adiseaselikeyouspreads

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

sidney having a sharkgirl fursona (gillsona?) is the best thing i've ever heard actually

i dont know why i did this . i have things to be doing

(i made regan a german shepherd and dmitri a cat bc i couldnt fucking draw him as a seal. what am i even doing)

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realised i’d never drawn regan and dmitri kissing and realised also that i Had to fix this

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I just read the last chapter and I still have some lingering questions. What is the purpose of Michael's character? Why doesn't Jason report Dmitri and Reagan to the police? Were you ever intending to find a bigger solution to the problems presented by the premise itself (wrt the celebrity murderers) or did the story unintentionally drift over its course to be more about individuals than reality? I was surprised that the Plague Doctor storyline got no resolution past the reveal. Thank you!

Good questions!

Michael’s purpose was to start Jason on the path of forgiveness and understanding of the why Regan and Dmitri do what they do - and Jason getting to see that not everyone is a horrible person when he’s at his lowest point yet is also pretty important to him and his story. Also, he completes the “trilogy” of teenage murderers we show (the one who died, the one who got away with no remorse, and the one who realised what happened was wrong and changes his ways). In essence, he’s there to show Jason that the world isn’t as bad as it could be.

Jason came to the realisation in Chapter 8 that what the Plague Doctor does is necessary - or at least, not morally wrong. He kind of went from “you shouldn’t hurt anyone ever no matter what views they’re espousing” to “punching a fascist is totally cool, really” - to put it in terms more in line with our universe.

It wasn’t unintentional - the story was always about Jason and his realisations (both about himself and the world at large). And the last chapter is supposed to contain hints that things are winding down - Jason hasn’t been attacked in like a month! Must be a record or something. While the universe is an interesting backdrop, and certainly makes Jason’s life harder, it’s just that - a backdrop. And tbh, I have no doubt Jason is going to grow up and help do something about this. It’s just not mentioned because prom is the True End.

Hope that helps a little bit!

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Jason flits around his room, head whirling as he tries to make sure he’s got everything he needs. Phone is in his pocket- is his tie on? He touches at his neck. Yep. He checks the time and then checks the mirror, straightening his hair out a little.

Going to find his shoes, he pauses again to make sure he’s really, definitely got his tie on. Then he remembers he needs his ticket and searches over his desk, knocking over a ton of notebooks that he has to pick up before he finds the ticket among the mess.

So now he’s got to check his hair in the mirror again and straightens his tie out, and then paces around his room, checking his pockets again, because he’s so excited and he doesn’t want to mess anything up or forget anything. He laces up his shoes and then redoes it just in case, because it’d be really embarrassing for them to come off.

Oh, he forgot to put on his boutonniere. He rushes down the stairs and takes it out of the fridge. It’s pretty; a purple and lilac affair. He heads into the bathroom and proceeds to spend approximately five minutes fiddling with it, trying to get it to sit as best it can on his lapel.

The doorbell rings and Jason responds by shouting, “Mom! Can you get it?”

“Of course,” comes her overjoyed voice from upstairs, and then quick steps. He hears her greet his date loudly and then her and Sidney exchange pleasantries in the living room for a few minutes before he finally is satisfied with how he looks.

He steps out into the livingroom and pauses when he sees Sidney, in her beautiful dress, with her pink corsage. His mom is currently talking her ear off and she’s doing her best to look enthusiastic about it.

“Mom, leave her alone,” Jason laughs.

“Come over here, in front of the fireplace,” his mom responds, ushering him over. Then she moves over to the side table, and picks up her camera. “Get close together, come on- no, Jason, put your arm around her.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but does as he’s instructed, trying not to feel awkward. They pose for a couple pictures, until Jason’s eyes have little lasting imprints of a camera flash and his mom gets bored.

“You two have fun,” she insists, ushering them out the door, now. “Make sure to take lots of pictures on your phone for me, Jason.”

“I will, I will,” he reassures. Sidney casts him a sideways glance and grins a little.

The second his mom closes the door, Jason exhales, hard, relieved. They walk to Sidney’s car and Sidney laughs.

“She’s really excited, isn’t she?” She checks the back seat and then climbs in to drive. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I just didn’t feel like explaining anything,” he responds, with a shrug, climbing in as well. “I’ll tell her eventually. Before senior prom, at least.” He immediately lowers the vanity mirror, and fiddles with his tie. “Do I look okay?”

“You look cute,” Sidney assures.

“I’m trying to look handsome,” Jason responds with a huff.

“Alright, that, too.”

“You can’t just add it now that you know it’s what I want to hear,” Jason complains, adjusting his glasses.

“You need to calm down,” Sidney chides.

“As if you’re not nervous as hell, too,” He says, looking out the window and watching the scenery roll by. He still can’t believe he’s this lucky. He peeks over into the backseat, like he’s still convinced that a new serial killer is going to manifest to ruin the night. It’s junior prom; that’s, like, the perfect time for a horror scenario to take place.

But there’s no one there and he’s really safe. It’s been awhile since the last attempt.

He drums his fingers on the dashboard almost the whole way.

Parking is a bit of a circus, outside the hotel. Seeing all the people from school dressed up is so surreal, in some ways. When Jason gets out of the car, he tugs on his collar and swallows, trying to ward off his dry mouth.

Sidney’s already got her phone out. “Riley says they’re all over by the fountain.”

They both head over to the front area and after a bit of weaving through people, they spot Riley and Rose. Riley spots them in turn and throws her hands up.

“Sidney!” She jogs over and grabs Sidney’s hands, matching pink corsage on her wrist. “Oh my god, you look so pretty. You look gorgeous.”

“Please, you look like you just crawled out of a fashion magazine,” Sidney responds, smiling bashfully, small blush creeping over her cheeks.

“Only because you helped us pick our dresses out,” Rose says with a soft smile as she joins them, too.

“You’d look beautiful in anything you wore, Rosie,” Riley says, letting go of one of Sidney’s hands to wrap her arm around Rose.

“Voorhees!” Shouts Dmitri, inelegantly, as he all but sprints over and catches Jason in a big hug. Jason’s glasses almost slip off and he has to pry an arm free to right them, laughing a little.

“You’re- you’re going to crush my flower-” Jason says, face bright red. Dmitri pulls away and holds Jason by the arms as he looks him over. Then he looks up at him and grins.

“You look hot.”

“I- I-”

“Don’t you mean handsome?” Sidney cuts in, teasing. “That’s what he was going for.”

“He does look handsome,” Regan agrees as he walks up, much more casually. Jason takes a moment to take in Dmitri and Regan. In their sleek, expensive suits, with their matching flowers. Jason’s heart beats funny and he can’t look directly at them, not for more than a few seconds. He straightens out the wrinkles Dmitri’s made in his suit.

“You both look good, too,” Jason says. “Really good.”

“We all look fantastic,” Riley agrees. “But what’s the point if we don’t go show everyone else up? Let’s move.”

“Hell yeah,” Dmitri agrees, taking Jason by the hand and tugging him along.

They walk into the lobby and then have to stop to show their tickets to the attendant to get into the ballroom.

There’s a buffet table set up along the wall, quite a few tables off to the side, the photoshoot station right next to the door, and the dance floor, covered in soft lights. There’s a couple people dancing to light music.

“You think anyone’s spiked the punch yet?” Dmitri asks.

“Don’t spike the punch,” Regan and Rose respond, in tandem.

“Wow! Ganging up on me, much?” He pulls Jason closer. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s probably illegal,” Jason says.

“Fair enough,” Dmitri concedes.

“Let’s go get our group picture taken,” Riley says, already leading the pack that way. There’s a little bit of a line, but they all crowd together onto the set. “Make sure to get in front, Morozova. Otherwise no one will be able to see you.”

“Alright, everyone just bully Dmitri on prom night,” Dmitri says, with melodramatic sadness in his voice. “I see how it is.” Jason pats him gently on the shoulder. Dmitri responds by getting closer to Jason.

After the picture’s taken and they put down their names on some orders for the pictures (Dmitri’s treat!), they stake a claim on a table using Rose’s purse.

“So who else could go for a bite?” Riley asks.

“Shouldn’t we dance first?” Rose asks.

“Let’s dance our way to the buffet table, then,” Riley responds, heading towards the dance floor.

“Should we do a fake dance for appearances, first?” Sidney asks, glancing back over at Regan and Dmitri.

Dmitri waves a dismissive hand. “We don’t have to worry about that unless we start hearing chatter around. Everyone’s way too worried about their own fun tonight.”

Sidney immediately takes Rose’s hand and Rose blushes and smiles, and they go off to dance together.

“How about you, Jason?” Regan asks. “You in the mood for dancing?”

“I’m not a… great dancer,” Jason says, a little embarrassed.

“You danced just fine at my party!” Dmitri argues, sliding right up behind Jason and hugging him.

“I… guess.”

“C’mon, cut loose.” He gently pushes Jason towards Regan. “You two go dance, I’m gonna ask the DJ to put on something that won’t put me to sleep.”  

Regan leads Jason onto the dance floor and starts to sway a little to the slow music. It doesn’t look like slow dancing is his specialty, but that’s not stopping him.

“You’re looking a little overwhelmed,” he says, softly, as Jason tries to join him.

“I just still can’t believe all this,” Jason laughs. Regan tilts his head, questioningly. “I mean, there was a bit of time there when I was pretty sure I wasn’t even going to live to see junior prom. Let alone be here with you and Dmitri.” “I’m glad you are,” Regan says, taking Jason’s hand to lead him in this awkward dance on the slowly populating floor. “Dmitri had the biggest crush on you from, like, the second he talked to you.”

“He did?” Jason gapes.

“He’s the kind that falls fast and hard. It doesn’t always stick. But you did.”

Jason looks down at the ground, partially to avoid stepping on Regan’s feet and partially to hide his blush. Luckily, the music changes to something faster. There’s a wash of relief from the entire room and Regan spins Jason, suddenly, holding him against his chest.

“That’s more like it,” Regan laughs, confidence growing. Jason doesn’t have much time to think about what he’s doing, and just sort of copies Regan to the best of his ability.

Then, comes pushing and shimmying through the crowd is Dmitri. It takes him a bit of effort, considering he’s a head shorter than a lot of people.

“Do I deliver or what?” Dmitri asks as he joins them, third-wheeling on their performance. “Livened up the snoozefest.” He’s happy to be a bystander for only a couple of minutes before he bumps his hip against Regan’s. “Mind if I cut in?” He doesn’t, in fact, wait for an answer before grabbing Jason and pulling him right up against him, just as the song changes. That damn theater geek timing.

He spends the rest of the song doing his best to make Jason feel like his face is about to burn off, holding Jason tight and smirking, rolling his hips, mouthing the words to the song. When the song ends, he reaches up to pat Jason on the shoulder and tells him,

“There’s punch over there. Go cool off,” with a big, innocent grin on his face.

“You’re such a bully,” Regan teases, hushed, when Dmitri turns to dance with him.

“I’m going to get you back one day,” Jason says, once he manages to collect himself, then he turns on his heel and half-jogs over to the buffet table before Dmitri can respond.

He gets in line for the punch bowl and exhales, hard, making sure to steady his breathing. This is going nicely so far. He didn’t know what he expected prom to be. Well, maybe he was half expecting it to go all Carrie. Still no pig blood. Yay for him!

“Jason?” Michael King asks, as he joins him in the line. Jason looks over his shoulder and smiles. “I almost didn’t recognize you out of a hoodie,” Michael laughs.

“Well, how about you,” Jason says, looking Michael over. He’s handsome, in his clean cut suit. What a showboat. “How much did you pay for that suit?” Jason teases.

“Too much,” Michael answers, looking down and adjusting his lapel pin.

“I thought you weren’t going to come at all,” Jason says, shuffling back a bit as the line moves.

“I thought about it. But, y’know, I only get one shot at this whole junior prom thing. I shouldn’t let a bad year ruin all of my fun.” Michael beams, and Jason can’t help but grin back.

“Agreed. Got to show the bad year who’s boss, and all that.” Jason pours a drink for Michael and then grabs his own, scooting out of the line quickly.

“Hey,” Rose steps up, throwing Jason a nervous look, like she’s coming to check on him. He notices her side-eye Michael and tosses a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Rose. You know Michael.”

“Yeah,” she replies, like she’s not exactly pleased. Michael shifts uncomfortably.

“He’s not doing anything. We’ve been talking since he got out of the hospital. It’s fine.”

“Maybe I should just, uh,” Michael says, taking a step back and sipping from his drink.

“No,” Rose says. “If Jason trusts you, I’ll stand by his decision.” She squints at Michael. “Be nice, though.” Then she catches a glimpse of Riley waving from the dance floor and turns and jogs off, with the quick call of, “Have fun, you two!” behind her.

“Maybe we should get back out there, too,” Jason says.

“We?” Michael asks.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to.”

“Sure,” Michael says, smiling shyly. So they finish their cups and trash them before moving back into the center of the room, joining the mass of moving bodies again.

It doesn’t take long to run into Regan and Dmitri, the latter of whom has his arms spread wide and is saying,

“I’m telling you, if you let me take a running start and then lift me up over your head at the peak of this song-”

“Jason’s back,” Regan says, interrupting his ridiculous request. “With- oh.” His smile turns down at the corners.

Dmitri whips around and says, “Jason!” Closely followed by a far less enthusiastic, “What is he doing here?”

“Michael and I were just hanging out some,” Jason offers, putting up a placating hand. Dmitri doesn’t look impressed, giving Michael several once overs.

“You disgust me,” Dmitri says, cheery enough.

“Fair,” Michael laughs, strained.

“Dmitri, he isn’t going to hurt me,” Jason says, trying to calm the tension. He can see that Regan’s shifting nervously, looking wary, paranoid. “Let’s just give him a shot, alright? Three against one.”

“My suit is kind of tight in the back anyways. I don’t think I could throw a proper punch,” Michael tries to joke.

Regan rubs the back of his neck and then nods, cautiously acquiescing. “Alright.”

So Michael joins their miniature dance group, solving the problem of the third wheel. Regan seems to warm up, at least minutely, but Dmitri still glares every once in a while. The girls breeze through to show off moves or to participate in some comical dance, usually with Dmitri.

The food’s good, no one spikes the punch, and Jason dances until his legs are shaky. The dance finally ends, and people filter out through the ballroom doors, some walking up to the front desk and getting room keys to stay overnight. Jason’s parents didn’t want him spending the night in a hotel, right now, for obvious reasons, so they all crowd outside.

And they head down to the lake a half mile away, all stuffed into Rose’s moms’ car, Sidney riding shotgun, Dmitri unsafely sitting in Regan’s lap, Michael pressed up against the window with Jason’s elbow in his ribs.

They sing along to 80’s radio and then leave the windows rolled down when they park so they can continue to hear it play as they fight for position on the hood of the car.

“I win,” Riley says as she spreads like a starfish over the top, and then motions to Rose. “My girls can sit up here. You boys go sit by the water.”

So they do, walking down onto the bank and feeling the cool wind. It carries the lyrics to I Melt With You. They sit, with Dmitri’s promise of paying for drycleaning if their suits get dirty. Regan puts an arm around Jason and Dmitri leans back against Regan’s stomach, grabbing Jason’s hand. Jason’s cheeks heat up, but he doesn’t let himself deny himself this nice moment.

He lets his hand rest on the ground, fingers brushing Michael’s minutely. Sidney, Riley, and Rose laugh quietly behind them.

“I think this has been the best night of my life,” Dmitri finally says, after a minute or so of silence, making a grand sweeping motion to accentuate the hyperbole. Regan chuckles, rolling his eyes.

Jason feels Dmitri squeeze his hand. He looks into the sky and the stars, seeming as if they were made just for this moment. As if the entire universe had been holding its breath for this day. Jason can understand why.

“I think you’re right,” Jason agrees, squeezing back.

And he means it.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

By the way, Arden has had some very hectic weeks that have led to the current delay in chapter publishing. Worry not - the art is in the works, and should be out by Monday at the latest. Thank you for your patience!

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Quick announcement:

Cocoa and I have been doing a lot of thinking, and we’ve decided we don’t like the direction this story is going. Some of the stuff we’ve had Jason & co do feels very OOC to us! Thus, we’d like to amend our story. Rather than being about Dmitri, Regan, and Jason falling in love, we’ve decided Sidney and Jason are a much better, more in-character option! 

That’s right; Sidney and Jason are heterosexuals and in love, and we realise now that they always have been. In addition, Rose and Dmitri, as well as Riley and Regan are actually couples, rather than bearding, now. We hope you enjoy this new direction the story will be taking (we’ve decided to dedicate 10 more chapters to Jason coming to the realisation that he’s been straight all along!) and stick with until the end! <3 

Thanks for reading!

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

The seventh news story comes out. Another murder attempt against repeat survivor thwarted; no comment from Jason Joon-ho so far. Society continues to be unsympathetic. He receives no time off school. Film club is suspended until further notice. Film class becomes a study hall. He feels like the silent room is judging him.

Regan and Dmitri call out from school. He doesn’t see them at all, for three days. There’s whispers in the halls about them being gone. Jason thinks everyone is blaming him for that, too, somehow, but he can’t be sure.

Either way he skips lunch, dodges Riley and Rose and Sidney. He doesn’t want them to ask. He doesn’t know how he’ll lie to them. He spends a lot of time wondering if Rose and Riley knew.

But he spends even more time thinking about the Plague Doctors. Dmitri and Regan. How they lied to him. How they were killers the whole time, didn’t tell him, when they knew how he felt about it. How all of their interactions had probably just been them trying to get close, to kill more people.

How they saved him, in and out of costume.

How their lips felt.

He’s so confused. He doesn’t know how to feel. He misses them. Three days pass and he feels exponentially isolated. His parents are busy. His mom tries, but she doesn’t know how to help him. Fair, considering he doesn’t even know how to help himself. At least no more murder attempts are happening. He kind of wishes they would. A simple, self-destructive wish. It would make this weird stall- this purgatory- end. It would make the universe move again.

Jason sits outside during his lunch hour, with little regard to his safety. He’s not even paying attention, really. His brain is too fogged over. He chews on a sandwich, but doesn’t taste it.

“Hey, Jason…” A voice comes from behind him, along with the squeak of a door. Jason recognizes it. Michael King. Oh, right, he was discharged from the hospital yesterday. Some dull little part of Jason’s brain says Well, here it is, he’s going to stab me and then leave my body behind a dumpster. That thought doesn’t kickstart him into a panic. In fact, he sinks further into himself, doesn’t react, just chews more slowly and stares into the distance.

Oddly, death doesn’t come. The silence stretches long enough that Michael makes a nervous sort of noise, shifts, feet scraping at the pavement.

“Jason?” He tries again, sounding less certain this time.

Jason drops his sandwich back into its bag. “What do you want?” He asks, half-turning to face Michael.

Michael, who’s now down a right arm. It’s gone, just below the elbow. His left forearm has a few visible wicked scars. The trap really did do a number on him.

