Page 50 of Fear
“You could—you could p-promise me,” he tried again, and found the courage, somewhere, to put his greatest need into words. The greatest need, at least, that he thought he could actually receive. “That you’ll n-never . . . that you’ll put me down yourself . . . rather than r-return me to F-Freak Camp.”
Tobias knew he should let Jake think through the request—Jake was a hunter and a real and so much smarter than him—but when he didn’t answer, Tobias couldn’t stop his mouth. He almost wished for the closed throat from the cough because now that he had started, all his bottled fears were forcing their way out of him in a dangerous rush. He didn’t look up, too terrified to see Jake’s face. “I kn-know you t-told me you w-wouldn’t, you p-promised, I kn-know, but you d-d-don’t know . . .” what a fucked-up piece of shit I am. “You haven’t”—fucked me, used me, found any use for me—“you c-could change your m-mind, and y-you don’t know how . . .” I always fuck up eventually, because that’s what monsters do. “It would h-help, Jake, just to hear you s-say it again, to know you’d give m-me a bullet before . . .” they have a chance to take away everything I ever wanted only for you.
JAKE FELT SOMETHING in his chest snap—maybe that was his heart, it certainly seemed to be beating louder than usual—but it wasn’t a new pain. Not one that would kill him.
He hated that Tobias had asked that. He had told Tobias he would never bring him back to Freak Camp, and he had meant it. He would crash his car, kiss Dixon boots, and light the state on fire before he ever let Tobias walk back through those doors. He wished like hell that he had the words to clear away the fear he could see in Tobias’s eyes, even when they remained fixed on his hands. Or rather, he wished he had different words. Because in that moment, he finally realized that Tobias meant it. Tobias thought that Jake could throw him back to those sons of bitches. He thought Jake had the capacity to shoot him. And yet he still believed that Jake’s promises were good, so Jake could say something, right here and now, that could possibly pull that fear out of Tobias, or at least tuck it so far inside that he wouldn’t flinch every time Jake reached for something near him, and he wouldn’t cringe like he expected to be hit when asking for something he needed.
Just like that, Jake knew that he was going to say it, because it might, just might, give Tobias hope. It should have been an easy promise—after all, he would never let Tobias go back to Freak Camp, even if it wasn’t the way he expected—but it felt like defeat. In that moment he had to admit to himself that he didn’t know any way out of this downward spiral ripping Tobias apart. He was caught there in its depths, pulled along without a way to break free. Jake had already made his decision, maybe when he was fourteen, maybe when he looked in his father’s face and knew he was walking away, but he had made it, and there was nowhere else for him to go. They would rise and fall together, but Jake didn’t like the odds for buoyancy.
He reached over and touched Tobias’s face, ignoring both Tobias’s automatic flinch and his own self-loathing at seeing it. After that initial reaction, Tobias looked up a little, and his entire body turned toward Jake like a flower turning toward the sun or a child feeling the hand of a parent promising it would be all right.
“I promise, Toby,” Jake said, half fervent, half heartbroken. “I would put three rounds through your heart and burn your bones before I let those bastards take you back to Freak Camp. I promise.”
The relief on Tobias’s face almost broke him again—the joy, the way he practically threw himself into Jake’s arms. Jake pulled him close and tucked his cheek against Tobias’s and felt the relaxation in him, as though a layer of tension had been stripped away, duct tape yanked off an old wall, ripping away paint and baring the plaster.
Jake touched Tobias softly over his back and held the rest of the promise to himself. Not just the fact that he would kill anyone and anything before he put a bullet in Tobias. No, there was another part he barely wanted to admit to himself because he didn’t know how Tobias would take it. He wasn’t sure that when he was better—if he got better, if he ever even got okay—Tobias wouldn’t need him anymore, and he would just . . . step away, step out, leave like so many people Jake had cared about had left.
Jake wouldn’t blame him. He was an overbearing asshole sometimes, not as smart as Tobias, not as kind. He was trouble and couldn’t make the right decisions. Mostly he tried to believe it wasn’t his fault that Mom had left, and mostly he managed, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the reason that Dad left. He could still remember the words.
He could probably survive Tobias leaving him. He expected it sometimes, even bitterly hoped for it when he was drinking or in the darkest hours of the night when he couldn’t escape how much damage he was inflicting. But even knowing Tobias didn’t want to stay with him would be balanced by the triumph in the knowledge that Tobias could survive without him. If Tobias left Jake, it would be because he had the strength to stand on his own.
