Why have you stolen my name?
aaaaahahahahah .... runsaway

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@holden-king
Why have you stolen my name?
aaaaahahahahah .... runsaway
is this your only blog?
nope
Mental Hospital AU
"Hell. Fucking. Yes." Mal said as they approached the hallway. The whole area was completely empty and he got to work tying the elastic bands the the door knobs by them, "do you want to go first?"
He looked skeptically at the contraption, starting to doubt it would work very well. "Uhm, Yeah! Sure..." Holden said, sitting down in a wheel chair and maneuvering it with ease. The patient had become pretty good at handling a wheel chair by himself, due to the hundreds of times he was placed in one. He backed up into the bands, waiting for Mal to take control. "Ready when you are."
"THEN STOP AVOIDIN’ ME LIKE I’M THE FUCKIN’ THREAT!!!”
The sudden bulging vein on the side of Jakob’s throat seemed to grow it’s own voice, yelling alongside the greaser with each pulse of his hot and angry crimson blood. It flowed upwards to set off fireworks on his pale face, a flushed expression on the kid’s features. Each of his hands curled into fists and if it weren’t for a sudden figure darting down the hall, Jak would’ve immediately pummeled his friend’s face down to a pulp, to paint his cheeks with a deep purple—anything to give Holden something else to complain about. Flicking his eyes back down the hallway, Jak sent arrows of hatred at their sudden intruder, though it wasn’t for long as the person continued on their way.
He seized the opportunity to march back up to the one-eyed teen, and although every nerve in his hands were calling out to Holden’s skin, Jakob knew it wasn’t something he’d be able to forgive himself for later. “Okay you fuckin’ listen to me, dick,” Jak’s eyes finding Holden’s single green one, his spit practically fizzing with the poison in his system. “I don’t really fuckin’ know what I’m gonna have to do to make it up to you, but I’m not gonna wait till pigs fly, alright. If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, then fuckin’ say it, Holden. Right here.”
He watched the boy erupt into another rant, every word piercing through his skin like needles. The pain subsided for a moment as Holden accompanied Jak in a glower at the trespasser, almost frustrated that he had stolen away some of the intensity of the situation. And yet, as he focused back on Jak, he knew how to bring the demon in front of him to his knees. One mention of his family and he would be down for the count. Holden knew his words were his best weapon, considering the fact he had not trained in ages. The info he held on Jak could seal his mouth shut for the longest of times. But, he knew he could not do that to the other. That was low, even for the state he was in.
The final sentence Jak said sent an unwanted chill down his spine. goosebumps appeared on his skin as he was completely taken by surprise by his statement. Then, he was mad at him again. He did not want for this to happen. His plan was all going extremely wrong. All he wanted was for Jak to back off for a couple more days so he could have the apology he wanted, and so that the other boy could apologize too. But, that obviously was not going to happen. Holden's brows knit in frustrated anger, before he realized that his fist had just connected with Jak's jaw.
"And how lon’ am I gonna to keep terrifyin’ you? How-How lon’ are you gonna keep avoidin’ me—or more specifically, my face? I’m not gonna get fuckin’ plastic surgery in order to make you feel better about havin’ to look at me." Each syllable in his sentences could have very well been accompanied by a mouthful of spit, but Jak’s lowered brows and dark eyes were enough to display the message of anger he was trying to get across. Of course he knew that Holden was undeniably right about pretty much everything, though he wasn’t about to be all sunshine and forgiveness for the rest of their argument.
"I mean, what the hell is there to understand???" Blue eyes narrowing in mocked confusion at Holden while Jakob lifted his hands as though he were balancing two cups of water on each open palm. "My fuckin’ twin ripped out your eye and now it’s been like a month and you haven’t spoken to me?? You could at least told me what was buggin’ you instead of fuckin’ leavin’ me in the dirt like some used condom." He finished with a very serious glare, moving leather arms to cross in front of his chest as though it made him look somehow more intimidating.
Holden listen to the other, realizing his accent was getting harsher and harsher. The teenager winced every time Jak’s voice rose, a small blossom of anger growing inside of him. All he wanted to do was plant a sucker punch right on his jaw, but he knew that kind of rage would not get him very far, especially against someone so much bigger than him. Holden glared him at him, done with being screamed at.