“I just wanted to come… talk.” He’s avoiding eye contact. He’s more nervous than Jason. Jason can’t help but feel a little satisfied at that. Just a little.

“Here to discuss the terms of my next kidnapping?” Jason asks, earning an anxious laugh.

“No. God, no, dude. I came to apologize. For the whole…” He does a throat-cutting hand motion, wincing as he does it. “A lot of shit in my life went really bad really fast and I just…”

“Decided to try to kill me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was shitty of me.” He straightens the collar of his overshirt, then runs his hand through his hair, awkward and slow. He sits next to Jason, taps his foot nervously. “I didn’t want to, and I know this is no excuse, but everything just kinda collapsed all at once. I ruined my GPA this semester, because of physics class, and we lost the game that an important scout came to, so a bunch of my scholarships fell through… My parents were freaking out at me about ‘making something of myself’ and being successful and all that.” He rocks a little, grimaces.

“The counsellor was freaking me out and my friends were all being dicks about how I’d fucked up in the game and I felt like I needed to prove something, and you were all over the news, and my dad started to like, set everything up…” He trails off, looking away from Jason again and then back at the door. “Guess I kind of fucked everything up even more, for both of us.”

Jason listens through, but not without his fair share of squinting. Still, he feels sympathetic. Michael is the murderer with the motive that Jason had wanted the rest of them to be. Someone with a reason that could be remedied, with something besides ‘I want to’ or ‘what’s stopping me?’. The result of their messed up society and its awful priorities. Someone who wouldn’t be this, in another reality, where things were different. Someone who wouldn’t be this with just a spot of good luck.

Jason bounces his leg and looks down at his hands. Thinks of how hasty Michael’s knots were, how ineffectual the traps were. He looks back up.

“I hope you know I can’t elect an attempted murder as student council president in good conscience,” Jason finally responds. Michael makes a confused face, and then relief washes over and he kind of hangs his head, mussing up his own hair again. “Even if I ate your cookie.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m kicked from the race.” He sounds tired. Jason notices the bags under his eyes. He gets the feeling that the kick had more to do with him failing and not with him attempting. Jason packs up his lunchbox and stands up, stretching.

“Before I can accept your apology… Your days of murdering are over, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t… I mean, they never even really started. That’s not the kind of thing I want to do. Or be known for.”

“Good.” He doesn’t explicitly accept the apology, but it’s probably implicit in his little nod. He still thinks Michael has a little bit of a way to go before he proves he’s an alright guy. But he’s willing to give him a chance. He really liked him before all this, anyways. “I’ll see you around.” He passes Michael in order to go back inside.

He goes through class, finishing out the day with a slightly less addled mind. Something new is nagging at him now, though. Just barely out of reach. It’s when he thinks back over the conversation that he realizes what exactly it is.

He was willing to forgive Michael. He let him tell his story. He was willing to accept his words because he understood that Michael’s actions were a direct byproduct of society.

That’s Dmitri and Regan’s whole schtick, but on the other end. They distrust society, think that no one is handling the problems. They’re right, on some level. Jason’s seen it personally, seven times now, how the criminal justice system and society on the whole fails its people. Maybe he should give them a chance to explain.

After school, he picks up their homework for them. He’s decided to brave his own car, for the first time since this all started (well, second, if the drive to school in the morning counts, but he was hardly awake enough to be paranoid). He checks the back seat and the trunk before actually getting in to drive, and heads to Regan’s house.

The first thing Jason notices is that the only car in the driveway is Dmitri’s. Either Regan’s car was being used, or his parents aren’t home to take up the garage. He’s crossing his fingers for the latter.

He climbs out of the car after pulling out a little stack of worksheets and walks up to the door, ringing the bell once.

He bounces in place as he waits, but no one answers the door. So he rings again. This time, after a few seconds, he hears shuffling against the door. Someone straining to see through the peephole?

There’s the sound of a click, and the door slowly peeks open.

Dmitri’s looking up at him, hand curled around the edge of the door tight, knuckles white.

“Hey,” he says, with a nonchalance that is not supported by his body language. His eyes flicker nervously, like he’s watching for something. Jason looks over his shoulder, then back at Dmitri.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he reassures.

“Oh.” Dmitri relaxes, visibly, even if only slightly.

“I wanted to come talk,” Jason explains. Dmitri holds the door open and lets him come inside. It’s odd, how familiar this place seems and yet how strange it feels right now. He holds the homework out to Dmitri. “I picked this up for you two.”

“Thanks,” Dmitri says, immediately tossing the homework on the coffee table and letting it fan out.

“How is Regan doing?”

“Better. Stab wounds aren’t that hard to take care of, when they don’t hit anything important.”

“Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“Not really. We’re pretty good at the whole deal. I’ve gotten hit once. Left a cool scar on my hip-” He’s already prying his pants away from his pelvis, and Jason holds up a hand.

“You don’t have to show me.”

“Are you sure? It’s really-”

“So, where’s Regan?”

“Oh, he’s up in his room. Even though he’s doing better, I’ve got him on bed rest.”

“Can we go up?”

Dmitri taps his chin and then walks over to the stairs and stares up for a second, like he’s still trying to decide. “Alright,” he finally agrees, starting upstairs. Jason follows.

They head down the hall to Regan’s room and Dmitri knocks, light, before pushing in without waiting for a response.

Regan sits up, wincing, and says, “Hey, babe-” And then his eyebrows shoot up when he sees Jason. “Hey, Jason,” he adds, propping himself against some pillows.

“Hey,” he says back. It’s weirder to see him injured, now, out of the costume. There was the anger, before, and the shock. Now he’s just Jason’s friend, laid up in bed with a secret stab wound.

“You been doing alright?” Regan asks. Sympathy settles in Jason’s chest like a stone. Regan’s asking if he’s okay.

“No more murder attempts,” Jason says, noncommittally.

“That’s good.” Regan nods. “I hope no one’s been giving you a hard time.”

“Not really. No more than usual, at least. It’s been kind of lonely.”

“It’s not a party without me,” Dmitri says as he slips onto the bed and wraps a careful arm around Regan.

“So you two are dating?” Jason blurts, before his mind catches up with his mouth.

They look at each other for a second before a grin splits Dmitri’s face.

“You mean two platonic bros can’t call each other babe?” Dmitri asks.

“N- I mean- What about Rose and Riley?”

“They know,” Regan says. “We’re vigilantes, not dicks.”

“It’s sort of a ‘they scratch our backs, we scratch theirs’ sort of deal.” Dmitri reaches over and back to scratch his own back. Jason can’t tell if it’s symbolic or if he’s actually just itchy.

“Oh,” Jason says. He doesn’t know what else to say. Sidney was right. Does that mean Dmitri liked him? Likes him? Or was it all performative? Instead of considering that at this exact moment, he switches topics. “Michael talked to me, today. Michael King.”

Dmitri perks up, immediately, eyes narrowing. “What did he do?”

“Nothing bad,” Jason says, holding up a pacifying hand. “Just. Came to talk. Apologize. It kind of… made me think. That I didn’t really listen to you guys or give you a fair chance to explain yourselves.”

Dmitri doesn’t relax anyways. Him and Regan share another look and Regan grips his hand gently.

“So you came for a little exposition?” Regan teases.

“I’m serious,” Jason says. “I’d really like to, like, know… why you do this.”

Regan seems to mull it over, rubbing his thumb over the back of Dmitri’s hand. Maybe to soothe him. Dmitri is looking more agitated, all of a sudden.

“A friend of ours got killed,” Regan says, as casually as one can say something like that. “When we were really young. He went missing. No one ever found him and no one ever got brought in for it.” Regan squeezes Dmitri’s hand, because Dmitri is gritting his teeth.

“People go after fucking kids,” Dmitri ends up snapping, bringing up a hand to run through his hair. He’s still straining to smile, like he’s trying not to get worked up. “All this superiority bullshit aside, people go after little kids, they just- how is a kid supposed to defend themselves against an adult?” It’s not working well.

Regan holds him closer. “Over summer break, we started to look into it. Go back through old forums, try to do anything to track down our friend or the person who killed him. The trail eventually led us to a suspect. Brad Milton.”

Jason remembers seeing the news reports about his mysterious murder, over summer break. His mom had been really stressed out about it.

Dmitri gets up, starts pacing. “We went to the police, first! We did! They told us it’d been too long. Too many years. Even with our evidence, they said it was too late and that we should just drop it, that they’d never be able to get anything substantial. That he was too important to the economy of the area to bother anyways.” He points at Jason. “Well, I’m not the kind to give up. Not so easy. So we scheduled a meeting… At his house. Without him knowing. We just showed up and rang the doorbell. We brought the evidence and we shoved it right in his face. We just wanted him to admit it, to us. To get closure, I guess.”

Regan beckons Dmitri, who’s been pacing furiously, back over. Dmitri walks to the bed, sits down, stands up, sits down, stands up, and repeats this in quick sequence until Regan threads his fingers through Dmitri’s hair and continues to soothe him.

“He wouldn’t admit it,” Regan says, almost whispering. “He told us he had no idea what we were talking about. I got mad. I ended up shoving him. Even though the guy was a murderer, he was - he was skinny as hell, really. And then when he kept going, telling me - telling us - that we’d come there for no reason, that we’d never get what we wanted, I...snapped. I grabbed the lamp off the table and...” Regan cringes. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I really didn’t. I was just running on instinct, I was...I was just so angry. Dmitri was yelling at me the whole time. I think he was telling me to stop - imagine that.” He chuckles a little, but there’s no joy in it. “I stopped after...I don’t know how long. But when I did, he was dead.”

“He had it coming,” Dmitri mutters. He’s scowling and tugging nervously at the bedsheets. They’re rapid little movements, characterised by anxiety. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dmitri this worked up.

“We hid the evidence. And we decided we were never going to mention it again. Not to anyone. It was over.”

“It was supposed to be over,” Dmitri corrects, tugging his way out of Regan’s grip to start pacing again, running his hands through his hair ceaselessly. “Then his fucking partner showed up. The police might’ve let us slide, or maybe they really were that stupid, but Brad Milton had friends with actual deductive skills, and one of them fucking showed up at my house.” Dmitri laughs, acidic. He stops his walking to tap his foot rapidly. “That time, I was the one who snapped. He underestimated me. I took the knife from him and-” Dmitri stops and breathes in sharply.

“It was easier to deal with it this time,” Regan continues, voice soft again. “It was Dmitri’s house, after all. We could hide the body on the property and who would ever go looking? The Morozovas are important around here.”

“You mean we’re rich,” Dmitri snaps, resuming his track around the room. “That’s all it takes, to get away with it. A little bit of money.”

“Either way, after we finished cleanup, we kind of…” Regan makes a helpless face, as if he’s struggling for the words. “Emotions were running high, we needed comfort, and the feelings that had kind of been there for years came to the surface.”

“We hooked up,” Dmitri clarifies.

“Ah,” says Jason, intelligently.

“Then, once everything had kind of settled, and we’d talked…” Regan says, after clearing his throat, “We realized that no one was going to fix this stuff. No one cares about it. It’s easy to find the people responsible, if you know how to look, if you just watch, but no one cares. The cops will never do anything. No one wants to be the one who brought in this week’s hottest celebrity killer.”

“But we care,” Dmitri says, pausing where he is and crossing his arms. “And we know the kind of damage they do. How bad it hurts to lose someone you care about. The system was never built to have a way to fix it. So… so we decided to play their game, and play it in a way they didn’t expect. Turn their little rules back against them.” His arm comes up, to rub his neck. “A disease like them spreads. If no action is taken, they just infect everyone around them. I was sick of being scared, Jason. I was sick of having to see other people be scared. I wanted the killers to be scared, for once.”

Jason looks at the ground, trying to let all of this sink in. He’s seen how it goes. Plenty of the people who tried to kill him were the type doing it just to do it. They weren’t good people. They weren’t the kind of people who were going to stop if he’d just talked to them longer, more. Steve and Michael walked away without any legal repercussions. If there’s no consequences, no one learns that it’s wrong. It stays glorified. The victims are vilified. If they dare to talk about it, they’re made even more vulnerable.  Dissenters are buzzkills.

Regan and Dmitri aren’t infallible. Jason doesn’t agree with everything they do. He still hates Regan’s decision about Christian Lyons.  But he understands. Their primary function isn’t to kill Christian Lyons, it’s to kill Mr. Beltramis. It’s to kill the people who are exploitative, vicious, underhanded- those who hurt others for pleasure, who inspire others to do similar.

Jason remembers the feeling of driving Beltrami into the wall, of seeing him slump down. He remembers how liberating it felt, knowing that Beltrami couldn’t lie to him again, hurt him again, hurt anyone again.

He remembers lying in bed and feeling much more secure, knowing he could do that. Knowing he could stand up for himself.

Maybe the whole vigilante thing isn’t so bad. It’s not his style. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. It’d make him sick. But there’s no peaceful discourse to be made with someone who decides on their own to murder teenagers. If there’s no legal recourse, going outside makes sense. They’re helping people. They’re saving lives. Equally important, they’re making themselves into public figures. The punishment is blatant. There’s no more security.

Jason nods, a little. This all slowly pans out in his mind and he laces his fingers together.

“Alright,” he says.

“Alright?” Regan asks.

“Alright, I understand,” Jason says. “I get all that stuff, I do. You guys are really brave. It’s dangerous. Not everyone would be willing to go to all this effort, to…”

“No one has before, really. Not besides one-time revenge killings.” Dmitri points out.

“Exactly,” Jason says. “So it’s… Wait, did you guys say you just started this summer?”

“We’re pretty efficient.” Regan shrugs. Jason swallows. That’s a little intimidating. Quick workers. Or these people just make themselves too obvious.

“I’ve got just one more question, then,” Jason states, readjusting his glasses. “Why did you guys approach me, before?”

“Well,” Dmitri answers, rocking on his heels before coming closer. “At first it was definitely because of the whole murderer thing. The Survivor had started coming up into Maine and had killed another survivor a few cities away. We figured that he was gunning for you. So I needed to find out where you’d be, that afternoon.”

Jason’s going to be sad, but Dmitri continues.

“But then I realized you were kinda cute and seemed sorta fun. And you looked like you could use the company. So I invited you to a shindig. And what do you know? My judgement of character is always spot on.” Dmitri cracks just a little bit of a grin.

“So you didn’t do it out of pity.”

“Nope.”

“Or just to use me to get to people.”

“Nope! Steve’s attack was totally out of nowhere. He wasn’t even on our radar. We were hoping the Survivor would be the end of it.”

“When I came in during the whole Christian thing,” Regan says, “I was just… I was coming over to climb the tree to talk to you. And heard a gunshot. And just happened to have my costume in the car.”

“Oh,” Jason says, for probably the millionth time. “So you guys…”

“Still want to be your friend?” Regan offers. “If you’d let us. We like you a lot.”

“A lot,” Dmitri emphasizes. How earnest he looks when he says it makes Jason’s stomach flip.

“I’d like that,” Jason agrees. His brain starts running through other conversations. Other encounters. The kisses at the party, what Sidney had said, the fact that they were past the protection phase when they’d kissed him during spin the bottle. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, but he’s too nervous, too uncertain to ask. It would be like intruding, he’s sure. He opts, instead, for, “When do you guys think you’ll be coming back?”

“It’ll probably be another week,” Regan says, grimacing at his wound. He laughs a little anyways. “Coach isn’t going to be happy about that.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t drop by and visit,” Dmitri says.

“You inviting him to my house?” Regan asks.

“I can invite him if I want,” Dmitri says, sticking his tongue out.

“You could go back to school, you know,” he says, jabbing Dmitri in the side gently.

“Like I’m going to leave you alone.” Dmitri shoves his hand away. “What if you walk around?”

“Yeah, the thing is, I’m not you, and am actually responsible.”

“Rude.” Dmitri swats his arm, lightly.

“Voorhees,” Regan says, adjusting himself a little. “When Dmitri got hurt at the beginning of last semester, I ran to the store real quick to grab him a drink and he tried to play DDR.”

“Oh my god,” Jason responds.

“Hey!” Dmitri says. “No one ever told me you shouldn’t dance with a stab wound in your hip. It was a learning experience for both of us.”

“You should probably come back to school,” Jason laughs, quietly. “It’ll… stir up less suspicion that way.”

Dmitri makes a ‘huh’ sound and then leans in close to Jason, squinting.

“You miss me.” Dmitri responds, with a grin. “You miss my wily charms.”

“I…” Jason avoids eye contact, feeling heat creep up his neck. “I mean, it’d be nice to be able to hang out with you again, I kinda got used… to…” Dmitri moves in closer. His arms curl around Jason’s waist and suddenly he’s on tip-toe, kissing Jason.

Jason stiffens, for a half second, and then melts into it, blush already blossoming over his cheeks. He can feel Dmitri smile into the kiss, fingers pressing lightly into his back. He nips Jason’s bottom lip.

Then Jason’s brain quickly catches back up and he remembers Regan. He steps back, heart hammering. He doesn’t want to step on any toes- he places a hand on Dmitri’s shoulder and takes note of his mischievous grin before looking at Regan. Regan’s smiling lazily, leaning on one arm. He doesn’t look upset.

Jason looks between the two of them, eyes a little wide, at a loss for words. When they finally do come to him, they’re not so much words as, “Ah, uhm, h.. Mh?”

“I told you we thought you were cute,” Dmitri says, sounding pleased with himself.

“B...both of you?” Jason squeaks.

“I can kiss you, too, if you need proof.” Regan shrugs. Jason heats up further and puts his hand over his mouth. Regan smiles real wide. “How can’t we think you’re cute when you act like that?”

Jason laughs, nervously. His heart is soaring. “I just thought it was, that the last kiss was part of the whole party guy thing.”

“It was five percent that and ninety-five percent good luck.” Dmitri grins.

“Well,” Jason responds, vaguely.

“You haven’t got to decide anything right now, Voorhees,” Regan says. “I know this whole thing’s probably been an emotional whiplash.”

“Yeah, I’ll…” Jason’s head is a mess right now and what he wants more than anything is to kiss the both of them again, but thinking is probably the smarter idea. “I’m definitely going to consider it.” He tugs on his hoodie sleeves, shifts, and tries to get his heartbeat to slow down.

He puts his hands in his pockets and smiles. Then takes out his phone and checks the time.

“I should probably head home now, before my parents start to worry.” They’ve gotten slightly better at doing that, at least. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it already.” Regan smiles softly, again.

“I’ll probably come back to school in a day or two,” Dmitri says, with a lazy salute.

“You guys make sure to get your homework done,” Jason says, helpfully. Then he hesitates for a second before turning around. Dmitri walks with him to the front door and watches until he gets in his car.

