Apparently, Patrick couldn't get more drunk. This is stupid, this had been a bad idea. Pat knew that, perhaps had known all along. He also knew from experience that it could get much, much worse.

Those damn eyes were locked onto him, black as night. Something was happening, changing. Pat neither had the knowledge or talent to check, but he could swear that magic was being cast here.

It was pathetic, really.

Sensing magic was something humans learned young, at about 2-3. Ferins knew from birth, to them it acted more as a sense then a skill.

Lucky bastards, magic simply came easy to them. Hell, he'd even heard that certain kinds of demons and angels had affinities for types of elemental magic.

To humans it was just a rumor, It wasn't their place to ask, and even if they could ask such questions. No demon or angel interacted with humans civilly, finding one willing to educate a dumbass human? Unlikely, to say the least.

Pat could technically sense magic, could feel his own swirling around his body. It was outside magic that alluded him, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't sense a manabolt even if it was crashing into him.

It hadn't been a hereditary thing either, Dad could always find Pat. No matter where Pat had scurried off to when he was younger, Dad had always found him within minutes. Hide and seek with magic was a nightmare...

Papa though... he'd been on a whole other level when it came to magic. To someone of Pat's talent, Papa might as well have been a god.

Perhaps that's why it hurt so much to be weak. Everyone around you always told you how great you are, but the truth was on their faces. No matter how good they were at lying or how much fake encouragement they gave, their faces always told the true story.

Pat was a failure. He'd always been, 'cuz people who weren't failures could sense magic. People who weren't failures didn't need everyone protecting them.

People who weren't failures didn't let their Dad die.

Pat needed something else to think about, so he looked at the people surrounding him - specifically the men.

It almost seemed like all Ferins were born attractive, and maybe they were. Pat wouldn't know, and why would you let humans know about your species.

Some of the men looked back, smug smiles on their faces. Their eyes searched his body, and Pat shivered under their gross gazes. Pat hated that look, yet it had followed him all the way here.

Ferins like these always had that look, as if you're lucky to even be looking at them. As if their attention was supposed to be the highlight of your day. It made a twisted version of sense when they knew Pat was human, but he was just a, albeit weak, Ferin here. So why did they have that horrid look, that look that said they wanted you.

Pat wanted to smack that entitled look on horny amusement right off their faces, he wanted to stomp over there and demand to know why they thought they could look at him like that.

He'd seen that same disgusting look on... he'd touched him, when he did not want to be touched. They'd looked at him like a piece of meat, no... Not a piece of meat, because that implies that the meat was once living, that Pat had once been breathing, like them.

No, more like a toy. Something to play with then leave when they finally broke.

But don't worry, it was just a coincidence he started getting those looks after hitting puberty.

He wanted to know why they thought he'd wanted the attention or the looks, or the fucking comments. No, of course Pat left the house all those times just begging some strong man to make creepy comments towards him. Why they were allowed to act like he hadn't just been wanting to go home. That he wasn't there for their amusement, to fuck or to torture.

How could they look at him, a child, and only think of how to screw him or to grind Pat beneath their feet.

Pat had always wanted to punch Ferins in the face when they did stuff like this. But he couldn't, because then he'd just be seen as the crazy kid who can't take a compliment.

Pat had never been so... angry like this before. He felt furious like he'd never been before. Pat wanted to leave, or to burn this gods damned mansion to the ground... either worked.

Pat could only sir there, stewing in his unprompted anger til he saw Jack. His anger was quickly overtaken by confusion, and a hint of worry for his new friend.

They boy was there, yet not there. Jack's eyes were glazed over, light gone from them. His seemingly ever present smile had disappeared, his expression now blank and lifeless. Jack sat there limply, as if you could push him over and he'd just not react.

It unnerved Patrick, but he just could only assume that Jack got bored and cast some sort of spell. He wasn't that good at these magical things. He's had no reason to be, at least until school started. Since he had no way to know what was happening with Jack and was too shy and cowardly to ask, he moved past it.

