trigger warning; burns, insecure and destructive thoughts, mentions of drugs, suicide and mental illness.
chapter songs;
Young & Beautiful
Lean On Me
—
Carter never had low self esteem.
Growing up, people always complimented how handsome he was, defining him as nothing more than a pretty boy. You're all beauty and no brains.
Carter didn't mind, it was true. He didn't have the brains that his siblings were blessed with, but he was so naturally handsome that it had never bothered him; the brightest blue eyes, defined cheeks and puffed lips, baby soft skin; no acne or razor burn to be seen. He took care of himself, his body, too; exercising regularly, eating clean.
He was beautiful. Maybe a little too beautiful.
As he stood in the locked bathroom cubicle of his private hospital room, back pressed firmly against the wood, for the first time in his life, Carter didn't feel anything close to beautiful. He lifted his hand, his fingers trembling as he traced the rough skin along his nape; feeling every new found imperfection on his once smooth, unblemished flesh.
Carter exhaled sharply, head pounding as he held back the tears. Ignoring the way his knees wobbled, he pushed himself from the door and walked two steps ahead until his steel blue eyes connected with the dainty hung mirror.
That's when the tears finally fell.
This isn't the pretty boy he'd been deemed as his whole life. No. This boy couldn't be him. The reflection showed dull blue eyes, dirty, pale skin and a neck that looked like it'd been mauled by a starved pit bull. This isn't him, this isn't Carter.
Through the blurriness of his tears, Carter's lip wobbled as he took in the sight. He was disgusting; the way his skin folded around it's self, melted flakes of dead cells merging with open, wounded flesh. His skin was tore in a thousand different directions, blistered lumps raising from beneath the surface; reminding him of crisp, molten rocks surviving the aftermath of a volcanic eruption. The raised lumps glistened under the shitty, dull, energy saving lights; red and rough, yet shiny in a way that made no sense.
Only beautiful things shine. This — these — he was not beautiful.
This isn't happening, this can't be real.
Carter dropped his head; unable to look at himself for a second longer. It was unlike him, he could stare at himself for hours at a time, just ask Callan and he'll confirm. Carter wasn't vain as such — not really. He just knew how to appreciate his hotness, was that really such a crime?
His fingers gripped the ceramic sink tightly as Carter willed himself not to cry more pointless tears. He wasn't going to be a baby about this. So what? Yeah, his skin was more fried than tinfoil coming out of a microwave, but it's fine. Totally fine. These blisters, and burns, and uneven patches of his once perfect skin — these were his warrior wounds. Right? These made him brave. Didn't they? He ran into a burning building to save his baby brother. That made Carter a hero...
Right?
It's just skin, it'll heal.
Carter repeated those same words over and over again. It's just skin, it'll heal. He wouldn't allow himself to fall victim to his own vicious and reckless thoughts, he'd seen what that could do. With new found determination, Carter scrunched his eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath, and another, and another; preparing to face his dementors head on.
He could do this. It's just skin. It'll heal.
He tilted his head towards the glass mirror once more, eyes still firmly shut as he prepared for the sight of his demolished flesh. All he had to do was through caution into the wind and open his eyes. That's it; just open his eyes.
Easy peasy.
Five seconds passed. Then another. And another. And another.
His eyes remained firmly shut.
"Fuck," Carter choked out, voice breathless. He gripped the sink harder, hearing his tears hit off the ceramic as his knuckles morphed to a pale shade of white. His heart was hammering from his chest, all the way to his ears; the sound magnified by the hollow silence the small cubicle provided. Ragged breaths, dripping tears, blood rushing in his ears, heavy heartbeat. It was all too much. "Don't be a pussy, Car. You can do this. Just fucking look at yourself." He whispered under his breath, trying to be his own form of a friend.
It was all lies though, wasn't it? This wasn't just one look; this would be the reflection he'd see for years to come. An imperfect Carter he didn't recognise. The tissue might heal, but the scars will remain; a painful reminder of the boy he no longer could be.
Carter was being silly. Leo, Jack and Lily bore scars much worse than his and they were still here; striving and surviving, taking each dreaded day as it came.
But Carter wasn't like his siblings; he lacked their courage, their bravery, their survival streak. He couldn't wear his scars with the same pride as they did, the same pride that made him so incredibly proud to be their brother.
Trying to match their strength would make him a fraud. Their wounds were battle scars; the result of a life long war that they'd survived and concurred in their stride. Carter's battle? It was nothing more than a thumb war in comparison; he dodged tiny fragments of broken shrapnel, whilst they felt the hit of every bullet, every bomb, every explosion. Everything.
He still didn't open his eyes.