Jason puts on Cherry Bomb before starting his drive home.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Jesus fuck, this is so horribly written, why would you try to advertise it?

oh shit it's the book critic killer here to serial murder our confidence

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Also chapter 8 will post this Friday for consistency but like...Car Man

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Car Man is an 18 year old whose name is Carmen and they literally became a murderer because they thought it would be funny. It’s canon

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

It would be amazing if someone in this universe of spectacular serial killing just ran people over with their car. Beep beep you're dead. They could have, like, a special tread on their tires or something that said "CAR MAN"

This is canon now. Thank you.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Because Arden’s birthday was this week and he was very busy, the art for Chapter 8 isn’t quite ready yet. We’ll be postponing publication. Sorry for any inconvenience! 

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

A small warning before this chapter: this is by far the most emotionally intense and upsetting chapter in the story. Even if you haven’t been reading the /cw page prior to this, we would highly recommend doing it before beginning this chapter. 

“Damn, dude,” Dmitri says, examining Jason’s cheek critically. They were together in film class, not actually doing any work - this was far more interesting. “That’s fucked up.”

Jason just nods as Dmitri gently turns Jason’s face to look at the stitches better, clicking his tongue irritably when he pulls back. “What an asshole. I wish the Plague Doctor had hurt him even worse.”

“Don’t say that,” Jason mumbles, poking gently at the skin around the wound and flinching when it hurts. “I mean...No one deserves to have prolonged suffering before they die, not even people like that.”

Dmitri narrows his eyes.

“Some people do,” he replies. Then he glances at the front of the classroom, where Beltrami sat at his desk. Turning back to Jason, he drops his voice to a whisper and says, “Like Mr. Bellpepper over there!”

“What did he ever do?” Jason asks, giving Dmitri a quizzical look.

“Well, obviously! He hasn’t given you any extensions even though you’re drowning in makeup work and he’s a total dick to me!” Dmitri folds his arms with a huff and flips his hair.

“That...is definitely not even slightly good reason to kill someone.”

“Huh! Whatever,” Dmitri says, leaning back in his chair, arms still folded. “You going to Film Club today?”

Jason thinks about it. On the one hand, it’d be nice to get away in a space where he knows no one is going to try and murder him. But on the other, Mr. Beltrami has been...unforgiving, lately. Dmitri was right about that much. Jason almost feels like he’s done something wrong, but on the other hand, he’d been pretty annoyed by Beltrami recently. He wouldn’t stop bringing up sensitive topics and then being weirdly insensitive about them whenever the two were alone. Like Sidney, or the many, many attempts on his life.

As if he needed any more reminder. His cheek still hurt like all hell any time he thought he deserved to smile.

“I don’t know,” Jason manages eventually, looking back at his screen. “I...I probably should. I’ve been skipping it too much...At this rate, Mr. Beltrami won’t ever let me be president.”

“You want to be president?”

“I want to pick some better movies.”

Dmitri giggles, putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder and making Jason’s heart race again. No matter how comfortable he thinks he is around Dmitri, he’s never used to how it feels when Dmitri touches him, even a little.

“I know you would only pick the best! You have wayyyy more discerning taste than like, anyone I know! Hey, maybe if you were, I’d even go!” Dmitri squeezes Jason’s shoulder, and he tries not to go red.

“Uhhh,” Jason says, smartly. “Well, I...Uh, yeah, obviously, I would...would love if you came. To the club. With me. I mean, you don’t have to. At all. I, uh. Nevermind.”

Dmitri is making the catlike face again. Jason refuses to look, but he can tell.

“Mr. Morozova,” Mr. Beltrami cuts in, making Dmitri’s hand slip from Jason’s shoulder. “Have you done any work today? I mean, really. Any at all. I don’t want to have to punish you, but I’m going to need some proof you haven’t just spent the entire class hour so far touching Mr. Joon-ho’s face.”

“Yeah, I’ve done work,” Dmitri says, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Sure have. Wanna see it? I wrote a script about a teacher who doesn’t stop harassing one of his students because the student doesn’t fit his oddly high standards. It ends when the student kills the teacher after school. Is that dark enough for you, Mr. Boondocks?”

Jason turns to see Mr. Beltrami giving Dmitri a glare that is almost a little scary with the amount of genuine malice behind it.

“Dmitri. Principal’s office. Now.”

Dmitri makes a disgusted noise and gathers up his stuff, rolling his eyes at Jason before he starts to leave.

He stops in front of Mr. Beltrami’s desk before going out the door, though.

“What is it, Mr. Morozova?”

“You have to write me a pass, Mr. Gelkarma.”

Beltrami doesn’t look amused. He writes the pass anyway, seemingly if only to get Dmitri out of the room. Dmitri skips out, looking as happy as possible as he does so. Jason knows it’s only to piss Mr. Beltrami off, but he ends up snickering at it anyway.

“Is something funny, Mr. Joon-ho?”

Oh, shit.

“Uh, no,” Jason replies, turning back to his computer quickly. “Sorry. I...I just…”

For once, Mr. Beltrami doesn’t press him for his reasoning, just making a quick annoyed grunt before leaving Jason alone for the rest of the period.

Well, that was more stressful than it had any right to be.

At lunch, Dmitri complains.

“Mr. Pastrami is so far up his own ass,” he tells Jason. He stabs his spork into his mashed potatoes. “Can’t even take a joke!”

“It was a pretty… irreverent one.” Jason understands Dmitri’s anger, but he feels bad. Mr. Beltrami has been his favorite teacher since freshman year. He feels like maybe he is doing something wrong. Letting him down, somehow.

“Irreverent!” Dmitri stuffs food in his mouth, but talks anyways. “I’m not going to revere him. He needs to get off his high horse.” Another stab. “Besides-!” He flails his spork as he talks and the potatoes go sailing, splatting on the floor. Dmitri stares for a few seconds, and then pretends like he didn’t notice at all. He jabs the spork in Jason’s direction. “Why’d he become a high school teacher if he was going to hold vendettas against kids?”

“He’s a real jerk,” Regan agrees, speaking up from his seat, where he’s been worrying at some rice.

“You think so, too, Regan?” Jason asks, surprised.

Regan glances at Dmitri, then back to Jason. “I was in his creative writing class last year,” he responds with a shrug. “He basically told me not to quit my day job.”

Well, Jason can agree that that’s pretty rude. Still, he wants to maybe try to patch things up. Get back in the swing of going to club and working on projects. He’s really far behind, but just maybe…

He thinks on it for the rest of the day. Going to club feels like a risk, like some daredevil feat. The final bell rings and he steels himself.

Alright, he’s going.

When he walks in, he’s greeted with, “Mr. Joon-ho. It’s nice of you to join us.” Mr. Beltrami doesn’t even look up as he speaks.

The whole club feels tense. There are fewer kids, like people have been dropping out of the club. He’s heard about some people moving schools. Has he been messing things up for so many people? Is this why Mr. Beltrami is so mad?

They watch a fairly morose film that leaves Jason feeling hollow in the middle. Of course this would happen in his first day back.

When the club meeting winds down, the kids start to file out in a gaggle, like it’s safer to travel in a pack.

“Jason,” Mr. Beltrami says, when Jason reaches the door. “We need to talk.”

Well, that makes Jason nervous. He hesitates, but turns back around and comes to the desk. Mr. Beltrami stands up.

“I heard about your most recent rescue,” he states, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms.

“Yeah. I…” He doesn’t want to talk about it. He never wants to think about the Cannibal again.

“He got your face,” Beltrami comments, sounding a bit sad. Jason covers his scar.

“I really would rather... we didn’t…”

“This is going to keep happening,” he says. Jason feels his heart jump into his throat. “You’re a wonderful kid, Jason. But people are going to keep hurting you. And you’ll keep falling farther behind.” He’s leaning into Jason’s space, subtly. “You can’t take care of yourself.”

Jason clears his throat and shifts backwards a step. Mr. Beltrami closes that distance in a second. Jason’s whole body is suddenly on high alert.

“This is going to ruin you. You’re too talented to let that happen.” He leans in. “You need someone to protect you.” His hand is suddenly on Jason’s waist and Jason doesn’t even think, just turns and bolts.

He feels a hand try to grab the strap of his backpack, but he’s fast enough that he manages to get into the hall.

“Jason!” Mr. Beltrami calls after him. He doesn’t even consider turning around. He doesn’t even stop until he’s outside the front door of the school, chest heaving, lungs burning.

Fuck. What the fuck was that? He’s been targeted by killers six times and that’s still one of the scariest things he’s ever experienced. He’s shaking all over. He feels nauseous. He feels like he’s half a second away from upchucking all his organs. He feels tears welling up in his eyes and has to push up his glasses to rub at his face with his sleeve.

When his mom pulls up, he slings himself into the car and clutches at his backpack, hugging it.

“Bad day?” She asks, glancing at him. He wants to tell her, but he doesn’t even know what he would say. My teacher put his hand on my side. No, it’s weirder than it sounds, I promise. Jason just nods. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Hopefully things will calm down soon.”

Somehow he doubts it more than ever. Things won’t just go back to normal.

The next day proves him right. It feels wrong from the second he gets out of bed. His body feels off, like he doesn’t want to be inside it, like he would rather crawl out and sulk, ephemeral, in the corner. He sleeps through first period and drools on his notebook and hates himself for it.

He dreads third period. For the first time in his life, he considers cutting. Genuinely cutting. Not staying-home-faking-sick, but real, leaving the school grounds, going off to hide somewhere cutting. Instead he reluctantly shuffles into class and keeps his head down, avoids looking at Mr. Beltrami. He can feel his eyes on him anyways and he scrunches down in his seat.

“Woah-ho, you look like hell,” Dmitri comments as he plops down next to him.

“I didn’t sleep so well last night,” he lies. Some part of him really wants to tell Dmitri. Maybe at lunch. But not here, not right now.

“Happens to the best of us, Voorhees.” He pats Jason’s shoulder.

“I hope you two aren’t planning to spend the whole class talking again,” Mr. Beltrami’s voice comes harsh from the front of the classroom. Jason can almost feel the physical bite of it.

“Come on, Bellpepper. Class just started. Besides, it’s not good for my creative process to have to stifle myself.” He throws one arm over the chair casually and doesn’t seem to hesitate in locking eyes with Mr. Beltrami. Jason wishes he wasn’t brave, for once.

“Your work is still unsatisfactory, Dmitri. You need to focus.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m almost done.”

Jason breathes a sigh of relief when the conversation lapses.

He tries to concentrate, for a while, but it doesn’t really work. His brain is too scattered, keeps drifting to unpleasant places. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his phone. Putting in his earbuds, he goes to search put on some music when the phone is yanked out of his hands by Mr. Beltrami, headphones going with.

“I think you’re a little too behind to be playing on your phone, Mr. Joon-ho,” he says, coldly. Just as quickly, Dmitri is leaning across him to grab Mr. Beltrami’s wrist. Jason can tell it’s a mistake as soon as it happens.

“What the hell is your problem, man?” Dmitri asks, glaring up at Mr. Beltrami. “Lay off of him.”

“Mr. Morozova. Principal’s office.” There’s no debate in his voice. It’s an order.

“No!” Dmitri protests anyways. “It was funny when it was just you being a dick to me because you’re petty, but what has Jason ever done to you? He’s going through enough, so just leave him alone.”

Mr. Beltrami yanks his hand back. “Dmitri Morozova. Principal’s office. I’ll be seeing to it that your parents are contacted to discuss your repeated outbursts.” He starts to wind up the headphones. “Jason. You can pick this up in my classroom after school. In detention.”

“Detention?” Dmitri snaps. “All he did was-”

“Enough!” Mr. Beltrami snaps right back. Jason feels cold pour through his veins. The whole room stills.

Dmitri sets his jaw, and stares him down for a minute. Then pushes his chair out. Dmitri doesn’t say a word, but he glares at Beltrami the whole way out of the room. He doesn’t bother Beltrami for a pass this time. Jason has his doubts that he’ll even go to the office.

But he can’t worry about Dmitri right now. He’s too busy thinking about his own looming fate.

When lunch rolls around, he sits with Sidney and Regan. Dmitri must’ve gone to the principal like he was told, because he’s nowhere to be found. Regan seems troubled by it, snapping his breakfast bar in half and then not touching it again. He keeps looking around like he expects Dmitri to join them, but it never happens.

“Why did he get sent to the office, again?” Regan asks for the third time that lunch, still not touching his meager portion.

“Regan, asking again isn’t going to change it,” Sidney sighs, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Why did he give you detention?” Regan insists. “I don’t get it. He always talked so highly about you every time he mentioned the film students.” 

Jason’s stomach does a little flip at the thought that Mr. Beltrami was punishing him for running away. Part of him wants to tell Regan and Sidney, but a larger part of him thinks it’ll just cause more trouble than it’s worth. His mouth twitches down, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know. He’s...He’s been harsh, lately. Maybe he’s stressed by something else?” The lie sounds strained even to his ears. Regan gives him a scrutinizing look, but doesn’t press. Jason is thanking any God that might exist for that fact.

“He’s a teacher. He shouldn’t be taking his stress out on students anyways,” Sidney comments, sounding at least a little miffed.

“Yeah, but...Teachers aren’t perfect.” He picks at his sandwich. No appetite again. Ever since this had all started, he’d been eating less. Even though he was hungry, just because he hadn’t eaten anything since...whatever had happened the afternoon before happened.

“Well, he still shouldn’t get pissed at you and Dmitri for just...Dmitri was defending you! You hadn’t even done anything.” Regan snaps his meager lunch into thirds, making a face. “God, I hope he’s okay.”

“You really think Dmitri will take anything they say into account?” Sidney asks.

“He’s...He fronts like nothing anyone says bothers him, but if word gets to his parents, he’ll…” The breakfast bar is in quarters, now. Jason is surprised he hasn’t just crushed it yet. Regan brushes his hands off on his jacket and then pulls out his cellphone. “He hasn’t been answering my texts, either.” His leg bounces. “I think I might skip. I need to go check on him.”

He stands up, already dialing a number, scooping the fractured bits of his lunch into his hand.

“Tell him I’m sorry I got him in trouble,” Jason says.

“I doubt he’ll be upset at you,” Regan reassures. “I’ll text you when I figure out how he is.” Then he turns and tosses the bar into the trash, holding his phone to his ear. As he walks away, Jason can hear him say, “Hey, tina, I’m not feeling good…”

“So are you going to go?” Sidney asks Jason, brows furrowed in concern.

“I don’t think skipping will be a good idea. It’ll just cause more problems.” Even if he would really rather not go, he’d prefer even less to have more problems with Mr. Beltrami in the future.

The lunch period ends and Sidney wishes him good luck. For the rest of the day, he imagines what Mr. Beltrami will say to him- imagines them patching things up, just to keep his nerve. Maybe it was all just a terrible misunderstanding, and he’d just caught Beltrami in a bad mood today. He almost had himself thinking everything was going to be fine, until the bell for the end of school rang. When he made it to outside Beltrami’s door, he felt a wave of what could only be described as terror wash over him.

He really, really didn’t want to go inside.

He takes a deep breath and reassures himself that the fear is unfounded.

It’s all a misunderstanding. Mr. Beltrami will explain what’s going on. It’ll be fine.

He repeats that to himself, a mantra, it’ll be fine, until he manages to open the door.

Beltrami doesn’t look up when Jason enters. Instead, he gestures at the desk directly in front of his own, one of the ones away from the computer work spaces lining the walls. Jason looks at the desk, unsure, before sitting in it obediently. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud. Beltrami still hasn’t moved. Not even a twitch.

“Do you know,” he finally says, drawling the words out, care taken for every syllable, “why you’re here?”

Jason stares at Beltrami, who is still focusing on whatever is on his desk. He searches for some sign of what the right answer is. There’s none.

“You… I was using my phone.” Jason grips his desk, curls his legs up as much as he can manage. His sneakers squeak as he does, cutting the silence.

After some pause, Beltrami pushes himself up and walks to stand in front of Jason’s desk. He puts his hands on the sides of the desk top, leaning into Jason’s space. Jason tries to lean away, but where can he go? Beltrami blocks him on all sides - left, right, and centre.

“Sure,” Beltrami agrees, smooth. “But it was more than that. You were insolent.”

“I...I don’t unders-”

“You let Morozova talk over you. You laughed at his disobedience. You fucking let him defy me!” Beltrami slams his hand on the desk and Jason jumps. His entire body is shaking. He needs to leave. He can't do anything but stare forward.

If he tries anything, Beltrami is going to hurt him. How much, he doesn’t know. That's what scares him. The uncertainty. The why, how, most of all, the how much.

“Why are you afraid of me, Jason?” Beltrami cuts into his thoughts, still too much in his space. Choking him through proximity. “Huh? What did I do, that made you so scared? I thought we were friends.”

He reaches out to stroke Jason’s cheek, and Jason flinches away, scared noise escaping before he can stop himself. Beltrami’s faux-sweet smile turns into a scowl.

“If it's going to be that way, I can see I’ll have to change tactics.”

Jason’s head is slammed into the desk before he can react, his entire world spinning and going blurry. Was the snapping sound he heard his glasses or his nose? Impossible to tell. He’s held down for a few seconds, blood pooling in his nose, before he’s jerked up just as suddenly.

“Oh, wow, you're still awake!” Beltrami sounds genuinely impressed. Jason makes a crackly groan, and Beltrami laughs. “I can see how you survived all those other attempts. You know, I think the scar is starting to grow on me. It’s going to be a pretty picture, you covered in hundreds more just like it. I usually don't keep them more than a week, but for my favourite student?”

Beltrami leans close to Jason’s face, now. Jason can smell his breath, feel its heat. He wants to pull away, but his head is still reeling.

“I think I can make an exception.”

His ears register a harsh squick sound as his battered face is brought down a second time. Just like that, he’s knocked out.

If he had a nickel for every time he’s passed out and then woken up in a torture hut…

Jason doesn’t complete the thought as he comes around, head pounding. Even without feeling, he can tell that there’s a solid welt on his forehead. The room’s too bright. Opening his eyes hurts.

There’s a crick in his neck. That’s because his head is slumped forward, but the rest of his body can’t follow. There’s straps around his shoulders, keeping his posture upright. His legs are bound to the legs of a chair, and his arms to the arms. The arm straps bite into his flesh, too tight. He’s not wearing his hoodie. He feels strangely naked without it. 

Lifting his head slightly, he forces his eyes open. There’s a studio light trained right on him. He has to squint, turn his head away from it until he adjusts.

 “Jason, you’re awake,” Beltrami says, sounding pleased. Jason can hardly see him; he’s standing at a weird angle behind the light. “I’m glad. I was just wondering if I should get started before you came to.”

“Wh...what?” Jason’s throat is dry, making his voice croak. He can tell that there’s still dried blood caked on his face. 

“That might’ve brought you around anyways,” Beltrami hums like it’s an idle thought. He moves to the camera and peers through, adjusting it. 

 “What are you talking about?” Jason rasps, struggling against his bonds. He can’t get much leverage in any direction. 

“Don’t move around too much.” Beltrami chides as he steps around the camera and walks towards him. “I’ve got you positioned perfectly.” 