"FUCK YOU!" He yelled, cutting off the end of the white-haired boy’s sentence. "Are you serious? Fucking look at me, Jak!" Holden stared into his perfectly replicated eyes, baring his teeth as if ready to fight. "I’m so sorry your feelings are hurt because you had a speedy recovery and lost some stupid kid as your friend. It must be so fucking hard for you.” His muscles tensed, every word he spoke dripping with hatred and sarcasm. “It’s not like I lost my depth perception or anything. It’s not like I’ve gone through weeks of worthless therapy, or that I haven’t talked to anyone my age in months." Tears built up in his eye. "Stop trying to defend yourself against someone who is barely a threat."
Jakob ground the invisible steak of anger in his mouth while shoving the wimpy arm back to it’s owner, peach-fuzzed upper lip curling upwards in obvious disgust. The hand he’d been using to pull Holden closer slapped against a denim knee as Jak stepped backwards from his overpowering stance on Holden. Guilt wasn’t eating a hole in his chest, surprisingly, but his hands suddenly felt like they were burning coals and the teen shoved them into the pockets of his pants as though they contained buckets full of iced water.
"Yeah, I know, dude. I’m not fuckin’ askin’ you to be all diddly-daddly happy about your eye and everythin’…" The spat out sentence sent Jakob’s blue eyes shooting upwards to give a bewildered look at his friend. "I-It’s just—I can’t stand you givin’ me the silent treatment or whatever the fuck you’re doin’ because I didn’t do jack shit!” Jak’s brows furrowed, his voice rocking the solid posture he was trying to keep. The pale digits in his pants wriggled around like impatient snakes, tempting Jakob to send them hurdling towards Holden’s face in order to get his message across. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened and I’m sorry I f-fucked up and didn’t get to you in time—but jesus fuckin’ christ, Holden.”
The teenager rubbed his wrist immediately after it's release. Sure, Jak did not exactly hurt him, but the skin had gone slightly numb from the cold. He listened his complaints, despite feeling far away from the situation. Holden's mind was not registering the fact that he was having an argument, it was too much for him to handle. He had not exactly spoken full sentences in awhile, let alone to Jak. A couple days ago he probably would have had a heart attack if the white-haired boy tried to talk to him.
He let him ramble a little, building up the courage to fire back. Holden squinted his eye at the other, trying to put on a more menacing demeanor. He did not have any height on Jak's tree-like figure, but he could at least try and match his attitude. "Listen to yourself!" He yelled back, his fists clenching and unclenching. "All you're doing is talking about how you didn't do anything, and how you fucked up." Holden glared at him. "This isn't about you!"
The psychic frowned, pulling at the bottom of his hoodie. "I know you feel bad and I know you want us to start talking again," He said, bringing his voice down, "but it's fucking difficult to be all buddy-buddy with the mirror image of the person who ripped my eyeball out of it's socket." Holden bit his lip, easily holding back any feelings of frustration. He had been doing it for weeks, after all. "I want to hang out with you and Danny again, I do." Holden paused. "It's just terrifying for me. And I need you to understand that."
All previous thoughts about his means of interrogation flew out the window as fast as Jakob’s hand reached for Holden’s thin wrist, yanking it upwards which brought along its owner. The darkest trenches of his ocean blue eyes froze, piercing the shorter teen with a sharp and icy glare. “What—d’ya think I’m an idiot? Of course I fuckin’ know why you keep babyin’ yourself from me.” His voice was loud enough to echo around the empty hallway, and Jak didn’t think twice about it. But feeling his grip get tighter around the limb, the teen sighed angrily. He wasn’t about risk someone finding him about to break one of Holden’s bones and lose the chance to get an answer face-to-face.
"I just think it’s fuckin’ stupid, okay." He spoke once more with a quieter voice, though the vexed tone remained like a weed, threatening to grow over Jakob. "I’m not the one that stole your eyeball, I’m not the one that left you there. I’m your friend.”
Holden felt as his hand was stolen away from him. He looked down his arm to stare at the obvious perpetrator. Holden shrunk away from Jak as he was yelled at, silently trying to wiggle his wrist free. Despite his efforts, the teenagers grip was, quite literally, stone cold.
