A/N: Sorry I've been gone for so long, I had classes and finals and honestly I just wasn't feeling inspired to write for Triles because Degrassi is really screwing them over. But I'm back now and to make up for me being gone for so long I'm going to be updating every day this week (apparently my week starts on Tuesday now). If you're reading this then thank you for not giving up on my story, and know that you mean so much to me.

Dewey grass scratched against Tristan's cheek, his head throbbing as he lay on the cold ground. Absently, he wondered when it had rained. Tristan could feel someone shaking his arm forcefully. Reluctantly, he forced his heavy eyelids open, a blurry face looming over him.

"Tris! Tris!" Miles' voice became clearer, reaching through his foggy brain like a hand and pulling him back down to earth. The panic in Miles' voice was replaced with relief as Tristan opened his eyes.

"Are you ok?!" Tristan winced, the volume of his voice not doing anything to assuage his head.

Just fabulous.

Tristan thought to himself, a faint laugh ghosting across his bleary eyes as he attempted to sit up. Miles grabbed Tristan by the elbows, helping him up.

"I should've slept more last night," Tristan muttered, trying to keep his voice light, but he could barely get the words out, every word sounding like it was being dragged through gravel.

"Seriously?" Miles said through gritted teeth, the anger in his voice only thinly masked by concern. Tristan didn't even try to defend himself, he was too tired. So tired. Tristan leaned forward, sinking into Miles' shoulder. He felt Miles relax under his head, releasing his anger and accepting Tristan's body weight. Miles wrapped his arms around Tristan, trying to ignore how far his spine protruded underneath his fingers. Miles rested his head against Tristan's, tightening his hold around him. They sat like that, clinging on to each other, well into the night.

xxxxxxx

"I'll be ok, I promise." Tristan reassured Miles for what he felt like was the hundredth time, trying unsuccessfully to shut the door.

"Maybe I should stay…" Miles persisted, keeping the door open with his hand, trying to buy himself some more time. He didn't want to leave Tristan alone in an empty house, he wasn't sure he could handle it. He had barely gotten him home. And where the hell were his parents? Why weren't they home in the middle of the night?

"I'll be f-" Miles narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, I'll be alright," Tristan corrected himself, making a mental note to find a thesaurus.

"Go, your mom will kill you if she notices you've been out all night." Tristan urged Miles, making another attempt at closing the door. Miles sighed in defeat, taking his hand off of the door. He peered into the dark empty house, the uneasiness in his stomach growing.

"Night-" The door slammed in his face, cutting him off, the sound of the door piercing through him like a blade. Miles tried to ignore it, he knew Tristan wasn't himself right now, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Miles reached into his pocket for his keys, distracting himself as his mind went through the mechanics. But as he was pulling out of the driveway, he looked back at Tristan's house, waiting for a light to turn on. It never did.

xxxxxxx

Miles crept up the stairs, cursing silently each time there was a creak in the stairs. He thought he had come in unnoticed when he saw the light turn on in Frankie's room. He tried to make a run for his room but he wasn't fast enough. Miles turned around at the sound of her door opening, looking pleadingly at her as she leaned against her door frame, one hand poised on her hip, her eyebrow arched skeptically. Miles waited for her to say something, but instead, she just walked past him into his room, silently ordering him to follow suit.

"Well?" Frankie demanded as soon as Miles shut the door behind him. Unwilling to meet her eyes, Miles just shrugged, kicking off his shoes.

"Oh wow, Miles, don't overdo it with all of those details."

"I'm tired," Miles tried half-heartedly. Frankie watched her brother as he sank into his bed, facing away from her. She walked over to him, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

"Nice try, A for effort." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Miles recognized that that was supposed to be funny, but he couldn't find it within himself to laugh, not now. Not after what he'd seen.

"Where were you all night? What happened?"

Miles wanted more than anything to just fall asleep, to forget everything. To go to a place where things weren't so screwed up. But he didn't want to be that person anymore, the person who kept it all in, he had to say something, if not for him, then for Tristan. So instead, he heaved himself up, because he knew what it felt like to want to help someone, and to have that person give you nothing but empty silence in return.

"I went to see Tris and he's…he's sick," Miles forced the words out, still in disbelief that they were real.

"Sick?"

"Maya thinks that he has some kind of eating disorder."

"Wait, Maya? How does she know?"

"I went to ask her for help."

"Miles-" Frankie started, her voice taking on a warning tone.

"It's not like that, I just didn't know where else to go. Tris he…fainted." Miles' voice cracked, finally betraying what he had been holding in all night.

Frankie looked up at her older brother, who was usually so good at hiding his feelings, unless they were anger. But this time it wasn't anger that was ripping through him, it was fear. Frankie stretched out her arm, placing her hand on her brother's arm. She wanted to say something, to help. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out, because what could she really say that would help? Miles turned his head away from Frankie, his eyes beginning to swim with the day's events. He breathed in through his nose, grasping at the oxygen with the desperation of someone who had just been deprived of it. Frankie squeezed his arm in an attempt to abate her brother's distress. Slowly, Miles turned to face her. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, as neither of them had bothered to turn on the light. However, Miles wasn't giving her the look of anguish that she had expected, nor was there any glimpse of the confidence that so frequently colored his face. He looked lost, his eyes pleading for help. From her. Taken aback, Frankie scrunched her forehead, unsure of how to react. She had never seen her brother like this, so vulnerable. Hunched over, no longer able to bear the burden that she hadn't realized he had been carrying all of these years.

"You need to help him." Frankie said into the darkness, her voice causing ripples in the thick, velvety silence. She hated adding another weight onto Miles' over-burdened chest, she knew that he wanted to be told to give up, but she couldn't let him run away again. Because something had to change.

His hands slightly shaking, he reached for his phone.

You were right. What's his brother's number?