Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s a relatively cold night as Xavier treks through the woods surrounding Nevermore towards his art shed. Rowan was being pissy again, so the artist decided it would be better just to spend the night at his little studio and calm down a bit.

His hands are wedged in the pocket of his purple hoodie which is pulled over his head of shoulder-length honey brown hair. The night breeze is biting, but the tortured artist has always enjoyed the cold.

He walks slowly as to take in the dark scenery around him— the tall trees creating a canopy over the forest floor, the leaves turning brown and slowly trickling down to the ground, the squirrels skittering around in the branches, the bird taking flight in the night from the trees; it’s lovely. The only sounds are the wind blowing the trees, and the animals.

Xavier lets his mind wander as he strolls. He thinks about how he misses his mother, how he hates his father, how he wishes he had more than just one friend, how he shouldn’t have been so rude to Bianca, how he wishes he could get one good night of sleep without having his prophetic dreams.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling, guttural scream slices through the quiet night and Xavier’s unpleasant thoughts.

Xavier freezes and glances around, eyes wide in terror. The scream echoes through the trees before another one follows. Xavier doesn’t know what to do. Should he follow the screams to see what’s happening? Should he go back to Nevermore and tell Ms. Weems? Should he just go back to his dorm and forget about this?

Another scream of pain and terror resonates through the woods. Xavier gulps, praying to whatever higher power might be out there, before beginning to jog in the direction he thinks the screams are coming from. The terrible noises aren’t constant, but intermittent. Xavier doesn’t want to think about what that means, or what he’ll be met with once he finds the source of these horrendous, horrific noises.

After a few more minutes of running around and listening closely, Xavier knows he’s close— the noises have become earsplitting at this point. He finally comes upon a small cave with a faint light inside, most likely from a candle or a single bulb lamp.

The noises are much clearer now as he crouches behind a bush about 10 yards from the front of the cave. He hears a woman’s voice, but she isn’t the one screaming. Xavier can barely make out the two figures in the cave from the faint light: a short woman standing with her back to the mouth of the cave, and another figure on the ground, possibly tied up, but most certainly in pain.

Xavier slowly inches closer, staying behind the shrubbery and in the shadows. As he gets closer, he can see that the inside of the cave has blood and gore all over it. There are rusted meat hooks hanging from the ceiling that are drenched in drying blood, and multiple weapons strewn about on the ground— ranging from knives to a bone saw and everything in between. He can also make out the people better. The one in the ground is a boy, his hands are chained to the wall by his head, and he’s half-naked. Xavier can’t see the boy’s face due to the angle and the woman standing in front of him. But Xavier can see that the boy’s back is covered in an array of different scars; new and old, ropey and thin, jagged and straight, raised and sunken, stitched and open, healed and gushing blood. Despite the horror and utter carnage Xavier is witnessing, he can’t look away. He reluctantly moves his eyes away from the boy to look at the woman. She’s short, with shoulder length red hair, and she’s wearing a brown coat, some type of dress underneath, and red boots. Xavier had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop the gasp threatening to claw itself from his throat. He’s seen that woman before. Almost every day he sees her. Ms. Thornhill, the botany teacher at Nevermore. What the hell is she doing out in the middle of the woods torturing a kid?!

Xavier’s thoughts race. He’s so confused. All he knows is that he has to do something. He sees Thornhill grab a nasty looking syringe filled with some red mystery substance.

“No! Please, no!” the boy screams. But his pleadings fall on deaf ears as Thornhill raises the syringe, getting ready to stab whatever that substance is into him. The chains rattle as he tries to break free, but it’s useless.

Before he knew it, Xavier began to move. He races into the cave and tackles Thornhill to the ground. She shrieks at the sudden intrusion of someone during her… whatever she was doing. Xavier rips the syringe out of her hand and smashes it on the ground. “No!” she screams, attempting to get her mystery attacker off of her. Despite his lean build, Xavier is way taller than her and easily pins her down. But she still continues to struggle. Xavier hasn’t been in a physical fight since last school year’s Outreach day. But his fight of flight response has taken over, and he’s already made his choice between the two.

