Black Mirror

Chapter 7 - Gimme What You Got

"No." I give him a steely look. "When it comes to self-harm, that's my territory. Leave it to me." He opens his mouth, and I hold my hand up until he shuts up. "As much as you can claim to understand, you can't."

"I'm just saying," he pipes up after another long pause. "What if he's not hurting himself? What if it's just-"

"Devil's advocating me, Scag?" I shake my head, and he does the same, but with a little more stupid laughter. "Aron didn't steal those smokes just to experiment like Gabe and I did that one time-"

"You smoked?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead and unfriend me IRL," I say. "Look, not everyone who self-harms uses a knife. Aron didn't steal those smokes to look cool. He thinks it's the only way to dull the pain."

"At least he's not drowning his sorrows," Luca says with only the barest hint of humor. "They know how to swim."

"I know I sound way too sure about this, but trust me, I know the signs." I lean back against my pillow, punching it until it's no longer a deformed lump of rock digging into my wings. "If Aron needs my help, I'll help him."

"And if he doesn't want it?"

"Then he just needs it more than he knows."

Luca lies back on his bed, hands folded behind his head. "You're the boss, boss. But seriously, though...if you do need my help..."

"You'll be the first person I ask." I roll over again, pounding my pillow until I can rest my head comfortably on it. I'll finish my playlist in the morning. Or I'll forget "Nicotine" is starting it off and embarrass myself and get fired.

Okay, no, I won't be pessimistic about this, or anything else, for that matter. If I see Gabe and/or Fionna in my dreams tonight, they'll know, and they'll probably jump down my throat about it. Those two are very concerned about my happiness, and sometimes, I think the pressure to keep a brave face for them is the most damaging influence I've ever been under.

(Nobody tell them I said that. That means you, Loudmouth Luca. They can only know that I love them.)

After class on Tuesday, I go down to the Bridge, grateful for a chance to properly fly outside again after so many days of rain. It's not been as heavy since Friday, but there's been enough water coming down from the sky to keep all us angels grounded - outdoors, anyway. We can still fly in big enough indoor places, like the gym at Balthazar, but it feels better when we can get some sun as well. I think the demons who invented Superman and Supergirl and Superboy and all the other Kryptonians had it in mind that they were part angel, with their literal solar powers.

Today, though, I'm just going for another swim in the pool on the uppermost level of the Bridge. What I don't expect, though, is the locker room to suddenly fill up as I'm halfway through changing into my trunks. I look up and over the row of lockers in front of me to see a crowd of guys, all around my age, flooding through the door, chatting animatedly. I don't know any of them, except for one.

"Yo, Alex!" Ty waves to me from the other side of the lockers. "Hey, I didn't know you were a swimmer!"

I close my locker. "Uh, yeah. I'm a water elemental, so I'm one of the few angels who is. A swimmer, I mean."

"Cool. Coolcoolcool." He says it in the exact same cadence as Abed from Community. "Hey, so we actually a man short for today's game - you wanna take his place?"

Is this for real? "You really want me to play? What's the game, water polo?"

"Sort of, but it ain't as formal as what you might do at school."