With a contentious scoff, he rolled his eyes. There was no way Jamie could ever understand her mindset; not if he tried to, not if he cared to— not in ten million years. He found it quite irritating, actually, how eager she was to dive into other peoples’ problems like she actually had business being there, like she actually thought her empty encouragements did any good to anybody. Maybe they did, to some poor fool somewhere out there, but they were about as useful to Jamie as a pair of old socks filled with more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. He folded his arms across a chest and sneered, “Freak.”
There was venom in his speech, as much nasty, sizzling poison as could fit in a single syllable, in fact, but that was nothing new. And it wasn’t nearly enough. He turned away from her yet again, eyes rolling with scorn. Her rose-colored glasses tacky as could be, and it seemed to him like she needed new lenses. He scoffed at the thought, growing ever-weary of her nagging presence. He was quite ready to leave and braced himself to be followed all the way back to the inn, but as he took his first step past the podium, something unexpected slammed against his eardrum. Selfish. The word was unpleasant, like a gelatinous slime being injected into his brain via ear cavity. Jamie’s lip twitched, and he spun around on his heel, his left palm cupped over the side of his head as if that grotesque slime would leak through his skull.
“What did you just say—?”
Selfish. He couldn’t believe it— she actually had the gumption to call him selfish. Crystal eyes flashed, first awe-struck, then with the white-hot flames of rage. His nails dug into his palms, so much that he could’ve sworn he felt the warmth of blood dripping through his fingers. “Just who in the hell do you think you are!?”
The heavy clanking of his stomps echoed through the sanctuary, shaking the very floor they stood on as though he were a titan, and each step he took caused an earthquake devastating enough to take out a small town— perhaps Mineral Town was the very next target. “Listen carefully, and maybe— just maybe— this time it’ll get through your thick skull.” He stopped short, towering over the blonde, his gaze an icy arrow that hoped to pierce through her very soul. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He was just about ready to pull his own hair out— and maybe he’d yank on Claire’s while he was at it— but restrained himself, instead pointing a skinny finger in her direction. “Never once did I ask for you to ‘reach out’ to me. Never once did I ask for your help. And— guess what— you’re right. Never ONCE did I ever give a DAMN about you or your shitty— your shitty promises." His voice faltered for just a brief moment, and in that brief moment he couldn’t help but wonder just how much truth his words held. After all, she was there for him when he needed someone most and, as annoying as she was, she’d stuck with him this whole time, but….
Wasn’t it all fake? He could see it now— the mystery that hid behind her sapphire eyes was something as pathetic as a lack of self-worth, and… had she been using him this whole time? Had she taken pity on him and used him as fuel for her own self-fulfillment? It was clear in how she stood, how she so valiantly accused him of being selfish when in actuality… it was she who was being selfish. “How… how can you stand there and call me selfish….” His lips tightened into a thin, white line as he ran his fingers through his bangs. “Like you ever actually gave a damn about me.”
It hurt. No matter how hard he tried to cut himself off from others, to keep his trust locked away in his shriveled heart, he still couldn’t avoid the pain that came with the inevitable disappointment that was humanity’s folly. He knew it from the start— it was stupid to think that Claire was anything special, that she was somehow different from everyone else. She wasn’t, he knew, and this was only a reaffirmation of the fact… so why did it hurt?
"You’re only standing here, following me around, trying to grab at my trust because you think that helping some asshole realize the error of his ways and sort out his life is some kind of accomplishment, right?" The blood dripped from his knuckles like a flow of tears— tears that he himself refused to shed. "Well, have I got new for you, you festering pile of cat vomit— I don’t need you. I don’t need your help and I’m not some fucking trophy you can squeeze in next to your First Prize horse racing ribbon. Don’t you get it?”
He bit his lip. “I won’t— I can’t trust you, because you are the most selfish, untrustworthy piece of SCUM on the PLANET—
“And you’re just like everyone else.”
Jamie wiped his brow with a bloodstained fist, and with a final huff, bolted to the grandiose chapel doors, but as he swung them open with a force that nearly dislocated his shoulders, he found himself trapped, stuck in this constricting place with a person whose face would be too soon returned should he never see it again— trapped by the rainstorm that raged beyond the walls. Of course, he had half a mind to race off into the typhoon-like weather and make a break back to the inn, but he was brutally aware of the risk; that risk, being so far from home, was not one he was willing to take.
Dumbstruck, he shoved the doors shut and wiped the stray raindrops from his face. He was stuck.