He flips her over and grabs her neck forcefully with his hands. His larger hands easily wrap around her neck. Her eyes bulge out of their sockets, either from getting choked, or from getting choked by one of her students who had also found her torture cave.

Xavier’s eyes burn with hatred for the small woman beneath him. He doesn’t let up his grip until he’s sure she’s been rendered unconscious. He lets go and takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling of the cave (trying to ignore the meat hooks) before turning to look at the boy chained to the wall. Now he sees the boy’s face; his wide, forest green eyes that are full of tears, his caramel curls matted with sweat and blood. Xavier would know that boy anywhere.

“Tyler?!” Xavier breathes out in shock. Tyler Galpin. Normie, son of the sheriff, asshole, and Xavier’s ex-best friend.

Now the tears fall from Tyler’s eyes. “X-Xav, please. Please, help me,” Tyler sobs out softly. Xavier’s breath hitches. Tyler hasn’t called him ‘Xav’ since middle school. The artist shakes the thought from his head. He stands and starts rummaging around the room for the key to the chains. After he finds it, in a small box with a bloodied tooth that was definitely Tyler’s, he quickly unlocks the chains around Tyler’s wrists. The battered boy falls forward and Xavier catches him on instinct. The two boys haven’t been close like this since their last sleepover in the eighth grade.

Tyler wraps his arms around Xavier and drops his face into the taller’s shoulder. Xavier wraps his arms around Tyler too, but gingerly because of all of the wounds. “Tyler, what the hell happened?” Xavier asks after a few seconds. Tyler just shakes his head, pushing is face further against Xavier’s shoulder. Xavier sighs. He lets go of Tyler and pulls away. “Can you walk?” Xavier asks. The question is answered for him by how Tyler’s legs wobble and buckle after Xavier lets go of him. Xavier quickly grabs Tyler before he falls, lifting the shorter boy into a bridal carry. Tyler yelps softly, wrapping his arms around Xavier’s neck, but he doesn’t complain.

Xavier carries Tyler quickly out of the woods, and back to Nevermore. Tyler fell unconscious less than halfway through the travel. Thankfully, it’s past curfew when they arrive, so all the other students are in their dorms already. Xavier marches straight to Principal Weems’ office.

When he gets to the door, he softly shakes Tyler awake. Tyler’s eyes flutter open and he groans softly. “Tyler, I’m gonna put you down, ok?” Xavier tells him softly. Tyler nods weakly, and the taller boy helps Tyler to his feet. Xavier keeps a firm arm around Tyler’s waist to keep him upright.

Xavier takes a deep breath, preparing himself, before knocking on the large, wooden double-doors that lead to Ms. Weems’ office.

“Come in,” comes the woman’s authoritative, british accent from the other side of the door. Xavier takes another deep breath before opening the door and entering the office, his arm still wrapped tightly around Tyler’s waste to keep the other teen upright.

When they enter, Ms. Weems immediately stands from her desk and rushes over to them. “Mr. Thorpe! What in the world is going on? And who is this?!” Ms. Weems cries incredulously, gesturing to Tyler who is basically attached to Xavier’s side, and barely hanging onto consciousness. He’s still bleeding everywhere too.

“Ms. Weems, this is Tyler. He’s Sheriff Galpin’s son. I found him out in the woods when I was on my way to my art shed,” Xavier tells her, trying to stay calm, look her in the eyes, and keep Tyler awake and on his feet all at the same time.

Ms. Weems narrows her eyes at Tyler, immediately suspicious of him due to him being the Sheriff’s son. It’s pretty well-known that the Sheriff is not fond of Nevermore, and Outcasts in general.

“Galpin’s son, hm?” she mumbles, assessing Tyler more. “Ms. Weems, he was being tortured in a cave in the woods,” Xavier says, more urgency in his voice. He doesn’t want Ms. Weems to write this off just because it had to do with a normie, the Sheriff’s son at that.

Her eyes widen again, but she tries to keep her expression calm. “Sit. Tell me everything.”

