Discomfort

Saturday, April 24th, 12:04

When Andrew wakes, it’s to silence and the cold leather of the couch underneath him.

His back aches from the angle he’d slept, his spine protesting as he drags himself upright with a quiet grumble. He’s 21 going on 60 with this back pain, clearly. He presses the heel of his palm into one eye, squinting against the dull light filtering through the windows. It’s weirdly dim for the morning, but he decides not to linger on it. He stretches his arms above his head, joints popping, and glances lazily around the dorm.

Something feels off.

Andrew frowns, holding still for a moment. The room is the same as always. Same couch, same scratched coffee table, same faint hum of the fridge from the kitchenette. But still, something’s weird and Andrew can’t put his finger on it. His gaze drifts to the TV. It’s still on, but instead of the usual shows it’d play around this time, it’s just static. A soft, constant hiss fills the air, quiet enough that he hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that he has, it’s impossible to ignore.

“Jaiden?” He calls, voice still groggy with sleep. There’s no answer, which isn’t unusual on its own. Jaiden sleeps like the dead sometimes, especially after staying up so late with Andrew. Still, he waits a beat, expecting at least a grumbled response or a complaint about Andrew’s volume from somewhere in the dorm. Still, nothing comes.

Andrew clears his throat and pushes himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the room tilts. Right. He was drinking last night. That explains some of why he’s feeling so weird… Probably.

“Jaiden,” he tries again, louder this time. Still nothing.

He rubs at the back of his neck, unease prickling at his skin. “Dude, if this is you getting back at me for last night, it’s not funny.” The static hisses in response. Andrew exhales sharply through his nose and reaches for the remote, pressing the power button with entirely more force than necessary. The TV clicks off, and the sudden absence of noise makes the silence heavier somehow, the weight of it pressing in on him.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now it’s obvious that there’s nothing else. No voices from the hallway, no footsteps, no doors opening or closing. The dorms have never been this quiet, not even early in the morning, there’s always someone coming or leaving, always someone talking too loud or beds creaking and banging against walls.

“Okay,” Andrew mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. “That’s weird.”

His gaze flicks towards the bedroom door. It’s half-open, just enough to show a sliver of darkness inside. He’s pretty sure it was closed last night, Jaiden always closed doors before falling asleep because it made him feel more secure. Andrew hesitates.

It’s stupid. It’s just a door. Jaiden’s probably asleep, buried under blankets, phone dead, ignoring the world as he does more often than not.

Still, Andrew doesn’t move towards it right away. Instead, his attention snags on something else— thin, jagged lines etched into the wood near the doorframe. He steps closer without really thinking about it, squinting. Scratches. The wood is splintered slightly, edges rough like whatever made these did it with force. Andrew reaches out, brushing his fingers lightly over them.

“Weird.” He doesn’t remember those being there. A flicker of unease crawls up his spine.

“Jaiden?” He calls again, but it’s only half-hearted, voice quiet, worried. There’s no response, as expected.

Andrew swallows around stale air, suddenly all too aware of the dryness in his mouth. His head throbs faintly, but the hangover feels distant compared to the growing knot of dread in his stomach. He pushes the bedroom door open, wincing when it creaks. He takes a steadying breath and tells himself that it’s normal, that it’s always creaked like that. It’s normal, it’s normal, it’s normal. The sound echoes strangely in the silence anyway.

The room is beyond just dim, curtains still drawn. For a moment, Andrew can’t make out much— just the shapes and shadows, the vague outline of the bed, the desk, the chair tipped slightly.

“Dude?” He tries.

Nothing.

He steps inside and the air feels wrong. Stale, maybe. Heavy, definitely. Andrew wrinkles his nose slightly at it, taking another step forward. His foot catches on something, and he stumbles before barely catching himself on the edge of the desk.