All of his siblings, each and every one of them, had big plans; big goals and even bigger dreams. They were smart in a way Carter could never grasp, they knew what they wanted and they worked hard to get it. Zac wanted to be a lawyer; he did so. Grey wanted to be a social worker; he did so, too. Callan was studying to be a doctor, a freaking doctor. And here was Carter, the idiot who couldn't even pass a sucky written exam for physical education.
The younger ones; they stuck in at school, aced every exam (even Kade, who was described as Carter's mini me) and got better grades than Carter's best marked paper.
They had their sights set on the stars, and Carter knew, without a speckle of doubt, they'd reach them. Killian, with all his little handwritten, cringey, romance novels he never knew his siblings had stole and read, was aspiring to be the next best author. He'd do it, Carter knew so. His writing was intense and heartfelt and graphic for a virgin. Carter never knew how he could put so much detail into something he's never experienced. So he thought.
He knew all their dreams off by heart, yet he never knew his own.
Alex, the smartest of them all, would be the next best forensic scientist the world had ever seen. Leo would be a bigger artist than Leonardo Di Caprio, or whatever the guy's name was, Car had no clue. Kaden, sporty spice, would be as great a basketball star as their idol; Kobe. Lily would become an astronomer and find a planet hidden behind the stars. Jack, the best marine biologist since John Cena, would save all the little sea turtles from the worlds waste. And Ace would be the best quarterback since Tom Brady. Well, that's if the kid could keep his aggression in check.
They all knew who they were, what they wanted to be — Carter still had no clue.
But it never mattered, not until now. Now that his fall back plan was toast. Worst case scenario, if he failed school and got kicked out of college, Carter knew he could become a model.
Who could Carter be without his beauty?
He didn't open his eyes — he couldn't.
Carter never had low self esteem.
—
"Car? You alright in there?"
Zac's voice echoed behind the closed door as his knuckles brushed the wood. His tone wasn't one of worry, merely curiosity. No one ever had to worry about Carter.
Carter kept his head down low as he exhaled a quiet, shaky breath. He's not alright, might never be alright. No matter how down he felt, he'd never say those words out loud. He was happy-go-lucky Carter. With his vanity, he was the least worrisome of them all when it came to issues surrounding mental health.
"Yeah," he choked out, quickly clearing his throat as he cussed himself for being so weak. "Be out in a sec."
Cautious, as not to see his reflection, Carter kept his eyes on the sink as he pressed the bandage against his neck, allowing the small, white tape to stick once again. He should've never removed it, maybe then he wouldn't feel like this.
So damaged and lost and useless.
When the bandage felt secure enough not to fall, Carter took a deep breath and unlocked the door, coming face to face with his eldest brother.
"Some space, jeez." Carter scrunched his nose, brushing past a hovering Zac. Play it cool. "Where's Leo?" He asked, seeing the second bed in their joint private room empty. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Zac was quick to reassure, still hovering over Carter as he walked up the back of the teens heels. "He's in Oliver's room."
"Zac, seriously, back up. You're acting like a mother bear and I don't like it." Carter snapped, rubbing his temples. So much for playing it cool. Subtlety had never been is strong suit. "Wait, should Leo even be out of bed?"
"Nope," Zac huffed, taking a few steps back to give Carter some much needed space. He sat himself on Leo's bed, watching Carter cautiously as the emotionally exhausted teen flopped down on his own mattress. "You know what he's like. He wanted to check on Oliver."
Carter hummed, that makes sense; typical Leo always putting everyone himself. "He's just had a two hour blood transfusion and twelve stitches, he shouldn't be walking around, Zac."
Thanks to Carter, Leo and Arlo's quick thinking; not pulling the pane of glass from his thigh, Leo didn't lose too much blood for it to be deemed as life threatening. But still, it was like the kid forgot he lacked a spleen and a kidney, he needed rest more than any of them.
"And he shouldn't be alone."
"I know, Car." Zac rolled his eyes, he wasn't an idiot. He'd never leave Leo alone after such a traumatic event, but he couldn't leave Carter either. "He's not walking around, Oliver's room is just across the hall, I wheeled him there in the chair. And he's not alone, Charlie's with him."
"You think I give a fuck if Charlie's there?" Carter scoffed. If Charlie had done his job right and protected Leo like he promised, then none of this would be happening. "Why are you here and not with him? Where's Alex and Grey?"
"Car, the fire wasn't Charlie's fault. He couldn't have known that was gonna happen." Zac should've expected this reaction, Carter, like Ace and Grey, was very hotheaded at times he should be understanding. "Grey and Alex went home, they're picking up things for you and Le. And they needed to check on Cal and the kids."
