Work Text:
“Did you hear there’s a new boy?”
“Not just one, they come as a pair, apparently.”
“Something about a YouTube series, Jane said.”
“Really intimidating.”
“Oldest proxies yet.”
“How long has it been since we’ve had a new proxy?”
“I wonder where they’ll sleep- all the rooms are taken.”
“Imagine they have to share with the girls.”
“Imagine they have to share with Jeff.”
Jeff snuck up behind his shortass blond friend and tugged his hair, pulling his head back to surprise him.
“Boo,” He grinned.
“Kill yourself.”
“That’s rude.”
Ben pulled his head away, not bothering to hide the way he rolled his eyes and shuffled up slightly in anticipation. Jeff slumped down beside him on the sofa and tried not to get a headache from the way the bright, neon colours of some vintage video game flashed across the screen.
“Got any, uh, intel on the new guys?” He asked, staring directly at the boy beside him. Ben didn’t look back, all too interested in the TV. Slashing sound effects rang throughout the room and finally subsided, followed by a victory cheer and applause. Ben leaned back in triumph and finally met Jeff’s gaze.
“… What?”
“Jesus. What do you know about the new guys?”
Ben smirked. “You’re such a fucking gossip.”
“Havin’ you as a friend, I sure am. You basically are the internet.”
“Who said we were friends?” Ben snarked, before continuing. “Brian and Tim, they’re called. From this shitty YouTube show called Horny Marbles or something.”
Jeff’s brows furrowed. “… Horny Marbles?”
“Just- something like that, it’s not important. It’s bad. Take my advice, I suffered through like, nine hours of it.”
“Nine hours of… Horny Marbles.”
“Jeff, let it go! That’s all I know, okay? Why do you care?”
Jeff trilled his lips and leaned back against the sofa, taking up almost two whole seats with his manspreading.
“Been a while since we’ve had newbies. I still remember the day you arrived.”
Ben could have sworn he almost rolled his eyes out of his head. “You take every chance you get to point out that you were here before me.”
“I was here before everyone!” Jeff corrected. “I was the third ever proxy, asshole, and the two before me were both brutally murdered for Unsatisfactory Performance or some bullshit. I saw literally every single one of you turn up.”
“Big whoop,” Ben huffed. “Anyway, that’s all I know, so if you’re just here to gossip, go find someone else.”
“Come on. There has to be more than that. Stop playin’ hard to get,” Jeff groaned.
“I’m not playing, man, you piss me off.”
“Learn to swim before you insult me.”
Ben paused, looking up to meet Jeff’s cold gaze, before suddenly snickering to himself, the stubbornness leaving his eyes.
“Alright, fine. If Horny Marbles is real, then allegedly Tim pushed Brian out of a window and killed him, but boss brought him back for whatever reason.”
“They cute?” Jeff asked with a shameless grin. The way Ben scrunched his nose told him all he needed to know, and Jeff let out a small, disappointed, “aw, man.”
Any and all of the new proxies were all told to ask Jeff for any questions, given he was relatively social and had been there the longest. He was also the proxy sent on the most missions, so he understood what it really meant to be a proxy, unlike some of the newer, albeit friendlier faces.
Jeff was never exactly eager to sit and chat with people he didn’t know, but he did like telling people what to do. That part was always fun.
He led the two new men into the kitchen, the taller of the two wearing a yellow hoodie and perpetually scowling, whereas the shorter man with sideburns kept staring up at the hooded man, begging for any scraps of attention he could find.
“This is the kitchen,” Jeff introduced with a generic flair of his hands, though his tone held no enthusiasm. He was half asleep, and his hair was tied into the messiest ponytail possible, given how dead and uneven his hair was.
“Don’t touch the food in the fridge unless you put it in there. It usually belongs to someone, and if you eat their shit, they’ll go ballistic.” Jeff trilled his lips. “Trust me.”
