Self Destructive Behavior

who: caleb and olivia, with a phone call to dorian
where: third street
when: morning

Caleb had gone to find himself trouble after he'd left Jamie's house, and he'd found it. He was good at that. Hell. Half the time when he wasn't looking for trouble he got hit up side the head with it. So if he actively sought it out? He found it in spades. He'd still had the ID that Math had given him when they'd gone out after the creature-brawl. So he'd used it, because he couldn't think of anything he'd wanted to do more than to drown everything the fuck out for a while.

This had worked to a degree. It had started out fine, but as was inevitable with a mood like he'd been in--it didn't last. After a while he wasn't content to try to drown everything he wanted to break shit. Destroy something. Anything. It was better than staring out at the rough waters of the lake and wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. Because that's what it kept coming down to. Something had to be the matter with him. He wasn't going to be one of those assholes who sat back and decided that it was everyone else who was fucked up. That was stupid and he'd always hated it when people tried to pull that shit. Really, no. It's not everyone else. There comes a point where you have to realize it's you, or you have to give up any rights to call yourself intelligent.

He'd hit that point.

There wasn't any other conclusion he could come to. His own parents hadn't really wanted him, didn't really give a fuck about him, and then he'd been dumped off with Dorian. He'd been starting to feel slightly better about things, got himself a girlfriend, and now? Fuck. Not even she cared.

So when the people who were supposed to care most about you clearly didn't give a shit...it was time to give up the ghost on your ideas that you might be worth something. After he'd reached that point, he'd started looking for violent trouble. He found it. Fights, quite a few of them popped up, some with humans that was really only normal brawls, but he'd managed to dig up some Other things to deal with too, which had been his real goal.

Those fights were what had landed him in the state he was in. Which was, mildly put, Fucked Up. He hadn't made it home, because home wound up being just a wee bit too far away. He'd made it to the entryway of one of the laundrymats on third, and that was where he stayed. Bloodloss would do that to a guy. So would exhaustion. When morning had hit and the cars going by roused him from his mostly unconscious state, he pushed himself to his feet, then started to walk--though that? Not workin out for him so well. To the point where he had to hold himself up on the building he was passing, and he had to stop every now and then and rest. So he'd overdone it. Oh. Fucking. Well.

It was barely morning by the time Olivia left her room. She couldn't sleep anyway, and she had felt an overwhelming need to get out and get some fresh air. A brisk walk through town to clear her head had seemed like a good idea. She needed to be able to concentrate again, to refocus.

Her mind was full of jumbled thoughts as she walked down Third Street, all of which promptly halted when she saw the young man leaning against one of the buildings, stumbling a few feet before he stopped again. She was wary, until she was passing him and got a good look at his face. Fucked up was an understatement.

"Well, shit," she said before realizing it. This was where she usually ran. Blood and pain always set off the sirens in her mind. But what could she do? Run and leave him like that?

Yes! Internal warnings were ignored as she approached him cautiously, reaching out to touch his arm. "Hey, are you all right? Stupid question. No, you're not all right, obviously...maybe you should sit down?"

It was a testament to how bad off he was that he hadn't heard her approach. He'd had his eyes squeezed shut and so the first clue that he wasn't alone as the touch on his arm. Which sent him back against the wall and he eyed her warily. A "Hey fucking--don't..." was uttered, and he half gripped his arm. "Fuck off." he muttered to her, not needing charity at the moment.

Olivia rolled her eyes before her gaze fell to the arm he was clutching. "Nice talk for someone trying to help you." Not that she was helping him. Here that, destiny? Not helping!

Shifting her bag on her shoulder, she chewed her bottom lip, assessing the damage, at least to his face. "You're too pale, your eyes are glassy, and you're mumbling. You may mumble all the time, I don't know, but it could be you're just trying to stay conscious." Olivia felt surprisingly calm then, and she tried to stay detached as her eyes met his.

"I can tell you're having trouble walking, but if you can make it somewhere where we can sit, I can have a look at you. I won't touch you, but if you're hurt badly, you need some help." Olivia could sense his wariness and didn't feel like dealing with teenage bullshit this early. "If you don't let me help you, I'll just call 911 and you can let a hospital piss you off instead."

