UPRISE

022

The glass sprinkles across the ground. Thankfully, she is close to the fence, which no one comes near since the Clears began to act up.

Then, she chucks the next bottle and the next. The glass explodes in bursts, splashing off the ground, while the liquid scatters. All of the shards and droplets reflect off the white snow falling to the ground. She cuts her hand but doesn't care. With each throw, she flinches backwards and covers her eyes to keep herself safe.

Once that is done, she goes back up, onto the second floor. Pluto is done pouting and partying. She is done being a stuck-up Blue.

~~~

"Harper isn't back," Reagan's throat is dry, from running back here once Wren disappeared, and then running around the Complex looking for Harper. He bursts into Noah's room, the only person he knows that is a Red and isn't losing their mind.

"How long?" Noah asks.

"He's been gone since before I left," Reagan continues. He looks up and looks at Noah's other roommates.

Quickly, Noah pulls himself off of his bunk and rushes out the room with Reagan. The two of them stand in the hallway, as Reagan struggles to breathe.

Noah takes Reagan's hands in his. "He's probably fine. He probably lost track of time at the bookstore."

No, that's impossible, Reagan decides. His legs give out beneath him, and then he is curled in a ball on the ground, only able to shake. Harper isn't the kind of man who loses track of time. Harper's heart is so perfect that it beats for every second that passes. If he isn't back, then that means something has happened. Did somebody manage to get their hands on a gun? What if it was those weird guys in the forest who seemed to know Edison? What if-

"You're having a panic attack," Noah says. He plays an invisible guitar with one hand, and holds Reagan with the other. "What can I do to help? Do you like breathing exercises?"

Yes, yes Reagan likes breathing. While his body becomes a marionette, and Reagan an armature puppeteer, he tries his best to nod his head. From there he does his best to match Noah's breathing. It's jagged, and uneven, but that's Noah.

"Are you okay?" Noah asks.

No, Reagan shakes his head no. He is sure that he is not okay.

"I want to help you, but I don't know how."

That sentence is enough to buckle Reagan's knees. Reagan, who has always felt like an outsider. Reagan, who has never been close to Noah, never really known him well enough to like him, never really known him well enough to leave shivers down his spine. Never enough to breathe in sync. And yet, Noah is putting up with this... this part of Reagan that is unlovable. The part which constantly fears death, to the point of delusion.

Reagan is sure that he is going crazy. He doesn't want to drag Noah along for the ride. Reagan doesn't consider that it is Noah's choice to follow, because Reagan only knows how to follow.

Noah knows how to run.

"How about I bring us back to Harper's room, and we wait an hour, until we are all supposed to meet up?" Noah asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of Reagan's eyes. The gesture is gentle, a southern warmth that Reagan finds strange. All of this is strange.

Reagan nods. "Okay."

~~~