“Let me go!” Jason insists, trying to scoot the chair. He can’t get the force he needs with his upper body restrained. He can’t. The best he can do is lift his hips a little. He glares at Beltrami as he approaches. Beltrami pulls a perplexed face.

“What happened to us, Jason? You used to hang off me like I was your only hope. I pretty much was, really. Your girlfriend couldn’t give you what you wanted - what you needed. I always hated the little bitch anyway. Her art was almost as trite as she was.”    

Beltrami sighs deeply, pacing. “But then something changed. When you started talking to Morozova.” He spits the name out with disgust, stopping and turning to face Jason, scowling.

“What did he offer to you, I wonder? Was it camaraderie? Knowing you both were naturally feminine, trying to pretend to be something you definitely aren't?” Jason’s face screws up in anger, hurt. “I don't know. I didn't understand it. I thought what I had with you was special, but I guess teenagers will be teenagers.” He shrugs.

“No need to dwell on it. We’re here now, alone. And I can finally show you all the film techniques I’ve been working on. Too bad you can't be behind the camera with me.” He turns on his heel, crossing the room. When he comes to a little metal cabinet, out of frame, he stops. “But that ship sailed when you decided to snub me… Or maybe when you didn't turn in your make up work.” He looks over his shoulder, smirking just a bit as he opens the door. “I’ll let you decide.”

Inside the cabinet is an array of… tools, for lack of a better word. It’s a random assortment, really. A window scraper- the kind with an exposed blade, a hammer, a fire poker, to name a few. Beltrami settles on a hunting knife, and then- is that a fucking cattle prod? A short, red one, not like the movies, but the prongs are unmistakeable.

“Don’t touch me, don’t you dare-” Jason squawks as Beltrami starts his short journey back towards him, testing the weight of the prod in his hand.

“You know, there’s probably interesting commentary to be made, on what we’re willing to do to animals, but find morally repulsive to do to humans,” he states.

“You have me tied to a chair!” Jason counters.

“We’re all bones and meat, after all,” he continues, without acknowledging Jason.

“Is that all I am? A piece of meat?” Jason asks, rage and distress bleeding into his voice in equal measures.

“Oh, no, you’re so much more than that,” Beltrami replies with a fanatic spark that makes Jason physically recoil. “You’re a muse.”

“You’re disgusting.” Jason glares at Beltrami. Beltrami sets his jaw.

“I liked you much better when you were a bookish Freshman. So compliant, so eager to please.” He steps into his space, one hand on the side of the armrest, now, thumb barely brushing Jason’s arm. “Am I a bad teacher, Jason? So bad that I took that out of you?” Then, before he can reply, “That’s okay. I can put it back in.”

A jolt travels up Jason’s right arm, makes his whole body seize and then shake. An explosion of static forms at the site and radiates out. His whole body is jell-o. He knows if he’d been standing, he would’ve collapsed. As it stands, his joints ache, shout in protest at being locked in position.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds that Beltrami held the prod to his arm, but it feels like hours later that the jittering stops. Jason is breathing heavy, ragged. His arm feels numb, the sensation coming back in slow waves. His skin feels clammy, sweat cooling on his brow.

“There we go,” Beltrami coos. “Oh, that was definitely a good shot. I can already tell. How are you feeling? Not so rebellious anymore?”

Jason does what any nonsensical teenage horror protagonist would do, and spits on Beltrami to the best of his ability. It hits his jacket collar, but that’s close enough.

“Fuck you,” Jason sobs. “Fuck you.”

A number of emotions flicker across Beltrami’s face in the span of a few seconds, none of them comforting.

“You really hate me,” he says, as if that should come as a surprise. He brings the knife to Jason’s upper arm and slices, not deep, just enough to draw a trickle of blood. He stands up straight, wipes the blood off of his knife with his gloved fingertips.“We could’ve been beautiful, Jason. We could’ve made something beautiful here, together.” He drops his arm, seeming passive for a second before he snaps, “Then you had to go and fuck it up!”

He kicks the bottom of Jason’s chair, not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough to rattle him, make his back teeth clack together, make the pinpoint pain shoot up into his jaw.

Beltrami runs his hands through his hair and chuckles, quick and stressed, like he’s trying to calm down from a little snap.

“You should be grateful,” he whispers, suddenly, like it’s the honest-to-god, objective truth. “You think you’re ever going to be anything? Everyone knows you. Your name, your face. Colleges and employers. They’ll know you as the liability. The target. The weakling who can’t defend himself. You think anyone will want you?” His volume increases, as he talks.

“No one will. Not as much as I did. I appreciated your uniqueness, but you were a freak from the get-go. Trying to play at being masculine, blend in where you didn’t belong. I was willing to lift you up anyways. And now look at you.” His grip shifts on the knife. Jason feels tears leaking out of his eyes, despite his best efforts. “At least if you die, you’ll be more loved; loved as a tragic story. You get to be the star. Ungrateful little brat.”

Jason turns his head away, shoulders shaking, hiccupy little breaths coming out.

Beltrami sighs.

“Let’s see if I can make you useful at all. I’ll pull a few good screams from you. That ought to do it.”

Before he can decide where to bury the knife, there’s a crash from awfully close. Just behind Jason, really. Beltrami takes a surprised step back. There’s some clambering, some more glass crunching, and then sunlight streams in, brightening up the room, as if a heavy curtain was just torn down. Jason knows who’s there before he even sees them.

The tall shadow of the Plague Doctor sweeps past his periphery and towards Beltrami. They grab him. He pushes them backwards. There’s a scuffle.

Jason realizes that this is the first time he’s seen the Plague Doctor have to fight to succeed.

The sound of crackling glass from behind him isn’t gone, yet. He hears a mechanical grunt, then unsteady footsteps.

“You really keep us busy,” comes the voice of, presumably, the shorter Plague Doctor. The straps binding his shoulders loosen and breathing is suddenly much easier. The strap comes off his right arm.

He hears an electric crackle. Him and the second Plague Doctor look up from the binds just in time to see the first Plague Doctor staggering, the cattle prod as close to their neck as Beltrami could get it.

One leg gives out and then they’re on a knee.

The next instant, their stomach sprouts a knife. Beltrami’s stabbed the Plague Doctor.

“You motherfucker!” The shorter one shouts, with a degree of anger Jason hasn’t heard from either of them ever before, and charges Beltrami.

Jason starts to undo his second arm strap.

The short Doctor tackles Beltrami and their knife sinks into him.

Left leg strap.

The knife goes in again. Beltrami is pushing on their mask, trying to shove them off.

Right leg. Jason stands.

A third time.

The one on the ground wheezes, “Dimka.”

The shorter one sits up, breathing hard, and then pushes off of Beltrami, scrambling towards the other. Their hands hover around them, like they’re afraid to touch.

Beltrami starts to stand up, hand searching for his knife, other hand pressing into the wall.

Jason runs to the supply cabinet, grabs the fire poker, and wheels around.

“Just stay down, Mr. Beltrami,” he says, trying to find a comfortable grip. He wants this to be over. Anger is filling up his chest, threatening to spill out. He can feel the tears bordering on blurring his vision. He doesn’t want to be pushed. Jason moves forward. It’s his turn to protect the Plague Doctors.  

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Beltrami spits, leaning against the wall, hand pressed against his gut. “This is my movie.”

“And this is the part where the credits roll,” Jason responds, hesitating when he gets closer, shifting forwards, then backwards.

Beltrami lashes out. Not even with the knife, at first. He reaches forward with a bloody palm and balls his fist into Jason’s shirt, tries to pull him in. Jason takes several swift steps backwards, lifting the poker and solidly whacking Beltrami’s forearm with the side of it.

Beltrami releases him, but that doesn’t stop his advance. Jason keeps backing up. He only wants to defend himself, he only wants to defend himself.

“I should’ve taken you when you were younger.” He swings the knife. Jason jumps back, further. “You don’t know how often I thought about this.” Beltrami won’t stop pressing the advance. “Thought about molding you.”

God, the flames are being stoked, building higher in Jason’s chest, licking at the back of his throat, on his tongue- he wants to spit everything at Beltrami but there’s too much rattling around in his head.

His shoulder bumps against the wall. He’s backed himself into a corner. Beltrami holds the knife out to his side, like he’s ready. Jason’s chest is heaving.

“You were supposed to be mine.”

Clarity strikes. Jason grits his teeth and swings. The fire poker knocks Beltrami upside the head. Beltrami stumbles back, shocked.

“I was never supposed to be anything to you,” Jason says, stepping forward, swinging again. Beltrami ducks back. Jason is the one pressing, now. “You used me. Everyone before this, all the people who tried to kill me, I thought they were just results of their environment. Misguided.” Another swing. The iron head hits Beltrami in the ribs. “That if we were in another world, they could’ve learned better. But you. You trick people into trusting you and then you hurt them.” Beltrami half stumbles, fumbles with his knife. Jason continues,

“I had you as my teacher for years and the whole time, you were thinking about ending up here, in this room. It would've been the same in any world. You think I needed you? Need you?” It’s Beltrami’s turn to press against the wall. “The only thing I need is to make sure you never get the chance to hurt anyone else.”

“Jason, you don’t have to do this-” He replies, in a strained diplomat’s voice.

“I don’t. But you deserve it.” Throwing all his weight forward, he sinks the fire poker into Beltrami’s chest. The poker stalls, for a second, on the small prong, before Beltrami’s flesh gives. It makes a sick, wet sound. Beltrami coughs, spraying Jason with blood. Jason feels his stomach flip. When he steps back, Beltrami falls, pushing it through further, like in a cheesy horror film.

Jason takes a moment to breathe, hands shaking, head rushing. The adrenaline that was rushing through his veins feels like a curse, making him shudder all over. When his heart no longer feels like it’s in his throat, he turns to look at the Plague Doctors.

The injured one is sitting up, now, if only slightly. The shorter is tending to the wound to the best of their ability, silent now.

“You killed him,” the taller one says. If it weren’t for the voice changer, Jason would be sure he’d heard a hint of concern.

“He wouldn’t have stopped,” Jason breathes.

“Welcome to the grey area,” the smaller one states, quietly.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

“I think I’m doing alright.” They answer.

“Can you see if there’s any bandages around? Thread and needle?” The short one asks.

Jason nods and goes to search on shaky legs. He can hear them whispering as he searches.

“Nothing,” he responds, apologetic.

“Shit,” they respond as they press down on the wound, again, earning a groan from their companion. “Sorry,” they whisper.

“I’ll go see if there’s another room,” Jason offers, walking towards the exit door.

“Jason, wait.” He stops, looking at the two of them.

The shorter one fumbles with the back of their hood a bit and Jason’s heart speeds up. What?

“Babe, don’t,” the taller one tries to protest.

But the mask comes off. Jason’s heart stalls entirely.

Dmitri Morozova, leading man in every play since their freshman year, brilliant actor, vigilante serial killer.

He looks genuinely scared.

There’s a sigh, and the remaining masked Plague Doctor does a bit of work to get theirs off, too.

Regan. Star of the wrestling team, hottest girlfriend in the school, always Dmitri’s partner in crime.

“What the fuck?” Jason asks, voice tight.

“We were going to tell you,” Regan says, softly.

“No, you - you should’ve told me straight away, you should’ve -” Jason makes a strangled noise, backs up again. “Is that - is that why you became friends with me? Of course. I should’ve known, no one has ever wanted to talk to me since this started unless - fuck!”

“You’re wrong -” Dmitri begins, but Jason cuts him off with bitter laughter.

“Am I? Okay, then why’d you come talk to me? You never took pity on me before then, that’s for fucking sure. I didn’t exist to you. I wish I still didn’t!”

Regan cringes. “Jason...We kept talking to you because we liked you, because…”

“Because ‘to be frank, I’m a murder magnet’! Isn’t that it? You said so yourself!” Jason pulls at his hair as hard as he can. Gritting his teeth hurts his scar, but he does it anyway.

Dmitri looks between Jason and Regan, surprised.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Regan says, shaking his head. “I was getting frustrated-”

“Frustrated? You? You shot Christian in my fucking kitchen! My mom had to mop up the blood!”

“We were trying to help you, Voorhees,” Dmitri says, voice wavering a bit. “We were just trying to fix things, for everyone, and then you turned out to be cool, we didn’t-”

“Save it.” Jason glares.

Dmitri quiets so quickly it’s disconcerting. Regan grips his hand and runs his thumb over the back of it.

“So are you guys going to call 911? How are you going to avoid taking the heat this time?” His voice is cold.

Dmitri and Regan look at each other, like they’re silently communicating. Then Regan looks back to Jason.

“How about a head start?”

“What? You don’t plan on going to the hospital?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to handle a stab wound. We just need to get back to my car.” Dmitri starts to help him up. He doesn’t look in good shape. Dmitri picks up their masks and puts his back on. Then he walks the short distance to the camera and destroys it, wordlessly, tossing it onto the ground and then stomping on it.

Dmitri grabs Regan’s hand again once that’s done and helps him out of the room. Jason doesn’t follow them down the hall. He just waits in the doorway until he thinks they’ve had as long as they deserve, and then calls the police.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Asks are now on! If you guys have any questions, comments, suggestions, etc., let us know through there! 

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

They start meeting just about every day after school, at Regan’s house. The first few times, it’s a lot of demonstrations and a lot of Jason getting knocked on his back. He’s sorer than he’s been since he finished his physical education requirements.

It’s still worth it, though. Both for knowing he’ll have a better chance of defending himself, and for when he successfully gets out of Regan’s grip and feels a swell of pride, earns a big grin.

“You’re a quick learner,” Regan compliments, when Jason manages to successfully counter a grapple. Jason’s top is drenched with sweat and Regan barely looks tired, so that’s still a problem, but Jason can already feel himself getting stronger.

“Or you’re a good teacher,” Jason counters, using his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Let’s go with both, then we can both feel good.”

Jason laughs a little. Over the course of the last week, he’s gotten increasingly comfortable with Regan. It’d been awkward to be around him without his binder on at first, but Regan hadn’t even seemed to note it. And it’s easy to get comfortable with someone who unquestioningly backs off when you call uncle in a sparring match.

“How long did it take you to get good at this?” Jason asks, going to get a sip of water.

“Well, I’ve been in sports on and off since I was pretty young.”

“So I’m as good as you were when you were eight?” He guesses.

“Pff. More like eleven.”

“That’s sooo much better.”

“Hey, if you keep up the good work, you’ll close the gap eventually.”

“Eventually,” Jason sighs. “Guess we should get back to work, then.”

The next day, he feels a bit like his arms are about to fall off. Lugging his backpack around all day is hellish. At least it’s a satisfying sort of burn. The kind he knows means he worked hard.

Still, he can’t help but be relieved that there’s no film club today. He gets picked up and dropped off at home and gets to flop down on the couch and just breathe. It’s a recovery day, so he’s going to do approximately nothing but watch T.V. Maybe study a little, if the news doesn’t stop popping on talking about the Camera Killer’s most recent video.

At least, that’d been the plan. His dad starts to fumble around in the kitchen, walks into the living room, back into the kitchen, then back out, juggling a number of files, floorplans, a thermos, his wallet, and his cellphone.  

“You alright there?” Jason asks, watching his dad struggle to sort through a couple papers.

“Yeah, just-” He checks his phone, quickly, then pulls some money out of his wallet and holds it out to Jason. “Some problem came up at the house I’m working on and I need to go check it out. Ask my contractor how it is going to affect the budget. I didn’t get to go grocery shopping, so just run down to the 7/11 and grab something. I’ll bring you late dinner when I get this worked out.”

“I…” Jason stares at the money, then looks up at his dad nervously.

His dad is confused for a second, and then the gears start turning. “Hey,” he says, sympathetically, “it’s only a fifteen minute walk there and back. I’ve got my phone on me, you’ve been doing your self defense stuff. Just make sure to go while it’s still light out.”

“Right…” Even though he takes the money, he doesn’t look too pleased about it.

“I’ll probably be home around eight,” his dad informs him before rushing out.

Jason puts it off for as long as he can, before he actually has to start worrying about the sun going down. Before he steps out the door, he messages Regan.

Jason: walking down to 7/11. let’s hope I don’t have to use my new skillset. :^/

Regan: you got this jj

Jason smiles a little at the nickname, wondering if he could make an equivalent for Regan. R.A.? No. That’s what you call the dorm advisor in college.

Regan: remember if a big guy comes at you, use his weight against him

Jason: what do I do if a small guy comes at me?

Regan: tell him you know dmitri and he’ll have to stop. short guy code

Regan: fr tho momentum is ur friend

Regan: hmm. maybe i should draft dmitri for short guy sparring practice

Jason: I feel like he would bite me.

Regan: he would definitely bite you

Jason: how would I explain that to my parents?

Regan: tell them ur new gf is kinky

Jason: I’m pretty sure that’s how you get grounded.

Talking with him is making this walk a lot less nerve-wracking. Constant communication, focusing on anything but his paranoia.

Regan: wat are you buying?

Jason: chips, probably. or ice cream.

Regan: bro

Jason: what?

Regan: bro youre trashing ur body

Jason: omfg. what healthy thing could i buy from 7/11!!

Regan: multigrain bar or some nuts

Jason: what swamp did your tastebuds crawl out of?

Jason: creature from the black legume.

Regan: dont diss legumes dude

Jason: I’m buying a slushie out of spite.

He walks into the store, hearing the jingle of the bell overhead. He’s got just enough to buy himself a slushie, a bag of chips, and a candy bar.

Jason: mission success- bought junk food without dying.

Regan: 🎉

Jason: now for the encore.

Jason steps out of the 7/11 and starts the short journey home. Drinking from his slushie makes texting a little harder, but he’s so got this.

Jason: so what’re you up to?

Regan: just got home from riley’s

Regan: gonna make myself a salad like a responsible teen

Jason: meanwhile I’ve got chocolate.

Regan: i should make a chocolate vinaigrette

Jason: you cook?

Regan: hell yeah dude

Regan: i dont know how to make a chocolate vinaigrette tho

Regan: that was a joke  

Regan: i guess i could look it up

Regan: i make a mean half moon pie i should make some for you sometime

Jason: I don’t know what that is but it has pie in it so I’m in.

He takes another big slurp of his drink and grins around his straw when Regan starts to ramble about how to make this dessert.

Then something is wrapped around his throat. A presence suddenly behind him, a taut rope wrapped around his neck, strong arms pulling back. Everything falls out of his hands when he yelps in surprise.

He wasn’t paying attention.

His mind races. Choking. How to- he tries to tuck his chin, but the rope is under it, that doesn’t help, this isn’t a choke hold.

The rope is digging in and up, any time he tries to get solid footing, another yank almost makes his feet almost leave the ground. He flails, elbows, grabs at the unknown assailant’s face. The more effort he exerts, the more his lungs scream in protest.

Unfortunately, he can’t do the same; his voice coming out rasped and restricted.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. None of Regan’s lessons prepared him for this.