Well, he couldn't go to the hospital. Couldn't if he wanted to stay where he was. He had far too many scars for anyone they would believe wasn't being abused and the alternative was he was doing it to himself which meant he'd be in the psych ward. Fucking fantastic. "I'm fine." he muttered. Even if he wasn't. "I just need to...sit down for a minute." Sure he did.

She figured it was his roundabout way of agreeing to her terms and she nearly reached out to help him, but resisted. Did that count as helping someone who was hurt? Olivia didn't know the rules well enough - which is why she avoided shit like this.

Yet, she couldn't walk away, for some reason. He just looked, besides completely beaten to hell - forlorn. Like he had given up on himself...or something.

"Can you move very well?" Olivia asked him, Given he looked like he was about to fall over, she highly doubted it. The last thing she needed was him to fall over dead at her feet.

He didn't necessarily fall over dead at her feet, but he did slide down the wall again. He just needed a few minutes. That was all. Then he'd go home...or...something. He wasn't sure. He hadn't gone home the night before because he hadn't wanted to deal with anyone that wasn't going to get a punch in the face and he didn't particularly want to take anything out on anyone there. Including weird random guy on the couch, who he was ever so slightly pissy about. Math got booted because the house was crowded, and like, .2 seconds later someone else was there?

Why was he thinking about this shit now? His mind was really random right now. Including the fact that it took him probably far too long to answer her. "I'm fine. Just sore." And beat to shit. And suffering the effects of just a wee bit too much bloodloss than was entirely healthy.

Olivia sighed and dropped her bag in front of her before kneeling before it. "Just sore," she repeated, eying him doubtfully before she began to dig in her bag. "You're bleeding, so that takes fine right out of the equation."

She carried almost everything in her bag that she felt she may need at a moment's notice. First aid being one of them. For herself, of course. Pulling out the small bag of bandages and disinfectant she carried with her, she wondered if he'd be well enough to put them on himself. She couldn't. Although that fear was sort of dwindling, and she clutched to it. Nothing but a stranger here. Rude one too. Though if she felt the way he looked like he felt, she knew she would be rude too.

"Where else are you hurt?" Olivia asked. "Don't lie either, because I've got my phone." Which was currently disconnected. "And I'll use it if I have too."

The answer 'everywhere' really probably wasn't acceptable. "Look, whoever you are, I didn't ask you to stop and play nurse, so just...fuck off. I'll be fine." Caleb snapped, hoping that it would run her off. He was reminded of Muse, who wouldn't leave him the fuck alone either.

He looked at the bandages and laughed a little. Last night he vaguely remembered cauterizing one of the slashes he'd gotten because the fucking thing wouldn't quite bleeding. And he knew he had probably left a bloody smear on the building, and okay, so he probably couldn't effectively lie in his current condition. She had eyes, and didn't look that fucking stupid. Still. He didn't want her help, and he definitely didn't want to get anything even resembling an authority figure called on his ass. That would be bad. Like, a million shades of bad.

I'd have to tell them it was self inflicted. I'd have to. No way could I let them blame this on Dorian. And the parents? Yeah. Whatever. No. went through his mind, already thinking about what might go on in the psych ward, and how long they'd be able to keep him. Would it coincide with the new moon? Shit. Shit shit shit.

For a moment she ignored him. She'd heard worse, and she'd said worse. A lot worse. Besides he was young...and he was in bad shape, and probably did need a hospital, but so far he hadn't been cooperative, so she knew she wouldn't have anymore luck trying to get him there.

"Look, I know you don't know me, and believe me, if I could fuck off, I would." So why don't you? "I would say you look old enough to take care of yourself, but you're beat to hell, and by the way you were moving, it's obviously not confined to your face and neck." She placed her hands on her knees. "I'm not looking to play nurse, but if you at least bandage up the worst areas to stop the bleeding, you may be able to get home without fainting. And if you faint, I'm going to be in an the awkward position of either leaving your ass here, or trying to carry you, and frankly, I'm exhausted." Olivia took a deep breath, wanting to calm her nerves and regain her patience. "Now stop being a stubborn asshole and just let me help you. Please?"

