Long and cold, space stretched out before him like a shredded blanket, velvet on the surface with bright specks of light peeking through its worn stitches. His boots gleamed, flaxen pants tucked into their high ridges, fabric hugging long, lean legs and curving over slender hips. His body was sprawled with a boneless grace, one gloved hand propping a strong chin, violet eyes hooded, a carefully careless smile on his face. In the distance, he could feel the presence of another, moving gracefully and beautifully against the dark night, a beacon that reached into his chest and wrapped warm, tender fingers around a heart that shouldn't have loved.

Figures danced in front of him, fragments and memories of people he felt he should have known, people who once meant something to him. Eon's face, casually handsome, lips tipped into the endearing smile of an older brother trying his best not to laugh at what surely hadn't been a joke. An elegant woman, subtle eyes flirting behind lashes dipped low. They pulsed and jumped, like images from a scratched DVD, moving through time effortlessly, untouchable.

His mouth stretched, a long, thin line in a face that was a little too angular to be handsome, and he reached out, swiping his hand through an image. It flickered, and his fingertips chilled, the edges of his gloves tipped in ice from the touch.

Behind him, something rumbled, and he rose, hand sweeping out beside him. Light gathered, spearing through his fingertips, a brilliant display that sent waves of energy across the expanse of space, the light of a small star dying.

The images behind him moved, slowly, fading as the light spread, fanned a walk out beneath his feet. Cobbled stones turned into a gravel path, and his boots lost their luster, his clothes faded to plaid and black. His heart twisted, stomach fell, and he looked up at the familiar building, watched clouds trail over the dormitories.

In the window, a boy leaned out, one leg dangling over the edge of the building as he tossed a tennis ball up and down. Grayson trailed to the edge of the building, looked up as he slid his hands along the bricks. From above, the boy grinned, catching the tennis ball and miming a gunshot at him from above.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart. You'll be just fine." He laughed, rich and long, and Grayson reached up the wall, palms flat.

"I didn't mean..."

But Benny looked up, tossing the tennis ball again. "Beautiful day, right? I was supposed to have a match today." More windows opened, and people leaned out, looking down at Grayson with mixtures of curiosity and regret.

"Hey, Benny. I'm coming up, all right?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Do you remember what room it was?"

He slipped inside the door, taking the steps two at a time. He opened it to Benny's room, saw him still sitting framed in the window, and his heart stumbled. Guilt, regret, and a bit of shame closed his throat, and he hesitated.

"Did you know I pulled first?" Benny caught the tennis ball again, swung his leg over so that he was perched inside, a vague smile on his face. "I guess I got a little trigger happy."

From beside him, he picked up a gun, flicked the safety off. He looked down at it, brows knitting faintly, and leveled it at Grayson. "Don't worry, though. You're gonna be just fine."

A single shot pierced the silence, and Grayson's hands came up, fingers curved as though to protect himself. Bemused, Benny looked down at the gun, then at his prom date.

"I guess I'm not a very good shot unless it's close range." He winked, pressed the gun to his temple, and fired.

His body tumbled backward, the heels of his shoes catching against the window frame as Grayson rushed forward. Heart thudding in his throat, he leaned out, breath rasping at the sight of Benny's body twisted against the gravel. Blood pooled around his head, a slow halo circling him, and a dark-haired boy began tracing his outline in chalk.

Violet eyes peered up at him, and Tristan said flatly, "Great idea, shooting yourself. Did him loads of good."

Grayson's arms went weak, and he hit his knees, chest slamming against the pane. His arms dangled over the side of the building, watched as a bluenette strode over, cape flicking slightly in the wind. Tristan glanced over, rolled his eyes, and continued his tracing.

Sagittarius toed Benny's head, mouth a grim line as he squinted up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "That you, Leo? Why didn't you stop him?"

His image flickered, and Grayson groped for him, trying to drag himself through the window. His legs were heavy, leaden, and he watched as Sagittarius shook his head, rocked back on his heels.

"You'd better get lost, a*****e," Tristan said casually, rising from his task. "Word on the street is, my brother's like some kind of retarded black widow."

"Oh yeah?" Jude's eyes peered up at him, and he turned, lifting a hand over his shoulder. His chest glowed, a bright light that faded softly with his voice. "Say a little prayer for me, then."

The ground melted away beneath him, swallowing up Jude's legs as Grayson frantically tried to reach them. He slammed his knee into the wall, finally managed to hoist himself over the window, fall. He landed on top of Benny, breath knocked from his chest, and Tristan scowled at him.

Gloves inched up his hands, and the darkness slid up, swallowing Benny's still-warm body. He grasped at it, breathing fast and haggard, but each time he touched, his fingers slipped through, bumped against solid ground. Beside him, Tristan watched, finally reached over and touched his brother's shoulder.

Bits of gravel in his hands, Grayson looked up, tears swimming in his eyes. Tristan, too, flickered, and he reached wildly, hands tangling in his brother's sweatshirt.

"We're all going to die before you," Tristan finally said, slowly unhooking Grayson's stiff fingers from his sweatshirt. He looked down with an odd mixture of contempt and pity, propped one hand up on his waist, hip cocked to the side.

"I... I don't want..." His head dropped forward, bumping against Tristan's knee.

"But it's okay."

Kneeling, Tristan touched his brother's shoulders lightly, shook them. "You'll just forget about us."

His shoulders heaved, a low, keening sound pulling from somewhere in his chest.

"You always do, don't you, Leo?"