A couple memories flashed before his eye, mostly ones of what Jak had been up to lately. It felt like a stab in the heart to see him laughing and hanging out with Danny without him, but he understood why, and the pain subsided.
He felt his heartbeat in his empty socket, listening to the other quickly recount the night at the warehouse. Suddenly his breath quickened, as if he was sipping it through a straw. Was he hyperventilating? It had never happened to him before, but he knew what it was like from what he was taught in health class. Holden gasped for breath, his heart threatening to rip out of his chest with the speed it was beating at.
The psychic tried to calm down, desperate to get his side of the story in before another wave of yelling occurred. Eventually he did, mostly by closing his eye and focusing on his breathing. "That's not fair." Holden retorted, surprised by the steadiness of his voice. Of course, he was not looking Jak, which probably helped, but the hand holding his wrist felt like an icy, dead weight.
"I get why you're upset, I get it. It's not fair that I'm treating you like this." He said, shrugging his shoulders back. "But you can't just expect me to go back to normal with the snap of your fingers!" Holden looked up to the other teenager, finally meeting his crystal blue eyes. His eyebrows knit together in frustration. "That man hurt me, Jakob, a lot. It's really hard not to see what the fuck he did to me, let alone pretend like it didn't happen."
"No."
The reply cut away at the friendly curtain hung over his face, exposing a bitter smile on his pale pink lips. Now Jakob looked more like a barbie doll, blue eyes staring into Holden’s single forest-green one, the temple of his forehead wrinkled as chocolate-brown brows raised in an eerily fashion which ruined the perfect skin of his allusion to Ken.
"I will not ‘leave you alone’, Holden." Jak’s stern voice leaving a sour taste on his tongue, but he pushed it away. His normally goofy smile and lazy back wouldn’t help in trying to receive some answers from Holden about their interrupted friendship. The only option he could see with his limited view on forgiveness was an interrogation, though Jakob’s methods of that would need to be toned down a bit in order to not further traumatize the guy. "You and me gotta talk about… us. And I mean ‘us’ —not tryin’ to pull some fuckin’ cliche term or anythin’— but like, I’m serious. Why’ve you been ignorin’ me?"
The teenager frowned deeply, turning around to watch as confusion and frustration spread across Jak's face. He hated the whole situation between them, but he really was not ready to talk to the white-haired boy about it.
"Don't do this." He said, only looking at the other briefly, before turning to look at the ground. "You know why I'm ignoring you, don't pretend like you don't know."
Holden took a hand out of his pocket to run it through his hair, feeling every stand pass through his fingers. He gripped a clump of hair at the back of his head, wincing slightly. "I'm sorry... I can't do this yet." The psychic ended the conversation by reluctantly turning back around to head towards his dormitory.
"…fuckin’ hell—Hey, wait up!” Jakob called out to the scurrying teen. It seemed as though he’d retraced his steps; turning around to jog once more in order to catch up to Holden. He’d definitely spooked him, an unusual pale color on the teen’s flat cheeks which made Jak want to bite his tongue off for even breathing around him. If the guy was going to act like that the entire time, he figured he might as well.
With the reminder of his inability to regenerate, Jakob simply smiled at Holden instead; the teen’s long strides quickly propelling him forward. Jak could’ve easily stopped his friend from taking another step, but chose the option to wear him down with consistent nagging instead. “C’mon dude!! If it’s just schoolwork then it’s not that important,” A familiar smirk dancing onto his lips. “You’re like Albert Einstein—let’s go get burgers or somethin’.”
Holden listened to Jakob's playful ideas, wanting nothing more than to have his usual time alone in his dorm after classes. He use to spend most of that time thinking of things he could have done better at the warehouse, but that just made him angry or upset. Now he usually just listened to his audiobooks.
Yet still, something tugged at him when he heard the familiar intonation of that childish new york accent, and not the cold-hearted one he heard as it yanked his eye out. He almost wanted to turn around and accept his offer, but Holden knew he could not. The teenager would not be able to stare at the photo copy of his attacker for the length of a casual burger date, let alone at all. "I'm busy." He said tersely, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Jak," Holden replied, the name feeling foreign and bitter on his tongue, "just leave me alone, okay?"