"Jesus, what part of 'fuck off, I don't want your help' are you not getting?" he asked. "If I do bandage up my arm will you be happy and leave?" he continued. "I don't want you touching me, and if I do faint, I'd rather just be left wherever I fall." Nevermind that had worked out so well for him last night. Since he was pretty sure that's how he'd wound up in the entry of the laundromat. He couldn't say for sure, there were definite parts of last night he wasn't recalling to clearly.

She scowled at him, wondering if she was such a shit when she was younger. Okay, yes, she had been. But she had good reason. "Bandage up your arms," she told him. "Wipe them off first, so you don't get infections. If you have some more severe wounds, I would just clean them out, don't bandage them up, because they'll need to breathe. I'd also like it if you let me call someone for you. No cops, no hospital. But someone needs to come pick you up."

She began to thrust the materials at him, then paused abruptly and wondered if she would drop over dead doing so. Shit, this curse thing was really a pain in the ass. Instead she set the materials in front of her, nudging them toward him to pick up himself.

Caleb took the bandages, then rolled his eyes. "I know how to take care of wounds." he muttered. Not that she had any way of knowing that whatsoever. And he was also stuck with a dilemma. If he rolled up his sleeves to disinfect or bandage, she'd see the rest of the damage. The scars, everything else, and just because he knew for a fact he was black and blue practically everywhere, that didn't actually mean that it would hide the fact he looked like a road map. Awesome.

So, he did the next best thing. He tried to calm down. Sound rational, at the very least. "I know you're trying to help, and I'm sure you'll wrack up karmic points or something for it, but I'll be okay. I've had worse. I'll take care of shit when I get home. Thank you, but I'll be okay." Sure, he didn't quite know how he would get home. Or how long it might take. And he really was still bleeding and he knew he had wounds he couldn't actually bandage up himself, but that wasn't the point!

"Karma?" Olivia asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You think I'm helping you for karma points? You've got to be kidding me." She snatched the bandages from his hands, torn now. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to get up and walk away, but then she wanted to bandage him up and help him. He looked lost, and alone, and he was way too young to look so old. It was starting to make her lose her patience, that feeling, and she was getting angry herself. And him.

"Look, you just told me to fuck off several times, you're being a shit, which I can understand because you look like you got hit by a fucking semi truck, and you don't want some stranger playing nice. I get that. I'm the same way, believe it or not. But don't turn around and try to play me by switching off the attitude and thanking me just so I'll leave you alone. It may work on your parents, or whoever, but I just find it patronizing. If you have no one to call, then you need someone to help you, because whether you want to admit it, you're hurt. Bad. And in places I can't see. And maybe you don't care, but I do. So either you just shut up and let me bandage you up, do it yourself, or you tell me who to call," Olivia demanded angrily, clutching the gauze in her fist. "I'm not leaving your side until you do one of those three things, got it?"

Caleb had been going to open his mouth to say something to her, but then she'd had to go throw the commentary about his parents in there. That shut him down completely, and the switch was visible. He frowned at her, darker as she continued to speak until it was a full on glare. "Fuck you." he hissed, and that as it, he was out of there. He pushed himself to his feet, the anger making it easier on him than it had before. But then again, his anger often did that for him. Kept him going a lot longer than he probably should have. He didn't even care where he was headed right then, he just wanted anywhere that was Away.

There was a reason Olivia didn't help people. Okay, more than one reason. She sighed as Ungrateful Snot got to his feet. Time to go now. Surely. Let him bleed to death in Marquette. It would make the front page, for sure.

But Olivia stood as well, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Adrenaline is a powerful drug, isn't it?" She wished she had remembered her damn cigarettes on the hotel room table. "It'll get you a couple of blocks, maybe. Depending on how angry I made you. I can keep pissing you off, if you want, until you finally stumble home." Olivia felt calm again, her anger subsiding. What was it about the men in this town that got under her skin?

