The Altered.

Chapter LIII.

For a heartbeat, when looking at Ty's still face, Miles thought that maybe - somehow - Ty hadn't been infected by the virus.

But then Ty lunged for him, and all hope disappeared like a burst of cascading glitter. The twinkle in his eyes darkened.

He didn't quite have time to process that his boyfriend wanted to kill him before Ty's hands met his throat and he was slammed violently against the metal shelves behind him. Pain coursed through him and the shelves rattled, metal edges digging into his skin. With another harsh shove from Ty, Miles found himself on the floor.

Miles cried out. "Ty, stop!" He scrambled to his feet, almost losing his balance. Though his knife had crashed to the ground, Ty was moving too quickly towards Miles for him to even consider sparing the time to grab it. Much to his brief relief, Ty didn't notice the weapon or make a move for it.

Ty threw a fist for Miles' face. Unable to react fast enough, Miles felt the blow land hard and let out another yell, losing his footing and meeting the welcoming linoleum floor once more.

Ty lifted his foot to direct a kick at Miles, who admittedly looked pathetically helpless while lying disoriented on the floor. But Miles was still present enough to notice Ty's intentions just in time, and reached up to grab Ty's foot, wrenching it out from under him. Ty hit the ground with a sickening thud and groaned. Miles had to disregard the way his heart ached and used the opportunity to dizzily stagger to his feet and attempt to run in the opposite direction.

He refused to allow himself to believe this was happening.

The store was large, and his friends were spread out all over it. Surely they'd be able to hear him if he called for them, but that meant nothing if they couldn't find him. Before Miles could determine which way he could make a possible escape, he felt a sharp pain dash across his upper arm and caught in his peripheral vision as his knife skimmed by, clattering to the floor a few feet away.

Before Miles could actually register that Ty had thrown the knife, the latter was on top of him. They were both sent careening forward and then plummeting for the ground in a mess of tangled limbs, both scrabbling simultaneously for the knife.

"Ty!" Miles gasped when Ty pressed his knee hard against Miles' back, sending signals of excruciating pain whirring through Miles' whole body. "I don't want to fight you!" He couldn't.

If anything happened to Ty that was Miles' fault, he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself. Even though Ty was infected - and obviously trying to kill him - he couldn't force the right energy into himself to purposefully fight back.

Ty either didn't understand what Miles had said or opted not to reply, because he grabbed Miles by a grip on his hair and slammed his head viciously against the ground. For a few seconds that felt a lot longer in Miles' head, he lost all feeling in his limbs and his vision flashed black and white, black and red. The pain was unbearable, throbbing in his every body part. He probably screamed, but if he did, the ringing in his ears was louder.

His vision returned in a foggy red haze when Ty released him, but it took longer for the feeling to return to his limbs. He felt hollow, disassociated, like he was hovering above his body and watching himself from above. He was waiting, aching, for feeling to return to even his fingertips. With Miles without the ability to move temporarily, Ty was the one who managed to get the knife, and by the time Miles could woozily lift his head, Ty's fingers had fastened around the handle of the blade.

"Ty, don't -" was all Miles managed before he was fully woken up by the knife in his palm. Ty buried the blade deep and pulled it out when Miles yelled, and a steady flow of scarlet accompanied the removal.