"You won't, though."

"How can you know that, huh? I don't think you know that."

"You're, like.... you." Gesture.

"That is the least helpful thing thing you have ever said."

"It is not. I have said so many more useless things than this."

"Is that, like, your defense."

"Absolutely." Pause. "I should probably go back before Schlatt starts wondering where I am. Thanks for letting me know you're not dead, I guess."

"Anytime, man."

And when he's back:

"Where were you, Toby?"

"At my room, like I said, sir. I had to stabilize a reaction."

"I don't like fucking liars, Toby."

Toby's head is spinning. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have gotten high after all. "Then it's--it's good that I'm not a liar, right, Schlatt? I don't--"

He stands up, starts walking towards Toby. "Don't think I couldn't hear. You were with Tommy and Wilbur, and you fucking lied to me about it, and when I asked you again you lied to me. I don't like people who lie to me, Toby!" His voice raises as he goes until he's yelling.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry, sir--"

And then one of his explosives is in Schlatt's hand, is being drawn back, and Toby is covering his face with his arms, and

flash

it hurts

He can hear Niki and Alex screaming at Schlatt and Schlatt screaming back, how could you do that and fucking taught him a lesson, don't fuck with me, and what the hell, Schlatt, he's a fucking kid, he didn't do anything, and I don't even want to be here and fuck you you don't do shit for me anyway and what the fuck just happened, holy shit, Jesus Christ, and he's thinking kind of stupid of me, to die from my own explosive, and he's thinking well at least I'm already on painkillers, and he can hear Tommy screaming, can hear Tommy asking him over and over "are you alright", and he can't answer, can't get his mouth to work properly, and he can hear Wilbur saying "if you're going to hurt anyone, hurt me", and there are at least two pairs of hands on him maybe more keeping him upright keeping him moving, and he's not entirely sure how he hasn't passed out but he can work with this, he can move where he's brought. It probably won't matter, they shouldn't waste resources keeping him alive, Tommy might need those, but when he tries to say so all he manages is a weak and vaguely hysterical laugh before he passes out.

And at some point he blinks awake. His arms are mottled with colors, and on top of them some sort of glowing goo. Tommy’s there, curled in on himself and playing Over the Rainbow on his music box, and Niki, going through backpacks. 

“…Hello?”

“Are you alright? I mean— he—”

“I’m fine. Schlatt just—! He just—” Toby closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m, uh. It hurts? Not very much. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Kind of hungry, honestly. Maybe the, uh, cooked meat—”

“Jesus Christ, Toby.”

“I’m fine, Tommy. I’m, I’m alright.”

“You just woke up from being passed out, you’ve got burns all over, like, what the fuck.”

“I feel fine, though. Well, mostly. Am I in shock? Maybe I’m in shock. I think I might be in shock.” Small laugh. “You get my stuff if I die, remember. Uh. I guess Niki can have some, too, for, uh, for helping me. —Where’s Wilbur?”

“…We fought.”

“Oh. I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s gone fuckin’ crazy.”

“Yeah. That seems about right. So, uh. No study group, then.”