Work Text:
August 19th, 2011
“Fuck you,” Jay whispered. “What was that for?”
Alex didn’t know. All he knew was that he could still feel Jay’s lips against his and that he was having to stop himself from touching his lips to remind himself that it was real. He’d kissed Jay. He’d actually kissed Jay like he’d wanted to, with nothing behind it but… love? Love wasn’t right; he didn’t love Jay, but he wasn’t trying to fuck him right now either. He’d kissed him without meaning for it to go anywhere. He’d kissed Jay just to kiss him.
Anger rushed through him, burning hot as it ripped through his veins and made him want to hiss and spit and tear Jay apart. Goddamnit, he wanted to throw Jay off the porch and out of his house. How could Jay not fucking hate him? He was meant to shove Alex away; he was supposed to make the choice himself to leave Alex in the dust.
This wasn’t how this was meant to go.
Shit.
Alex was going to break his heart.
Jay was meant to be the one to walk away; he was meant to break Alex’s heart. This wasn’t how this was meant to go. Jay wasn’t meant to kiss back; he wasn’t meant to pull Alex closer.
Alex shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, and silently apologised to Jay in advance. God, why couldn’t Jay just fucking hate him? He deserved it. How fucked was Jay’s self-esteem if, after everything, he didn’t fucking hate Alex? How stupid did someone have to be to come back to the person who’d threatened them and brought them to terrified tears in the kitchen just minutes before? How stupid did someone have to be to kiss that person?
“I don’t know. I don’t know…” Alex whispered to keep the anger out of his voice. Jay didn’t have an ounce of self-preservation. He was going to get his stupid heart broken and his stupid self killed!
Why didn’t he know when to just quit? When to quit liking Alex and when to quit trying to help Alex. When to quit caring about Alex! That was why that thing that had its too-long fingers jammed into Alex’s brain, puppeteering him around, had started going after Jay too. He knew what he had to do to save Jay.
“Something to get you to come back to me sooner? So we can do this right next time?”
Fuck.
Fuck, why did he say that? Why did he say that!?
Alex could see the pathetic hope in Jay’s eyes as he glanced up at him. It made him feel sick.
“Promise?” Jay asked, and Alex’s stomach turned in disgust. Disgust? It was disgust, right? Disgust at Jay’s total lack of common sense.
What was wrong with him!?
Alex nodded, despite himself. His heart felt like it was inflamed; it felt like it had swollen to painfully fill the entirety of his chest. “Promise,” he agreed. What was wrong with him? “Next time, I’ll— we’ll do it right... We can—” Why was he still talking? Why couldn’t he just shut up? “We can try the whole ‘dating’ thing, for real, if you want?” Alex bit his tongue to shut himself up, grinding his teeth until he was scared he’d draw blood.
“Yeah,” Jay whispered, his voice coming out strained. “We’ll try the whole dating thing for real.” Behind the tightness in Jay’s voice was a sort of uncertainty that made Alex want to scream at him. Jay sounded so uncomfortable. Why wouldn’t he just say something about it?! Why was he just agreeing!?
All Alex was going to end up doing was hurting him, but Jay just wouldn’t stop hoping.
Why did Alex have to do this?
Goddamnit, he just wanted Jay to be okay. He just wanted Jay to be safe, and if he kept the promise he’d just foolishly made, it’d be impossible to keep him safe. Alex’s heart juddered to a painful halt in his chest as Amy’s face flashed into his mind, sickly pale and bloodless, her features twisted up and ruined by the look of terror, shock, and pain that Alex had let her die wearing. That Alex had forced her to die wearing.
Bile rose in Alex’s throat, and he swallowed thickly. He couldn’t let Jay meet the same fate as Amy had at his hands. It had been too late for her; that thing had already rooted itself in her head, spreading through her nerves like a fungus. It wasn’t too late for Jay, though—not yet. There was still time. Alex could still save him without having to—
Alex’s brain summoned an image from the night before: his hands tight around Jay’s throat, his thumbs crushing Jay’s windpipe.
Last night, he’d stopped before he hurt Jay.
Now, the image that played in Alex’s mind refused to stop. He watched as Jay’s face turned puce, watched his eyes bulge, and watched blood vessels in his face burst as he struggled against Alex’s murderous hands. Alex watched spit fleck white on Jay’s lips as he tried to plead for his life, and as much as it killed him, Alex couldn’t loosen his grip.
If he had to kill Jay one day, he wouldn’t do it like that.