She reached out to touch his elbow briefly. "Let me help you, okay? I can't fix everything, because...I can't. But you said you know how to take care of wounds. Let me get the ones you can't reach." Olivia pleaded, realizing he wasn't going to accept her help and yet she kept pushing. Was she high? Dreaming? It stung really, considering she'd never offered help to anyone before - and the first time she tried, she got told to fuck off! Go figure. "Then I'll leave you alone, I promise. Otherwise, I have this suspicion I'll just follow you around and annoy you until you agree."

Caleb jerked back hard when she touched his elbow. His whole not liking being touched thing was kicking in bad. Which didn't help at all with her stupid desire to help him, even if he couldn't figure out why. "Don't touch me." he said quietly, voice low but serious. He hadn't meant it to come out like that, he'd meant to snap at her again, but that hadn't happened. God he hated when he sounded like that. ...hurt.

She lifted both palms. "No touching," she agreed, frowning at the tone of his voice. Dropping both hands to her sides, she studied his bruised face. "That bad, huh?"

He stared at the sidewalk, at a crack in it. Better than looking at her. He gave a little half smile, entirely devoid of humor. "What do you think?" he asked, and again it was supposed to come out a lot harsher than it wound up. Fuck. He leaned against the building again, and didn't look at her. "Please go away."

Olivia decided to ignore his second statement and instead focus on the first. She folded her arms across her chest.

"I was really going to try and avoid the I can relate cliche, but I know what it's like to be hurt, and alone, and have no one to help, or protect you from bad things - even if you tell yourself you don't need or want help. I did shit to myself all the time in an effort to blow off my anger, and sometimes I wish I had had a stranger walk up and volunteer to play 'nurse' and help me. So I can't go away until you at least let me get you home safely."

"Well you know, that's really great for you, but I don't want or need it, so just go the fuck away! Please!" He was starting to get more agitated. He was hurt now, he wanted his anger back, and he was seriously considering something stupid and violent to ensure she left him the fuck alone. He couldn't understand what she was doing, why she wasn't leaving him alone, why she kept pushing. Fuck, the last thing in the world he wanted was Charity Case here to follow him home. for all he knew she was nuts. He certainly thought her walking up to him and doing any more than running in the opposite direction was batty.

"You may not want it, but you need it," Olivia insisted. He was getting more pale by the minute and it was starting to really worry her. She suddenly wondered if he were bleeding elsewhere...what if he were bleeding internally? He was going to run out of energy all together and pass out.

"I can't just leave you alone here like this and has nothing to do with karma. Is it so hard to believe that someone might actually see you and want to help? If you won't let me help you, then I'm going to call someone who can help, and I'm starting not to care what you want at this point."

She stopped for a moment as her mind breezed over the businesses nearby. Someone would let her use a phone. Ticking her gaze to his, she tried to think of people she knew. Mathias? Yeah right. No way of contacting him anyway. Mya? The diner was too far and he wouldn't make it walking. Maybe Dorian...he seemed like the type who would help without calling the cops, if she asked.

"There's a bookstore a few blocks away on Washington. I know the owner, sort of, and I think he'd be able to help you at least get home by car...fuck, just let me help you. Please. Once you're home safe, you'll never see my face again, I promise." She was beginning to feel a bit of panic as his condition...she was already wondering how heavy he was if she knocked him out and dragged him somewhere instead.

Caleb would argue that she didn't give a shit what he wanted from the get go, considering he didn't want her anywhere near him and she was blatantly ignoring that. "Lady, there is absolutely no fucking reason I should trust anyone, and that includes you." He stopped then grit his teeth, groaning. "Bookstore on Washington. Wouldn't happen to be Nevermore, would it?" he asked, even if he figured he knew the answer already.

"Nevermore, yes." She tried to gauge the distance between here and there, and if he could walk it. Or maybe she could call Dorian to come here instead. "The owner is a decent guy. If I ask him to at least take you home, I'm sure he would. Just...will you let me call him? One call and I'll be gone. You just need to get somewhere and get help before you bleed to death. We can keep dancing this circle, and you can keep telling me to fuck off, but I'm not going too, so unless you're just killing time before you pass out, can we drop this bullshit? I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but if I were going to hurt you, I would have by now."