Seeing Jack, Pat forgot his anger and slipped into his thoughts for the... Who knows how many, but a lot.

He never thought about one specific thing during these, his mind always bounced around from mundane topic to mundane topic til-

Boom!

The final game was about to begin.

I seriously need to stop zoning out... Pat thought, kinda weirded out by this problem of his. It wasn't like it was a new thing, but this was like the 9th time he'd done it today... or something like that.

Perhaps it was because he was too scared to talk to people and had nothing to do, and thus retreated into his own mind? Nahhhh.

Pat mentally smacked himself, the game was literally starting and he'd almost got lost in his thoughts again.

Pat finally looked up and at the people left. Though as a whole this time, so his burning desire to kick a few men in the balls didn't resurface.

The 8 or so people left around Pat were staring each other down, trying to intimidate each other and him. He avoided eye contact because It kinda worked...

Don't look me in the eye, people, I will literally crumble before you.

"So who's volunteers to go first?" Ben questioned, despite his words earlier. Ethan was about to comment before Ben shut him down. "Shut up Ethan, I was kidding." Ben snapped, not even looking for a reply he turned back to the group.

Silence.

After no one answered Ben tried again, pratically begging. "Come on, please don't make me choose again," he pleaded.

There was an awkward pause, a silence that Patrick refused to break.

"Fine." He said at last, determined to forget Ethan existed. "Hey Nick, you look like you wanna kiss a certain person. Soooooo, you're going last." Pat thanked the gods for their intervention, he could not handle Nick actually trying to flirt with him. This soaring feeling lasted until a smug voice sounded in Pat's ear.

"Everyone gets a turn, Patty, I'll wait."

Pat froze and immediately thought of those "men", until he recognized the voice as Nick. He calmed down, Nick wasn't like that.

Pat could now focus on what the boy had actually said as he didn't catch in while frozen in terror.

...oh.

Pat was gonna be screwed, in many ways. He pretended he didn't hear that and watched as Nick glanced over at him, gauging his reaction.

Probably hoping to see a blush on Pat's face, he looked faintly disappointed to see... well not that.

***

Patty had this weird look on their face for a second, it almost looked like... fear?

Well, it wasn't a blush... Nick was a bit disappointed.

Not seeing the response he expected, Nick decided to calm down a bit. Now thinking with his head, he realized how weird he must seem to Patrick. Nick hadn't meant to be this desperate. Gods, he must seem like such a loser drooling over Pat like that.

Pat was hot, and Nick has just always found himself wanting to kiss the boy he so easily flustered, despite the time they've known each other.

He needed to play this cool, before Pat's image of him was ruined. He had this one chance with a new student, it would be so lame to mess it up. Who else could say they were the first to sleep with a hottie like Pat, the other guys would be so jealous.

He (reluctantly) decided to back off for now, lest he scare away his future hook-up.

***

"OK, this isn't working."

This surprised Pat, he was unsure if the guy was joking or not. He was also unsure if he wanted his flirty friend to stop at all.

He tried to speak through the link Nick created, and succeeded right before Nick shut him down.

"Wait I-"

"You don't have to say anything, Pat."

Why... did he call me Pat? Did I do something wrong, oh gosh I bet I messed something up.

"I just don't know if I can stand being around someone as short as you... it's really messing with my mental health y'know."

...what? Was he joking or... I'm so confused? What's wrong with my height? Pat had no idea why Nick would bring this up.

"I mean, just imagine how I feel having to look down at you, my neck is aching."

That made Pat feel a bit bad, he wasn't that short.

"I just don't think I can go on like this, sorry Pat, but I'm gonna have to break up with you." Nick sounded mournful, as if he'd just actually broken up with Pat.

"Shut up, Nick"

It was Nick's turn to be cut off, because Pat was a bit mad.

"Uh... What?"

Nick sounded confused. Good, because Pat had no time for idiots who don't know how to keep their mouths shut.

"I don't like you making fun of me like this, pleas-"

"But you were liking it earlier, why is it so bad now?"