He tries to dig his fingers under the rope, shift his weight to ease the pressure, throw off the attacker’s center of balance, but none of it works. His vision slowly gets dark around the edges. His brain is still on full panic, heart hammering rapidly. But his consciousness goes soft and for the second time in very few days, he blacks out.

Waking up this time isn’t like last time. It isn’t a slow climb out of a muddled state. It’s sharp, disorienting; he was in one place but now he’s in another.

And this place is very dark and this time there’s no Sidney kicking walls or silly harmless clocks.

There’s just frigid cold. Pale light coming in through high windows, casting long shadows. He can barely look around. He’s strapped to a chair. With mild horror, he realises it’s a dentist’s chair. Modified, his legs and arms bound. The bindings are tight. No silly amatuer stuff, no pulling at the right angle to get out. Fear seizes him. His stomach is doing flips.

He’s alone, for quite some time. He doesn’t know how long. The light outside is fading fast. He dropped his cellphone. What if the killer has it? What if he texts his friends, parents? No one will even know he’s missing. Not until tomorrow.

A door creaks from somewhere and he tries to twist and look, but his mobility is a little limited right now. There’s a sound of rolling wheels, along with heavy, booted footsteps.

“Hey,” Jason croaks, before he can even consider if it’s a good idea to speak.

“Mr. Joon-ho, you’re awake,” comes a low southern drawl from somewhere behind him. “I hope you had a nice nap, because we are going to be very busy.” The voice slowly rounds round until Jason can see its owner. It’s deep and rich, the kind of voice that would be soothing, if not for the fact that it is coming from behind what is clearly a mask of cured human skin.

The rest of his clothes look too normal. Jean jacket, plaid shirt...hunting gloves. He’s pushing a cart with what can only be described as an array of sharp tools on it.

That comes to a stop a good five feet away, but the man paces closer.

Jason can see his chapped lips and dark eyes through the rough cuts in the mask, hear his heavy, unfiltered breathing, imagining the humidity inside the mask; he feels nauseous, wants to cry.

“Let me out of here,” he demands, tries to sound insistent, but he knows how scared he sounds. He gets a laugh in return. A short one, a facsimile of politeness, like he’s chuckling at a dear friend’s witty joke.

“Bless your heart,” the killer says, and Jason’s skin itches. “Can’t do that, little buddy. You see, you’re a delicacy.” He plants a hand on Jason’s arm. “Surviving five murder attempts? That’s some kinda record. I’d love to let you marinate for a bit longer. Seen how you’ve been strengthening up. Would taste a lot better with some meat on you.”

His other gloved hand pats Jason’s face and Jason’s brain goes haywire as he realizes who this is. He jerks and tries to curl in on himself, but he can’t. He can’t protect his squishy middle bits from what this fucker is no doubt about to do to them.

“But let’s face it. You’re just a pit stop on my cross country tour. Can’t wait around any longer.” The Cannibal withdraws both his hands and taps his chin. “In fact-” And he’s moving back to that cart.

“Help!” Jason shouts, as loud as he can, jerking against his restraints. The sounds bounce uselessly off the walls.  

“Hey now,” the Cannibal says, turning around, walking back towards him with some nondescript item in his hand. Jason can only see the handle. “None of that. There’s no one out here, anyways. And you should save your voice. There will be plenty of time for screaming later.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, throat tight. Before he knows what happens, he feels a burst of pain. The Cannibal just punched him in the face with a meaty fist. His head is spinning.

“Watch your language,” the Cannibal comments, even voice turning acidic for just a second. Jason laughs as he feels the blood flow from his nose, tastes it on his lips. This guy’s about to carve him up like a Christmas ham and he doesn’t want to hear him swear. Incredible.

The object shifts from one of the Cannibal’s hands to the other and Jason can see, now, through skewed glasses, that it’s a potato peeler. Just a run of the mill potato peeler. His stomach sinks.

“Any gourmet worth his salt is always going to sample his ingredients,” the Cannibal jokes as he seems to test the sturdiness of the peeler against his glove.

“Why do you do this?” Jason asks.

The peeler halts. “I already told you you’re a delicacy. A rare treat.”

“No, why do you do this?! This sh- stuff, why do you-”

“Well aren’t you precious?” The Cannibal asks. “You still believe in motives.” He presses the peeler to the side of Jason’s face. When Jason tries to turn his head, the other hand comes to hold him still. “I do it because I want to, and because no one can stop me.”

The peeler doesn’t rake down fast. It digs in, and carves, slicing off a strip on his right cheek in a slow, agonizing pull. It hurts, sears, like the world’s worst rugburn.

He can’t help that it pulls chokes and sobs from him even when he grits his teeth.

The Cannibal releases his face and takes the strip of skin between two fingers. Jason can feel his pulse pounding in his cheek, can feel the fresh blood.

Without preamble, the Cannibal lifts the sliver to the hole in his mask and pops it in his mouth, like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just tear it off of someone. Jason gags.

“Sorry to say, squirt, but I’ve had better,” he jokes, wiping the peeler off on a handkerchief he draws out of his pocket. “I can work with you, though.”

The Cannibal returns to his cart.

“Please don’t do this,” Jason begs.

“I worked up quite an appetite bringing you all the way here,” he answers nonchalantly, while examining knives, like he’s trying to decide which one will do the best job.

There’s a very loud sound from outside the room.

Like the sound of a door being kicked in.

The Cannibal tilts his head, like one would when confused. His hand slides to a particularly large knife and he takes it up, walking towards the door.

“Stay right there, peaches,” he hisses, sounding less like his fake-polite persona and more like an angry serial killer.

He opens the door and peeks his head out. Almost immediately, there’s a gunshot. He hears the Cannibal grunt and stumble back, but not fall.

Another slamming sound, probably someone kicking the door the rest of the way open, then a second gunshot. This time, there is a solid thump as the Cannibal hits the floor. A third gunshot comes anyways, and then there’s quiet. If Jason strains his ears, he can hear the mechanical rasp of the Plague Doctor, breathing heavily.

Jason closes his eyes, tears welling up. He doesn’t want to be relieved. He doesn’t want to be relieved that they’re here, but he is.

“Are you in here?” They ask, after a moment.

“What took you so long?” Jason responds, voice shaking.

“This is a big place.” They walk over, footsteps more hurried than usual. It’s the tall one. When they see him, they stop. Jason wonders if it’s really that bad, or if all the blood is misleading. Instead of commenting, they use their free hand to undo Jason’s bindings. He can’t help but note that they’re holding Christian’s gun. He doesn’t want to think about it.

When he’s free, he rubs his wrists and sits up, slinging his legs off the side of the chair.

“Do you need me to call 911?” Funny. It’s the first time they’ve asked.

“Do I need stitches?” Jason returns.

“Probably.”

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet, despite the tremors in his legs. “Alright.”

The Plague Doctor returns to the body of the Cannibal, crumpled in the corner, and searches him. He doesn’t have a phone of his own on him, but he does have Jason’s. So they hand the phone to him and he gets to dial the number himself.

“911 operator, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s Jason Joon-ho. I was kidnapped by the Cannibal. The Plague Doctor saved me, but I’m hurt. I’m currently in…”

“In Warehouse number fifteen,” the Plague Doctor informs him.

“Warehouse fifteen,” he repeats.

The Plague Doctor turns to go.

“That’s not your gun,” Jason finds himself saying, before he can stop himself. The Plague Doctor looks at Jason, then at their hand.

“Better in my hands than in one of theirs,” they state.

“Better in no one’s. Better if you leave it here.” Jason stays firm.

They test the weight of the gun, like they’re still unfamiliar with it.

“Hopefully we’ll reach the point where I can give it up, soon,” they say, lowering their arm. That gives Jason pause.

“How do you sleep at night, after doing shit like this?” He asks.

“With all my windows locked.” They leave.

The police and paramedics come and his brain sets on autopilot. He barely thinks. Even when his dad gathers him up in a tight hug and apologizes.

Getting home feels weirder than after the previous attacks. He goes to bed without eating. No appetite. And as he lies there, he thinks about how every other time, there’d been some sliver of a chance, some way he could’ve hoped to have gotten out. But this time, he really would’ve died without the Plague Doctor.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Jason’s dad rents a pruning saw and cuts off the branches closest to his window.

When Dmitri finds out, he says, “Damn. I knew some shit would happen, but still! So soon! A good thing has died too young!” He flails around a bit of school enchilada on his plastic fork and slumps against his hand. “There goes my surprise party plans.” He stuffs his food in his mouth. Then perks up. “I could always bring my own ladder.”

“I think you should skip on the window sneaking for now,” Regan says, mildly amused. He’s actually got a lunch with him, for once, picking at some reheated chicken parmesan.

They were sitting outside today, on some back steps near the band hall. Jason hadn’t felt up to sitting in the lunchroom. The whole ‘having to hear people whispering about him constantly’ thing had gotten pretty tiring.

Rose and Riley are joining them today, the first time besides the party that Jason has really hung out with the four of them.

“The window thing is so freaky,” Rose says, with a mild shudder. “I wonder if you can, like, glue your window shut.”

“Do you keep a knife in your room, Voorhees?” Riley asks, scooping up a spoonful of applesauce.

“Uh. No, I’m not a big fan of the whole idea of… stabbing,” Jason says, staring at his sandwich, trying to will himself to be hungry.

“You should invest in some self defense stuff, bro,” Dmitri states, while goring his enchilada.

“I could teach you a few things,” Regan offers, after a swig of what Jason can only assume is a protein shake, or something like that.

“Like what?” Jason asks.

“Wrestling pins, or how to get out of holds.”

“You’ve never offered to pin me to the floor, bro,” Dmitri interjects, putting a hand on Regan’s leg.

Regan stares at it for a second, takes another swig of his drink, then says, “That’s because you’d like it too much.”

Riley and Rose laugh a little and Dmitri shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll consider it,” Jason says, getting them back on topic. “Thanks, Regan.”

“No problem.”

Jason nods a little and thinks about it. It might be useful, to not have to be totally afraid and helpless anymore.

“God, what do they put in here?” Dmitri spouts of out nowhere, having thoroughly decimated his food. “What kind of meat even is this?”

“Oh!” Rose sits up, flailing her hand excitedly as she swallows her food. “Did you hear about the latest Cannibal kill? I heard he cut them open and ate their organs.”

There’s this uneasy pause.

Dmitri breaks the silence by asking, “Which ones?”

“I don’t know, babe. Lots of them.”

“That seems like a lot of effort to go through,” he says, contemplatively, as he shoves mystery meat in his mouth. “I mean, not the eating part. But to gut someone, you’ve gotta cut from here,” he points at his sternum with his plastic spork, then motions all the way down to his pelvis. “To here. Takes a lot of elbow grease. Then everything spills out. Like a fish, I guess.”

“Urp.” That’s the sound of Regan gagging.

Riley lets her spoonful of applesauce slide back into the container, pulling a face.

Jason can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Rose goes ahead with a good, old-fashioned swatting Dmitri’s arm. “That’s gross, babe.”

“I’m just stating the facts!”

“I’m trying to eat for once, Dmitri,” Regan groans, frowning at his pasta.

“You guys are weak,” Dmitri responds, talking through the rice he’s just shovelled into his mouth.

“Why do you even care what organs he ate?” Jason asks, pulling a bit of lettuce out of his sandwich.

“It’s important to figuring the guy out, probably,” Dmitri says. “And I took anatomy and physiology. I’m an expert in this.”

“An expert in determining MBTI types based on organ eating?” Riley asks, still looking put off.

“Seriously, I’m eating,” Regan whines, turning over his chicken with distaste. Dmitri rolls his eyes. It looks like the conversation is over, for a second.

“Do you think he put the liver in the mailbox?” Dmitri asks, while opening his milk.

“Oh my God,” Jason breathes, more disappointed than anything. Something tickles the back of his mind, though. Dmitri talked about gutting like he knows how much effort it takes. The fact that he’s so casual about the idea of eating organs… But Dmitri hasn’t tried to kill him yet.

“Cut it out,” Rose huffs, whacking Dmitri’s shoulder with a notebook, this time.

“The Cannibal’s nasty. I hope the Plague Doctor catches him, because I’m sick of hearing about him,” Riley says, crumpling her napkin, and putting it in her applesauce.

“You think they’ll be able to?” Rose asks, tilting her head.

“Well, they’ve already caught, like, twenty people.”

“Eleven,” Rose corrects.

“Twelve,” Regan correction-corrects.

“It’s not so much catching as more murder,” Jason grumbles, ripping his lettuce in half. “So the number seems irrelevant.”

“At least they’re taking care of killers,” Rose argues. “They could be horrible and, like, target sick people.”

“Best possible version of a killer named the Plague Doctor,” Riley agrees, nodding.  

“The best possible version would be them not existing,” Jason says, sourly. “If they wanted to do good, they should’ve just turned those people into the cops.”

“Pfft, when was the last time a killer actually got arrested?!” Dmitri laughs, sounding just a little cold. “I haven’t heard of one since fifth grade.”

“Did you hear that Steve’s back at school?” Rose asks.

“Shit, really?” Regan asks, softly. Dmitri pouts.

“Even when the cops get their hands on them, they just turn them loose,” Riley sighs.

“There’s got to be some kind of happy medium between a slap on the wrist and an impromptu execution,” Jason insists.

Dmitri mulls that over, leaning on his hand in an exaggerated thinking pose.

“A well thought out execution?” he finally supplies.

“Bad joke.” Jason responds, jiggling his leg nervously.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Dmitri pouts, leaning against Rose, who looks mildly amused as she runs her fingers through his hair. When he sees that, his chest gets all tight, like he’s being choked. He averts his eyes with some difficulty, Dmitri’s attention-attracting draw still pretty powerful, instead focusing on Regan - who, nevermind, is currently wrapping his arms around Riley and murmuring something into her ear and okay, no, none of that, thanks.

He forces himself to stare at the ground, at neither happy couple, and that makes his mind wander to Sidney.

If they hadn’t been talking before Jason’s murderous guardian angel spattered her new boyfriend’s brains all over Jason’s kitchen, they’re definitely not talking now.

She avoids even looking at him and he hasn’t even seen her walking her usual path between classes. She’s really going out of her way to dodge him. He sighs and packs up his lunch, standing slowly.

“Hey, I’m gonna… go.” He’d rather go sit in a bathroom stall or something than have to watch them be romantic and goopy. And he doesn’t want to be a buzzkill.

“See you around, Voorhees. Text you later!” Dmitri calls after him. Jason throws an unenthusiastic wave back as he leaves.

Not thinking about Dmitri, or Regan, or Sidney for the rest of the day is incredibly hard. One way or another, his mind drifts back to them.

Film club is, once more, no fun. It makes him sadder, because he used to be so excited to come every day. Now he kind of doesn’t want Mr. Beltrami anywhere near him. He keeps giving Jason these weird, almost-sorta-sympathetic looks. And the movies they watch are more drama and negativity on top of his already difficult and dramatic life. Couldn’t they watch something goofy even once? Like Zombieland? Eight Legged Freaks? Anything that wasn’t young couples being miserable in black-and-white?

He’s one of the first people to shuffle out when the group meeting is over, dodging Mr. Beltrami before he can catch him and try to talk to him about Sidney again.

Jogging down the hall to get towards the front of the school (ever since the Survivor, he’s always waited to get picked up by the front office), he hears someone call,

“Yo, Joon-ho!”

Being addressed makes Jason jumpy. He almost doesn’t pause, but then he does, turning to the source of the voice, shifting from foot to foot.

It’s Michael King, student council secretary. They were in World History together last year. He’s tall and has a nice smile and has a habit of wearing tight-fitting shirts, which distracted Jason in history class, because they never looked comfortable. He’s got a box of cookies in his hands.

Michael waves a hand to recapture his attention. “Hey. Have you heard I’m running for student council president?” He asks.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve seen the posters…?” Is he about to do some campaign pitch at him?

Michael pops open the box of cookies and holds one out to Jason.

“Would you consider voting for me for president?”

“Is the cookie a bribe?” Jason asks, smiling just a little.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Michael jokes, holding his finger up to his mouth in a ‘shush’ motion.

Jason laughs and takes a bite of the cookie.

“I’ll consider it,” Jason agrees.

“Good to hear.” Michael grins. “I’ve got to go push a few more cookie-bribes. I’ll see you around.” He turns around and starts to go, around the corner. Jason munches on the cookie, thinking about the fact that someone else finally talked to him. The power of wanting to be president, he guesses.

All at once, he feels dizzy. His head becomes a fuzzy mess of sensation. He tries to prop himself against the wall, but just ends up slumping into it. He hears static in his ears. Then everything goes dark.

He’s very cold. His head his pounding and his consciousness is trickling back to him in parts. His fingers feel stiff and a little tingly. His arms hurt. As the mental fog comes off, he can hear yelling. Who’s yelling?

“Let me out of here!” Sidney shouts, tugging again on the rope binding her wrists.

“Wh…” Jason mumbles, finally waking up completely, shaking his head to try to shuck off the rest of the tiredness. “Sidney? Where are we?” He asks, panicked now.

“Good to see you finally awake, Jason,” comes a voice over an intercom, distorted by some device. “We’re going to-”

“Let us out of here, Michael!” Sidney demands.

“What’s going on?” Jason asks.

“Michael fucking locked us in here,” Sidney says, seeming more frustrated than scared.

“I told you, I’m not Michael, I’m der Drahtzieher!”

Sidney scoffs.

“Why don’t you just call yourself Mastermind? It’d be less pretentious, at least.”

“You understood that?” Jason asks.

“I’m in German III.” She shrugs.

“Michael, why are you doing this?” Jason asks, in no direction in particular. It’s hard to tell where exactly to face.

“Drahtzieher! And isn’t it obvious?” Michael replies. Jason’s heart sinks a little. Of course. Any time he gets talked to, it’s because someone wants to kidnap or kill him.

“Why’d you have to drag Sidney into it?” He asks.

“Because, we’re going to play a game.”

“Real original!” Sidney shouts, yanking again.

“You can both see the clock from where you’re sitting,” Michael continues, though he sounds agitated.

“Actually, it’s kind of hard to see from this angle…” Jason says.

“Shut up! You can see it fine!”

“For a secretary, you didn’t do a very good job planning this.” Jason points out.

“Oh my god! Let me finish!” Michael snaps.

“I’m just saying. Even Christian seemed like he had a better plan than you.”

“Dude, do you ever shut up? No wonder everyone wants to kill you!”

“It just seems like I’ve already hit the murder peak, you know? This isn’t very impressive. I mean, the first time, with the Midnight Movie Murderer, that was scary. Second time? Getting stabbed sucked pretty bad. Even getting cornered at a party with no way out was freaky. Then you get into the fourth and beyond and it’s like...Eh, y’know? Kind of like movie sequels. Someone always shows up. I think I’m just destined to live.” Jason taps his foot thoughtfully. “You should probably let us out before the Plague Doctor arrives.”

