“Yeah, and what if you’re not there?”

“If I catch you, same thing, I stop protecting you, I let everyone know that you and whoever you were with likes angering enclavers.”

“I just— come on, man, I just want to see them.”

“Hey, hey, Tommy, I could go back and talk to them, are you jealous?”

“Nick, you don’t need to mock him.”

“I just want to have Christmas with my friends.”

“You can have Christmas with your friends. Just not those friends.”

Sigh. “I’m going to see if I can find a book that’s helpful for making this.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Hey, is your study group around? I could say hi to Alex.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything to that, just flips him off while scouring promising-looking shelves. It’s looking like the more useful ones are higher up and he’ll probably have to climb them, because of course it is. 

“Wow, no need to be so aggressive, jeez.”

"Stop baiting him, Nick." (His voice is teasing; he clearly finds it as hilarious as Nick does.)

"But it's fun. Hey, Tommy, I'm gonna go talk to Alex."

"Great. Both of you can fuck off."

...He doesn't know how to feel about it when they do and he's alone. He can hear them, if he strains, not the words but the voices, Clay's and Nick's mingling with Toby and Alex and Niki.

Fuck them. Fuck all of them.

He starts climbing one of the shelves. It doesn't feel super safe, especially alone, but it doesn't matter. He's never fallen before, and besides, it's not like it matters if he does. He's here for a good time, not a long time.

He does find a useful-looking book, at least, so that's a win.

...Whoa. He did not realize how far up he was until he looked down, and--wow. Oops. That's... A bit of a drop. Or maybe it just looks higher when you're not on the ground. He's a little mesmerized by it. He could just-- let go--

Nah, probably he'd just break his leg or something. If he wants it to hurt, he can always go the Wilbur route.

It'd be kind of nice if he landed on his head or something, though. As long as it didn't just make him all scrambled. It's gross to imagine, all his blood and brains over the floor, but it'd be done. Done sounds pretty good right about now. And he wouldn't have to deal with--fucking, Clay, and Nick and Toby and--and they're all over there, talking, and he's here--

...There is a mana light floating concerningly high up one of the bookshelves he left Tommy at, and when he gets closer, he can see Tommy: concerningly high up, holding a book and looking at the ground with a concerningly thoughtful expression.

Yeah, no. He flies up and grabs Tommy.

"Come on."

"It's not your time to die yet, Tommy." And they are on the floor again. No dumb stunts for Tommy.

"It's never my time to die."

"That's true."

"Can I not at least--on Christmas. Can I talk to Toby and Alex and everyone on Christmas Day."

"I'll consider it. But probably not. How about--how about Easter? If you do good until Easter, I'll let you talk to them."

Sigh. "Or how about you just let me see them now, you fucking prick." He punches Clay's shoulder, and it's sort of joking and sort of not. "I'm gonna be all sad and shit. I'm gonna get a New York accent."

"Are we, like, going to get more books, or are we done, orrrr--"

"I was just going to head back."