Xavier maneuvers Tyler into sitting in one of the plush chairs in front of Ms. Weems’ desk. He’s out like a light immediately. Xavier rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his face, happy to have saved Tyler from whatever had been happening to him, and happy that Tyler had felt safe enough around Xavier to let Xavier carry him, to lean on Xavier for support, and to fall asleep in Xavier’s arms and right in front of him now. Ms. Weems doesn’t miss the look on Xavier’s face, but she doesn’t mention it.

She clears her throat, signaling for Xavier to begin. He snaps out of it, and reluctantly looks away from Tyler. He turns back to her and begins to explain what he had witnessed— the horrific screams, the bloody cave filled with all kinds of torture devices and weapons, and Tyler chained, half naked and bloody, to a wall.

“He was about to be injected with some chemical or drug or something in a syringe. He was screaming so horribly… I- I couldn’t just let it happen. So I ran in there and intervened,” Xavier ends with.

Weems stares at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “Would you care to tell me who this supposed torturer was?” she asks.

Xavier takes a breath to calm himself down, knowing that what he had done will weigh on him forever, in both a good and bad way. “It was Ms. Thornhill.”

Now Ms. Weems’ eyes widen. “Marylin? But… why?” Weems asks, sounding genuinely shocked, and maybe slightly distrustful. But seeing Galpin’s bloody and bruised son, Xavier’s franticness, and the mere fact that the story is so insane that Xavier never could have thought it all up on the spot, she begins to understand.

“I don’t know why she did it. I can ask Tyler when he wakes up, but I don’t want to bombarde him. You should go check out the cave. The evidence should still all be there,” the artist says, eyes flitting over to Tyler again before going back to Weems.

Ms. Weems nods solemnly. “I shall inform Sheriff Galpin after I have thoroughly evaluated the scene and figured some things out.”

Xavier nods, also viewing that as the best course of action. “Can I take Tyler to the infirmary?”

Weems nods, and stands from her desk. “Yes, go ahead, Mr. Thorpe. I’ll go check out the cave with a few other teachers. You take care of Mr. Galpin, and keep this all quiet, alright?” she says, her voice retuning to that of her authoritative principal voice.

Xavier nods and bids her goodnight and good luck as he lifts Tyler from the chair. Xavier carries Tyler again, carrying him up to the infirmary. Due to it being well-past 9pm now, the infirmary is empty.

After gently laying Tyler onto one of the infirmary beds, Xavier roots through the drawers and cabinets for the correct medical supplies. He eventually comes up with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a stitch kit, many rolls of bandages, and a package of steri-strips.

He begins to work— cleaning the blood off of Tyler’s face and body, washing out the dirt, dried blood, and muck from the wounds with the hydrogen peroxide, stitching up the large gashes and deep cuts, cleaning the stitches again before bandaging them up, and then he finally finishes up by adding the steri-strips to the wounds too shallow for stitches, but too prominent to just leave alone; like the slash across his left eyebrow, and his split lip that cut down towards his chin.

Eventually, Xavier sits back onto a waiting room chair he had brought in next to Tyler’s bed with a sigh. For the first time since middle school, Tyler looks so small— fragile even. The artist watches the rhythmic rise and fall of Tyler’s chest. He can’t even begin to explain how relieved it makes him feel to see Tyler still breathing, still fighting. But the stitched and bandaged up areas all over Tyler’s body still makes Xavier’s stomach twist.

Xavier leans forward, elbows on his knees, as he watches Tyler. With a quiet voice, Xavier whispers, “You always told me I worried too much… Guess this time I had a reason to be.” His voice cracks a bit, letting out an unsteady chuckle.

A few more minutes pass before Tyler stirs. His dark green eyes flutter open, unfocused and hazy at first, before moving to land on Xavier. “Xav,” he whispers hoarsely. “You saved me,” he says it like he’s surprised and confused.

“Of course I did,” Xavier replies, a bit of defensiveness in his tone, unsure of how to act around Tyler. Xavier hasn’t had a normal conversation with Tyler since the summer before freshman year; if this conversation can even be considered normal.

“You shouldn’t have,” Tyler says, trying to muster a glare, but his eyes bleed vulnerability. “We aren’t even friends.” He turns his head away from Xavier. “Anymore,” Tyler adds under his breath after a moment.