“The Plague Doctor isn’t going to arrive!” Michael insists, voice shrill. “There’s no way they know where we went.”

“Fuck off, Michael! They showed up at Jason’s house, they probably saw you give him that stupid cookie!” Sidney kicks the wall in frustration, and then after a moment’s pause, adds, “And that cookie was dry as hell, by the way!”

“The point of the cookie wasn’t to taste good-”

“Well, thank God, because if it had been, you wouldn’t have done anything about this right!” Sidney kicks the wall again, cursing when she apparently hurts her foot.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

“No, I’m not okay! I’m sick of this shit!”

He was asking about her foot, but that’s fair.

“I know. I’m sorry you keep getting dragged into this.”

“You don’t need to apologize! It’s assholes like Michael King and Christian Lyons that should be apologizing!”

“But, I mean, this stuff centralizes around me. I’m a curse or something and you keep getting caught up in it by association.”

Michael interrupts. “Loving this heartfelt bullshit, but the clock is ticking-”

“Shut the fuck up, Schwanzieher!” Sidney responds.

“Excuse me?!” Michael sounds totally indignant. “I- I’ve got you two tied up! Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“That movie guy put a gun right to my head. Christian broke into Jason’s house with a gun and nearly slit his throat. You? You kidnapped me with a cookie! Of course I’m not scared of you!”

“I- But isn’t that scarier? It shows better premeditation, it shows-”

“It shows that you know how to use Google and the oven!” Sidney shouts, cutting Michael off, again.

Michael grumbles and the intercom clicks offline.

Sidney exhales hard, nostrils flaring. Jason’s never seen her this mad. He clears his throat.

“You’re… going to pop a blood vessel there,” he jokes, nervously. Sidney moves like she wants to run a hand through her hair, but she can’t.

“I hate that this keeps happening. Why won’t they just leave you alone? What is he even hoping to accomplish? Fifteen minutes of fame?”

“That’s what all these types seem to be after…” He’s tired, too. At least Michael is incompetent. It’s the first murder attempt where he hasn’t felt like his life is at significant risk. It’s like a practice round, or something. He’s a level 50 that just discovered the tutorial. “But, wait… You aren’t… Like, mad at me?”

“No? I mean, a little bit. I was, right after, just because I was angry in general. And then when you kept talking to the media, I got frustrated… I knew it would get you hurt more, and I just wanted to move on and go back to normal.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve just walked away, but they kept prying and asking all these questions and I just… I guess I felt obligated?”

“You’re not obligated to tell anyone anything, Jason. That’s what I kept trying to tell you,” Sidney sighs, looking less angry and more disappointed now. “I don’t know. When you didn’t even respond to my break up text, I figured we were done for good, so I wasn’t exactly going to press the issue as friends.”

“Shit. Was I supposed to-”

“Jason, for real?”

“No one had ever broken up with me before! You were my first girlfriend,” Jason argues, feeling his cheeks go hot. “How was I supposed to know the - the etiquette of being dumped?”

Sidney snorts. “I would be mad at you, but...It’s kind of hilarious.”

Jason huffs and lets himself slide down a little bit from his sitting position. “I thought you didn’t message me because you hated me.”

“I thought you didn’t message me because you hated me! And then you got those popular friends, so I figured it wouldn’t even be an issue for you! That Morozova kid is infamous for setting up couples.” Sidney rolls her eyes.

“I guess...We both just kind of fucked up, didn’t we?”

“Yes. I mean, mostly you. But yes.” Sidney tugs on her bindings again, groaning when they don’t give. “God, I hope I’m right about whatever bullshit he’s pulling with the clock being nonlethal.”

“I have literally no doubt it is.”

“This is shitty. The first time we talk for real in...what, a month, and it’s because we got drugged and dragged to a knockoff Saw movie?” Sidney, who apparently didn’t learn her lesson the second time, kicks the wall and grunts when it still does nothing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your breakup text,” Jason says, squirming awkwardly.

“It’s fine. I know you weren’t doing it to spite me or anything.” She sighs, adjusting her glasses. “I’m sorry my new boyfriend tried to kill you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he was nice to you. You couldn’t have known.” He tugs at his ropes now, copying Sidney’s movements. “Damn. These things are ti-”

With a slight pull at an odd angle, the rope comes undone.

“Oh,” Sidney says, sounding pleased.

“Wow, he’s really bad at tying knots,” Jason says, staring at his hands, amazed.

“Get over here and help me out of mine.” Sidney yanks again and Jason complies.

“Hey!” The intercom comes back online, voice changer glitching slightly so that Michael’s real voice comes through. “What are you doing? No! Put those back- New rule! One of you can leave alive! Abandon the other to live!”

“You suck at this!” Sidney replies as Jason works on the knots.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t listen to me! I’ve got other traps set up and-” There was the sound of a window breaking, from somewhere else in the building, clearly not too far from Michael. “Shit. What was that?”

“Do you think the Plague Doctor is here?” Sidney asks.

“Probably,” Jason responds, not sounding pleased. “I’d run if I were you, Michael.”

“I’m not gonna run like a baby, I’ll just- I’ll kill them, too! Killing Jason Joon-ho, Sidney Cunningham, and the Plague Doctor? Definitely a good beginning to my killer career.” The intercom goes off again, before they can try to talk him out of it.

Jason gets the ropes the rest of the way off and Sidney shakes her hands to work out the stiffness, immediately starting to pace.

“Well, I’m not voting for him, that’s for sure,” Jason jokes. Sidney lets out a snort of laughter. Jason doesn’t think he’ll live to see election day, at this rate, but he’d rather not think about it.

“Let’s find a way out of here,” Sidney says, actually starting to look around. The room has no windows, and is pretty stuffed with random trash. Jason tries the door, but it’s firmly locked. How did Michael even find this place? Probably through his rich dad. Being a serial killer is probably a lot easier if you’re rich.

“I wonder if that clock’s right,” Jason sighs, looking at it. It’s two in the morning, or in the afternoon the next day, if it’s accurate.

“You worried about making curfew?” Sidney asks. “I thought you’d become a party boy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you went to Morozova’s party.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Well, everyone was talking about the party in general, because of Steve.” She sounds apologetic about having to mention that. Then she grunts with effort as she pushes a big collection of boxes away from the wall. Jason helps. There’s a grate behind them. “Jackpot. Anyways, Rose and Riley were freaking out about the party or a week.”

“Oh! You’re friends with Rose and Riley?” Jason asks, as he starts trying to work on pulling the vent out.

“You’re not the only one who’s survivor status gave you cool cred.” She states, prying. “Also, I heard you made out with Dmitri.”

Jason pauses, face heating again.

“...So how did you start hanging out with Rose and Riley?”

“I met Riley on track team. She started chatting with me when I got out of the hospital. Her and Rose are kind of a package deal.” She grunts and almost falls as the vent comes off, leaving an open square in the wall. She motions Jason in first. “So about that kiss.”

“It was just- we were just playing spin the bottle. Dmitri’s over the top in everything he does, so naturally-”

“He liiikes you,” Sidney sing-songs as she climbs into the vent behind him.

“What?” Jason asks, nervously. “Sidney, he’s dating Rose! Your friend, Rose. He’s straight.”

“Just because he’s dating a girl doesn’t mean he’s straight.”

“I- I guess? He’s still only dating her. And I’m straight! And besides, no one as amazing and talented as him would even consider stooping to my level.” He pauses to determine which way to go.

“Oh my god,” Sidney says.

“What?”

“You like him!” Sidney says, giddy.

“What? No I don’t! Didn’t you just hear me?”

“Dmitri and Jason sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-”

“Shh! You’re going to get us caught!” He wishes he could reach back to swat at her gently. Sidney laughs.

“Okay, but seriously. People have their doubts about the Rose thing anyways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve really never heard anyone talk about Dmitri and his jock friend?”

“Regan?”

“Yeah, him! The rumor goes that he and Dmitri are dating, and Rose and Riley are dating.”

“What are you talking about?” He says, sounding disbelieving.

“Oh, come on. Dmitri is constantly hanging off of him, right? Plus, I have a friend who swears she saw Rose and Riley kissing behind the field house.”

“Okay, this is just ridiculous. I’ve talked to Rose and Riley, and hung out with all four of them, and they’re definitely very exclusively into their straight partners. Besides, Dmitri is touchy in general. He hangs off of everyone.”

“I’ve never seen him feel up Riley’s biceps,” she points out.

“That’s because she’s his best bro’s girlfriend, that’d be weird!”

“Does Morozova seem like the kind of guy who would care what’s weird?” Sidney inquires. Jason is about to argue, when he remembers the Cannibal conversation. She might have a point. “Point is, Dmitri’s at least bi.”

“Whatever. No matter what, he was just messing with me. It’s what he does.” He tries to kick out a grate at the end of the vent and winces. There’s an awkward moment of shuffling as Sidney has to squeeze around him to knock it out. She peeks out to check for traps, then climbs out, helping Jason to follow.

“Just think about it.” She peers around the hallway. “Did he say anything to you after he kissed you?”

Jason remembers what Dmitri said all too clearly and his face quickly turns bright red.

“Oh, man. What did he say?”

The heavens are semi-merciful, because they hear a couple snaps, a crash, and Michael scream in quick succession.

Naturally, they immediately move towards the noise. They look around the corner to see the Plague Doctor standing there, staring at their unbloodied knife. Apparently, they hadn’t even had to use it.

Michael is caught in what is presumably one of his own traps, and the scene is less than pretty. Hooks dug into skin, pulling in multiple directions. Jason wretches and turns away.

“Hey…” Sidney says, drawing the Plague Doctor’s attention.

They turn around, and then freeze, then tilt their head. There’s a moment of quiet. Jason notes, again, that they look shorter this time - the Plague Doctor in his kitchen had been at least an inch or two taller than him, but this one is 5’6” at best.

“You two got out,” they say, sounding almost surprised. “Impressive.”

There’s another beat of silence, as if they’re struggling to make conversation. They glance over their shoulder, back at Michael.

“At least one of his traps worked, huh?” They say.

“It really took you this long to trap this guy?” Sidney asks.

“We were stuck for pretty long.” Jason agrees.

“I’m not omniscient!” They say, sounding genuinely offended. At least, as much as someone can, with a distorted voice.

“What if we were in trouble?”

“I was going to find you!” They cross their arms, shifting their grip on their knife. Then they turn around. “Stay back. I’ve got to get his phone. Unless it got destroyed. He looks pretty fucked up, doesn’t he?”

They reach to search his pockets, and Michael suddenly rasps. He’s not dead. Severely hurt, but not dead.

“Oh, shit.” The Plague Doctor says.

“Oh my god,” Sidney agrees. “Should we- I mean, should we try to get him off of-”

“No,” they answer, without pause. For a second, Jason’s seized by the fear that they’re going to do what the other one did to Christian- snuff him out. “We might hurt him worse.” They rummage through his pockets, carefully, pulling out his cellphone.

When the operator picks up, they say, “Michael King nabbed Joon-ho and Cunningham. They’re fine, but he’s on the ropes. No pun intended. You’ll see what I mean when you get here. Anyways, you’d better hurry.” They hang up. ...And put the phone back in Michael’s pocket.

That seems to be the end of that.

“Where’s your partner?” Jason tries, out of the blue. The Plague Doctor stiffens for a second, and then continues without replying.

“So now that we’re totally in the clear,” Sidney says, to Jason, “why don’t we continue our conversation?”

“Can we not do this? In general, but especially not ten feet from a corpse,” Jason groans. “Or right near a serial killer.”

“Hey,” the Plague Doctor says. “I’m not just a serial killer. I’m just ridding the world of an evil infestation, I’m-”

“Can it, birdbrain,” Jason huffs. They scoff.

“Guess I won’t help you guys find your way out, then.”

“Fine by me,” Jason replies.

“Jason, come on,” Sidney replies, patting his back. “He doesn’t mean it,” she says to the Plague Doctor.

“Yes I do!”

“They’ve saved your life tons of times.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like them.”

“Wow,” the Plague Doctor says, placing their hand over their heart like they’re wounded. They creep around Michael’s trap, though, and motion for Jason and Sidney to follow. “You know, I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You’re a murderer,” Jason insists.

“That’s such a gross oversimplification! I’m not running around killing random people for fun. I’m not targeting anyone innocent. You just saw me leave that kid alone! You can’t just walk through life with black-and-white morals.” They think for a second, then wave their knife around a little as they talk. “Well, you can, but it’s not useful or logical. Everyone knows there’s exceptions. So I kill a few guys? I stop each of them from killing dozens more. Sounds like a fair tradeoff to me.” They wave the knife a little more, this time in the direction of Jason and Sidney. “And need I remind you that if I hadn’t intervened, you and your sweetheart would’ve died the first time?”

“We’re not dating anymore,” Sidney says.

“Oh, no. Sad. A true tragedy.”

They sound entirely emotionless.

“Jason’s got a new boytoy, but he won’t answer my questions.”

“I- Okay, can we choose to stick to either the bullshit Dmitri rumors or the murder morality question, because the mood whiplash is too strong right now.” Jason looks embarrassed, averting eye contact to stare at the roof as Sidney giggles.

The Plague Doctor holds out an arm and instructs them to move around a particular area to avoid a trap.

“Fine, I choose Dmitri, “ Sidney answers.

“Do we really have to talk about this in front of birdface?” He groans.

“I couldn’t care less about your romantic endeavors if I tried,” the Plague Doctor responds.

“God, okay, he- he asked me if you’d ever kissed me like that before,” Jason admits.

“Oh my god!” Sidney responds.

“It’s- he fucks with me all the time, it doesn’t mean anything!”

“Oh my god!”

“Besides, me? One hundred percent straight, not into guys, so-”

“Go out through here.” They reach the exit and the Plague Doctor holds the door for them. “I’ve got some cleanup to do. The cops will be here soon.”

The birdbrain was right. The police are there within ten minutes. Jason feels as if he’s an expert in dealing with being transported by cops and answering their questions, now. The both of them are processed and released back to their parents in no time.

Jason feels confident enough to ignore reporters this time around. The fact that the media is losing interest in his survival stories helps. Christian was right about too many close calls - not even the murder-hungry media can give a shit anymore.

Until he’s dead.

But he’d rather not think about that.

He returns home and lies down in bed and instead thinks about all the things he can’t trust anymore. His car, the library, going upstairs at parties, his bedroom window, cookies from classmates. Being a murder magnet sucks. At least he’s friends with Sidney again. That weight off his shoulders is enough to make his head feel clearer than it has in a month.

So he goes to school the next day, instead of staying home like he usually wants to. It’s not a fantastic experience, but he sits with Dmitri and Regan at lunch again.

After fifth period, he’s accosted in the hallway by a couple of Michael’s friends.

“We hear you got Michael stuck in the hospital,” one Jason doesn’t recognize says.

“Well, it was more… him walking into his own trap, but…” He sees their body language change from aggressive to even more aggressive and he knows, knows there’s no intrinsic logic to their anger. It’s social hierarchy; they think his life is automatically worth less than Michael’s is and that’s why they’re mad.

“Is there a problem here?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, in a tone implying there better not be, a warm hand being placed on his shoulder. Jason glances over at Regan, who is smiling in one of the more subtly threatening ways a person can smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stick up for this creep, Ahitana?” The kid Jason doesn’t recognize asks.

“Seems like I am,” he answers casually, shifting so he’s just a little in between the jock pack and Jason. “I needed to talk to him anyways.” With that, he grips Jason’s arm and leads him away from the group. Jason sees Regan look over his shoulder at the group and wonders if he made a face at them.

Once they’re out of earshot, Regan asks, “You alright?”

“I guess. I hope those guys don’t become a regular thing.”

“I’ll make sure they won’t,” he assures, real warmth back in his voice.

“I owe you,” Jason sighs.

“Pay me back by coming to hang out at Dmitri’s tonight?”

“Uh… It is, like, another party, or…?”

“Nope. Just good, old-fashioned hangouts. Rose and Riley will be there. Might invite Sidney, too, since Riley says you two are back on good terms and she really wants me to meet her.”

“Alright,” Jason nods. Yeah, he can do a six person gathering.

“See you there.”

The rest of the school day passes in a flash. After dropping his things off at home, he has his mom drive him to Dmitri’s place. It’s not nearly as intimidating as the first time he came. The lack of loud music vibrating the driveway might have something to do with that.

He gives the door a swift knock and bounces on his toes until Rose pulls open the door.

“Hey, Voorhees. C’mon in.” She smiles at him and lets him inside.

He goes into the livingroom and is greeted by Dmitri sitting on the couch, doing bicep curls, in a tank top. Huh. So he does exercise. Jason ends up staring for maybe too long.

“I’m looking cut, huh?” Dmitri asks, pride obvious on his voice. And in the way he’s grinning real wide. “I know. I’m great. A prime specimen.”

Jason blushes a little.

Regan, who’s somehow managed to sneak into the room, with his arm around Riley’s waist, points at Dmitri. “You’re not doing those right. You need to lower your arm slower.”

“Wow,” Dmitri says, sounding hurt. “Making me look bad in front of my lover.”

“Aw, babe, you know I think you’re strong,” Rose says, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t mean you, I mean Jason,” Dmitri replies, winking at Jason. Jason sputters. Rose gasps, scandalized, putting her hand to her forehead.

“I cannot believe you two would betray me in this manner,” she says, with extreme melodrama.

“Leave the acting to the professionals, Rosie,” Dmitri teases as he stands up to put the weight away.

“Hey, don’t bully her,” Riley chides, tugging Regan to make him sit down on the couch.

“So your boyfriend can take the piss out of me, but I can’t give constructive criticism?” Dmitri pouts.

“How is telling her not to act constructive?” Riley asks.

“Because there’s only one spotlight and it’s mine, and the sooner everyone learns this, the better off we’ll be as a society,” Dmitri answers.

The doorbell rings. Rose says, “I’ll get it!” as she wheels around and jogs to the door.

Enter Sidney, as expected. She looks as nervous as Jason bets he did the first time around, but Rose puts an arm around her and helps her work up the nerve to come in.

Dmitri joins Rose in greeting, which is to say he crosses the room in a couple quick hops and grabs her face without explanation, albeit gently.

“Uhm,” she says, despite her slightly squished cheeks.

“Good taste,” he says, still without explanation, looking over at Jason.

Everyone kind of collectively gives him a confused look.

“T...Thanks?” Jason offers, uncertainly.

“I was talking to Sidney,” Dmitri says, as he he releases her, looking her over again. “Yep, good fashion sense and taste in guys. Come on in, sit down, we’re gonna watch a movie.”

Sidney gives Jason a kind of smug look, like her point’s being made. Jason avoids looking at her and sits down on the couch. She, unfortunately, sits next to him.

Then Dmitri sits next to Regan, and Rose next to Dmitri.

“What’re we watching?” Sidney asks.

