Page 27 of Small Sacrifices

"M-hmm." Reid slides down the wall to sit on the floor. When he opens his eyes, he sees Everett doing the same on the opposite wall.

"That doesn't sound good. You sure you don't need a doctor?" Everett asks. Reid closes his eyes again, but this time, it's mostly to avoid rolling them.

"Yes. 'S just all still very new." His body feels heavy now, all warm and achy. It's better than the full-body panic from before, but it's still not good. Everett is right. How is he going to drive home in this state?

The silence that stretches between them almost tastes of confused disapproval. But Everett doesn't comment on it. Instead, he asks, "And you're sure they're not keeping you this long? Because, you know, there are laws against that. And where are those supposed to be kept if not in the literal seat of government?"

Reid hums. "I couldn't leave. This is aboutchildren."And Mr. Wright made it impossible for him to leave on time. But he isn't about to say that.

Everett clicks his tongue. "Yeah, but you're not technically helping the children, are you? You're helping make the governor look good."

That stings, but Reid doesn't have the energy to bristle, never mind counter the statement. He just wonders why Everett phrased it like that. What a weird way for him to talk about his father.

"Why are you still here?" Reid asks.

"Some of these meeting rooms have massive projectors," Everett says with a glint in his eye. "Beats having to take security guards to the movies by, like, a mile."

"Ah."

Everett hums, then falls silent. It's kind of uncanny, the way he just sits here with his head leaned back against the wall, looking at Reid from beneath his ridiculous lashes. It feels wrong for him to be quiet. And while the intense eye contact is on brand, it's too much for Reid. His wandering eyes ultimately settle on the squashed box that's still sitting on the drab carpet.

"M' sorry about your donuts. And about your brother."

Immediately, Everett frowns. "Max? What about Max?"

Reid looks up at the ceiling, but at this time of night, the light is even more painful. So he closes his eyes against it and enjoys the orange shapes it projects onto the inside of his eyelids. "Well, you wanted to spend time with him, right? And then you felt like you had to send him away. I'm sorry about that."

A little huff is issued opposite him. "Oh, Max is coming back. That kid is way too nosey to pass up an opportunity like this."

"I hope I didn't scare him." His eyes had been so wide.

"Nah, Max doesn't scare easily. Don't worry—you're cool."

Reid has never been cool a day in his life, but it's probably the wrong moment to point that out. Again, silence stretches between them. And it's a silence, too. Comfortable.

They only move when they hear light steps coming down the hallway towards them. Reid chances a look. Everett is right: Max doesn't look scared. Awkward, maybe, in the way he holds himself. But that could also be a normal feature of teenagehood. Teenagerhood?

"D'you need a water?" Everett asks, stopping between them and extending a bottle.

Reid doesn't, but he knows teenagers can get grumpy if they think they're being given pointless tasks. So he accepts with agrateful nod. He only just manages not to yelp when the water announces its carbonated state with an ungodly fizzing sound. Max laughs at him, but that's fine. It probably looked funny. This isn't about him.

Bearing up under the scrutiny is much more uncomfortable. "So you're fine now?" Max asks after he's looked his fill.

Reid just nods and hopes that's enough. But it isn't, because apparently, Max is just as outgoing as his brother—even if he keeps tugging his sleeves over his hands as he talks. "Panic attacks suck. I've seen people have them before."

Oh, damn it. What is he supposed to do with that? Everett hisses his brother's name in reprimand, which Reid appreciates. In the end, he decides on the path of least resistance. He's much too tired to try to explain something that even his parents don't fully understand yet.

"Thank you. And thank you for the water, too." Reid tries to make eye contact to convey his gratitude, but Max is absorbed in inspecting the remnants of red nail polish on his index finger. The faint smell of the polish lingers in the air. Reid looks away, feeling awkward. It seems Max wouldn't want him to notice.

Then, suddenly, he's battling a yawn and losing. It makes everything feel heavy and limp. He wonders if his face feels as hot to the touch as it does to him. He's past the point of just feeling feverish. There's no"ish"about it.

"Please tell me you're not gonna drive home like that," Everett says. When Reid reluctantly opens his eyes again, he's still eyeing him like he's expecting him to do something.

"I have to."

"No, you don't." It sounds like Everett is making a concerted effort to speak calmly and clearly. "You could kill someone."

As if Reid doesn't already know that. All it does is make him curl in on himself as he feels the guilt making his limbs even heavier.

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