Inside the kitchen, Toby stood, pouring two chalky pills into his bleeding hands and trying to avoid the involuntary jerks of his neck. He looked unstable, wide eyed and shaking like a leaf, barely staying on his feet.
The man with sideburns- presumably Tim- looked concerned. Jeff was more than used to Toby, so he addressed him with a casual nod of his head.
He pointed to the trembling man with an extended hand. “This is Toby,” Jeff continued, stepping closer to him.
The man in the yellow hoodie- Brian, if Ben had told him correctly- leaned against the doorframe with folded arms and thinly pursed lips. He addressed Toby with a quiet nod of his head, not that Toby was even looking.
Toby threw the pills into his mouth and tossed his head back, forcing himself to swallow.
“Ack,” he hissed, ignoring all three men spectating him. Not once did his hands cease trembling.
“Hi,” Tim introduced audibly. If Brian wasn’t going to even look at him, he was going to need new friends. Who better than the first mentally unstable boy he laid his eyes on?
Toby finally looked over when he didn’t recognise the new voice. His eyes locked on to Tim, narrowing in suspicion, and he drew his hands closer to his chest as if defending himself. His head jerked towards Jeff.
“Wh… who the fuck is that?” He hissed.
Jeff hummed in thought, before looking over his shoulder to meet Tim’s eyes. He gave Tim a look vaguely reminiscent of, ‘well, who are you?’.
Tim swallowed hard to dampen his throat. The boy in front of him seemed scared, and he appreciated that. He was fucking terrified, too.
“Tim,” He nodded. “… This is Brian.”
Brian’s eyes flickered toward Tim as his name was spoken, disgust washing over him. It disappeared as quickly as it came. Still, Tim shrunk in on himself.
“Tim, Toby, Toby, Tim,” Jeff sarcastically introduced, gesturing between the men. “Are we all friends now? Can we leave?”
Toby’s head jerked once more and he let out a strangled yelp. “He’s st… sta… staring at me,” Toby stated dryly, eyes locked with Tim’s. Toby hated looking at Tim. He hated eye contact with anyone, but he recognised something he couldn’t quite place when he stared at Tim. Something that suffocated him, something like static, screaming turned buzzing over the years. He cowered away even further.
Jeff still showed no reaction to Toby’s odd behaviour, hands in his pockets while he lazily interacted with the other proxies.
“You’re staring at him,” Jeff turned to Tim, tone snarky, almost matter-of-fact. Tim already knew he was going to fucking hate this guy. He averted his gaze and stared at his shoes before anyone murdered him for the crime of eye contact.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, though it took all of his dignity away.
Toby looked away now that he wasn’t burdened with the responsibility of eye contact any longer, and he stared up at the ceiling, preferring to avoid eyes altogether. Too intimate. Still, he felt trapped whenever someone locked eyes with him. He couldn’t remember much, but he remembered being scolded when he was younger for being terrible with eye contact. It was his dad, mainly.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he’d spit, pointing a square finger at Toby’s face, dangerously close to his open eyes. Now whenever someone looked into his eyes, he was stuck staring back until they looked away. Luckily, Jeff avoided eye contact too, though that was usually because he was too busy looking at every corner of every room, high out of his mind and unable to focus. It made Toby feel comfortable regardless.
Not Tim, though. His parents would love Tim. He stood tall, hands by his sides. He held eye contact well.
It made Toby painfully aware of his hunched posture, neck craned and shoulders drawn forward to protect himself.
Well, fuck Tim. And fuck whoever the tall guy in the hoodie was, fuck him and his dumbass moustache.
“I want to leave,” Toby said bluntly. He was talking to Jeff, though there was no indication, because he was standing, facing the sink, and staring up at the ceiling.
“We’re now goin’,” Jeff promised after a moment of silence. He was an asshole, sure, but for some reason, Toby was genuinely spooked. He didn’t want to look under that box in fear of getting a limb hacked off, so he gestured to the men to turn and leave, and they did so almost instantly.
After a week and a half of living in this cabin, Tim had made up his mind about the place.