He’d been kind to Amy—as kind as it was possible to be to someone you were murdering, at least. He’d slit her throat while she slept. She’d only been scared and in pain for a few moments, and then she was gone. Alex hadn’t hidden her body. He’d bathed her and bandaged the hideous gash in her throat, then he’d dressed her in her favourite clothes and tenderly wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide the bandages. She’d looked so peaceful as he lifted her into his arms and took her out to his car.
She’d almost looked like she was sleeping as he clipped her into the passenger seat, and Alex had desperately tried to keep his tears from dripping onto her as he whispered apology after apology into the freezing night air. The only signs that she wasn’t just sleeping were the waxy, greenish pallor that had overtaken her drained skin and the clammy coldness of her hands. Even the warmth of the bath hadn’t been enough to make her seem like she was still alive.
Alex had buried her in the woods a little way from his house, the place where they’d gone on quiet walks together in the summer and fall, with snacks and flasks of tea and hot chocolate in their backpacks. He didn’t mark her grave, but he buried her with dignity. He could go back and find her if he wanted to, visit her again, and apologise for everything he’d done since her death. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget where she was buried.
If Alex ever had to kill Jay, he’d do it kindly and treat his body with the same respect he'd had for Amy’s.
He wouldn’t have to kill Jay, though, not if he could make Jay hate him enough. That was his only option now. If he could make Jay hate him enough, Jay would stop trying to help him. He’d stop trying to understand what happened to Alex to change him so drastically back in university, and he’d stop trying to save Alex from it now.
It was too late for Alex now. He was beyond help.
Jay wasn't, though. It wasn’t too late for him, not yet, and not ever if Alex just played his cards right… if he just played his cards cruelly enough to drive Jay away. Far, far away. Jay just needed to hate him enough to stop bothering to try and help him.
"You should... you should probably get going," Alex said, his attempts to make his voice harsh falling flat. His words burned his own throat. It sounded like he was inviting Jay back inside, not sending him away.
Jay’s fingers tightened just slightly in the back of Alex’s shirt before he let go of the fabric. "Yeah… I'll... I'll get out of your hair,” he agreed quietly.
Alex wondered whether Jay’s fingers had left their imprints in the fabric of his shirt, whether he’d held so tightly onto it for so long that the fabric had moulded to the shape of his fingers. If Alex reached around to the back of his shirt, would he be able to slot his fingers into the dents Jay’s had left? Would he be able to feel the warmth of Jay’s hand and hold it in his?
Had he ever gotten to actually hold Jay’s hand?
He’d held his wrists before, pinned them above his head and behind his back, but had he ever just held Jay’s hand tenderly in his? If he hadn’t already, then it was too late. Alex would have to live knowing he’d never held Jay’s hand, but maybe that was the price he paid and the punishment he took for abandoning Jay like this.
"Only for a couple of weeks," Alex murmured. The lie tasted like acid, burning his tongue and corroding his teeth. "Or... maybe less? If you— if you're up for it, we don't have to do anything." God, he was still fucking talking. It was like he was trying to make things worse, like he was trying to break Jay’s heart even more brutally. That was what he needed to do, though. It was what he had to do. He had no choice in the matter; if Jay was going to live, he had to stop caring about Alex, and for that to happen, Alex needed to make Jay hate him. He needed to make Jay more-than-hate him; he needed Jay to loathe him. “We could just talk? Watch a movie? Cuddle?”
Bringing Jay’s hopes up just to dash them when two weeks came and went, that was what Alex was doing. There was only one other way to save Jay, and that was to kill him, but Alex didn’t want to do that, not unless he absolutely had to, so for now his best bet was to get Jay out of his story. Alex needed to be a background character in Jay’s life—someone he met a few times but who wasn’t worth remembering or caring about.
Alex had been stupid before. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he sent Jay that tape that showed the man with the migraine for a face showing up at his house so it could get Amy; if he could go back and change it so he'd never dragged Jay into all of this, he would.
Jay’s gentle hum of acknowledgement pulled Alex back to the present, to Jay standing so close to him—close enough to kiss, close enough to hug, close enough to never let go. “Sounds good. Just... gimme a call whenever you're free,” Jay said, the tiniest hint of a smile just barely daring to tug at the corner of his mouth. The tiniest wisp of hope that things could work out. "You know I don't have anything going on."
Alex kept his face as neutral as he could, fighting back the grimace that threatened to twist his lips into a look of disgust. It was disgust only at himself this time. This was for Jay’s own good, but that didn’t make it feel any better to do. "Can I walk you to your car?" Alex asked. His voice was tight and he cleared his throat uselessly like it would hide the obvious fact that he was about to cry. Lying to Jay like this was a knife twisting in Alex’s solar plexus, sharp and cold and viciously winding him.
