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The lines of reality were blurring. Liam didn't know up from down or real from fake. The back of his sweater was stained read, blood trickling down the small of his back, and he didn't even know if that was real or not, of if the pain and sensation was all just in his head. Like the voices (But were they?), or the hands that grabbed, and the litter of gore across the floor (There was nothing there.). He couldn't trust what he was seeing anymore, he couldn't trust anything. He could't trust himself.

Still running, though slower now. Fatigued and sore, body protesting every step he made, but stopping just wasn't an option. If he stopped he died.

Somehow the boy mad it back to the entrance, though at this point he wasn't even aware that it was the entrance. The transition from inside to outside seemed utterly seamless, as if there was no difference now. It was all just one, constant nightmare, and there was no escaping from it. He had to get away. Back beyond the rusted gates. Back into suffocating press of the fog. There lay sanctuary. There was his absolution.

Down the steps and out onto the long dead lawn. He could see the path, the gates, and dense press of white fog beyond, he just had to make it there. Just had to cross over. Just had to-

He never saw Harvard. Just ran headlong into him with enough force to send him stumbling back to sprawl in an uncoordinated heap on the ground.

He was already trying to scramble back to his feet, but he wasn't nearly as coordinated as he should have been. It was obvious something was wrong. He was breathing too hard, eyes too wide, and there was blood on his back, staining the back of his sweater around a series of neat looking slashes that stretched across his shoulders in a straight line. When he looked down at Harvard, he hardly seemed to recognize him for a long moment.

Distracted, his eyes kept skittering off, and his hands never stilled; tangling over and over against each other in front of him. When he caught sight of the gate he took a stop towards it, then stopped, head tilting as if he were listening to things that weren't there. "It's not safe here." It wasn't safe anywhere, but he sounded considerably more panicked than usual.

"I've got to..." The words trailed off, brows furrowing. "No. No we can't do that." Another step towards the gate. "There's something in there, we can't go back in. It's...it's not safe." His frown deepened, and he reached out, fingers curling around something that wasn't there. "You can't. We have to go back. It's safer in there. They can't find us in there. Come on. We have to go."

He flinched at the touch, but didn't respond at first. He seemed to be listening to something, something that had him frowning in concern, gaze jumping towards the gate then back. "Are you sure?"

Then he blinked, shoulders straightening as a puzzled expression took over boyishly handsome features. "What..?" Now he saw Harvard, and with a shake of his head a hand came up to press his palm against his brow. He felt hot, lost. There were small beads of sweat clinging to flushed skin. A deep breath, then another. "How did I get out here?"

Clarity was a wavering thing, unreliable, and as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Liam sighed, eyes going distant again, then slipped out from Harvard's hand to take a step towards the gate. "I trust you."

Again that startled blink, eyes regaining enough focus to linger on Harvard's face a little longer this time. "I'm talking to..." But the words trailed off, brows furrowing. "No, it's dangerous in there. The shadow. We have to go." He tugged on his arm, trying again to head for the gates and the fog that pressed in all around them. Even pushed at Harvard's hand where it curled around his arm.

"No!" He struggled in earnest this time, arm twisting this way and that until he could jerk it from from Harvard's gasp. When he did he stumbled, coordination compromised, but he regained his balance quickly, unsteadily, and took off full tilt towards the gate.

Liam was a soccer player, he was fast. Even sick, even fevered and delirious, he was still fast, and he knew how to dodge, turning on his toe to duck away from a reaching hand, then flinging himself forward again towards the gate as the fog licked at his heels.

Harvard had come very close to being slugged in the face as he grabbed Liam's arm and jerked him back around. A hand had cocked back, started to swing forward, but Harvard had had the good sense to take his legs out from under him, and it spilled the younger man to the ground with a pained grunt.

The first slap just rocked his head to the side, a harsh bite against his skin. it was the second that seemed to actually break through whatever madness had been gripping him. He swore, loudly, letting go of Harvard's arms to press his palms to his cheek as he sucked a breath in through his teeth. "What the hell, Harvard?" And just like that it was obvious Liam didn't have a clue what he'd been trying to do.