God, why couldn't she just leave him alone and walk away? She'd done it so many times before, and she wasn't appreciative of his attitude toward her, even though she understood it.

"Bullshit. That's what a lot of people say, but it's bullshit. We're on a public fucking street, if you wanted to hurt me, the stupidest place to try would be right here." Caleb spat, because no, he couldn't let that go. He didn't appreciate her not leaving. He just wanted to be left alone. That was all. What the fuck was so difficult about that? What exactly? He knew people had the tendency to view him as harmless, but this was going beyond that. "Don't call Dorian." he added, because that he didn't know if he could deal with right now. At all. Possibly ever.

"You think so?" Olivia shot back, getting angry again. "Shit happens on public streets all the time. In broad daylight. At least in a town like this, people might actually stop and help a beat to shit guy who looks like he's about to bleed his guts out all over the place. You should feel lucky, because if we were in a bigger city, everyone would be walking by you, or stepping over your body without batting a fucking eye. Maybe that's what you want, but it's not how I operate." At the moment. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with her.

She was getting agitated herself now and her heart was pounding painfully against her chest. With a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. "You know Dorian?" she asked, though the answer to that was obvious. With a huff of impatience, she took a step back from him. "Please tell me you know him from shopping at his store." Because if there was anything more to it, she was going to fucking scream.

"Now you're telling me that I'm lucky you're a stupid fucking bitch who won't mind her own goddamned business? God, for fuck's sake, lady, go the fuck away. I don't give a damn how you operate, no one asked you to play good fucking samaritan, so piss off! And it's none of your concern how I know him! Leave him alone too!" Jesus, all he wanted was for a hole to open up in the earth and swallow this woman. Or him, either worked, really. Where were meteors from the sky when you needed them? Either way, he was starting to fade again. Keeping upright was a lot of energy he didn't quite have, and while he was stubborn enough to not slide down the wall again, he did have to bend, hands on his knees as he fought off a dizzy spell.

An angry retort was on her lips when he bent over, swaying slightly. Teenagers really thought they were invincible and knew everything. She hadn't realized just how annoying they were until now. "Maybe I'm stupid, maybe I'm a bitch, yes," Olivia told him. "But it's insane that you would think I'd be okay with leaving you here like this. Does everyone in your life disappoint you enough that you assume no one would care that you're this badly hurt."

Did she really have a sign above her warning people to steer clear? Insane, psycho bitch walking? Mimicking his stance, but careful not to touch him, she studied his face. And then she began to think...and damn, there was resemblance there. So many more than between Dorian and Mathias. And this kid knew Dorian - showed protectiveness toward him. Sighing, Olivia decided she had nothing to lose at this point. If she was wrong, fantastic. If she was right. Fucking fantastic. "Are you Mathias's other brother?"

What the fuck was with this chick? Did she specifically set out to kick him when he was down or something? Why would she even ask something as fucked up as that?

Does everyone in your life disappoint you enough that you assume no one would care that you're this badly hurt?

Pretty fucking obvious, wasn't it? Pretty fucking obvious. In fact, there really probably couldn't have been a bigger indication. Whoever this girl was, however she was tied in with his brothers, he didn't care. In that moment he hated her, with everything he had. First the dig about his parents, and now this. Some shit you just didn't say to people, and he was definitely thinking this was it. Who the fuck was she to make judgments? What did it concern her? Stared at the sidewalk, stilling.

"If you don't walk the fuck away from me in the next minute, I'm going to fucking hurt you." he warned, voice low, level, and deadly serious.

"I can't," Olivia said, her voice holding a hint of pleading, though she didn't know why. She couldn't, especially now. But she probably should have. She knew that. But she hadn't been lying when she told Mathias she didn't scare easily and for some reason, something inside of her wouldn't let her leave him alone without someone here to help him. If there was some chance this kid was Mathias's younger brother, she wouldn't leave him there bleeding and hurt. She just couldn't do that.

"I'm going to call Dorian for you," Olivia responded as she straightened up and turned to look for the nearest place of business. His threat meant nothing to her. She was tired now, and resigned to the fact that taking a walk this morning? Bad. Bad idea. "He can come get you, and help you out, since you won't let me patch you up. Let me do that, and I'm gone."