The hands now inside Jakob’s pants became fists as the figure in front of him tensed up, a clenched jawline setting his lips into a straight line of discomfort. Blue eyes swirled with bitterness, each footstep nearly freezing the carpet underneath his feet. It took everything he had not to sprint towards Holden, slam him against one of the walls and demand for an answer on their paused friendship.
He let out a simple sigh, knowing that violence wasn’t about to help him from pressing the play button and Jak forced a sickly sweet smile onto his face. Moving the leather shoulders inwards, Jakob took a couple hops before he jogged forward to catch up to the sandy haired teen. It was now or never, he supposed as he crashed into Holden’s side awkwardly. “Hey, buddy.”
The psychic swayed slightly, taking a couple small steps to regain his balance. He blinked, easily putting a name to the voice he heard. Holden's body became rigid as he turned to face the person he knew was behind him. He looked Jak over, trying to come up with a quick excuse to get away from the taller boy.
"Oh... hi." Holden replied pathetically, pulling at the ends of his hoodie. Jakob looked completely harmless, yet the psychic still wanted to punch him or yell at him. Literally anything other than have a normal conversation with a complete replica of the person who essentially ruined his life.
Holden did not even know if he was afraid of the other anymore, or it was just the fact that he had not talked to anyone his age in over a month and his motor skills have drastically decreased. Maybe the sheer terror he felt having the conversation he has been dreading since he left the hospital was getting to him. Either way, he was not ready.
"I need to-... get back to my dorm. Uhm... it's important." He said, barely able to get the entire sentence out of his mouth. The teenager turned back around, picking up the pace of his walk. The farther he could get from Jak the better.
A series of curse words flung towards Jakob as his tall and lanky figure waddled through his peers, dropping like anchors on his feet to hold him back from chasing after Holden. He gave an annoyed sigh and continued to force his knobby elbows through the thick forest of teenagers, seeing his objective slip farther and farther away until, almost all at once, the bodies stopped pushing against him. The sudden imbalance it gave Jak made him stumble forwards a bit, each foot slapping the ground with a hard, worn out sole of his converse.
Leather arms suddenly became wings and helped even out Jakob’s abrupt lack of balance, and with a quick shake of his perfectly shaped white hair, the teen’s usual slouched posture returned. His cocky smirk also found it’s place, but was quickly shot away with a slight frown when Jak locked his dropped gaze on Holden once more. It seemed like his sandy haired friend hadn’t spotted him; whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Jakob didn’t know. He went for the first option—after all, it made cornering him way easier than having to chase after the guy if Holden had spotted him.
Bringing his fingers up towards the collar of his jacket, Jak flipped it upwards, an antenna that he hoped would send a signal to some satellite up above which would shoot down some sort of camouflage against Holden’s piercing green eye. But as he started walking after the hunched shape, Jakob knew he wouldn’t be so lucky and would have to rely on quiet footsteps instead.
Holden finally escaped the unbearably warm grasps of the herd of teenagers, silently thanking the invention of "alone time." The decrease in bodies made the rest of the trek fairly easy. All he needed to do was make it to his dorm in peace and stay away from any short, awkward hallway banter.
The psychic heard small steps behind him, and easily assumed it was another person in his hallway. All he hoped was that it was not one of his neighbors that enjoy to talking to anyone who will listen. Just for good measure, Holden rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie and shoved the hood over his head, to show he was uninterested. He did not dare turn back, in fear that he would make eye contact with them and a conversation would rise.
The smell of incredibly bad B.O mixed with some unnamble but surely expensive brand hit Jakob’s nostrils, alerting him that the school day was officially over if the wild packs of teens eagerly heading back towards their dorms hadn’t. He of course, wasn’t in a hurry to return to boring roommates who hated any form of social contact, but Jak was a small sailboat in an ocean of altruistic teens, and he had no choice but to hope the storm would be over.
