A few days ago, Clyde heard troubling news. Rumors about a boy's recent suicide attempt were floating around the Mansion. Even though he didn't know the guy, it was always kind of sad to hear about that type of stuff. But, that thought had been pushed to the back of his head for as long as he'd known about it. It wasn't his place to worry about it.

This particular afternoon, Clyde was watching the television in the living room. It wasn't that unusual; he liked that spot because not as many people hung around it.

“As our viewers are probably aware, there have been multiple attacks on mutants by mutants,” boomed the news anchor's voice. “Hate crime or conspiracy? We'll take this to our expert.”

And, as he'd just been reminded, it was also sad to see what people said on the news. People could be real morons at times. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered with this crap.

Roommates were awkward. Really, really awkward. People in general were awkward, for that matter, but making the person a roommate that Persi still kept feeling guilty for upsetting and angry at for making him feel guilty took it to a whole new level of awkward. Several, in fact.

So Persi was avoiding Aiden, which meant avoiding their room. Normally he'd go outside to do that and avoid everyone, but now it was November and cold and Persi didn't want to be alone that much yet. Maybe if he ran into someone else annoying, but for now, the cold won.

That didn't leave Persi with very many options. He could probably go to the library or something, but he still felt guilty any time he was in the library and not studying, so he went to the living room instead. People weren't guaranteed to be there, so maybe....

As it turned out, someone was there. The brat, once Persi looked again. Well, it wasn't as bad as being around Aiden, and he had eventually left last time they talked, so maybe he had figured out to leave Persi alone? It was with trying before the library, anyway. Persi continued into the room and to a couch near the window before flipping open his sketchbook.

The volume of the television was so high that Clyde did not notice that someone else had entered the room. That is, until he spotted someone when he took a casual glance at the window.

It had to be Weird-Haired Artist Jerk.

Clyde remained seated, but he didn't take his eyes off of him. He found it odd that the guy hadn't said a word or even acknowledged him yet. Apparently, he was too absorbed in his drawing, as usual. Considering that they argued whenever they met, Clyde didn't want to be anywhere near him. Leaving might have been a simple solution, but this time, Clyde was there first. He wasn't going anywhere.

“You. Go away,” he demanded, giving the other teen a stern look.

And the brat hadn't learned. Of course not. Persi rolled his eyes, then kept them on the sketchbook. He had no actual idea what he was drawing; just a mess of wavy lines turning into a spiral. So maybe a whirlpool? He probably should've drawn this in ink so he could color it in without smearing the black, but maybe smearing would work. He could color it with pastels, probably, as long as he didn't put the lines too close together. "And how quickly did you leave when I've told you to?"

Of course it was the brat, so reason probably wouldn't have any effect. But Persi could try.

WHAJ didn't budge. Well, that was a big surprise. Not. Grumbling, Clyde left the couch and walked right up to him so that he could properly face him.

“So that's how it is.” Clyde crossed his arms. “You accuse me of annoying you, then decide to be annoying yoself. What a hypocrite.”

Clyde hated arguing like that, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't make him leave, after all, and he didn't want to leave himself.

And reason had no effect, as expected. Surprise, surprise. And the brat stomped over to try to be intimidating, so Persi sighed and sat up. He might not be worried about the brat at all, but he still didn't feel like arguing with anyone while laying down, even if it was on a couch.

"No, you annoy me by talking to me, not by existing. I wouldn't talk to you if you didn't always decide to pick fights, so you really don't have any basis to call me a hypocrite. Congratulations on knowing the word, though." Whether that was actually an impressive achievement for the brat, Persi wasn't entirely sure; he didn't quite remember when he'd learned the word, and he wasn't a good standard anyway since he was kind of stupid and probably hadn't learned it until way after he should have. Still, it was a bigger word than he expected kids to know. "Even if I'm not sure you know what it means."

Clyde clinched his teeth. Did this guy think he was stupid? Of course he knew what a hypocrite was! “I'm not dumb,” he argued, irritated. “A hypocrite's a person who tells people not to do something, then-”

Something Clyde noticed made him pause. There were what appeared to be burn marks on the other teen's left hand. Pretty nasty ones too, at that.

“What did you do to yo hand?” Clyde asked, still eying the scars. “Stick it on a stovetop?”

Well that was new. Persi didn't remember the brat ever shutting up partway through a sentence before, though it may not count for much since he just replaced it with another, anyway.

And of course it was about Persi's hand. Well, technically most people asked about his arms, first, since those were apparently more dramatic, but close enough. Persi rolled his eyes. "No, in a fire. Stove wouldn't touch the back of my hand anyway." Not that that was actually why he'd used a fire--there was a distinct lack of stovetops on the floor of a forest, to start with--but it should have been clear enough from where the scars were that it couldn't be one.

Admittedly, touching something with the back of the hand was pretty unusual, but Clyde still did not appreciate the tone this guy was using. This was yet another “not surprise,” considering that he had yet to show a common level of respect.

“A fire?” Clyde questioned. “How'd you manage to do that?” Clyde really wondered about that. People usually kept away from open flames. Maybe he'd burned himself in some weird accident.

"...By sticking my hand in it." Was that supposed to be a rhetorical question or something? It didn't exactly make any sense otherwise, but it didn't sound like the brat had meant for it to be one. How else did you stick your hand in a fire? By accidentally dropping it or something?

"Oh." Maybe that was what the brat was confused about. "On purpose." That should be clear enough, right?

He stuck his hand in a fire on purpose? Wow. “Funny, the only people that do that ah the ones who want to-”

Die.

The color drained from Clyde's face. People were saying a teen tried to take his life. He had not guess that he would be this guy. The last words Clyde said in the previous conversation came back to haunt him.

You could go find the biggest cliff you can and jump off of it.

Translation: Go die.

Clyde stood in place, frozen. He tried to say something, but instead choked. What had he done?

"I don't think anyone's called it funny where I can hear before, but sure, if you think so." Persi really wasn't sure what would make it funny, but he did know no one else here had remotely the same approach to anything as he did. To start with, he was the only one who made any attempt at all to make up with God, even if his had probably failed.

Well whatever else, it at least got the brat to shut up. Not to leave, though, and after a moment Persi looked up to see what the brat was doing standing there saying nothing. He did not expect that expression. "What's wrong with you?"

Of course suicide wasn't funny. He hadn't realized what had happened when he used the word, and now he was mentally kicking himself for failing to figure it out sooner. The guy he argued with attempted to kill himself; that was what was wrong. Even if he disliked him, the idea that he contributed to his near-death made him sick to the stomach.

“I... I d-didn't...” Clyde stammered. His head drooped down. He didn't know what he was supposed to say or if there was even anything he could say.

How the @#$% was he supposed to apologize?

So... what, was the brat seeing thing now? Or hearing things or something? He didn't seem to actually be reacting to reality at all, but he was obviously reacting to something. He set the whirlpool (which was exceedingly abstract, and possibly also a bit Japanese, which Persi would blame Aiden for even though the manga really had nothing to do with the famous wave at all) down, and folded his arms while he looked at the brat. Persi didn't see anything that indicated hallucinating that he knew of, but he had no clue what indicated hallucinating anyway. Apart from acting weird, which the brat certainly was doing. "Are you seeing things now or something?"

Clyde shifted his weight uneasily. Was he supposed to feel so bad? WHAJ had still treated him like dirt. Yet, he felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't even think clearly. Clyde struggled to hold himself together because this guy was looking at him right now, questioning him.

“...What? No...” Clyde tried to respond. He wasn't sure what this guy was talking about. “I... didn't want to say it was funny.” His gaze returned to the floor as he spoke.