"No, 'caus that would suck," Alex grinned, even against his will. "I'm scary when I'm angry."
He stiffened, the brief laughter bubbling in his throat dying stillborn, the soft glitter dying in his eyes. Right. The real reason he was here.
"...Yeah," he whispered, his throat like broken glass, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "I guess we probably should."
His heart was like a drumbeat in his ears, and it felt like there was a vice around his stomach, his lungs, making it hard to breathe. The words beat staccato in his head, blood and ashes on his tongue, but it was so hard to choke them out.
"I'm...I'm really sick, Rick," he barely whispered.