“Yeah, well you made that pretty easy,” Xavier shoots back, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat. The sting of regret he feels is instantaneous, immediately after he sees the slight flicker of hurt in Tyler’s eyes. The older boy’s face doesn’t betray it, but the eyes are the window into the soul, and Tyler’s window is fused silica.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Xavier mumbles after another few seconds of heavy silence.

“Yeah you did,” Tyler says after another moment of silence. “But you’re right. I did some… stuff. Guess we’re even, now.” Tyler looks back at Xavier again.

“Even?” Xavier asks sarcastically with a scoff. “You beat the shit out of me for no reason, called my art a ‘cry for help’ before destroying the mural I had worked all day on, and you never answered my texts or calls. That’s not even,” Xavier says firmly, brows furrowing.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “You don’t get it,” he says. “Then help me to!” Xavier says, too desperate even to his own ears. It takes Tyler off guard too, judging my the ever so slight widening of his eyes. ‘Since when did Tyler get so hard to read? He used to be like an open book. But now he’s almost as difficult as that strange Addams girl that I knew as a kid,’ Xavier thinks.

“I’ve been trying to understand for years,” Xavier continues. “Best friends all throughout middle school, but as soon as we hit high school, you pretend like you don’t even know me. We hung out that whole summer. You said you were so sad that we wouldn’t be going to the same school anymore. The day before the first day, you told me you were nervous and I talked you through it. What changed? What did I do that was so bad?” Xavier ignores the lump rising in his throat. He refuses to let his emotions get the better of him. But it’s probably too late for that, now.

Tyler grits his teeth, his jaw tightening. He scoffs sharply under his breath, contrasting the defeat in his eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he asks bitterly. Tyler’s voice hardens, but it’s thin— like glass about to crack. “You knew me too well. You knew what my dad was like, what it was like at home, and you still looked at me like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t completely screwed up. And I couldn’t handle that.” Tyler swallows down the impending lump in his throat. “You were the one person I couldn’t lie to, and that scared the hell out of me.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens again, the edge creeping back into his voice. “So yeah, I stopped answering. I figured if I cut you off first, it’d hurt less when you finally realized I wasn’t worth the effort.”

Xavier stares at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as Tyler’s words sink in. Then he lets out a short, incredulous laugh— sharp and bitter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tyler frowns faintly, confused. “What?” “What?” Xavier repeats, his voice rising. “You cut me off because I cared about you? Because I actually gave a damn?” Xavier is pissed. He apparently cared so much about his only true friend, that said friend left him. ‘How does that make any sense? Is he hearing himself right now?’ Xavier thinks, his brows furrowed in annoyance and barely held back rage as he stares at Tyler.

“Do you even hear how selfish that sounds?” Xavier snaps. Tyler’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t answer. “I spent months wondering what I did wrong,” Xavier continues, his voice trembling slightly— anger and hurt blurring together. “Every unanswered text, every declined call, every time I saw you and you looked right through me— I tore myself apart trying to figure it out. And the whole time, it was just you deciding I wasn’t allowed to care anymore?”

“I- It wasn’t like that,” Tyler tries to say. “Then what was it like, huh?” Xavier snaps. “You think you were the only one dealing with shit? My dad barely even looked at me after my mom died. You knew that. You were the one person I could talk to who understood. And then you just disappeared. No explanation, no goodbye— nothing. You say you didn’t want me to see how broken you were, but I already did. I saw it. And I stayed anyway. You were the one who ran.” Xavier’s voice is tight and shaky as he finishes speaking. He lets out a deep sigh, relieved to finally get all of that off his chest. But the look on Tyler’s face gives the artist no pleasure, nor pride.

Tyler’s eyes are downcast, focused on the bed sheets that cover his legs. He’s picking at the skin of his hands— an old nervous tic he used to have in middle school. ‘Huh, I thought he’d stopped doing that,’ Xavier thinks offhandedly for a moment. ’Whatever.’