"No I... I think it'll be easier if you stay here, I'll never leave otherwise," Jay replied. His voice was as tight as Alex’s, and Alex got the feeling that they both knew this would be the last time they would purposefully see each other.
He wanted Jay to be angry. He wanted Jay to yell and scream at him, he’d welcome Jay’s fist colliding with his jaw or his foot kicking Alex’s legs out from underneath him. He’d take any bruise or cut Jay wanted to give him. He’d become a canvas for Jay’s rage and he’d welcome the pain as the least he deserved after everything. He couldn't help remembering what he'd done to Jay back in Uni. Sure, Amy had told him over and over that it had been Jay who was in the wrong. She'd almost convinced him of that, and he'd certainly at least pretended she had convinced him... but deep down he'd always known that, if he hadn't been so scared of anyone thinking he was gay that he'd ended up being cruel to Jay with that fear, that Jay would never have felt the need to do what he'd done.
"Okay... that's fine. I'll– I'll see you in a couple of weeks, I'll call you…” Alex said. “I'll miss you.” This time he couldn’t stop a grimace from overtaking his face.
‘I’ll miss you.’
Who said 'I’ll miss you' to someone they were going to see in two weeks? The honesty burned Alex’s eyes, and he watched as it sunk into Jay’s soft skin, burning that too and leaving it glossy and pink as it ate through the layers to strike right at Jay’s heart. Jay knew he wasn’t going to see Alex again, there wasn’t going to be a second try where they ‘did it right.’ He might try to kid himself, to pretend he still believed Alex would call him to arrange another time to meet up and spend some time together, but Jay knew. There was no way he didn’t.
He couldn’t be that stupid.
Surely.
Alex watched as Jay walked away, heading to his car and getting in. He didn’t drive off immediately, pausing to look back at Alex like he was expecting (more like hoping) that he’d call him back and ask him not to leave. Alex gritted his teeth and stayed silent, watching Jay as he nodded awkwardly to himself and turned his key in the ignition. His car jittered to life, and with a deep breath and one final glance at Alex, Jay drove off.
Jay’s car was out of sight before Alex forced himself to take in a gasping breath of air. It tasted bitter on his tongue, like smoke from a fire that was burning plastic, and he felt like he should be suffocating on it, but he wasn't. He wanted to suffocate. His hand shook as he lifted it, so much so that he was scared that he wouldn't be able to keep it clamped over his nose and mouth without his own muscles betraying him and making it jump away. He used his other hand to stabilise the first one, but that one shook just as much.
His chest shook too, trying to suck in frantic breaths against the damp skin of his palms but thankfully not managing. Every attempted breath made his lungs feel like they were collapsing, breathing in nothing, but still moving. It felt like they were sticking to themselves.
His whole body shook, really.
His legs felt like a baby deer's. His lips trembled against his hands. His panicked, useless attempts at breathing shook his torso and made his shirt brush painfully against his back. The last place Jay had touched, the back of Alex’s shirt, felt like it was ablaze, flames eating away at Alex’s flesh every time they touched it, and it wasn't long until Alex’s whole body burned. He didn't fight the weakening of his knees, letting himself fall backwards into the doorframe behind him without complaint. If he took a breath to do so, it'd just feed the fire he was desperately trying to smother, so he kept his hands over his nose and mouth as he waited for his body's waterworks to kick in and quench the fire burning him up.
The burning in Alex's chest became too much, and his trembling hands jumped away from his face. The gasp of air that rushed in in their absence was surely violent enough to burst his lungs, but the burning everywhere else on his body subsided slightly. The breath he'd just taken was lost instantly in a sob that morphed into a coughing fit that wracked Alex's whole body all over again, banging his back painfully onto the corner of the doorframe. He didn't try to stop it from happening, even as he coughed himself nauseous and bruised.
It was the least he deserved.
It was the least he deserved after everything he had and would put Jay through.
Tears rolled down his face, burning his eyes, and he cried until he couldn't move, his muscles giving out on him and leaving him paralysed by his own hopelessness. This was for the best, he told himself, his internal voice just as jumpy and broken as it would be if he tried to speak aloud. This was for Jay’s own good, as much as it would hurt both of them. As much as this would hurt both of them, it would hurt Jay more. Alex had no right to be upset. This was all his fault. He'd brought Jay into this in the first place, all the way back in uni; he'd brought him into this, and it was his responsibility to get him out of it as well. He just wished this hadn't had to be the way he did it.
Jay didn't deserve the heartbreak, but he did deserve to live.
He’d get over Alex.
He wouldn't get over dying.
