Clay was never more grateful for Tony than he was today.

He rushed out of his last class as soon as the bell rang, out the hallway and down the stairs, not wanting anyone to stop and try to talk to him. Not today. It wasn't until he could see his bike did he stop moving. He just stared at the object like it held all the answers as he remembered. His first interaction with Hannah was when she developed the nickname she would continue to use throughout their friendship—her use of 'Helmet' always felt special, and warm. He remembered her smile, and her laugh, and her excitement when she reminded him of his promise for her to ride his bike. How could a girl like that want to hurt herself?

Then he remembered what happened between them at Jessica's party, and Jeff's accident, and everything wrapped in the enigma that was Hannah. And for the first time he wondered how well he actually knew Hannah Baker.

"Hey, Clay." He felt someone behind him and turned, finding Tony ready to help him for the second time that day. "Want a ride?"

Clay glanced back at his bike and felt like he could faint at any moment, so he quickly agreed. Tony helped him load his bicycle into the trunk of his car and then they left everything about high school behind.

Clay didn't say anything on the ride, and Tony didn't try to force him to. He simply turned a mix tape on, low enough that he could talk if he wanted but loud enough he didn't feel pressure to speak, and left him alone to his thoughts.

He wondered if this was a dream—a hellish nightmare his mind conjured after a hearing a terrible story on the news about a girl who committed suicide. Maybe he would wake up in the middle of the night, sweat running down his back and his heart pounding in his chest, and find that none of this was real. He'd find Hannah at school the next morning and make sure she was okay, that she wasn't crying out for help and he just hadn't noticed. That she wasn't lost.

Somehow, even as he yearned for the chance that this wasn't real, he knew this was reality. Hannah Baker tried to kill herself, and he found himself thanking every religious icon he'd heard of that she failed.

Maybe it wasn't too late, if she could get the help she needed. Maybe she could move past this, that she can understand that this couldn't be the answer. Clay found himself getting more and more worked up. He wanted to shake her and demand why she thought this was okay. Why she thought he would be okay without her.

"We're here, Clay."

He looked at his house and wondered why it looked different than it did this morning. He wondered why he didn't want to go inside yet, why he couldn't bring himself to get out of the car. It felt like his entire life fell apart with that one sentence—Hannah Baker tried to kill herself—and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"I'm so angry, Tony."

Clay kept his gaze outside, not wanting Tony to see the magnitude of how completely confused and hurt and affected he was. He could probably tell without looking into Clay's eyes, but he wanted to have some sort of control over what he chose to convey and confide.

"At Hannah?"

"At…" Clay's jaw tightened. "Yeah, at Hannah. I mean, fuck. Why would she do this?"

"You'd have to ask her."

"Well, I can't right now, can I? Damnit." He jerked in his seat, then sighed, disgusted by himself and his selfishness. "I'm such an asshole."

"You're not, Clay."

"She's in a coma and I'm demanding answers, like I have a right to it."

"Maybe you do."

He scoffed. "We were just friends, Tony. She doesn't owe me anything. If anything…" His mind revisited the night of Jessica's party, and how he maybe pushed too far too fast and ruined everything with the girl of his dreams.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Clay."

"No, forget it. Look, I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?" He tried to get out before Tony could try to talk to him about it.

"Clay, don't forget your bike," Tony called, jumping out of the car to open the trunk.

Clay turned around. "Right." He watched Tony pull his bike out and set it on the ground. When Tony tried to hand him his helmet, he just stared at it, his chest aching. "Tony?" he said quietly, almost timidly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how she did it?"

Tony stared straight ahead. "She slit her wrists in the bathtub."

Something tightened inside him. "That's not something people do it if they're looking for attention, is it?"

"No, Clay. It's not. I don't think—" Tony sighed this time. "I don't think she planned on surviving."

He nodded, his throat tight. "Okay." He finally took the helmet and his bike, somewhat prepared to leave or at least pretending to be.

"See you at school tomorrow, Clay?" The way he phrased it—it was like Tony needed reassurance from Clay and he wondered how Tony was handling all of this.

"I'll see you in Bradley's," he remembered saying in their last conversation. It was so easy now to see something was off about her, but he hadn't noticed then.

If he had…

"Yeah, sure," he answered, intending to uphold his end of the deal.

Next chapter is when things start to pick up a bit. Let me know what you think!