Xavier leans back in his chair, running a hand through his longer, light brown hair. For years, he’d pictured this moment— the moment he would make Tyler see how much his actions (inactions, really) had hurt Xavier. Every version had ended with Xavier walking away, saying something that would finally make Tyler suffer. But now that it’s here, all Xavier feels is regret. Regret that he hadn’t been able help Tyler the way he had once helped Xavier.

He looks over at Tyler again. The other boy hasn’t moved. His head is down, eyes locked on his hands as he keeps picking at the skin around his nails and around the small nicks on his hands.

’Same old tic, but a completely different Tyler,’ Xavier thinks bitterly. ’This is not the sweet boy I used to know.’ Xavier will never admit out loud how sad this makes him.

Xavier wants to lash out, snap at Tyler, but it simmers away. The change in Tyler unsettles the artist greatly. What isn’t Tyler telling him?

Just as Xavier’s about to say something else, Ms. Weems enters. “Mr. Thorpe, may I speak with you in my office?” she asks, calm but urgent. Xavier nods. He glances at Tyler as he leaves the room, following Ms. Weems back to her office.

When they reach the office, Ms. Weems closes the door behind them, gesturing for Xavier to sit back down in the chair he had been in a little over an hour ago.

“Mr. Thorpe,” she begins, lowering herself into her chair. “I went to the cave you described. What we found there… confirms your account, I’m afraid. Marylin Thornhill was found dead at the scene. It appears she died from strangulation— most likely during a struggle. The area was littered with weapons, restraints, and other… unspeakable devices. It’s clear she intended to do something to Mr. Galpin.”

Xavier exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then at least it’s over,” he says quietly. “She can’t hurt him or anyone else.”

Weems’s eyes flicker, something uneasy in them. “Perhaps,” she says carefully. “But there’s more.” Xavier looks up at her, confused. “What do you mean, more?” he asks, a little scared at the possibility of what her answer will be.

She reaches into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a small, sealed plastic bag, and sets it on her desk. Inside, is the shattered syringe Xavier had smacked out of Thornhill’s hand earlier that night— the red, iridescent mystery liquid still sticking to it.

“This was found near Ms. Thornhill’s body,” Ms. Weems says. “Yes, that was in her hand when I entered the cave. She was planning to stab it into Tyler, and no doubt inject him with whatever that’s in there,” Xavier explains, gesturing vaguely to the strange substance glistening on the jagged edges of the broken syringe.

“The substance is an old recipe from Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary of Outcasts,” Ms. Weems begins to explain. Xavier’s brows furrow. “But… Tyler’s not an Outcast?” he asks more so than says, confusion written all over his face. Ms. Weems sighs. “I’m afraid he might be. He has the genes for it, seeing as his mother, Francoise Sylvanne Night, went to school here with me 30 years ago.” Xavier’s throat goes dry, his lips parting slightly as his eyes widen. ’Tyler? An Outcast? Why didn’t he tell me?’

“I know this is a lot to hear right now, so I will spare you the details until you are ready. For now, I just need you to look after Mr. Galpin,” Ms. Weems says, her voice softer than normal, realizing Xavier’s distress.

Xavier’s thoughts are going a mile a minute. Like that German highway with no speed limits that he had learned about in middle school. The cars are his memories and views of Tyler, and Xavier is a little, innocent bunny that hopped into the middle of the road of his mind.

“No. I want to know,” Xavier says firmly. “Tell me.” Ms. Weems hesitates for a moment before sighing. “His mother, Francoise, was a Hyde. A Hyde is an extremely strong and grotesque creature that lies dormant in the Outcast before being brought about either by a distressing event, or forcibly by an outside force. In the case of the outside force, that person would then become the Hyde’s master. An awakened Hyde cannot survive without a master. They will hallucinate, become increasingly paranoid, and soon their organs will begin to shut down the more they transform. Luckily, you got to Tyler before he was injected. If he is a Hyde, which I believe that he is, it is still dormant inside him.”

Now Xavier wishes he hadn’t asked. Ignorance is bliss, the old saying goes. “What do we do?” he asks, his voice coming out much smaller than he had anticipated.