"It's beca-"

"You can't just suddenly decide you dont like it, all this switching up is confusing me."

"Well I-"

"Like, I'm sorry you can't take a joke, dude."

Why does he keep cutting me off?

Pat wanted to speak and defend himself but Nick wouldn't let him.

"But I ca-"

"It's really not my problem that you're so sensitive."

"I... I'm sorry." Nick was right, Pat can't just change his mind on a dime, it's rude. Maybe he's being too thin-skinned, it must sound so annoying. Pat really shouldn't be mad.

"It's fine, it's not that serious."

It really wasn't, it was immature for Pat to get so mad. Getting mad over a joke was embarrassing, Nick must think that Pat's so lame.

"Get back to the game now, it's starting."

"I volunteer as tribute, so long as you don't start crying." A voice broke through Pat's thoughts and he realized that this was the guy he had loop-holed... Ethan?

"Oh, um, uh... k" Ben blushed but quickly tried to hide it. It was kind of cute to see him drool over a guy like Ethan.

"So who do you choose?" Ben said hopefully, he probably hoped that Ethan would choose him.

"Hm, I don't know..." Ethan said, looking like he knew exactly who he was going to pick.

"How about... Mr. Mystery over here" he said, gesturing towards me smugly.

At that moment, both Pat and Ben uttered a single word; "Oh". They both glanced at each other, a mutual discomfort giving them a certain understanding of each other.

You can have him... Pat thought, Ethan made him a bit uncomfortable.

Ok, a lot uncomfortable. It was odd, he only got this feeling once the games began. He glanced up at the guy coming towards him, his expression wasn't smug anymore... and that scared Pat.

Pat's gaze was pulled into those angry eyes again...

They were black.

And suddenly... deep in the confides of his... once safe mind, a new kind of link was created. One made of arrogance and pride, of deadly power that not only could, but would delight in crushing him instantly.

Pat lurched in his seat, unable to locate this disturbance's source. He wanted- needed it gone. It was like black flames, invading his mind, his vision, his soul. It stole his energy and his vision. Pat was struck dumb - not able to see, or move.

"See, I was just trying to make Ben jealous, but you've pissed me off now. This is what happens to little human whores who don't know how to stay in their fucking lane, you don't get to reject me"

Pat could only vaguely note the hypocrisy: he was a whore for rejecting this man, unclean for refusing to have sex with someone. He wondered why the man was even so mad: he was apparently lesser to Ethan, so why was he so upset that this lesser creature rejected him? Perhaps that was the point, how dare this thing reject someone so greater then itself.

At these thoughts, the flamed burned hotter, seemingly reacting to Pat's defiance. They clambered to cleanse these idiotic thoughts, because obviously the Ferin was right... right?

Patrick could do nothing but sit there as this... monster bent down to whisper in his ear.

"Submit, Aalkya" The monster whispered, his voice sweet as honey, ironic compared to the rotten words they spoke.

Slave of Dirt.

Patrick recalled through the torment. A insult often said behind closed doors by what Patrick assumed were drunk uncles now roared in Pat's ears. That's what monsters like this thought of his kind, pitiful creatures destined to stay at the bottom, in the mud.

Perhaps I should just give up, what would even happen if I did somehow win this battle of wills. What did I even have to win for; I have no friends, only people who loved having their own personal jester. At least I'm following tradition.

Did you really think that Jack wanted to be your friend? Why would a person that powerful and rich want a measly human as his friend, the thought's hilarious. Jack, who could, and did, get any sort of formidable people as his besties, wanted the worthless human?

And Nick? Someone so popular and strong, who had girls and boys waiting on him day and night. Beautiful girls and boys who would kill for a glance, a touch... and you somehow attract him? What a silly concept.

Your fathers hate you, and for good reason. What a lazy, weak son they'd had been stuck with.

T-they didn't...

At least one had finally escaped you through death.

