Benji opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the sharpness of the white lights that seared his pupils allowed him to focus. It was quiet, aside from the occasional rhythmic beeping indicating that he was, in fact, alive. Maybe it would have been better if he wasn't.

His throat was dry and he felt like shit. He shifted, limbs brushing against itchy sheets, feeling a bit claustrophobic.

"You're awake," said a familiar voice, low, deep and steady. "We were worried about you, y'know. Let me message the others to let them know."

Sitting up in bed, Benji turned his head to the side to see Ish sitting by his side. He didn't have the energy to deal with this right now. Sighing in annoyance, he simply watched Ish as he typed away, oblivious to Benji glaring knives at him.

"Can I be alone?" Benji asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"Are you sure?" Ish asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes. Please... just... go, " Benji said through gritted teeth. Ish complied, leaving the room and finally leaving him be in peace.

Shutting his eyes again, Benji groaned, before he opened his eyes again and stumbled out of bed on weak legs, almost tripping on the IV drip that was taped to his hand. The only person he actually wanted to talk to was thousands of miles away probably fighting for his life, and he couldn't get in contact with him. A tear rolled down his cheek as he rummaged through his things. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he still had some battery left in his phone.

Tipping his head to the side when he noticed a notification in his call history, he saw that he had received a call from Victor. That was strange. His heart leaped when he thought about the possibility that he was alive and well. Finger hovering over the "call" button, Benji exhaled as he pressed and waited for the line to connect.

--------------------

Victor had learned with Mia years ago that waiting to talk to people was not the right course of action. Benji didn't deserve to be locked in another toxic relationship that would cause him to act irrationally, Victor reasoned. And Victor didn't want to constantly be worrying about Benji doing something risky because of him. He couldn't take responsibility for someone else's life. It was Atlas's burden to hold up the edge of the heavens on his back, and Victor wasn't strong enough for such a task, lest he risk going the way of Sisyphus.

Scrolling through his list of contacts, Victor found the one marked "The Love of My Life", staring at it for a moment, but even seeing the words hurt him to his core. He looked away from the screen but his eyes shot back to the screen when he saw a notification that Benji was calling him instead.

"Hey, Benji, I'm glad you're okay," Victor said when he picked up, his voice a bit higher pitched than usual.

"Hey, Vic. You look... good," Benji replied, his voice small.

He refused to make eye contact with Victor, but he looked pained and tired, his eyes dull and distant. Victor knew he had to tell Benji before he lost his nerve; he swallowed. When he spoke, his own strength and clarity surprised him.

"We need to talk."

Furrowing his brows, Benji's mouth fell open slightly before he swallowed. "About what?"

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Victor went for it. He had to rip it off quickly. But he hated how his voice quivered when he said: "I'm breaking up with you."

Benji hadn't been expecting that, he realized. He had thought of all the possibilities, just not that . And because he wasn't hopped up on Xanax anymore, his emotions hit him like a tsunami with no wall of drugs to block it. He gritted his teeth as the tears poured down his face, his body shaking.

"Why? What did I do wrong?" Benji asked, his voice strained and pathetic.

Face tensing, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, Victor didn't know how to answer him. He didn't think he would ask that.

"I... don't want you to hurt yourself because of me again," Victor all but whispered. "I wouldn't be able to handle it."

And I love you too much to let that happen, Victor thought, but he knew saying it aloud would make this whole process even worse. He knew the words would be a twist to the knife in his chest.

Another wave of tears came over Benji, and he dropped his phone on his lap as he covered his face. Victor almost thought he was going to change his mind, when the call ended.

He held his head in his one good hand, his lip quivering as he let his own tears finally fall, little wet dots staining the top of his sheets darker. The sight of Benji looking absolutely destroyed, his little whimpers of despair, like a wounded baby animal that had been tossed aside to die -- Victor had never experienced Benji reacting that way, not even before they parted for him to go to London. But he felt such a deep sense of shame, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself, that he was the reason for Benji to respond that way.