She sighs again. “We must keep an eye on him. He may not know about his own or his mother’s Outcast abilities. If he doesn’t, it will be easier to help him. I will contact Sheriff Galpin and question him on what all Tyler knows about his mother.” Xavier nods. He shakily stands and goes to the door. He glances back at her, observing as she grabs the phone on her desk and begins to dial the sheriff. Xavier slips away, and back to the infirmary.

When he enters the infirmary again, he sees that Tyler’s bed is empty. Without the knowledge Xavier had just learned, he may have only been a little worried. But now knowing about the monster that lies inside Tyler, Xavier flips out. “Tyler? Tyler!” he calls out, checking the entire room- under the beds and in the closets. He even checks all the windows, but finds them all locked. Now he really starts to freak out. “Tyler!” he yells.

“I’m right here. What are you screaming about?” Tyler says nonchalantly as he reenters the room, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. “Oh, thank god,” Xavier sighs in relief, going up to Tyler. “Where were you?”

“I was just using the bathroom. Jesus,” Tyler says with a roll of his eyes before lumbering back over to his bed and lying back down. “What did Weems want you for?” he asks, eyeing Xavier. “She went to the cave. She’s going to call your dad.”

Tyler freezes, going rigid. “She’s what?” Xavier shifts uneasily, eyeing Tyler with a bit of suspicion. “She’s calling your dad. Don’t you think he should know about what happened to you?”

For a moment, Tyler doesn’t react. He just stares, his whole body still— too still. Then his eyes narrow, and he gives a sharp, bitter laugh. “Of course she is. Because why the hell not drag him into this, right?”

“Tyler—” Xavier starts, but Tyler cuts him off. “No, seriously. Let’s just tell my dad everything. Tell him his screw-up kid got mixed up with some freak who tried to use him for science experiments. Maybe he’ll even give me another one of his famous lectures about ‘personal responsibility.’ Or maybe he’ll make me get more therapy. Or maybe he’ll just send me to the psych ward prematurely, because I’ll be ending up there anyway.”

Xavier just stares at Tyler in stunned silence. He has no idea how to respond to Tyler’s ranting. He especially has no clue how to comfort Tyler. They haven’t had an intimate talk like this in over two years.

Tyler draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “She said she could help me,” he whispers, almost to himself. “Said she could fix what was broken. And I believed her.”

Xavier takes a step closer to the bed, wanting to at least try to comfort his manic… friend? Frenemy? Ex-best friend? Xavier doesn’t know what to classify Tyler as anymore.

Tyler jerks away, his eyes wild for a second. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that.” Xavier’s gaze softens as he watches Tyler curl inward, but the fear lurking beneath his concern is hard to mask. ‘There’s something else here,’ Xavier thinks, ‘Something Tyler isn’t telling me.’

He takes a careful breath, stepping closer. “Tyler… I don’t know everything, but I want to help. Whatever this is.”

Tyler’s eyes snap up, haunted and unsure. “You don’t.” His voice is sharp but fragile, like glass cracking. “You really don’t.”

A heavy silence falls between them.

Finally, Tyler speaks again, voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something inside me, Xav. Something ugly. Something I don’t want. Thornhill… she wasn’t just trying to hurt me. She wanted to wake it up. The monster inside me.”

Xavier nods in understanding, his heart clenching for Tyler. “You’re not alone in this. And you’re not a monster, Ty.”

“Sure,” Tyler replies sarcastically. “Maybe not yet, but it’ll happen eventually. I’m sure of it.”

“You’re still you,” Xavier says, putting all the feelings he can muster into that one little sentence. He wants to tell Tyler that he feels for him, that he forgives him, that he still wants him— in two separate ways, but Xavier’s spent enough time ignoring that feeling, that he can do it for a little bit longer.

Xavier carefully sits down on the side of Tyler’s bed, slowly reaching out to him so Tyler can stop him if he wants to. He doesn’t, so Xavier pulls him into a soft hug.

Tyler doesn’t pull away. Maybe that’s a start.

For the first time in a long while, Tyler lets himself feel safe.

And for the first time in a long while, Xavier feels like maybe they’ll both be okay.