While elbows dug new pockets into his leather jacket, Jakob looked around with a cold stare, trying to figure out some sort of escape route he could take. The teen silently pondered the idea of spreading ice over the floor, causing most of his shorter classmates to slip and fall but the thought was broken by familiar figure. Jak squinted hard at the sandy locks as they dashed by him, a flash of the familiar green eye before it shot away quickly as though he himself carried the repulsive smell everyone else seemed to present.
Not being able to stop his long legs from following the guy, Jakob forced his way through the current of teens, locking wide eyes onto Holden. It was a subconscious movement at first but became more of a clear goal once the memories of earlier weeks popped into his mind. He clenched his fists in determination. Jak would find out why the shorter teen had been avoiding him, knowing very well that Holden’s missing eye was most likely the answer. Still, the texts, calls, or even stares he wouldn’t return weeks after the hospital scene caused an uneasiness in the deepest parts of Jakob’s bones. He still considered the guy to be one of his closest friends—did Holden still feel the same way?
After another mind-numbing lesson about control and expanding his psychic powers, which was a class of only four, Holden quickly packed up his things and rushed out the door. He was eager to get back to his dorm and finish his audiobook. It was a recording of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which the librarian had recommended to him a couple days ago. The teenager held his usually bad posture, as he kept his head down and sped towards his quiet sanctuary.
Holden's overwhelming thoughts about the novel kept him from looking out for Jak. Nothing he could do would ruin the psychic's day. Besides, Holden had gotten surprisingly good at evading him, so the chances of him passing the white haired boy were slim to none. And yet, the confidence he felt in his ability to hide from Jak was wrong, since he blindly passed the teenager on his way to his dorm.
It had been a couple of weeks since the attack, and Holden's life had never been more complicated. After his recovery in the hospital, Starkid boarding school welcomed him back with open arms. He had a meeting with the principal, explaining a slight change in his schedule until he was deemed fully recovered.
Most of his classes were the same, but self defense had been taken out and replaced with something called therapy. He soon learned that it was a wonderfully boring session with the school's psychiatrist about how he was feeling that day, and how well he was adjusting back into society. Which, of course, was not very well. His new loss of depth perception really set him back, constantly bumping into walls and people, which did not help him stay unnoticed.The teenager absolutely dreaded the class, and was even more frustrated with the fact that she would not allow them to shake hands. She knew he was a psychic and believed it was better for them to get to know each other "personally," instead of a quick exchange of skin to skin contact. Holden called complete bullshit on the chick, since most people did not really care. It just made him believe she had some god awful secret she was not keen on sharing with him.
The kids were no better. For the first couple days that would point and stare, and some would ask him a million questions as if they were entitled to every last detail about the attack. After the initial shock, the hallways died down to the occasional glance and the overly dramatic whisper. All the negative attention grabbed Holden by the shoulders and demanded to be noticed. Every look, question, and jeer felt like a stab through his stomach. Even before the incident, the psychic was not very fond of social interaction. But now, he wanted to crawl inside himself and never see another person again. Even his internet friends, whom he use to talk to on a daily basis, rarely even saw his name online. He mostly sat inside his room and listened to audio books, since reading actual books felt like too much effort.
Holden had not so much as looked at Jak and Danny. The people he had considered to be his best, and only, friends were mere memories. Summer was slowly approaching, and he barely said hello to either of them. He did vaguely remember a brief chat with Danny, who seemed to be trying to get him to talk more than just a simple hello. But, Holden did not keep up, and made some lame excuse about class before speeding off.
Jak was a completely different story.
After their first chat while he was recovering from the surgery, Holden avoided him at all cost. He had seen him a couple times in the hallways, but quickly made alternate routes to his class so he could easily steer clear of the white-haired boy. Seeing him made him want curl up and die, so he could not even imagine how a conversation with him would end. Everything about his new life made him seem like the shell of what he use to be. His skin became paler, if it was even possible, and the circles under his eyes became darker. His whole body looked unkempt. The only time he seemed to talk was in therapy, where he was forced to either say "no" or "I don't know." Even though he was too afraid to do anything anymore, Holden yearned for nothing other than the life he had with both of his eyes.
Pink eyes flicked back and forth between the other two boys, the rest of him standing motionless as he was caught between the thick tension in the room. Holden’s explanation didn’t seem comprehensive to his ears, and he was left staring down at him with a slight crease between his brows, wanting to disobey the weary direction and get to the bottom of things.
