"I don't need your fucking pity." Travis seethed as he stormed through the endless sea of trees, bushes, and branches. His Converse sunk into the rain-dampened dirt with every step. You followed him, looking down and attempting to avoid any possible hazards, as stupid as it was- you didn't trust him to venture out on his own.

It had been a few hours since the crash; a few hours since Travis (as well as Javi and the rest of the Yellowjackets) watched his father's lifeless body tumble from a tree, a branch impaling him. No one could blame him for the way he was acting, he reserved the right to lash out and express his clear sadness and anguish.

"And, you know, I don't know why you care so much." A bitter scoff left his lips as he shrugged his backpack up, farther onto his shoulder. The truth was, you weren't sure why you cared either. You guessed it was just basic empathy. It wasn't like you knew him well, he was just coach's son. A dick, a that.

He suddenly stopped walking, leaving you to follow and stop behind him "I seriously don't understand why you care. Or- or why you're following me out here. " He turned around, leaning down and getting in your face. "My dad's dead. That's a fact. I'll get over it. Javi will get over it." He narrowed his eyes as his expression darkened further into one of frustration and disgust. I don't need you mother hen-ing us. You don't need to try to get us to eat, drink, sit down, any of that bullshit."