“A scary movie,” Riley answers.

“I thought you didn’t like scary movies?” Sidney asks.

“Eh, they’re fine. And I’m in the company of many horror dorks. When in Rome, do as the Romans do and all that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that quote means,” Rose laughs as she presses play on some flick titled Secret Admirer. Dmitri gets comfy, leaning against her, and then putting his legs across Regan’s lap.

The movie is subpar, in Jason’s opinion. There’s some part of him tempted to point out every overused trope or every lapse in the intensity caused by bad writing. That part of him is kept at bay by Sidney occasionally elbowing him in the side to point out that Dmitri is clinging to Regan’s arm, then pressed up directly against his side, and then entirely in his lap by the time the movie’s climax began.

Jason tries really hard to ignore it, but he can’t gloss over the fact that Dmitri has both arms around Regan’s neck and keeps squeezing his cheek to Regan’s, eyes pressed shut, whenever it seems like a jump scare is on its way.

Jason thinks it’s kind of funny how jumpy he gets with horror movies, given his cannibal comments and how unfazed he was after Steve’s attack. It’s a little cute. In… like, a kitten way. Jason forces himself to acknowledge that Riley’s clinging to Regan, too. Maybe it’s just the jock draw.

The credits roll and he sees Dmitri, Riley, and Rose visibly relax.

“That movie was a real stinker,” Regan laughs, not even trying to remove Dmitri from his lap.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Rose argues, leaning back.

“At least the soundtrack was good,” Dmitri says, like he didn’t spend half the movie with his face buried into Regan’s neck.

“The plot was overdone and predictable,” Sidney states, vocalizing what Jason was too nervous to.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, emboldened to ramble, now. “I mean, there was no sense of vagueness and the pacing was really off.” He motions at the screen. “You can’t do the appearance reveal that early in the movie and expect to retain the fear. I mean, most terror comes from the unknown. They spoil the motive right in the title, really, so all the mystery goes out the window in the first half hour. A successful horror has to keep you guessing.”

“Woah, dude. You know a lot about horror movies,” Riley comments, stretching her arms over her head.

“Well, they call me Voorhees for a reason,” Jason laughs, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, my man Voorhees here is an expert,” Dmitri says as he hops to his feet. He ruffles Jason’s hair as he walks past him towards the kitchen. “Now who here wants to crack open a few brewskis?” He asks, walking backwards towards the door.

“Oh, can we not… drink this time?” Jason asks, looking over the couch.

“Whaaat? How can we call this a party if we don’t get smashed?”

“Parties don’t typically have six people, Dmitri,” Regan reminds.

“Life is a party if you try hard enough!”

“Let’s just chill, Dmitri,” Regan says.

“Pfft. Bunch of buzzkills.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Alright, who wants a soda?” He says the word like he’s disgusted with it.

“Grab me one, babe!” Rose says.

“Got’cha.” Dmitri disappears into the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, Riley moves and takes his spot in Regan’s lap. Rose puts her feet up on the sofa.

“So, Sidney. It’s nice to meet you.” Regan smiles.

“You, too. Riley and Rose talk about you all the time.”

“Ditto.” He puts a hand on Riley’s arm and says, “She showed me a bunch of pictures from your art exhibit.”

“Oh.” Sidney blushes a little. Jason looks smug. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m a big fan!” Riley is grinning. “You’re, like, super talented. Your pieces were all really unique and cool.”

“You know,” Jason starts, trying to keep himself from smiling, “I used to tell her all the time that she should take commissions.” Sidney elbows him, as sneaky as she can.

“I wouldn’t have the time. I’m really busy.”

“Because of all the stuff she’s in. Art club, AP classes, and she works part-time.”

“Woah, Sidney!” Riley says, looking sufficiently impressed. “You do all that and track club?”

“It’s nothing, really…” She steps on Jason’s toes. Jason grits his teeth so he doesn’t make a sound. He’s feeling pretty satisfied anyways.

Dmitri steps back into the room and pauses for a second when he sees Riley on Regan’s lap. “You stole my spot,” he says to Riley as he brings Rose her drink.

“I didn’t see your name on him,” Riley jokes.

“Ohh, shit. Regan, see, you’ve got to get my name tattooed on your thigh now, I’ll do it too, let’s-”

“Dmitri, no.” Regan laughs.

“Buddy, bro, light of my life-”

“I’m not getting a tattoo of your name on my thigh.”

“Not even if it’s like one of those sailor tattoos, with the heart?”

“I’m just not a sailor tattoo kind of guy.”

“You’ve got the beef to pull it off,” Dmitri says.

“You’d look pretty cute with tattoos,” Riley agrees, running her fingers through his hair. Dmitri kind of pulls a face, and then moves a few steps to plop down in Jason’s lap.

Instead of on the floor, or the coffee table, like a normal person.

“Whuha- what are you doing?”

“Everywhere else is occupied. Besides, you look pretty comfy.” He wraps one arm around Jason. Jason blushes and Sidney smirks.

“Let’s watch one more movie,” Rose says.

“I’ll order us a pizza real quick.” Riley pulls out her phone.

Jason has to deal with Dmitri sitting in his lap until the pizza arrives and Rose abandons her spot to retrieve it. Then Dmitri rebels by lying across the couch and putting his head in Riley’s lap, which is in Regan’s lap.

This movie is a romcom of Riley and Rose’s choice. Dmitri almost falls asleep. Regan seems interested, at least.

When it’s over, Riley climbs out from under Dmitri and says, “I’d love to stay longer, but I’ve got cheer in the morning.”  

Her and Riley say their goodbyes and Sidney excuses herself, too.

Jason’s pulling out his phone to call his mom when Regan clears his throat.

“Hey, Voorhees. I could drop you off.”

“Trying to steal him from me?” Dmitri jokes. Regan scoffs.

“Just don’t want you to make the poor guy blow a gasket,” he states.

“Thanks, Regan,” Jason says, trying not to feel nervous. Regan has been nothing but good to him, but it’s a little difficult to feel trusting, regardless.

He follows Regan out to his car, a dark blue Mazda CX-5. A real functional looking vehicle.

The drive home’s not too long. Regan plays some alt-rock quietly the whole way, in lieu of a news broadcast about the Camera Killer.

“Want to meet up for some self defense practice, soon?” Regan asks.

“Oh, uh. Yeah. That’s probably a good idea, huh?”

“Definitely. Both for your killer problem and dealing with the jerks at school.”

Jason frowns.

“They’re not going to give you a hard time for hanging out with me, are they?” Jason asks.

“I don’t really care if they do,” Regan shrugs. “I mean, having a lot of friends is cool, but their friendship’s really superficial and I’ve got thick skin. They can pick at me all they want. I’d rather hang out with someone I actually think is cool than let them get to me.”

“That’s… pretty impressive, to not be able to care like that.”

“It’s not impressive, I’m just lucky.”

“Lucky?” Jason asks.

“There’s a lot of stuff in my life that makes it easier for me to tell people to back off. Being able to throw someone over my shoulder like a sack of flour, for example.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“Anyways. I’ll text you to figure out a good time for working out and practicing.”

“I appreciate it.”

Regan pulls up in front of Jason’s house and lets him out. He watches until Jason gets inside safely.

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

Sidney’s got a new boyfriend. At first that’s just another whispered rumor, thrown in among all the ‘Voorhees is a fame-hungry liar who posts online so he’ll have people attack him for attention’ and ‘Voorhees is a major queer who forced Dmitri into making out with him’ bullshit he’s forced to overhear, a rumor that makes a lump grow in his throat. But then he sees her with him walking into school. Christian Lyons with his arm around Sidney’s waist.

His heart sinks into his stomach. He’d almost forgotten how much losing Sidney hurt, caught up in the excitement about Dmitri and Regan thinking he’s worthy of any attention at all.

And the excitement of the party, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that too long. He’s still unsure how much of that night was his drunken imagination, how many dances he really had, if Dmitri Morozova actually shoved his tongue down -

It really wasn’t important.

He wonders, briefly, if Sidney is doing this to emphasise she no longer cares about him. After all, it hasn’t been that long since the incident at the national park. Maybe she’s showing off her capability to move on.

(And to actually get people to like her, but that’s a different issue entirely.)

Sidney doesn’t acknowledge him when she and Christian walk by, hips pressed together, his hand in her front pocket.

Eugh. He bets they make out in the halls, too.

Okay, that was the wrong thing to think. The images of Sidney being touched by someone else make him feel...weird. Not as bad as he thought he would feel, but - not exactly jealous, but some sort of stomach-flippy anxious. Maybe envy is the right word. He wishes he had someone who would still touch him at all.

Then his mind floats back to Dmitri and Regan, and he groans.

He couldn’t exactly deny what had happened, but he could explain it. Dmitri was near-obsessed with entertaining the crowd, and sure, he hadn’t given anyone else the same treatment, but he hadn’t landed on many other people, either. And anyway, what could be more amusing than embarrassing the geeky kid? But then there was Regan, infinitely harder to read...

None of this changed the fact that Sidney had moved on.

It’s dumb, but he wishes she had talked to him. Just some sort of heads up. Hey, by the way, I’ve got a new guy I’m seeing and he’s totally cooler than you. See you Monday. As if. They hadn’t as much as exchanged a single glance since they’d both gotten back to school. Not a text, nor a snapchat, nor even a liked tweet. Sidney is probably doing what everyone else is doing and wishing he didn’t exist and cause trouble for the entire goddamn world.

Fuck, he’s not ready to face the day anymore.

He goes through his classes in a daze, barely even registering anything he writes down or is told. Third period is a rare blip on his internal radar, Mr. Beltrami’s custom “Mr. Joon-ho, good morning” earning an actual nod back from Jason. It’s the most he’s given anyone all day.

He’s so distracted that he barely even notices when Dmitri clatters loudly into the seat next to him, melodramatic sigh barely audible over the bell for passing period. Jason notices Dmitri making hand-talky motions, mocking Mr. Beltrami’s custom opening instructions, but doesn’t really register that he’s supposed to laugh until it’s over and Dmitri says, “Oh, man. Did I strike one of your Bellfarming loving nerves?”

“What?” Jason replies, refocusing his eyes on Dmitri’s face.

“I mean, you don’t even crack a smile. Gawsh.” Dmitri pulls a dramatic face, acquiring many chins in the process. “I didn’t do something, did I?”

“No,” Jason says, honestly. “I mean, I’m just…”

“Totally whacked out, bro. Did you light up before class or something?” Dmitri laughs, sharp giggles that break through the casual conversation of the rest of the students.

Jason shakes his head, curling and uncurling his fingers. He wonders if Dmitri would understand if he said my ex is moving on and I’m not ready to do the same yet as if anyone would even look at me like that because every girl thinks I’m a murder magnet and no one wants to be killer bait so to answer your question no I am not high and yes I do very much want to cry right now.

He shakes his head again, more emphatically this time.

Dmitri squints at him, nods thoughtfully. “Okay, I get it. Not feelin’ it today, whatever. You had a big weekend, no big deal. Everyone needs time to recover from shit like that.” Dmitri turns back to his computer, seemingly satisfied to let Jason be for now.

And then his mind is back on the party, blending with thoughts of Sidney, wondering if she would’ve been jealous if she’d seen the way he’d played spin the bottle, if she’d be impressed by his beer pong skills. Maybe if she had seen him socialising with other human beings who weren’t reporters as if he wasn’t a freak, she’d realise that maybe the thing they’d had going was worth some sort of shot.

What is he saying? He hasn’t even tried to reach out.

Pathetic.

He should be happy for her. That she’s getting to move on and return to a relatively normal high school experience, and not almost dying every week. Sure, weathering this thing alone just kind of really sucks. But that doesn’t mean he should wish it on her, too.

The day’s only half over and he already wishes he could go to bed and never worry about getting up.

When the bell rings, he very slowly packs up to leave. Before he knows it, he’s the only kid left in the classroom, and he’s staring at his blank computer screen.

Mr. Beltrami startles him by drumming his fingers on the desk.

Jason looks up quickly, and then his eyes dart to the door, then to the clock. How long has he been spacing out?

“I hear Ms. Cunningham has a new boyfriend,” Beltrami says, clearly lacking any kind of tact or sympathy. Jason winces. Great. Yes, that’s exactly what he wants to talk about right now.

He doesn’t respond, which is the first time he’s really done anything even mildly disrespectful to Mr. Beltrami. Instead he puts his USB into his bag.

“That must be hard to deal with,” he presses, pushing his palm flat against the desk, now, leaning his hip against it. Jason looks down at his shoes.

“Yeah. I mean, it came as a surprise. We didn’t break up long ago. But...” He shrugs. There’s nothing he can do about it.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” Beltrami states, oddly matter-of-fact.

Jason clears his throat uncomfortably. Okay? That’s weird. “I- I’m pretty sure she does. I mean. I’m all over the news, still.” He stands up and pushes in his chair, walking towards the door.

“You’re a great kid, Jason,” Beltrami says as he follows.

“T-thanks?” He doesn’t feel particularly keen on accepting that compliment. On his way out, he bumps the door stop out of place, making Beltrami have to stop to catch the door. Maybe on purpose. Just maybe.

Lunch is lonely. Dmitri and Regan are sitting with their cool friends today. Jason can’t tell if that’s because Dmitri is respecting that he’s in a bad place or if he finally shattered the illusion and Dmitri’s decided he’s not cool or fun or interesting. He wouldn’t be wrong.

Jason listens to a cheer up playlist and, unsurprisingly, fails to cheer up. So he tosses out the trash from his lunch and decides to go grab his books, early. Maybe he can sit outside his next class for the rest of lunch. It won’t be long until A lunch ends anyway.

He goes to his locker and stares blankly at the slightly rusted screws on the back surface, wondering just what they’re screwed into because it’s better than wondering about anything else right now.

Shaking off that mental fog, he reaches for one of his textbooks, only to have his locker door slammed shut. He pulls his hand back before it can get caught and yelps, bracing for a stab wound almost on instinct.

One doesn’t come. Instead he just hears someone impatiently clearing their throat.

Peeking an eye open, he sees that it’s Christian, leaning up against the locker, partially blocking him off. Jason tries to peer over his shoulder to see if there’s anyone down the hall. Being cornered and alone hasn’t exactly panned out well for him, recently.

“You’re Sidney’s ex boyfriend, right?” He asks, a crooked smirk quirking his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I, uh, y- Hi?” Jason offers. Christian looks him over, like he’s appraising him, and Jason squares his shoulders, like he’s got something to prove.

“Don’t know what she saw in you,” he comments neutrally, like that’s a normal and totally polite thing to say.

“Is… this your first time introducing yourself to someone?” Jason asks, despite his better judgement.

That earns him a quick flicker of a glare. Jason holds his backpack strap like a lifeline.

“I understand you and Sidney left off pretty suddenly.”

Understatement, Jason thinks.

“So?” He asks, instead of that.

“So you might still have feelings for her. I wanted to tell you to get over them.”

“Uh?”

“She’s mine now, so don’t even think about her.”

“Uh.” He creases his brow and feels anger bubble in his chest a little. “Did Sidney send you to talk to me?”

“No. She doesn’t want me anywhere near you. I took things into my own hands.”

“You probably shouldn’t be doing things behind her back. That’s, like, relationship 101.”

The collar of his shirt gets grabbed.

“You implying I don’t know how to treat my girlfriend?”

“L...lil’ bit?”

Christian laughs, quiet, but it’s harsh on Jason’s ears anyway. Something about the way he smiles is unsettling, the way it’s more like he’s baring his teeth than anything else. “As if you would know. She dropped you so fast that you might as well have been skydiving. She was probably waiting the entire time just to dump you, waiting for some excuse so she could feel less guilty about leaving someone so pitiful alone.” Christian shoves Jason backwards so his head bangs against the locker, and he curses under his breath. That makes Christian smile again.

With some hesitation, Jason manages “I don’t think-”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Christian interrupts, fist pressed against Jason’s collarbone, uncomfortable proximity. “Just stay away from Sidney and out of my line of sight. Because you can be damn well certain if I even suspect your ass is looking in the direction of my girl, you’ll see me when I’m really pissed.”

“And I wouldn’t like you when you’re angry, right?” Jason says, instantly cringing at himself when Christian’s eyes go from cold to sub-arctic.

Christian scoffs and drops Jason’s collar. He wipes his knuckles off on his shirt like Jason is diseased.

“Yeah. Let’s say that.”

The bell rings, and Christian looks up to the source of the sound, indifferent. “Guess I’ll see you later, Voorhees. Try not to get yourself killed this week.”

Fuck you too, Jason thinks as he watches Christian’s back retreating, dorky-ass faux leather jacket blending into the slowly growing crowd of people flowing in from lunch. Jason curses under his breath as he opens his locker to gather his things again, half expecting some other asshole to shove him into it. But his biohazard aura is back in effect, and everyone gives him space.

He isn’t even upset about Sidney moving on anymore. He’s annoyed that she’d moved on to someone like that.

Jason spends the rest of the day mulling over what Sidney saw in this guy. He gets in trouble multiple times in English for zoning out and most of math is spent jotting down ideas for what the appeal was.

Pros:

Nice hair

Good jawline

Pretty eyes if you like murder

His fashion sense is ok i guess but he needs better pleather

Cons:

Really rude (maybe he’s nice to her?)

Possessive (like all hell)

Edgy

Violent (? or is it just me?)

Jealous (even though Sid and I haven’t talked in weeks and he should know that)

REALLY rude

Like honestly what the fuck

whatever

He thinks it’s pretty comprehensive.

When he gets home, he heads to his room without even saying hello to his parents and flops onto his bed.

A boyfriend.

Christian Lyons.

Goddamnit.

Burying his face in his pillow, he doesn’t even consider trying to do the homework that is rapidly piling up on his desk, doesn’t even begin to entertain the thought of editing his script, or even just getting up and watching some of his favourite movies. He just wants to lie here, face down, letting his breath heat his face and suffocating slowly.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there when there’s a rhythmic taptaptap from the direction of his window.

It snaps him out of his stupor, making him leap up and whip his head around, searching the room for threats. Was it another killer? Someone coming to his home, this time? He hadn’t heard the window open, but could he have just missed it? Surely he would’ve noticed, would’ve been able to do something about it.

He scans his room one more time when the second taptaptap makes his head whip around to the window.

Holy fuck.

Jason walks over and opens the window, letting a bored looking Dmitri poke his head in, hands pressed flat against the windowsill.

“Dude, this tree is like right next to your window. You should, like, get that fixed.” He starts trying to push his way inside, but Jason gently puts a hand on his shoulder (holy fuck he’s touching Dmitri Morozova instead of the other way around, this feels wrong, this shouldn’t be happening, why is Dmitri in his window) to stop him.

“What are you doing here? My parents -”

“What? Voorhees, you’re afraid of your parents? Aw. Every day you’re cuter. I’m here because you seemed stressed as all hell today and I think I have the perfect solution. Now let me inside so I can show you, you dingus.”