"But," he started, jumping back into motion as he tried to appeal to Holden, "but it’s Jak. He’s— I mean—" He stuttered to a halt, glancing over his shoulder at the teen in question. Danny recalled the very real murderous intent that had shown in the perfectly copied blue eyes looking down at him in the warehouse. There was nothing of whoever that person was left in his friend though, and he certainly didn’t need to avoid him. An icy prickling sensation crawled up his spine at the thought of whatever Holden had gone through in that shed to make him dodge the eyes of his close friend and he clamped his mouth shut, dropping the issue as quickly as he had taken it up.
Casting one last meek worried look over the half-sighted boy, Danny gingerly gave him a light tap on the shoulder before beginning to back away. “Alright, well, I’ll be back okay? Just… take it easy man.” He shrank away from the hospital bed towards the door as if he could outpace the guilt that tailed him with his hobbling gait. As his fingers curled around the doorknob, using it more for support than intent of turning it just yet, his gaze lingered quizzically over the white haired boy sitting in the chair to his side.
Several dust particles glided down towards a bent denim knee, visible through the light that was barely shining through the small crack in the beige curtains behind Jakob’s head. They teased him, the teen swearing he could hear the high pitched laughter of their mocking and he swatted at them, sending them rocketing back into the darkness beyond the dim light. His eyes followed their movement and Holden came back into view, the look on the sandy haired teen’s face enough to make Jak whip his stare back down to his shoes.
He hated the way Holden said what had happened to him, knowing that he wasn’t exactly dumping the blame on Jak but instead his evil twin. Yet, it didn’t stop the ice shards in his heart to continue jabbing at the red organ and Jakob suddenly felt nauseous.
Looking up at the pink eyes, his blue ones gave away nothing on what he was feeling, simply blank. Jak wasn’t sure he could bring himself to say anything to his friend after what Holden had just confessed and being honest with himself, Jakob didn’t know if he could breath without his voice cracking.
He stood up slowly, letting air into his lungs so he wouldn’t pass out on the floor and, taking menacing steps towards the door, the greaser made a half-assed attempt at shoving away Danny. Searing pain hit the forearm he used, and Jak growled silently, cussing himself out mentally for messing up again. He was wrongly rewarded however, as his hand twisted open the door, bright fluorescent lights from the hallway outside smacking into his eyes. They didn’t stop him from storming out of the room however, and Jakob sighed as soon as the rumbling of hospital patients and worried doctors filled his ears, thinking that all the guilt he’d had before had been chained down into the chair he’d been sitting in and that leaving would make it all disappear.
The psychic sighed, wearily watching Jak leave the room in a rage, and Danny trail behind. He leaned back in his bed, disturbing the IVs jammed into his arm. Jak had every right to be mad at him, but that face was something he would see in his nightmares for years. It is hard to put trust into the teenager at the time, let alone glance at him without hyperventilating. Everything in his body ached, both psychically and mentally. The surgery had put some strain on his body, but the conversation with his friends felt even worse. Nothing about Holden's life would be the same after this.
He felt tired once more, the dialogue between the three of them putting unnecessary tension on him. Holden blinked back sleep, but the fight was long since won. The teenage slumped over, allowing his sleepy demeanor to take control.
A sudden commotion burst into the quiet room, upsetting the stagnant air with the metallic jangle of the door handle accompanied by more banging as Danny tried to fit himself through the entryway with a crutch that he was not yet accustomed to. The limping patient barely seemed to be using his mobility aid as it was intended though, hobbling too fast towards the first black leather back he spotted to bother with the cumbersome equipment.
"Hey, I’m here, I’m sorry," he panted in a rush, clapping a hand to Jakob’s shoulder as his eyes thoroughly scanned the bedridden boy before them. He was out of breath from pushing himself to cross the distance from the office floor to Holden’s room as quickly as he could manage, but the air his lungs were craving was cut off as he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. At the sight of his post-surgery-tired friend, he instantly regretted making so much noise and lowered his voice to barely a whisper, glancing at Jak with apologetic eyes. "Is he… y’know, gonna be okay? I tried to wrap it up as quick as I could, I’m sorry."