If Jake had to pull the trigger—I never will, don’t even think of it, Hawthorne—he was pretty sure he would next turn the gun on himself.
Chapter Ten
Tobias was relieved by how quickly his condition improved after the fever broke. For days he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t always tell the different between the mattress underneath and the plain white ceiling above. Only Jake had been his constant presence through the hellish nights, propping him up with pillows to feed him soup and crackers, lowering him again and brushing his hands through Tobias’s hair through the long, unfocused days. He never once mentioned how he shouldn’t be touching, caring for, or dealing with a filthy monster, or what Tobias would have to pay for this kindness, or if there was any kind of punishment to be found at the end.
Tobias was starting to cautiously believe there might not be. And if there was, that didn’t matter, because Jake had promised Tobias he would never go back to Freak Camp, and that was the best thing. Tobias was in the safest place in the world every time Jake touched him. Every time he opened his eyes and felt the blankets over his shoulders, he knew he was in the best place he could ever be.
It kept getting better. One night drenched in sweat, sure he was going to die any second, coughing out every rebelling freak organ in his body, to a couple of days later, being able to wash the dishes and walk to the bathroom without steadying himself once on the walls. Thursday morning he had even woken up before hearing Jake’s quiet steps in the living room.
Tobias had put away the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table and washed Jake’s glass before deciding that he didn’t want to go back to his room. The sheets were clean and the window was cracked to let in fresh air, but Tobias could still feel the days of being sick. Not so much in the scent, sight, or feel—he hadn’t ever vomited onto the carpet, thank God, and Jake had never so much as slapped him, so there wasn’t any blood—but in the memories of words and murky nightmares.
So he stayed in the living room, propping himself up on the couch, and opened one of his books from the library. Jake had seemed happy when Tobias had read before, and now that he was better, it wouldn’t strain his recovering body.
In Freak Camp, he had never worried about straining himself. He had done what he had to do. But now he knew that taking care of himself was important to making Jake happy—Jake had clearly been worried and upset through the entire run of the fever, though Tobias wasn’t sure why—so he would do his best. He drank a little water from the tap in the kitchen before settling down on the couch, feeling a slight tremor in his muscles: easy to ignore, but a clear sign that he should continue resting. Jake had said that he should drink a lot of water, but Tobias wasn’t sure if that counted as a rule, a suggestion, or a fact.
When Jake shuffled out of his bedroom a couple of hours later, he made it to the invisible line that divided the living room from the hallway before he saw Tobias. He froze and blinked a couple of times. Tobias thought he saw him swallow, and there might have been something like relief in his face before it faded back to wariness.
“Hey, Tobias.”
“Hey, Jake.” Tobias’s hands were shaking slightly now. Maybe he’d been holding the book up too long. He lowered it and tucked his hands beneath his knees.
Strange how the weakness of his body used to be a threat, something that had to be compensated for so that no other monster could take advantage. Now it was still a sign of weakness, but he didn’t have to push through at the long-term expense of his endurance. He didn’t need to damage himself more so that he wouldn’t get jumped in the showers. It was like the one time he had been in the infirmary for weeks and hadn’t had to watch his back, he’d only had to get better so that he could keep surviving sessions with the Director. Except when he had been in the infirmary that time, he hadn’t been thinking about anything but surviving out of habit and the recitation of an old promise.
But it was all different now. Rather than being hollowed out, he had Jake and his fulfilled and new promises. And those gave him . . . something very like hope. And maybe happiness.
“You’re doing better.”
Tobias wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Yes, Jake. Much better. Thank you.” He knew he was smiling and couldn’t quite control it, but he was pretty sure now he didn’t have to.
Jake almost smiled in return, and then tension slid back into his shoulders. “That’s good. That’s really good.” He turned and went into the kitchen. Tobias leaned his head against the back of the couch and listened. Cupboard, refrigerator, pause, close refrigerator.
“Tobias?”
It could all go to hell so quickly, really. Tobias felt his entire body clench. Jake didn’t sound angry, didn’t sound like he was going to hit him or even yell at him, but he still didn’t sound happy. Tobias braced a hand on the couch and tried to get up, to figure out what he had done wrong and fix it, but when his arm shook, he sank back into the cushions. Better not to risk it. Tobias desperately wanted to do whatever Jake wanted, but he was afraid that stumbling into the kitchen would not be the way.
He hoped he didn’t sound afraid, answering. Jake didn’t like it when he was afraid. “Yes, Jake?”