“Dmitri,” Jason says, keeping his voice measured even though he feels like he has the right to yell, “you have to realise how trying to sneak into my house looks after three murder attempts.”

Dmitri goes huh, smooths out his hair.

“Guess I didn’t think about that. Well, it’s no biggie. You can frisk me. No murder weapons on this boy.” He pats his chest and sides down with one hand to emphasise this point.

“I’ll...pass on that, thanks.”

“Seriously? I mean, the offer is always open for y-”

“Pleasejustgetinhere,” Jason says hurriedly, backing away from the window. Dmitri rolls his eyes as if Jason is being the ridiculous one and climbs through the window, surprisingly agile despite not being an athlete. Then again, theatre kids had to do some weird shit.

“Ooh, cute room,” Dmitri says, looking around admiringly. “Look at all these posters! Oh, wow, Voorhees, these are some genuine vintages! How’d you get these?”

“You...care about this stuff?” Jason asks, scratching the back of his neck nervously as Dmitri grins at him.

“Yeah! I mean, Regan mentioned it, but I like horror movies too. I mean, not as much as you - I don’t know if that’s even possible - but a lot, anyways.” He gives Jason a smug look, as if he’s incredibly proud of this fact. “It’s pretty interesting, too, to see how the cases in the movies play out versus the ones in real life, you know? But enough of that!”

Dmitri does a little hand flourish before shoving his hand into his jacket and pulling out a copy of Whispering Corridors, which Jason hadn’t been able to find anywhere except on Amazon, but his mother hadn’t let him get it unless it was with his own money, which he had approximately none of.

“You mentioned not being able to get this movie,” Dmitri says, smug look turning smugger by the second, “so I thought my endless cash and I could help you out. Yeah. We put the fun in funds.”

“Oh my God,” Jason breathes, taking the movie from Dmitri reverentially. “Dmitri, I...Seriously, thank you so much, I…”

“Shhhh.” Dmitri presses a finger to Jason’s lips. “No words now. Just set up this sweet-ass movie and we can watch it together. Oh, by the way, even though I watch a lot of horror movies, I’m like, ridiculously jumpy. So if we’re going to watch this you’re going to have to accept me choking the blood out of your arms.”

Jason nods, too amazed to consider the ramifications of his decision, and grabs his laptop off his desk. He puts the movie in and settles down on his bed.  Dmitri plops next to him and leans against him ever-so-slightly.

Dmitri hadn’t been kidding when he said he was jumpy. The first time a scare chord strums, his hands fly to Jason’s arm and his body presses up against Jason in ways that are more than a little awkward. Dmitri even goes so far as to lean his head on Jason’s shoulder during a calm moment. Jason tries to focus on the movie, and usually succeeds, until something happens again and Dmitri does his little horrified gasp and grips Jason’s nonexistent biceps as hard as he can.

It turns out that’s pretty hard. Jason might not have any muscle, but he’d been right about Dmitri having at least a few.

Maybe even more than he’d expected. Seriously, he’s probably going to bruise.

When the movie ends, Dmitri lets out a shaky exhale and laughs nervously.

“Wow. That was good, but…”

“You were pretty scared,” Jason laughs back, managing not to stutter for once.

Dmitri nods, not letting go of his grip on Jason’s arm. “That’s one way to put it. Goddamn. Next time I pick the movie!”

Jason doesn’t feel like pointing out that he didn’t exactly invite Dmitri over here and just nods.

Dmitri sighs and rests his head against Jason’s shoulder again.

“Uh...Dmitri, are…” Jason swallows hard, moves his shoulder up a little, which displaces Dmitri ever so slightly. Dmitri looks up at him, eyes half-lidded, expression inquisitive. It makes Jason’s heart do a weird hopscotch routine, for whatever reason. “Are you still scared, or…?”

Dmitri’s eyes flicker down at where he’s still got his hands around Jason’s upper arm, and he makes a little noise of comprehension. “Ah...Yeah, a little. It was pretty freaky.”

“Right,” Jason agrees, throat dry when Dmitri looks at him again.

“I bet your short is going to be as good as that!” Dmitri enthuses, squeezing Jason’s arm again and giving a toothy smile. “Oh, man, I’m so excited. I bet Sellgummy is going to love it, too.” Then his expression falls and he clenches his jaw. “Unlike mine. That guy has it out for me, I swear.”

“Well...I mean...I don’t think teachers, really, actually, hate their students...Maybe he just thinks you could do better.” As Jason says that, Dmitri gives him an annoyed glare, and Jason quickly adds, “I mean obviously, I - I think your pieces are amazing. You’re amazing, Dmitri, both in front of and behind the camera, you’re…”

Dmitri mulls that over for a few seconds before nodding. A little smile plays over his lips. “You’re way too nice to me, Jason. Such a nice change of pace…”

Jason then notices how close their faces are. So close that Dmitri’s breath tickles his skin. He opens his mouth to say something, to point out that Dmitri should probably go because it’s getting late and the curfew will be in effect soon, to ask if he can read Dmitri’s script later, anything. Nothing comes out except a nervous little ‘uh’, and Dmitri seems to tilt his head slightly and press against Jason harder like he’s getting closer and Jesus Christ what the-

“Jason?” There’s a knock on the door as his mother calls his name. “You didn’t come down for dinner, so I thought I’d bring it to you. It’s your favourite, spaghetti - lots of oregano!”

“Shit,” Jason hisses, “Be right there, mom! I’m...I’m not decent!” Then he slams his laptop shut and jerks away from Dmitri, who makes an offended noise.

“You need to hide,” Jason whispers, urgent, as he puts his laptop back on his desk.

“Where?” Dmitri whispers back, awfully blasé about the entire situation, as if he’s been in it a million times before. Which, now that Jason thinks about it, is incredibly likely.

“Here,” Jason instructs quietly, opening his closet door and gesturing frantically inside. Dmitri rolls his eyes again, which he only seems to do when Jason is being reasonable, and walks inside, pushing aside coats and shirts to make space. Before Jason shuts the door, Dmitri stage whispers, “Oh, wow! This shirt is cute! Voorhees, where’d you-” but Jason cuts him off by closing the closet and knowing instantly he’s going to pay for it as soon as he can let Dmitri out.

He walks to his bedroom door and opens it. His mother is waiting patiently, even though she looks a little baffled, and holding a plate of noodles. Jason smiles politely as he takes it from her, muttering “thanks so much” as he does, but she doesn’t leave as soon as her mission is complete.

Of course not. Things would be too easy that way.

Instead, she says “Jason, honey, is your window open?” as she peers around Jason to get a look at his room.

“Uh.” Shit. “Yeah, I...Needed fresh air.”

“Close that, honey. Bugs will get in.”

“Or worse,” Jason mutters. His mother looks at him sharply.

“You can’t have that attitude, honey. All of this will pass.” But then she straightens out her shirt uneasily and adds, “But, if you’re worried, your father and I have been discussing the possibility of you staying home for college.”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What? No, I...Mom, I’m a junior. It barely matters until next year anyway.”

“I know, I know. But preparing for these things is always wise.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, giving Jason a look that borders on pitying. “Especially with the rise of on-campus murders, and your...status.”

You can say it, mom. I’m sharkbait, Jason thinks, but the look on her face makes him reconsider.

“I’m thinking about it,” he assures her.

“Good. We just want what is best for you. To make sure that you are in an alright place and safe as you can be before you are far away from us.”

“I… If worst comes to worst, I’ll just go to community college for a year or something.” He really hates the idea of it. His parents are nice enough, most of the time, but he feels smothered. And after everything, he really would rather not stay in this town for longer than necessary.

“Sounds like a plan. Now eat up, before it gets cold, habibi.” She kisses the top of his head and he sighs. Closing the door behind her is a great relief and he slumps against it for a second.

Then he hears a somewhat agitated, “Can I come out now?” from inside the closet.

“Shit,” Jason murmurs to himself as he sets his plate down on his desk and frees Dmitri. “Sorry about that.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Dmitri says, despite still seeming a little put off, now. “It gave me a chance to come out of the closet,” he laughs, raising his hands over his head and all but twirling around Jason. Jason laughs, a little, more forced than anything.

“My mom can be a little-”

“She sounded nice!” Dmitri interjects, headed for the window. “But I should go now. Getting late and I need my beauty sleep.” He grins, wide, half climbing out when he pauses. “Oh, and keep the DVD! You can think of me when you watch it!” Another lightning quick wink before he’s scaling down the tree outside the window.

Friday comes and goes, much less eventful. He sees Sidney and Christian in the hallway a few times and does his best not to tear himself up over it. It doesn’t go great. At least no one else seems as intent on torturing him by talking about it when he’s around.

Saturday morning, his mom and dad both head to work and Jason spends the majority of the afternoon sitting on the couch with his laptop, trying to find the will to work on his script. That doesn’t go so great, either. His brain seems intent on sticking him in a creative slump.

After dinner, which consists of a handful of chips, he gives up and decides to watch television.

And has to skip over a million murder programs before deciding on some cheesy ghost show. It’s all goofy and fake, but he can use a little goofy and fake. He treats himself to a couple cheap boxed brownies and lets himself be whisked away to ghostland.

A good hour into the marathon, this Overreacting Camera Trio is in a new location when Jason starts to hear murmured conversation. He figures it’s some gimmick. They’ll notice, or play back the recording and freak out any second now. Bring out the spirit box!

Except, they don’t. The moment passes and they move on to some other room, but the talking’s still happening.

Oh.

Jason mutes the T.V.

Yep, that’s definitely voices coming from upstairs. Two of them. He swallows and stands, trying not to make any noise. They sound like they might be arguing. He hears some shuffling and the upper level creaks, a door opens.

If he called the cops, would they even come? Would they wait, to give the killer a chance?

Maybe it’s just Dmitri again. But he has his phone number. And who would the second person be?

Either way, he’s grabbing a knife from the kitchen. He holds the handle in his hand, then slowly makes for the front door.  

Footsteps from the stairway, between the kitchen and the door, start down, fast. Jason curses under his breath and dives back into the kitchen, behind the counter.

He hears whoever it is jump the last flight and grunt as they land, hard.

“I know you’re here, Voorhees,” comes Christian’s voice. “I heard your stupid show.”

Another set of footsteps comes down the stairs, slower.

“Christian, let’s just go,” Sidney says, sounding nervous. “You probably scared him already. Maybe he left.”

“I didn’t hear any doors open.” Jason hears Christian pull open the shoe closet as he talks. “He’s just hiding.”

“We- we should just go. Come on.”

“Come on out, Jason. I just wanna talk.”

Okay. Okay, so his ex-girlfriend and her new, aggressive boyfriend broke into his house.

He stays tucked behind the counter, mind racing. What could they want? Sidney wants to go. She didn’t want to come here. Christian’s idea. Did he just want to threaten him more?

He takes a slow, deep breath, and thinks. Did he do anything to prompt this? Was it the looking at Sidney in the hallway, yesterday? That’s bullshit. He wonders if he could make it to the back door without being spotted.

He tries, sneaking, keeping low to the ground. The old tile floor squeaks and in a split second a gunshot goes off. Jason’s ears are ringing. Sidney yells. There’s a few seconds of silence. The bullet’s in the floor.

“Relax, babe, they’re just blanks,” Christian states, after seemingly taking a moment to even himself out. Jason is just staring and shaking. Christian comes over and hauls Jason up off the floor. Jason barely has the energy to struggle, but grips Christian’s wrist regardless.

“What is your problem?” He squeaks out. Christian responds by turning around and pressing Jason’s back to the lower cabinets, making him easier to keep pinned.

“Christian, you’re not- you’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Sidney asks, stepping forward. Jason looks at her, sees that she’s near tears again.

“She’s got some hang ups about you, Joon-ho,” Christian states, blatantly ignoring Sidney.

“And that’s my fault?” Jason asks, voice cracking.

“Lil’ bit.”

Jason might have walked into that one.

“Christian, look,” Sidney interjects. “I can talk to him, we can work this out without all this. Just put the gun down and-”

“We’re talking. We’re being civil,” Christian insists, waving the gun around a little. “Besides, I don’t want you alone with him.”

“You have some major issues, man.” Jason cringes when his back gets pressed harder against the counter.

“The only issue I got’s you.”

“I haven’t even done anything to you!”

“You’re on the news every night. How’s my girl supposed to move on if she has to hear about you constantly? You’re pathetic anyways.”

Jason struggles in his grip, trying to break out.

“Probably shouldn’t have made it this long, really,” Christian continues. “That’s the problem with our world. Little worms like you keep making it, somehow.”

“What are you even talking about?” Jason rasps, struggling a little more. He hates that his wriggling probably proves Christian’s point, in his mind.

“At this rate it’ll be senior prom and Sidney will still be thinking about you.” Christian sounds angrier, now, looks more aggressive by the second.

“Christian, stop it!” Sidney pleads.

“Who knows why? I mean, I guess it’s true some girls like charity cases. But being near you, that’s a death sentence, huh?” Christian cocks his head, examines Jason critically.

“You’ve scared him enough, Christian! You’re scaring me! Put the gun down!” Sidney grabs his shoulder, and he shrugs her off roughly, baring his teeth.

“Fine. Okay. Take the damn thing.” He shoves the gun into her hands, then looks down at Jason’s. “I got what I need right here,” he continues, prying open Jason’s fingers to take the kitchen knife. Jason tries to push Christian’s hand away, but Christian is either alarmingly strong or Jason alarmingly weak, because his best resistance only earns him maybe a two second struggle.

“Maybe I should finish what those other guys started,” Christian murmurs, holding the knife to Jason’s throat, sharp steel, and all Jason can think is that if anyone has to see him die it shouldn’t be Sidney, she didn’t deserve everything he’d brought on her. He wants to tell Christian this, tell him to send Sidney out before he slits Jason’s throat, anything to spare her from yet another tragedy brought on by Jason merely existing.

They’d all been right. He didn’t deserve to be alive.

The edge of the blade presses into his throat and he feels blood well up and as he opens his mouth to urge Christian to wait there’s a gunshot, then another, cracking through the silence like thunder, like an earthquake, like God. Christian makes a surprised noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and drops the knife to the floor with a clatter.

“You...You said they were blanks,” Sidney breathes, eyes welling with tears again.

Christian makes a wet wheezing sound as he backs away from Jason, turning from him with difficulty.

“Idiot,” Christian hisses, and Jason sees the blood leaking out of Christian’s back, down his legs. “Y...you fucking two-timing…”

“Christian, you told me they were blanks,” she insists, sniffling, hands shaking as she wipes her face. “It was...was just supposed to scare you, it was never...Christian, you said…”

“Aren’t you going to finish the job, Joon-ho?” Christian rasps, turning over his shoulder to face Jason. “G-go ahead. A...At least then you’d have done something for yourself.”

Jason shakes his head, dumbfounded.

Christian scoffs, coughs up phlegm and blood onto Jason’s kitchen floor. “Fuck, you got me good, babe. I-I didn’t think you had the balls.”

Sidney sobs, covering her mouth with one hand. Christian drops to one knee, entire body trembling.

“S...So? You gonna call an ambulance?” Christian’s voice is wavery. He drops again, onto his chest this time, so he’s lying on the floor, crumpled in on himself. There’s so much blood, Jason is suddenly worried about the possibility that they’ll never be able to wash it away.

“No need.”

Sidney gasps and Jason whips around at the metallic voice, one Jason has grown oddly accustomed to. The Plague Doctor is in his fucking kitchen doorway. Must've snuck in using all the noise as cover.

“What’re you doing here?!” Jason cries.

“Sidney,” the Plague Doctor says, ignoring Jason entirely as they step over Christian to reach her, “hand me the gun.”

She holds it out to them, hands still trembling badly. They take it from her, turn it over in their hands, and then point it at Christian.

“Of course,” Christian growls. “And I almost thought...thought that you were lying about this fucker, Voorhees. So now what? Y-you kill me? Why? This kid has had too many fucking chances, too many close calls. He didn't deserve them then and he sure as fuck doesn’t n-now. Why even bother? S...someone will get him eventually. Is your hard-on for the twerp that b-”

The shot is sudden, through the head, an explosion of brain matter and skull pieces and blood and life, spilled onto the ceramic tiles. Christian Lyons has been opened up on Jason’s floor, all those sensitive bits encased by bone exposed, all the marrow and hopes and dreams and bloodlust there, shattered. Jason’s ears are ringing and his heart is jackrabbiting and he's vaguely aware that Sidney is crying but his focus is centred on the masked figure in front of him, so sheltered and secure in their anonymity.

Jason has never hated anyone more.

“What the fuck have you done?” he asks, hands white-knuckling the counter behind him so he doesn't fall, his knees are jelly and if he were to succumb to gravity they'd be soaked in Christian’s grey matter.

“I put him out of his misery.”

“You acted as judge and jury, that's what you did!” Jason’s voice rises in volume as he talks, entire body shaking, everything unstable. “How could you?! He hadn't killed anyone yet! He was injured! He could’ve learned his goddamn lesson, he was only seventeen, you bastard!”

The Plague Doctor stares at him. Or at least it seems that way. It's impossible to tell behind their mask.

“Tell me, Jason,” they reply, voice even. “Who the hell was going to teach him that lesson? Who was going to punish him? No one would care. He would be encouraged, subtly, told what he was doing was brave. After all, he was eliminating the competition. That's just Darwinism at work, isn't it? Tell me. Who would stop him from getting access to a gun? I’d bet you his father knew he took it, didn't care. His little boy is growing into a man. Even better that it be some loser. Go on. Tell me who would’ve made him regret what he wanted to do. Tell me who wouldn’t have fueled his revenge fantasies, who would've stopped him from climbing into your window and killing you while you slept. And why stop with you? There's a world of weaklings that deserve to get their throats slit out there. Tell me, Jason. Because if you have an answer, I really want to know what it is.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, bordering on tears. “Fuck everything you've ever done for me. You don't get to play God, no matter how fucked everything is.”

“I’m not playing God, I’m playing exterminator.”

“Stop with the one-liners! This isn’t a fucking movie! You just shot a kid in the head in my kitchen!”

He pushes off the counter and moves into the Plague Doctor’s personal space. He should probably be afraid, but he isn’t.

The mask doesn’t flinch, obviously. Jason wishes he could see their expression.

After a few seconds of silence, they speak again.

“It’s unfortunate that we can’t see eye-to-eye.”

“That’d be a lot easier if you weren’t hiding behind the mask! You’re a coward just like the rest of them. It’s real easy to spew bullshit when you feel safe. You feel like a hero? Running around killing kids? Rushing in to ‘save the day?’ What the fuck are you doing in my house anyways?!”

“I heard gunshots.”

“What were you doing near my house?!”

A pause. “Let’s face it, Jason. You’re a murder magnet.”

“So you just-” Jason makes a frustrated noise and goes to grab the phone.

The Plague Doctor takes that as their cue to leave.

They take the gun with them.