"Couldn't have known? Z, he failed to mention that one of Leo's new found friends was a pyromaniac." Carter said, feeling a tad of pride for remembering such a difficult word. "Not only that, but why the fuck didn't the sprinklers go off? Why didn't Char, or the rest of the staff, make sure all the kids got out before leaving themselves? I'm sorry, I know he's your friend and all, but I'm done trusting him."
"He wasn't allowed to tell us, it's confidential, Carter." Zac felt like he was fighting a loosing battle. Truth be told, he could see Carter's point. Zac needed to talk to Charlie and find out what the fuck happened that night. He knew Charlie. Charlie wouldn't have left his kids in a burning building, not without a fight.
"Whatever," Carter was done. If Zac wanted to defend Charlie, that was his choice. But Carter wasn't going to waste anymore breath on this pointless conversation. He just hoped Zac's choice wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass. "I'm going to sleep."
"You can't," Zac stood up, rubbing his hand down his face as he took in Carter's pissed expression.
"Why the fuck not?" The teen huffed, gritting his teeth as he pulled the scratchy covers over his body. It was weird, he still felt the heat from the fire kiss his skin, yet those kisses failed to chase the goosebumps away.
"The doctor's coming to clean and redress your wound," Zac nodded to Carter's neck, watching him with calculating eyes as Carter's face paled. He should've questioned it. If Zac could replay this moment back, three years from now, he would've questioned it.
"No-"
"- I know it's painful, Car." Zac couldn't help the wince that took over his features. Watching them scrape away at Carter's skin, listening to his screams... it broke his heart in ways he never knew it could break. "But it's necessary."
"I said no." Carter grimaced. Painful was the biggest understatement of the century.
Zac moved towards him, placing a hand on his terrified kid brothers shoulder. "This is the only way to make sure the wound is clean and the tissue heals. Please, Car."
Carter's hard look faltered at the pleasing ness in his older brothers voice. "Tell them I want a shit ton of morphine then."
Zac grinned, one full of pride. He moved his hand from Carter's shoulder, ruffling the teens curls affectionately. "That's my boy."
—
"Do you think he's in a coma?"
Leo lifted his head from Oliver's crisp, white bedsheets and glowered at Felix. He couldn't believe Charlie had left the boy in Oliver's room and then fucked off to check on the other teen home kids; leaving Leo, Rowan, Presley and Arlo to deal with his array of stupid questions.
Lucky them.
"No."
Lowering his eyes back to his unconscious friend, he tightened his fist around Oliver's, squeezing his hand in a desperate way to reassure himself that his dismissal was true, because it had to be true. Oliver couldn't be in a coma, not when a coma meant there was a chance he'd never wake up.
Leo couldn't handle a world without Oliver. None of them could.
When they got transported to the hospital, seven hours ago now, the first thing Leo wanted to do was check on his best friend. The fear he felt when he seen Rowan doing chest compressions as he begged for Oliver to just breathe; it's a feeling, a sight, a nightmare laced memory he'll never be able to forget.
In that moment, that's when Leo realised just how much those five kids meant to him. Yes, five. Felix, even with all his annoying quirks, meant the world to him, too.
"Well, I think he's in a coma," Felix drawled out, thoughtfully, ignoring the glaring eyes of his four friends. He knew, without a doubt, if Oliver could open his eyes right now, he'd be glaring at him, too. He was a ignorant bastard that way, specifically when it came to Felix; glaring, huffing, rolling his weird rainbow eyes. But damn, Felix wished for all of those bastard-like qualities now more than ever.
He needed his sassy, silent, sarcastic bestie back. Felix needed Oliver to wake up. His last memory couldn't be Oliver speaking to him in the way that he did. When Felix pictured hearing Oliver's voice over this past year, he assumed, bet even, that it would be in a bliss moment of joy; when Oliver finally felt comfortable around them, and free enough to loosen the curse someone had twisted around his tongue.
"Don't say that," Leo felt his chest tighten at the thought. Oliver's not in a coma, Oliver's okay. He has to be okay.
Felix, subtle as ever, ignored the knives in his gut as he rolled his eyes. "I'm just being logical. It's not a stupid question."
"You? Logical? Really?" Presley snorted. When has Felix ever thought logically?
"Oh, c'mon!" Felix groaned, picking at the bandage on his forearm. He'd gotten a pretty cool burn in the blast, it stung like a bitch but he couldn't wait to see how it looked once the dressings came off. "I'm only asking what you're all thinking."
