Page 19 of Fear
He broke off when the waiter brought them two big plates of food. Jake straightened, turned away from Tobias, and nodded to him before he walked away.
Jake stared down at the plates for a second, then swallowed. “Tobias, I don’t . . . I don’t want to hurt her either. It’s okay.” That last bit seemed directed more at himself than Tobias. “No one’s going to hurt anyone. I’m . . . I’m sorry I said anything.” He reached for his sandwich, then looked at Tobias. He put his hand back down. “Tobias, you should—”
But Tobias knew he couldn’t. He knew that if he looked up, if he so much as loosened his grip on his arms, he was going to fall apart, and it would be so much worse than it had been at the grocery store. It would be so bad that Jake wouldn’t have a choice but to take him back to FREACS because a hunter couldn’t keep a monster that wasn’t under control, and Tobias wasn’t under control right now. There wasn’t any fucking control in his life, and he couldn’t control himself because he was just a freak and he didn’t understand what Jake wanted or intended. Every fucking time that Tobias tried to do something, it was the wrong thing, wrong wrong wrong in that perverted way only freaks were capable of.
Tobias didn’t know what Jake meant about the woman. He had no fucking idea. Crusher would have thought that Tobias would want to hurt her. The Director would have forced Tobias to say—over and over again—what a monster would do to another monster.
Jake had never indicated anything like that. He had never hurt someone in Tobias’s presence, never implied that he wanted to. And he hadn’t done anything but be good to Tobias, done nice things for him, bought him clothes, given him a room and it was too much, too much for a worthless, stupid, useless . . .
Some of his despair and the knowledge of how much he had fucked up must have been visible because Jake turned toward him with so much concern in his eyes that Tobias knew that was his fault too. If he could only be a little less stupid, a little less worthless, Jake wouldn’t have to look at Tobias like Jake’s world was falling apart too.
“Not hungry?” Jake attempted one of his grins, but it hurt Tobias to see it because Jake was clearly trying so hard, and Tobias couldn’t do anything because he didn’t understand what Jake wanted or how to help.
JAKE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT the fuck was going on. He didn’t know what he’d said or done, but Tobias was clearly on the edge of a breakdown that would make the disaster at the grocery store look like a wiener dog compared to a werewolf.
Jake smiled at Tobias, and Tobias flinched, physically flinched like Jake had fucking hit him.
They had to get home. They had to get home right now, because Jake didn’t know what would happen when whatever was holding back Tobias’s panic broke.
He waved for the check and asked for doggy bags, though neither of them had taken a single bite. Jake downed his beer, wishing it was something stronger, and tried hard not to look at Tobias, not to see the trembling in his limbs or his death grip on his own arms.
Jake tried to keep his movements smooth and nonthreatening, but he was fairly sure he was telegraphing his rage at himself. And he knew, sickeningly, that Tobias would think it was directed at him.
Jake didn’t know what he had fucking done, but he knew he was responsible for reducing Tobias to this when they had been doing so well.
When the takeaway bags came and Jake climbed out of the booth, he briefly thought about handing Tobias the bag—Tobias seemed more relaxed when Jake had him doing things, whether that was carrying a duffel or bringing the glasses from the table to the kitchen—but one look at Tobias’s posture convinced Jake that maybe this time he could do it himself, even when he ended up having to balance the food awkwardly to get the car keys out of his pocket.
It felt weird knowing that Tobias was following him to the car as Jake tried not to look at him or do anything else fucking stupid to set him off before they could get inside, to the apartment, somewhere safe where no one would try to report Jake for child abuse when they saw Tobias collapse.
But maybe they should. Maybe you shouldn’t be in charge of anyone else’s life when you’re barely able to hold your own together.
Jake told that little voice to shut the fuck up and hit the gas a little harder than he needed to get out of the parking lot.
When Jake got the key into their front door, he let out a breath. Being inside his own space gave him the illusion of safety, that whatever had gone wrong could be fixed. Even if he didn’t know what had set Tobias off or what the hell he could do about it.
He put the sandwiches in the fridge and then went back to Tobias, who hadn’t followed him to the kitchen.
Seeing him standing stiff and trembling in the living room made the bottom drop out of Jake’s stomach. For a moment he wholeheartedly wanted to retreat, go to his bedroom, and pretend that whatever had happened tonight would go away if he ignored it long enough.
Two things stopped him. One was that Jake Hawthorne might be a bundle of fuck-ups, but he wasn’t a coward. Leon Hawthorne had raised a crazy bastard who shouldn’t be in charge of anyone’s life because he would probably just screw them up even more than he was screwed up, but he hadn’t raised a chicken-livered weakling.
The other thing was that if Jake walked away now, he would be leaving Tobias alone to deal with whatever fucked-up thing this was, to suffer through something that—while maybe not completely Jake’s fault—he’d certainly made worse at the diner. And Jake would not do that.
Though he seriously reconsidered his position when he stepped farther into the living room and Tobias flinched hard away from him.
No, this was just like when he had visited Tobias at Freak Camp. For the first moments of every visit, Tobias had looked like Jake was going to hit him.
Come to think of it, that was how Tobias had looked every day since Jake had gotten him out.
“Tobias,” Jake said, unsure where to even begin.
“J-J-Jake?” Tobias kept his eyes locked on the floor between them, twisting his hands like he was trying to rub off his own skin.
Jake took a deep breath to focus himself, making an effort to balance out everything that had happened today and be the strong one, because Tobias . . . Tobias was messed up and Jake was less messed up, and so it was clearly his responsibility—
That was when, looking anywhere but at his face because that clearly freaked Tobias out as much as anything else Jake might do right now, he focused on Tobias’s hands and saw the long, angry red lines.
“Fuck, Tobias.” Jake moved too fast. He knew he’d moved too fast, but Tobias was bleeding. He grabbed Tobias’s hands and felt a little sick that Tobias flinched again, no more and no less than he had from all Jake’s small motions that day and the days before. What the fuck did they do to you, Tobias?