It's for Benji's own good ... Victor thought over and over again, the words echoing like a mantra, turning into a song in his mind. He didn't know how much of that he actually believed, but it was the only way to suppress the need to vomit as his stomach sank into the depths of Earth. Balling his fist and crumpling his sheets, Victor tried to breathe, his chest hurting both from grief and from his fracture; he wasn't sure which was worse. Right now, he really just wanted a blunt, but that would require him to get up and walk, which wasn't that easy at the moment. So all he could do was sit and suffer in silence, accepting the consequences for his own actions.

Victor still felt like he had made a mistake, but the damage had already been done. He never wanted to be the cause for Benji's pain ever again; and now he wouldn't have to.

------------------

Benji sat hunched over in his hospital bed, weeping quietly into his hands, trying not to draw attention to himself despite the world crumbling to dust around him. The ringing in his ears was a welcome distraction that served to dull his pain a bit. It wasn't much but it was something.

He could feel himself starting to get overheated and sweaty, his pulse reaching dangerous levels. The fact that he was now utterly alone made it hard to breathe; he felt like he was in a leaden box that grew slowly smaller and smaller as it sunk deeper into the abyss, as if it would crush him to death before ever reaching the bottom. His peripheral vision began to close in, and he could feel his soul threatening to exit his body against his will.

The door opened, but Benji didn't notice. Rocking back and forth on the bed and gripping his hair at the roots, all he could think about was Victor. He didn't know what he would do without him. When he imagined his face behind his eyes, it started to dissolve as soon as it formed, as if he wasn't meant to retain even that information. The universe wanted to erase him from Benji's mind, but he didn't want to allow it.

"What's going on?" said a voice that sounded far away, distorted as if by water. Benji didn't comprehend it.

"I think he's having a panic attack," said another voice.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he felt like he had been dragged out of the ocean and onto the shore.

"Hey, you're okay," said a voice, accompanied by the sensation of another weight beside him and of being engulfed. "We're here for you."

Benji allowed for Soledad to hold him, soon running out of tears to cry. He rested his head on her shoulder as she smoothed his hair. Ish, Nikita and Rhiannon looked on with wide eyes, offering words of support. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he suddenly felt too many eyes on him at once.

"What happened?" Soledad asked him once he had calmed down a bit.

Looking down at his hands as he fiddled with his cuticles, Benji was quiet for a long time. If he said the words aloud then there was no way to unsay them; they would be lost into the air and become reality. Maybe if he said nothing then he could pretend Victor hadn't just torn out his heart like he was a butchered hog and stomped on it without mercy. When he said 'don't be gentle', he didn't mean like this.

But he also knew that pretending like nothing happened wouldn't do him any good. Maybe he couldn't accept it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

"My boyfriend dumped me," Benji muttered, the reservoir of his tears suddenly replenished as they rained down his face again.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, B," Soledad said gently, sighing as she let him cry. She looked over Benji's shoulder at Ish, and Ish seemed to be frowning, but also like he was trying to keep his face from doing anything else against his will.

Ish could sense that the atmosphere in the room wasn't helped by all these people there, so he excused himself by saying: "I'm gonna go get some air."

In the meantime, nurses had come to check Benji's vitals to ensure he was ready for discharge, giving him some pills just in case. He had luckily only passed out and got a scolding from the doctors for mixing Xanax and alcohol, but otherwise all he really needed to do was ensure he stayed away from alcohol as he had been doing. While he couldn't make any promises, he was glad he had his friends there to support him, at least.

But relapsing... it had opened the gates again. He had tasted the nectar of the gods again and now that was all he craved. The temptation was stronger than ever and all he could do was weather it somehow.

His friends helped him despite him insisting he was fine to walk on his own. They wouldn't hear it; he was going to be supported or they would carry him — those were the only two options.

They arrived back at the flat at almost two in the morning, dragging their feet as they entered. Benji knew he wouldn't sleep that night, but was thankful for their concern regardless. Their company had been a welcome distraction from the brutal reality of being broken up with.