“What—” He looks down to find that he’s tripped over one of Jaiden’s books, the cover bent, pages splayed awkwardly like it’d been dropped. Andrew frowns. Jaiden doesn’t treat his books like that. A slow, creeping dread begins to settle in his chest. He stumbles over to Jaiden’s bed and starts shaking the blankets, desperate.

“Jaiden,” he says again, more firmly now. Then the sheets fall to the side to reveal nothing but more pillows. Andrew’s stomach drops because if not here, then where is Jaiden? He turns, scanning the room more carefully now and that’s when he sees it. At first it didn't register in his mind. It’s just a shape slumped awkwardly near the far side of the bed, partially obscured by shadow, but Andrew takes a step closer and then another, his pulse quickening in his ears.

The shape shifts subtly, barely there, Andrew almost thinks that he’s imagined it. But then it happens again, a faint, uneven movement like something struggling to breathe. Relief and worry crashes into him so suddenly that it makes him dizzy.

“Oh— shit, okay,” he laughs weakly, already moving faster now, dropping down to his knees beside him. “You’re– you’re okay. I thought..” The words die in his throat, unwilling to verbalise his fears. The way Jaiden is sitting is odd, his back pressed against the bed frame, head tipped forward like he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up, arms hanging limply to his sides. His hair hangs in his face, damp and clinging to his skin. “Dude,” Andrew continues, softer now. “What’re you doing down here?” There’s no answer so Andrew reaches out to touch his shoulder, pausing just before making contact.

Something feels wrong. Everything feels wrong today.

“Jaiden?” He tries again to which Jaiden inhales suddenly. It’s sharp, uneven, like he’s struggling to pull air into his lungs properly. Andrew jumps just slightly. “Are you sick?” He asks, talking to himself more than anything. “I can take you to the nurse’s office, if you need?”

He lets out a steadying breath and places his hands on Jaiden’s shoulders. His skin is warm– too warm. It’s not like a fever, more like he’s burning.

“Jesus– Jaiden, you’re—” Jaiden flinches hard at the touch like it hurts and Andrew jerks his hands back, for once, he doesn’t speak at all. Then Jaiden’s head twitches, a small movement, quick, but it looks wrong— nonhuman, maybe?— Andrew can’t explain. He lifts his head and blinks his eyes open. Andrew exhales in relief for what feels like the hundredth time today.

“There you are. You scared the hell out of me, I thought you–”

“Don’t.” The word comes out rough, strained, like he had to force himself to say it. Andrew blinks and before he can speak, Jaiden is moving. He swallows hard, his throat moving strangely when he does, something shifting under the skin in a way that makes Andrew’s stomach twist.

“Don’t—” Jaiden starts again, then cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. The words sound almost as if they hurt. “Don’t come closer.”

Andrew lets out a short, confused laugh. “I’m already… here?”

“I mean it.” The words are firmer now, even if they still sound wrong. “Andrew, don’t.” There’s something in his voice that makes Andrew hesitate, his hands pulling back and settling on his lap. There’s no existence of anger or annoyance in Jaiden’s voice, only fear. Real, sharp fear. Andrew’s smile falters.

“What’s going on?”

Jaiden doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks up to Andrew’s face and then darts away just as quickly, like he can’t stand to look at him for too long. Andrew won’t admit it, but it hurts something deep inside him.

“I need you to listen to me,” Jaiden says quietly. Something shifts under his skin again, Andrew can see it clearly this time. A thin ripple along his neck, just beneath the surface, like something is moving where nothing but muscle and blood should be. Andrew’s breath catches and Jaiden squeezes his eyes shut.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers and the words sound mournful.

“Like what?”

Jaiden doesn’t answer, jaw tightening. Another sharp inhale follows. “Just– back up. Please.” At the pleading, Andrew leans back slightly, putting a small amount of space between them, even when every instinct of his is telling him to do the exact opposite.

“Okay,” he says carefully. “Okay, I’m backing up. See?” He shifts another inch. “Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?” Jaiden laughs at the question. It’s a horrible, breathless sound. There’s no humour behind it.