Alex didn't know how long it took for his tears to dry up. Even once they had, his eyes kept trying to force them out. Maybe they'd expel themselves from his head. Maybe Alex would be better off without them. It wasn't like he wanted to get up from where he sat slumped in the doorway; the crows that eyed him from the trees could peck out his eyes, peck his flesh from his bones, and he didn't think he’d have it in him to stop them.
His eyelids were heavy. Everything in his body was heavy, but his eyelids especially, and Alex didn't fight the bone-deep weariness that weighed him down into the floor. Dead bodies melted if they were left long enough, flesh turning soupy and skin sloughing off, and Alex’s house was a little way away from anything else, so maybe if he died there he'd melt too. No one would come looking for him. He had no neighbours, and the only person who might have noticed if he went missing would be Jay, and Alex had just seen him off, hopefully for good.
——————————————————
Alex’s eyes opened to a headache like an icepick through his temple, and the back of his ribs aching all the way through to his heart. He groaned, his arms not quite obeying him as he reached out to push himself to his feet. The headache only worsened as he stood, his eyes aching like they might burst as the late afternoon light hit them, and Alex choked on a yell of pain, his spit going down the wrong way and leaving him spluttering. His ribs stabbed, and he tried desperately to calm his coughing.
Jay would be long gone by now, but Alex couldn't stop his legs from carrying him shakily down off the porch and towards the driveway Jay’s car had sat on all night and most of this morning. He felt like a zombie as he shuffled down the driveway, following it slowly all the way to where it met the road.
Jay wasn't waiting anywhere along the way for him.
He wasn't sure why he’d sort of expected him to be. The whole point of that morning had been to drive him away—far, far away. Alex would kid himself that that had been the point of the night before too, but it hadn't. There'd been nothing selfless about last night. They'd fucked because they both wanted to. They’d fucked because Alex had known that would be his last chance to be close to Jay. He wasn't going to see Jay again after this; he knew that, and as much as it tore him up inside, he knew it was for the best. This was for Jay’s own good. This was to keep him safe, to keep him alive.
Alex’s phone burned in his pocket, and he fished it out with shaking hands and numb fingers.
This was for Jay’s own good.
This was to keep Jay alive.
Alex’s fingers begged him to move them in a way that would type a goodbye text, to give Jay something. Instead, Alex blocked Jay’s number. He sighed as the numbness in his fingers spread to his emotions, turning them off and leaving him feeling flat nothingness.
The walk back up to Alex’s house left him drained, and he hauled himself inside, ignoring the kitchen entirely and heading straight down the corridor to the little laundry closet. Jay had sat and curled into a ball in there twice that day, and Alex wished he were still there. He’d gather him into his arms and hold him until their corpses melted into each other.
He was never going to see Jay again.
Static burned in Alex's peripheral vision, and the ice-cold, primal terror he’d gotten so used to over the years colonised his blood vessels, webbing through him until he was well and truly caught. He didn’t move to look behind him, despite the paranoia that screamed at him to do exactly that. He knew what he’d see: a man in a black suit, too tall to be standing up straight in Alex's house but bending the laws of the universe around him to make it possible.
A man in a suit with an indistinguishable face.
A man in a suit, who made Alex’s skull feel like it was cracking under the weight of proximity to him.
A man in a suit who could throw Alex through time and space and leave him waking up disoriented in a new place and time with blood soaking into his hands and wrinkling his fingertips like bath water.
A man in a suit who Alex hadn't been able to escape for years, but who he could stop from hurting anyone else like he hurt Alex.
Who knew if Alex would see his house again? He patted his pockets, finding his phone and wallet in his front pockets and another distinct shape that he couldn't quite place in his back pocket. He knew he hadn't put his wallet in his pocket that morning; he knew he hadn't even gotten dressed that morning, and yet here he stood, ready to go, as soon as the man in the suit gave him the word.
The static deepened, overtaking Alex's vision and hearing. Who knew where or when he’d wake up? But at least he wasn't going to be able to think about Jay for a while. He wasn't going to be able to think about anything as the mycelium, which had mapped and networked his brain for the man in the suit, pulsed and puppeteered him, but Alex was okay with that. If he couldn't think about Jay, Jay wouldn't think about him.
They'd both be free.
Jay would be much more free than Alex, but that was the least he deserved—freedom from Alex, freedom from the man in the black suit, the man with the migraine for a head. He’d get over Alex and move on with his life, live, and grow older until his not-relationship with Alex was barely even a speck in his memory. That was all Alex could ask for: for Jay to live and for Jay to forget that any of this ever happened, for him to forget that university ever happened, like a nightmare that faded from his mind as soon as he woke up.
Alex could finish this on his own. The man in the suit wouldn't win; Alex would save everyone the man had come into contact with, and then himself, and the world would be free.