Bryce Oh probably had, morphing his jealousy into hatred and eventually hurting Gray too. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that he, of all people, was facing such a dilemma.

Become a selfish prick too or keep being righteous?

Not that he was a saint, or anything, of course. He didn't consider himself the best person on Earth, but he took pride in never turning his back on injustice. Yet he was waning.

Would he let his anger consume him, turn him into something completely unrecognizable, knowing damn well he was letting history repeat, or would he hold up his morals, prevent it from happening ever, ever again? Would he make the world know what kind of abyss he just fell into, or become the last martyr? Would he alleviate himself of his pain, or would he protect everyone else, for the greater good?

And what even was the greater good? It the result of trying to do good in the world was to have his only friend befall such a fate, then was the greater good even worth it? Was it ever, ever important at all?

Stephen pondered this dilemma for as long a time as Don Rodrigue. From his entire visit in Sieun's new bedroom, to the moment he finally crashed into his bed, already into the next day, he reflected on this question. This singular question had shaken his entire worldview, and he determined that he still needed to think. More. More.

Now, Templum was also going against him. As time marched, its pace was forever regular, always irregular, too fast when one needed the present, too slow when one anticipated the future, Stephen could almost beg for it to run slower.

A second dilemma came before the first one was even solved. Would he take revenge for his Gray, or would he… this dilemma didn't last long. It was ridiculous how much he was over thinking now. He couldn't even consider the second option. So the question now was how.

How was he supposed to make these pieces of shit suffer hundredfold?

A whole week. That's how long he took to set his worldview straight and plan everything he needed.