"No one was thinking that," Rowan cut in this time. He, like Felix, had gained a pretty nasty burn, too. But, unlike the fifteen year old, Rowan wasn't too happy about his mismatched skin. His mind was running haywire with every intrusive thought his OCD threw at him. "Just shut up, Felix. Alright? I've had enough of your shit to last me a lifetime."
Felix, to the untrained eye, remained unfazed by Rowan's words. Looking away from the older boy, his hazel eyes drifted back to Leo. "You've been in a coma. Right? Shouldn't you know?"
"Yeah, 'cause I was so aware of what was happening when I was unconscious." Leo deadpanned, eyes scrunching moments later as another wave of pain seared from his thigh.
"Wow, okay, no need to be so touchy." Felix muttered, eyeing him with concern. "Seriously, just take some morphine, Leo. You won't get addicted again, we won't let you."
"As much as I appreciate your wisdom, Fee, I can't." Leo blew out a strangled breath, God, it really fucking hurt. "I'm not - I can't be reliant on that shit again."
Much like his friends, the doctors, nurses, Zac, and his brothers made it very clear that they disagreed with Leo's choice of refusing medication.
But that's what it was; Leo's choice. And he wouldn't let someone take that from him.
Never again.
The fifteen year old allowed for the blood transfusion, the stitches, and the IV drip of antibiotics — that was it, nothing more.
Seven hours ago, Leo wasn't in the frame of mind to refuse whatever sedative the paramedic had given him and now, he was paying the price for that; he could already feel the unwanted presence of cruel whispers.
More, more, more.
But he wouldn't cave to their calls, not this time. Leo worked so hard over the last few months to battle his urges — his addiction. The last thing he needed was to fall back into old habits and be right back at square one.
"Le, you look like you're about to pass out." Presley told him, a hint of both softness and sternness rolling from her tongue. She'd never been in his place; turning to drugs to drown out the pain, the whispers, the shitty life in general. She didn't understand the severity of Leo's situation, none of them understood. Almost. "Just take some meds."
"Yeah," Arlo agreed, looking beyond guilty as he stared at his friend. Leo wouldn't be in so much pain if he hadn't protected him. "Can't they give you something without oxy?"
"It's not just oxy," Leo watched Arlo with careful eyes, he didn't like the look the boy was giving him, not one bit. It was his choice to cover him, he didn't regret it — he would do it time and time again. "Anything that gives me the slightest high, can easily become my best friend. Once an addict, always an addict." He said with a lopsided grin.
Arlo's shoulders, much like his heart, sank. "Leo... I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, you shouldn't have covered me. I should've-"
"- should'a, would'a, could'a," Leo shrugged, trying his hardest to mask the pain. "Look, Lo, I don't regret a thing, 'kay? It's not your fault, I did what I chose to do, and even now, even with the pain, I'd do it again in a heart beat. So will you just thank me and then shut the fuck up, you're giving me a headache."
"God, I hope they sedate you." Felix couldn't deal with all the hot and cold anymore. One minute they're having a serious chat, then they're all sappy and sad, and now the conversations drifting to dangerous territory. "You're clearly in pain, and now you're lashing out at Arlo instead of dealing with it."
"I'm not lashing out," Leo didn't need to look at Felix to know the boy was glaring at him. "I just don't want Arlo to feel guilty for something he didn't choose. It wasn't his fault their was an explosion."
"So you're blaming me for that?" Felix's voice was hard, but they could all see the way his shoulders fell.
Felix, even though he couldn't remember anything before Oliver spoke, blamed himself.
It was his fault. He should've told them about his fascination with fire; how it was the only way to relieve him of the painful tension that settled deep in his bones, filling him with instant gratification. Felix was a pyromaniac. Something he'd been diagnosed as but never admitted out loud. He should've told them.
Leo looked at him this time, blue meeting hazel. "I don't know, Fee. Should I be blaming you?"
Truth be told, Leo didn't blame Felix, it was clear to them all that their friend suffered some kind of episode last night. And on top of that, it wasn't Felix's lighter, or his cigarettes, or his fault.
Leo blamed himself.
Before Felix could snap back, Rowan stepped between the two. "Enough. The fire was no one's fault," he looked at Leo, adding as much conviction to his words as he physically could. "It was an accident." Green eyes moved to Felix next. "A stupid fucking accident."
"If you think about it, we all had a part to play in setting it." Presley admitted. "Maybe not Arlo or Row, but the four of us did." She looked between Felix, Leo and Oliver. "You and Oli dropped your cigarettes on the bed. Felix fucked around with the lighter, and I knocked it from his hands without shutting off the flame."
"Pres." Rowan tried to interrupt.
"I'm not saying it wasn't an accident, Row." She reassured. "It was. But if we're going to play the who set it game, at least give some credit to me and Oliver."