Caleb started walking again, not a word. If she was going to call Dorian, she could do it from somewhere the fuck else. He was done here. He was out of here, gone, not sticking around for anything. If he never saw this chick again it would be too soon. Far, far too soon. He was just internally praying to deities he didn't really believe in that she went off and did whatever now. Because if she laid a hand on him again he wasn't positive he wouldn't hit her, and if he had to stay around her any more he was going to call up a spell, and that would be bad. Not just for her but because he wasn't entirely sure he could take the backlash. Right now he just couldn't be bothered to care.

She let him leave, realizing she had reached her limit with him. So this was helping people? Or attempting to, anyway. If this was what she had to look forward with someone for the rest of her life? No, thank you. Hey, at least she had tried. And gotten called a multitude of names for it.

Sighing, she spared him one last glance before going to find a phone to call Nevermore. This kid wouldn't get very far at all, in his condition.

Olivia walked into one of the smaller shops and asked to borrow a phone. Calling Nevermore, she waited for Dorian to answer. As long as she could pass him off to someone else, and not make it her problem anymore, it would be for the best. Because this kid? Definitely not her problem.

Dorian was so wound up, he really shouldn't be at the store. He was liable to jump on the first customer that looked at him wrong. And if pyrokinesis had been one of his skills, the phone would have melted by now. He stared at it accusingly, as if it was at fault for Caleb's disappearance. Noon. He'd call the police at noon. He still had over two hours to go.

When the phone rang, Dorian pounced on it, the phone meeting his hand before it was even halfway there. "Hello? Caleb?" he asked, completely forgetting he was answering the store phone and not his cell.

Olivia winced and shook her head, then realized she was on the phone and he couldn't see her. "No, Dorian? I don't know who else to call and..." She paused to try to concentrate on the matter at hand. "I have a problem and I need to ask you a big favor."

Dorian sighed, frustrated that it wasn't his brother. At least it was someone who knew his name and wasn't calling to request a book. "What is it?" he asked, "Who is this? Is something wrong?" If she expected him to stay calm, she'd picked the wrong morning.

"God! I'm sorry, this is Olivia." Slapping her hand against her forehead, she closed her eyes. She was out of sorts this morning, for sure. "I'm sorry. Listen, I came across his kid this morning, and he's just...beat to hell. He's bleeding, and can barely move. I tried to help him, the best I could, but he didn't want my help, and I don't want to just leave him to bleed to death." She spoke rapidly, not wanting to give the kid anymore time to get any farther. "He knew who you were when I offered to get him some help, but asked me not to call, but I didn't know who else to call. I don't know what to do and he needs someone who can take him home and some help before he gets worse."

"Who's kid? Caleb?" Dorian asked, but the more she went on, the more Dorian knew the answer. "Where are you? Where is he? Fuck." No, he wasn't handling this well, but she wasn't giving him the essential information he needed. If it was someone other than his brother, he just might calm down.

"I don't know!" Olivia huffed, tossing her hand up in the air in exasperation. All she was going on was assumptions, which she knew might be frustrating but at least she was trying. "I think it's Caleb, but I don't know. I mean, he looks like you and he knew you, and if your brother is missing, maybe? I don't know," she repeated. She wanted to just get this done and go! She was already in way over her head and it was giving her a headache. "It doesn't matter where I am. But he's on Third Street. He still was when I went to find a phone and he can't move fast, so more than likely he'll still be there if you can come find him? He's bleeding a lot, Dorian, and he needs help."

She didn't know? Wasn't it fairly simple to ask his name? That didn't matter, Dorian was already reaching for his keys, which slid across the counter into his hand. The sign on the door flipped over and the lights were off before he even hung up the phone. "I'll be there," he said, then slammed the phone down before he ran out the door.

Olivia blinked at the sound of the phone slamming in her ear, and she hung up, thanking the clerk for allowing her use of the phone. Leaving the shop, she turned opposite way from where Caleb had been and began to walk swiftly somewhere. Anywhere. Her job was done, and that was that. Everything else was none of her business anymore. Thank God.