It was, without a doubt, the worst place he’d ever lived.
There was no insulation in the walls, so it was always either so hot that Tim felt constantly faint, or so cold that he couldn’t even flex his fingers. The foundation was weak and every other day, a different proxy got provoked, and another hole was punched into the wall. It was only a matter of time until the entire thing collapsed. The people themselves were awful- truly the cruelest of the earth’s population, cruel for cruelty’s sake and simply wicked in every sense of the word. Tim’s self esteem was low, but even he knew he didn’t belong here. Not with them. Not in the freezing cold and the boiling hot.
As far as he was aware, his options were this place or death. He’d seen every single one of his friends murdered because of some eldritch demon’s obsession with him, so he could safely assume that if he too became an obstacle, he’d be removed. Just like Jay. Just like Alex.
Still, Tim owed it to himself to try. If his options were this place or death, he’d walk into death with a loaded gun in one hand and an apology note in the other.
After hours of sleepless tossing and turning on a mattress on the floor in what he could only assume was once a storage room, Tim stood from the floor and grabbed an empty bag. He didn’t bother emptying it since the only things he ever carried with him were his cigarettes and his pills and he’d need those anyway, assuming he even made it out of the woods alive.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned the handle of his door as slowly as he could. Given the age of the cabin, every small movement could cause a floorboard to creak or a stray piece of wall plaster to fall.
Once he’d managed to pull open the door, Tim braved it down the hall. He needed to stop by the kitchen for enough food to last him a few days before he left, and then after that he needed a plan. Still, he knew if he waited until he already had a plan to leave this place then he never would, because predicting what would happen as soon as he left the door was a feat he’d never win.
He stumbled into the kitchen and flicked on the light, only to recoil at the sight of a figure scrambling for something on the top shelf of one of the cabinets.
He screamed when he saw Tim, and all Tim could make out was brown hair and a white tank top.
“ACK!” The boy shrieked, reaching for the dish rack and wielding a damp knife in Tim’s direction.
When Tim’s eyes adjusted to the light properly, he recognised the boy as Toby, the twitchy boy he’d seen on his first day. The gash on his cheek was pretty unmistakable.
“Oh my God,” Tim gasped, clutching at his heart and trying to block out the way his pulse thrummed in his ears. That had definitely woken a handful of the others up. He just prayed he wouldn’t wake up to an angry proxy above his head threatening to kill him over lost beauty sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Tim stammered, “I’m sorry. I was just grabbing a glass of water.”
Toby closed and opened his free hand repeatedly, head tipped to the ceiling, and for a long time, he was silent. The only sounds were the noise of his hand opening and closing, and their shared heavy breathing.
Finally, when he did speak, he did so as he carefully put down the knife in his hand.
“Y… You shouldn’t sn… sneak around in the dark,” He scolded, voice quivering. He was paler than ever, which was saying a lot given the boy was usually white as a sheet anyway. There were dark bags under his eyes and he almost looked painted with the stark contrast of the hues of his skin, his purple undertones glowing underneath the bask of yellow overhead light.
“I know,” Tim sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were awake. I was trying not to wake anyone up.”
“You did a bad job,” Toby deadpanned, to Tim’s surprise. However, it didn’t sound sarcastic at all- not like when Jeff spoke, with that cocky, know-it-all lilt. No, this was genuine. Toby spoke without a filter, always.
Tim looked down and cracked a small smile. “Yeah, no, I know.”
Toby fidgeted for a second, no longer fidgeting with his hands, instead picking at the skin on his thumbs. He wondered if that’s why his hands were always bloodied and bandaged every time he saw him.
He avoided eye contact with Tim as usual, but kept staring in his direction, gaze raking over his lazy pyjamas and the bag draped over his shoulder.
“… You don’t n… need a bag to drink water,” Toby murmured. His voice was much softer, though it still held the same blunt intonation.