"Great!" Felix beamed, his mood incredibly lifted from the dullness he reeked mere moments ago. "We're all unintentional arsonists, how fun! At least we'll be in the lock up together, yeah? You can finally sing the jailhouse rock, El." He looked at Presley. "Thanks, babe, your version of events really brightened my day."
Presley glared at him, sick and tired of the Elvis jokes. Felix paid no mind to her, focusing his attention on Leo instead. "Le? Can I be your boy toy in the cells? Y'know, hold on to your pocket and all that jazz? I need claimed, I'm too pretty to survive on my own."
The four friends shared an uneasy look. Felix's mood was all over the place and seemed to be borderline erratic.
Leo flickered his eyes from the trio to the boy in the corner, watching cautiously as Felix seemed too lost in his own little world, humming Elvis Presley's Burning Love.
He really loved to piss Presley off, didn't he?
"It's not an episode of prison break, Fee." Leo cleared his throat, trying to match Felix's playful mood as he joked: "Plus, I wouldn't choose you to be my boy toy. Arlo is way nicer than you, you'd get me killed."
"My brain is flaming, I dunno which way to go." Felix didn't acknowledge him, too deep in his fucked up mind to process Leo's joke as his eyes focused on the amber hues of the slow rising sun in the horizon.
"Felix?" Arlo snapped his fingers in his friends face, trying to lull him back to reality. "Fee?"
"Felix!"
"Huh?" Felix's head snapped to Rowan as the four friends shared yet another uneasy stare.
"Are you alright?" Rowan frowned. He'd seen Felix have an episode before, but it was nothing compared to what he'd witnessed in the last twenty four hours — the last week. Felix was spiralling and Rowan didn't know what to do. "Do you want me to get Charlie?"
"Na. I'm good, RowRow. Don't worry your pretty little head. Kay?" Felix turned his eyes back to the window, blocking everything else out as he focused on the different shades of orange, amber and yellow.
As if God was on his side, Rowan exhaled a breath of relief as the door to Oliver's hospital room opened. Turns out, he didn't need to betray Felix and call for Charlie, the man walked into the room himself.
"Hey, guys," Charlie looked like he needed a double expresso or bottle of vodka, Presley couldn't decide which. "Oliver's family will be here within the hour. Why don't you head back to your rooms now, yeah? They'll want their privacy."
"No." Leo was first to refuse. He wouldn't leave Oliver's side, not even for his family to visit.
Leo didn't know much about Oliver's personal life, but he did know about Oliver's family. The boy had shared his distaste for said family with Leo on their many sleepless nights in their shared bedroom; both perched on the window ledge with a cigarette between their teeth as they dived into their dark family trees.
From Leo's memory; Oliver only loved and trusted his youngest older brother, Sebastian. His father and three other siblings however, Oliver despised them.
Leo didn't know the whole reason behind the hate, but he knew enough to know he wouldn't be leaving Oliver with them, not when he wasn't conscious and couldn't make the decision for himself.
"We're his family." Arlo surprised them all as he spoke next. Leo, Presley, Rowan and Felix all nodding in agreement with his words. They were his family — each others chosen family.
Charlie sighed, he knew this wouldn't be an easy task but he didn't expect them to gang up on him. "Look, you can come back later. I'm just asking—"
Leo cut him off, voice filled with a heart aching sense of relief. "He moved!"
"What?" Charlie couldn't remember what he was saying now. Like the other three starstruck kids, Charlie quickly moved to Oliver's bedside. "He moved?" He asked Leo, double checking incase his ears were playing tricks on him.
Leo nodded, paying no mind to Charlie as he addressed his best friend. "Oliver, Oli, can you hear me?"
There was pressure in Leo's right hand.
"We're here, Oli," Leo didn't realise he was crying until his tears hit their joint hands, seeping into the gaps of their laced fingers. "We're here."
"All of us." Presley's hand moved to rest on top of their joined ones, then Rowan's, and Arlo's, and last but not least, Felix's. "All of us," they repeated, five lots of smiles and tears.
"And me." Charlie added, feeling left out.
"Oliver?" Leo squeezed his hand, a chain reaction as his friends squeezed with him. And just like that, dual eyes began to flutter, seconds passing before Oliver opened his eyes and peered up at the five of them.
He was clearly disorientated and confused, but at the sight of his best friends — his chosen family, Oliver smiled.
Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on.
—
END OF CHAPTER 82
sorry for the delay!
for anyone who hasn't read it yet; chapter 3 of BYLM has been posted.
thoughts?
Carter?
Leo?
Felix?
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