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Everything Finn did reminded him of Lily.

Even now, sitting alone in front of what they called "the fireplace", he could almost feel her presence beside him.

They had always been close. They shared the same mind and soul. Finn thought about the time when Lily called him out of the blue, her voice tinged with worry; she had sensed something was wrong, and sure enough, he had just fallen off his bike, fracturing his left wrist.

It was as if their hearts beat in unison, each one feeling the other's pain and joy.

Finn smiled at the memory of their childhood schemes. They had a system: he would do her homework, and in return, she took over his laundry duties. Their teachers never caught on, because their mistakes were identical, down to the last detail. It was as if they were two halves of the same person, perfectly synchronized in their actions and thoughts.

She was the only person who really knew him: she knew the real reason he stopped playing basketball in elementary school, and it wasn't that he just got tired of it, like he told everyone. He truly believed playing basketball made you grow taller - just look at the famous players - and he felt he was already way too tall for a nine-year-old.

She knew he actually didn't like mac and cheese, but he would never tell their parents. He didn't want them to buy something else to cook for him, spending money they didn't have.

And she knew the reason he never had a girlfriend, despite being a six-foot, conventionally attractive catch of a guy: he was gay.

The latter was never explicitly said by Finn; she just knew. She used to ask him, almost as a running joke, if he had found the ideal boy to date yet. Each time, he would respond with a roll of his eyes and a soft, knowing laugh that spoke volumes without words.

How he wished he could roll his eyes at his sister's nonsense just one more time.

In that moment, no other thoughts crossed his mind. Not the thing between River and Raven, not the looming threats of the world above ground, not even the slight nausea from waking up under the cold glow of artificial neon lights instead of the warm embrace of sunlight filtering through fogged, old windows adorned with faded pink fairy stickers.

The little hands that had placed them were now gone forever, and Finn found himself alone again on the cold tiled floor of a place that was starting to feel smaller and smaller by the minute.

Raven, having vented out his rage the night before and torn between a thousand well-hidden emotions, slept soundly on the couch.

As one can easily imagine, his sleep was far from serene; the same exact nightmare as the other night - and many other nights - returned, more vivid and detailed than ever. The dark alley was now illuminated by the glowing red lights of flames devouring his former gang's hideout building. From the midst of the inferno emerged the same man as always, but this time Raven could clearly see his face and hear the words that spilled from his slimy mouth.

You're a beautiful boy.

A beautiful boy.

A beautiful boy.

Suddenly transported to the familiar dark, humid room, he could see all of their faces and hear all of their voices.

The sensation was overwhelming, and he felt an intense urge to vomit. The memory of their unwelcome touches felt painfully real, reminiscent of the horrors he had endured. The vividness of it all jolted him awake with a scream.

Raven retched on the floor before even regaining full consciousness, and he did his best not to cry.

Just moments before, Nima had been lost in the pages of "White Nights".

While the others seemed unperturbed by River and Raven's mess, Nima was seething with frustration. He understood he didn't really have the right to feel this way - after all, they weren't together, nothing had happened between them, and, most importantly, he had known Raven for only about a day.

But what truly upset Nima, beyond a simple, instinctive rush of jealousy, was Raven's inexorable self-destructive tendency. In just twenty-four hours of knowing him, Nima had witnessed Raven's constant anger, his God-knows-what with someone he had met that same day and couldn't even tolerate twenty minutes prior, and his habit of pushing away anyone who tried to help.

Nima valued human connections so intensely that he couldn't fathom how a good person - firmly convinced that Raven was one - could be so careless about them.

He let me put ice on his forehead though.

The thought anchored itself in Nima's mind, sparking a realization in his gaze. He let me in. Well, kind of, but he doesn't hate me, he mused.

The thought made him blush, mingling with the earlier surge of jealousy to reveal an uncomfortable truth he wasn't ready to acknowledge. So, he began to rationalize.

He doesn't actually hate anyone here; he's just blunt and honestly a bit of a prick, Nima chuckled softly. His eyes remained fixed on "White Nights", but his brain was elsewhere, absentmindedly scanning the pages without absorbing a single word.

We've just happened to be next to eachother when we woke up, and in the same room more than we've been with the others, and that's it, he concluded, attempting to convince himself of this resolution. Nima affirmed to himself that Raven didn't harbor any particular feelings for him, and he resolved not to invest too much concern in him to avoid potential hurt.

That decision lasted for less than thirty seconds. Suddenly, Nima hurried with his crutches towards a screaming Raven, causing "White Nights" to slip from his lap and tumble to the ground.

"Hey!" he said, his voice rising to what would have been a scream, though remaining soft and quiet. He settled next to Raven, meeting his icy, startled gaze, now unexpectedly expressive.

"Please, don't," Raven muttered, striving to maintain his composure.

"Are you okay?" Nima asked, anticipating the usual sharp rebuke.

Instead, to his immense surprise, tears - actual tears - began streaming down Raven's face.

"Don't, Nima, please."

Hearing his name spoken in that unexpected, vulnerable voice, Nima's heart melted with sweet tenderness.