Tim looked down at his bag and stiffened awkwardly. “Oh, right, yeah, I was… I have my pills in here, and it’s easier than carrying them all.” He prayed Toby wouldn’t push too hard, now staring intently at his expression and trying to gauge his response.
Toby physically recoiled, holding a hand to block Tim’s view of him.
“You’re staring,” He said firmly.
Okay, this guy’s ‘No staring’ rule was getting old fast. He could look at him for more than two seconds and all of a sudden the boy would start twitching on the spot and convulsing in rage. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Still, he didn’t want a fight, so he looked away, opting to stare at his shoes.
“Right. Sorry.”
Toby lowered his hand eventually, fidgeting on the spot. He was expecting Tim to get a glass of water, but neither of them were moving, and Toby was blocking the sink. Finally, when Toby stepped out of the way, Tim stepped into the kitchen fully and grabbed himself a clean glass.
Toby almost yelped at the close proximity. He rolled his head back on his neck and raised his shoulders, grimacing and gnashing his teeth.
Again, he let out a small, “ack.”
Tim filled the cup with water and took a sip to please Toby, but he didn’t reach for his pills from his bag. Neither of them commented on it.
“… If you’re thinking of running,” Toby spoke eventually, “you’ll die.”
Tim spluttered on his water and sprayed a mouthful into the sink. Toby didn’t look very amused.
“What?” He wheezed. “I’m not— I wasn’t going to run or anything. I just needed a drink.”
Toby started to talk over him. Clearly, being polite wasn’t a priority to him.
“—he doesn’t… l… let us leave b… because I tried and… it just makes things worse.”
Tim didn’t know if this was advice or a scolding. Toby’s voice was so monotone that it was impossible to tell. He just nodded for good measure.
“… Thanks. Again, I wasn’t going to leave. I wouldn’t… You know, disobey like that.”
Toby’s brows furrowed and he suddenly locked eyes with Tim. It made Tim actually jump, given how vehemently he despised it.
“You’re lying,” Toby said plainly. “You have a bag on. And you’re wearing s… shoes.”
Tim opened his mouth, but was cut off.
“I—“
“I don’t like it when people l.. lie to me. I’m not g… go... going to do… anything.”
Tim looked for a hidden threat in that sentence, but he couldn’t find one. It just seemed like genuine frustration.
“I don’t lie to… to you,” Toby concluded bitterly.
Tim nodded in agreement. This boy seemed like he didn’t know how to lie, given he said everything exactly as he saw it and saw no need to abide by the social cues he’d spent years trying to master. Tim had grown up awkward- stunted, even. Growing up in hospitals does that to a person. It was strange, though, watching someone who hadn’t suffered through trying to become ‘normal’ like he had, because Toby didn’t seem stunted. He was weird, undeniably so, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t off-putting. He held conversations just fine.
Tim wondered how differently things would have been for him if he’d given up trying to learn social cues and had embraced it like Toby had.
“You’re s… staring again,” Toby mumbled, irritated, but he wasn’t looking away. His eyes were still locked on to Tim’s.
Tim nodded. No lies, he thought. He doesn’t like them.
“Yeah. My bad.”
Toby finally broke eye contact and blinked the weight of it away, as if it had been heavy on his shoulders to keep staring.
Both men stood in the kitchen for a few moment’s longer, Tim stood by the sink with a glass of water in hand and Toby lingering by the door as if he couldn’t find the appropriate time to leave.
“… Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I going to s.. see you to…tomorrow?” He asked, before adding with a jerk of his head, “alive?”
Tim hummed. No lies, he recalled.
“… Yeah. You’ll see me tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Toby nodded, and then turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word.
No ‘I’m glad’, no ‘thanks for telling me’, no questions. Just acceptance, and then an exit.
Tim laughed to himself gently and he tipped the rest of the water into the sink.
Oh well, if he was going to die either way, he might as well stay. He knew he wouldn’t make it any far given his track record, and if he stayed, maybe he could learn a few things.
From Toby, especially. He could learn how to stop caring so much, for starters. Lord knows he could do with it.