The ruckus exploding into Jakob’s ears didn’t surprise him one bit, and neither did the sudden slap of a hand landing on his leather shoulder. If anything, he was glad for a new voice in the room; something to divert Jak’s attention from the stranger in front of him.
"Yeah, no, that’s fine," The teen’s sharp and rather loud reply contradicting the friendly shrug he was trying to make, though any movement of his upper torso sent lightning bolts of pain into his lungs. "I’d ask our friend here, though." The tone in his voice practically lemon slices while Jakob moved his shoulder from underneath Danny’s grip, and light wheezing could be heard as he made his way past the bed.
Jak’s uneven steps led him to a small chair located near the door that the firehead had just blown in from, and he slowly sat in it, maintaining a stare down with the floor beneath his feet. “He probably has a better answer than someone like me.”
Holden watched quietly as a dialogue started between the two. His breathing had steadied since he stopped looking at Jak, which did not help his constant battle against sleep. The psychic eyed Danny, upset and angry that the other teenager left the answer to him. All he wanted to do was run away or cry or literally anything other than have the conversation he was about to have.
He placed his gaze on Danny, wincing at the sudden pressure it put on his empty socket. "Um..." Holden began, bringing an IV rigged arm up to run a hand through his sandy hair, "The guy who attacked me was Jak." He said, gently playing with some strands of his hair. "But it was, like, not him. The guy just looked exactly like him." Holden shrugged, yawning. He groaned after opening his mouth, realizing that it messed with his tender stitches and hurt his throat more.
"Just leave me alone." The psychic said, too exhausted to add malice to his voice. He pulled the covers closer to his chin, showing that he was done with the discussion.
The brief eye contact sent a sliver of pain and sadness straight into Jak’s heart and he sighed, his chest moving slowly as to not make himself dizzy with the lack of air. But maybe that’s what he needed, anything to distract him from the boy in the room who was shooting bullets into his brain by the simple tone of his voice.
"Yeah." Jakob’s short reply caught in the palms of his hands and he stuffed them into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans. The pale pink color of his full lips drained, Jak shivering as though the temperature of his powers finally had gotten to him. His mind was drawing blanks on what to feel other than a plague utter disgust and sadness. "Yeah, I guess so."
Hide reverted back to biting his lip, holding back the oncoming tears that threatened to escape his eye. "I'm sorry, Jak." He muttered, repeating the phrase over and over again. Jakob mostly likely came in here to talk to him and apologize. He probably had no idea it was going to go the other way.
His initially grogginess continued to blur his vision, calling him back to unconsciousness. A world where he still has two eyes, and seeing the teenager in front of him made him happier than anything else. But, he could not sleep forever, and the sharp, vicious parts of reality always seem to confront him.
Jakob’s free hand slapped against his forehead, moving his face down to stare at the beige floor beneath the dirt converse. The troubled breathing from earlier returned with full force and coughs rampaged throughout his chest, his upper torso moving with the forced air shooting out of Jak’s slightly parted lips. His blue eyes blinked rapidly, blackening his vision for milliseconds at a time but for Jakob it felt as though he was out of sync with his body, the darkness lasting longer.
The creaking of the metal frame underneath his grip brought him crashing back to reality, and Jak reeled it back as though it was suddenly ablaze. He stared at it with disbelief at the abrupt strength, his upper lip slowly rising in confused disgust. There had been yet another him that night, someone who had copied every last detail, every last layer of skin and he’d been the one to destroy Holden.
"This is so fucked."
He watched his reaction, focusing on more on his clothing and breathing, rather than the aspects that made him Jak. If he payed attention to those, the resemblance was too hard to handle. Holden frowned, switching his eye line to the the waves of white linen that outlined the shape of his scrawny legs and feet. "I know," He muttered, grabbing at the fabric, "I know."
Holden sniffled, rubbing the skin under his nose. "I can't... do this anymore." He told Jak, running his fingers over the sheets that curved into small hills. "I mean- at the least, not right now." The psychic glanced quickly at the other, a feeling of guilt washing over him. It was not his fault, yet the similarity was uncanny, and frankly, he just was not ready.