Page 49 of Fear
It took a second for the words to sink in, and then Jake bolted from the room so fast he nearly flung the door off its hinges. He made it to the wall outside the bathroom, the one Tobias had used when he had the strength to hobble out. He wasn’t sure if he was going to vomit. His stomach was roiling, his hands shook, and he could still faintly hear Tobias’s sickening pleas drifting from the bedroom.
He sounded afraid and despairing. Utterly without hope that Jake would listen. That Jake would be any different from the bastards who had cut into his skin and broken something inside him.
Jake had tried to believe that Tobias knew he wasn’t like those sadistic sons of bitches. He had tried to convince himself that Tobias wasn’t afraid of him in addition to his general fear of reals and asking for things and looking him in the eye. Though Tobias would never had said otherwise because he was so desperate to please that he wouldn’t have said a single thing to upset Jake.
But that nightmare—fuck, Jake hoped that it was a nightmare; he couldn’t contemplate that horror in Tobias’s voice being part of his regular dreams—showed that Tobias wasn’t just afraid of Jake. He was terrified.
If Jake could have, he would have walked out right then. He would’ve left because Tobias was so clearly wrecked by his mere presence, and every time Jake looked at Tobias with that knowledge, it hurt like a wicked bitch. He would go, willingly, if it would make life just a little bit easier for Tobias.
But he couldn’t. Because Tobias was feverish, half-starved, and sick, and Jake was the only one there. That scared him shitless more than anything else that had happened in these three fucking roller-coaster weeks. He couldn’t leave because Tobias needed him, even if he would never ever trust him.
Jake swallowed painfully until he was sure he wouldn’t need to barf out his stomach when he stepped back in that room and had to hear Tobias’s whimpering with perfect, painful clarity.
Then he turned and went back in. Because it had to be done, and he was the only one who would.
TOBIAS’S FEVER BROKE that evening, and Jake knew he should feel relieved. But what he really felt was numb.
The next morning, Tobias felt well enough that he asked to sit in the living room (a weirdly precise request, among the thousands of things Tobias wouldn’t ask for—like more water when his glass was empty—but it seemed important to him to get out of his bedroom). Jake helped move him, opened the windows, threw Tobias’s sheets into the wash, and cleaned to the best of his ability, trying to get the smell of sweat and sickness out of the walls, though they were probably more in his head than anywhere else.
He tried to stay out of Tobias’s sight as much as possible. It was better that way for both of them. If Tobias wasn’t confronted with Jake at every moment, he wouldn’t be terrified all the time, right? And Jake wouldn’t have to see the fear in Tobias’s face, just below the surface.
He had scared people before, but those had been civilians, and he was a hunter. He’d been doing his job, and it hadn’t mattered what they thought of him when he blew out of town.
Tobias mattered. No matter all the hunts Jake had been on, he’d wanted to save Tobias’s life more than anyone else’s. He couldn’t think about how much he was failing because he still had a job to do, and studying his fuck-ups could only distract him from feeding Tobias, getting him healthy, and maybe giving him enough confidence to survive on his own. Because Jake sure didn’t see any way they were going to make it work together.
The plan had been working (do the job, get out, don’t get attached) until Jake was cleaning up from a meal that he’d made for Tobias (more broth, beef this time) and hadn’t bothered to eat himself.
Tobias pushed himself up on the couch—Jake was watching, even though he was in the kitchen, even though it was probably creeping Tobias out more—and he looked so hopeful, like he wanted to ask something, that Jake had to step out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. Maybe this time Tobias would tell him what he needed. Even a hint would be nice.
“Yeah, Tobias?”
“Jake?” Tobias looked down, then up again. “Are you . . . are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You need anything?”
Tobias started to shake his head, and then the motion twisted on itself until it was like a shrug-nod, or maybe just a shudder. “I feel good, Jake, really good, but you’re . . . did I . . .”
“Did you what, Tobias?”
Tobias took a deep breath, closing and opening his eyes, keeping them fixed on the carpet. “Did I d-do something wrong, please tell me, Jake, I can be b-better—”
The words made the bile rise in Jake’s throat, and he almost wanted to turn and walk away before Tobias could plead with him, before that broken tone reemerged. But something stopped him. Something perilously like hope. Maybe he could take this chance. Maybe he could just ask and learn what Tobias needed, and then he wouldn’t shake and cringe and beg, and he would be okay.
That was all Jake wanted. Everything Jake wanted. So he crossed the living room and sat on the coffee table. Tobias looked up, and Jake could see him swallow from the effort that took him.
“You’re afraid of me, Tobias,” he said, looking him in the eye, even as Tobias cringed again. “Every day, you’re afraid of me, of what I’ll do. No, don’t shake your head, I’m not stupid, and the way you flinch away from me is . . . yeah, well, it’s pretty clear. But if you meant it, if you really want to help us, you need to . . . I want you to . . . tell me. Tell me how to make this better for you, tell me how to”—stop making you afraid of me with every breath—“help you. What will make this easier for you, Toby?” Jake forced a small smile. It hurt a little but was worth it when he saw Tobias relax fractionally.
He didn’t expect Tobias to answer—yeah, he hoped, but he had learned better than to believe—but after a moment, Tobias inhaled shakily.
“You . . . you could . . .” He stopped, shoulders tense, eyes on his knees. His hands clenched once, twice, and then flexed out until Jake could almost hear the knuckles cracking.
Jake held his breath. He hadn’t dared to expect a real answer, but maybe the direct approach was finally going to fucking work. “What?” he whispered. “Just tell me, Tobias, anything.”
PART OF TOBIAS KNEW he should be glad that Jake had finally realized he shouldn’t be near or touch a freak. Jake was safer that way, and Tobias should be glad. But he couldn’t help the growing, selfish, monstrous worry that he had done something wrong and driven Jake away at a time when he couldn’t control himself. He worried more each hour that Jake would get tired of this burden and this weakness. He worried about Freak Camp. He worried about what he could do to make Jake touch him again.
And now Jake was asking what he could do to make this easier, telling him in so many words that he didn’t want Tobias to be afraid, didn’t want him cringing, and Tobias could try. There was one thing, one precious promise that Jake could give him that would maybe scrub away his deepest fear, the one he’d had nightmares about all through his sickness. Maybe, with that fear gone, he could do better at conquering all the little terrors.
Tobias drew in another deep breath and tried to convince himself it wasn’t much to ask. Just one bullet. It was the same as Jake would grant any monster.