This school? It could never help you, this place was for the rich and influential, the strong. How did you even get here? Who made the mistake of letting you in?

What pitiful hopes, but of course such pitiful fantasies would come from a pitiful creature. A worthless aalkya who would die as he lived, unspectacularly, mundanely, worthlessly. He would meld into the dirt, Patrick only helping anyone as soil for the plants and food for the worms...

Especially about the shifter- Who? Do I know any shifters -as if Nick - he didn't know Nick was a shifter... - the famous human hater, - Nick hated humans? - he obviously didn't know, maybe I should educate him.

Pat's mind was utterly muddled, thoughts swirled about, he had no idea what was happening in the real world.

Why were his thoughts conflicting, he knew stuff he shouldn't, stuff he couldn't possibly know... right?

As Pat noticed the dissonance, The flames once again grew and it hurt unbearably, it felt like something was ripping him apart, Pat could hardly breathe.

Perhaps they were right though, Honestly, who was he to even be here? He really had no right when he came down to it, he simply didn't deserve to be here. Not at this party, not at that school, not in this town, not in this world.

In the back of his head, he felt something slip out of his pocket... no, something being grabbed out of his pocket. He couldn't remember what, though. At this point Pat couldn't even think anymore, he could only feel the pain.

He couldn't how much time past, for all Pat knew it could've be minutes, seconds, or centuries.

He had nothing, except his thoughts. And what good were those against this?

Pat didn't know how things had gone so wrong so quickly, or... maybe he did.

Patrick had made 3 mistakes on this hellish night, the first was showing up in the first place. From the very beginning, he had known he hadn't belonged or fit in, yet he remained like the persistent little bug he was.

He had showed up, and now he suffered for it.

The second, was forgetting the rules.

It had been so long since he had seen a Ferin, they had been broad, tall men in what was supposed to be non attention grabbing but was much too nice for them to be local.

He had been uber polite, as he'd been instructed to, he didn't want to be a bad boy. It was easy, they didn't want to talk to a 8 year old anyways. One had been nice, they were younger and likely wasn't as involved in the war as the other.

He had given Pat a lollipop and ruffled his at the time longer hair.

When he had to use magic, he always included a unnecessary bit of flair for Patrick's amusement...

Patrick couldn't remember the rest, he only remembered enjoying when the man visited. They had come a few times every month, until they didn't.

And there began his fascination with magic... but that's all It'd ever be.

Yes, that was so long ago and they had been so... unnatural... so unreal to a child's eyes.

Not like these people, it was so easy to imagine them as humans like him. They weren't a 8 year olds view of things, they were real.

But they weren't human, they were Ferins. They were better then him, better then humans. To compare the two was laughable.

He had forgotten what he had been taught, and now he suffered for it.

The third was getting involved with these people, despite how they wanted nothing to do with him. If he had just stayed quiet like he was meant to all would've been fine, but now it's too late.

Ferin's have a good memory; and he had gone and placed himself in the spotlight.

He walked into a game, and went seeking attention. He talked to Nick and Jack, because he needed them to notice him.

Pat snapped at Ethan, because he wanted to seem cool.

He had been too loud and bold, and now he suffered for it.

He did this to himself, all this pain he's feeling is his own fault. He should just fade away, and not cause a scene.

.

.

.

.

.

.

No.

His senses had come back to him, but Pat didn’t want to open his eyes and meet their faces. See the monster who ripped through his mind, look at the “friends” he didn’t really have, have the existence he didn’t deserve. He wanted that blissful quiet, where his thoughts didn’t threaten to consume him.

Pat took his time, but he had to wake from this eventually. All good things disappear, leaving you with fragments and memories, and pain. His father’s death had taught him that.

After a while of mustering up the strength to start breathing, Patrick opened his eyes to see the following:

The popular kids staring at him, silent and ragged.

The unconscious form of Ethan with a bloody nose lying under an indented wall.

And finally, the lone figure of Nicholas, his bloody fist tightly clenching a cracked talisman, staring at Pat with an unreadable expression.