For the first time in basically as long as he could remember, Benji Campbell was single. And that was terrifying. He had no idea what to do with that information, but he knew that being single sparred with losing Victor for the most painful sensation he'd ever had to endure.

The entire flat walked Benji to his room, tucking him into bed before his friends retreated to their own rooms in silence. He had been lucky that the hospital staff had scrubbed his makeup off because he knew he wouldn't have had the energy to deal with that nonsense right now. But he also wasn't tired in the way that wanted for sleep. What he most desired at that moment was to simply not be alone with his thoughts, lest he start crying again and then cry himself to sleep.

Down the hall, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps padding along the wooden floorboards toward the kitchen. Benji rose from his bed, gripping his chair to steady himself as he did so. He followed the noise, tiptoeing so as to not alert the others. While he wasn't afraid of their wrath or anything, he also had no intention of standing around and waiting for them to scold him. He was a grownup, after all.

As he expected, the door to the balcony was ajar, and he opened it. For the first time in a while, he was happy to see Ish hunched over the balcony railing, lit cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," Benji said.

"Hey."

Ish didn't say anymore, but regardless, Benji sighed and stepped closer to him, shivering in the cold air and wanting to be closer to him for warmth.

"Can I have a smoke?" Benji asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Looking a bit taken aback, Ish nonetheless nodded, holding his cigarette between his teeth, as he took out a rolling paper and a filter, then poured some tobacco in it before rolling it up neatly as Benji had seen him do countless times before. He handed it to Benji with precise movements, and Benji took it, grateful.

"You have to inhale as I light," Ish instructed.

He did as directed, and as soon as the smoke entered his throat, Benji couldn't help but cough, almost throwing his lung from his chest. But it wasn't so bad after a few draws; hell, it may even be... good . Now he understood why so many kids in London went through tobacco like it was made of oxygen. The nicotine made him feel lighter, and the thoughts whirling about his brain simply evaporated, joining the rest of the atmosphere and finally leaving Benji in peace.

There was something about being around Ish that made him calm down, and it wasn't just from the cigarette. When he wasn't absolutely pissed off at him, his presence was quiet and relaxing. They needn't even speak to one another; they could simply be.

Humming to himself, Ish finished up his cigarette, putting it out on the railing of the balcony. He turned to re-enter the flat.

" Wait, " Benji breathed, holding up a hand to stop him.

Raising an eyebrow but saying nothing, Ish eyed him.

Benji held his own cigarette between his fingers before he stood on his toes, all but rubbing against Ish as he pressed a firm kiss to his lips. Ish was placid, allowing it for a moment, the only resistance coming from the friction of his beard, before he was kissing him back, his cadence voracious, hands traveling up to cup Benji's face. This was all Benji needed to confirm what he had suspected.

But he didn't pull back. Instead, he put his cigarette out and allowed Ish to lead him to his room.

Once inside, Benji pushed him against the wall, kissing him again, more forcefully this time. He just wanted to forget. But more importantly, he wanted Ish to make him.

He didn't know how much more he needed to do to get Ish to understand what he wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. So Benji pushed him again, this time back onto his bed, climbing on top of him. If he had to take charge he would, but he wouldn't enjoy it.

It was as if that one action made something click in Ish's brain. Benji loved how much bigger and stronger Ish was, too, because he scooped Benji up in his arms with ease as they kissed, holding him close as they switched positions so Ish could lay him down on the bed.

"I want you to hold me down," Benji whispered, letting his head fall back so the pale, soft skin of his neck was exposed. "And I don't want to think about... him."

Ish kissed him again, his hands sliding up Benji's arms and pressing his wrists down into the mattress on either side of his head. Benji felt his heart racing and pounding in his ears, pretending he didn't want the weight of Victor's body pressing down on him. He pretended he didn't want to smell Victor's sandalwood cologne or listen to him laughing in his ear as Benji responded to his touches or to feel his strong yet soft hands against his skin and leaving bruises that Benji would admire as they healed. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever compare to how Victor had loved him.

When Ish touched him, his flesh unfamiliar, Benji could only pretend that the other understood what he wanted.