“I don’t.. I don’t know.” He drags a hand down his face, fingers trembling. Andrew stays very silent and very still, fighting against his instincts to comfort his best friend. Jaiden’s hand drops back to his lap, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight. “I thought I had slept weird or something, but then—” He stops and his body tenses, the same unnatural movement shifts beneath Jaiden’s skin again– this time lower, along his collarbone.

Jaiden chokes on a breath, his hands curling around his own throat desperately.

“Jaiden—”

“Don’t.” Sharper this time. Urgent. Forced through straining vocal cords. “Don’t you dare come near me.”

Andrew’s heart pounds again and he’s sure Jaiden is able to hear it. “You’re scaring me, Jay.”

“Good.” The word is immediate, like this is what Jaiden wants. “Be scared, Andrew.” There’s silence between them now, so similar to the night before where everything was okay, where Andrew’s biggest problem was how he was going to apologise to Jaiden come morning.

“That’s not funny,” Andrew whispers, trying to force out a laugh.

There’s no humour in Jaiden’s expression. “I’m not joking.” Despite how desperately Jaiden is trying to hide his emotions, Andrew can still read him just as he’s always been able to. He’s scared.

Andrew swallows. “Okay.” He doesn’t speak after that, too busy trying to wrap his head around what’s happened so far, his eyes following the trail of the thin rod beneath Jaiden’s skin.

“It feels like something’s in my head,” Jaiden says, voice faltering. Andrew is surprised that he’s explaining, so he stays silent. “I can’t think properly.” He presses the heel of his hand against his temple. “It’s like– like there’s something else in there. Pushing. Twisting things.”

For a lack of better things to say, Andrew settles on: “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.” Jaiden’s laugh is weak. “I know it doesn’t.” Another pause. Then, quieter, almost shamefully. “I thought about hurting you.” Andrew blinks and Jaiden’s gaze drops to the floor. “It wasn’t—” he starts, then stops, visibly struggling. “It didn’t feel like me.”

The room feels smaller all of a sudden and Andrew has to force out a breath. “Okay. That’s– that’s fine. People have weird intrusive thoughts all the time, that doesn’t—”

“No.” The word cuts Andrew off and Jaiden looks back up. “It wasn’t like that. For a second,” he says slowly, “I really wanted to hurt you.” The honesty in the admission is what makes Andrew’s stomach tighten. “I’m trying not to,” he adds quickly. “I am. I just–” he squeezes his eyes shut again. “I don’t know how long I can.”

Fear outweighs Andrew’s saviour instinct and he pushes himself to his feet, taking a step back without fully meaning to. Jaiden notices, because when has he ever not noticed Andrew. Something like relief flickers across his face as if he’s glad that Andrew is staying away. That he’s scared.

“Good,” he sighs out. “Yeah. That’s— good.”

Andrew shakes his head at the words, at the relief, but he doesn’t mention it. “I’ll go get you help, you’re clearly sick!” He’s desperate. They both are for different reasons, Andrew to save Jaiden, Jaiden to save Andrew.

“There’s no one to help.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do.” Jaiden gestures weakly towards the door. “No signal. No noise. You think that’s normal? No one– no one can help.” His hand finds his throat again, pressing just as the thing beneath the skin moves again. “I need to go,” he rasps out, bracing his free hand against the bed and pushing himself up unsteadily. He almost falls, but manages to catch himself at the last second.

“Whoa— hey—” Andrew instinctively moves forward, reaching out to help as he’s always done.

“Don’t!” Jaiden snaps, breathing heavy. “Don’t touch me!” Andrew stops immediately, watching as Jaiden steadies himself. His whole body looks tense, pulled tight with a string that’ll snap any minute now. “I can’t stay here. With you.” The words are quieter now, full of regret.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m being serious.”

Andrew’s resolve wavers now. “So, what? You’re just gonna leave?” His voice cracks. “To go where? You’re sick.” Jaiden looks to be taking in the words when he finally shakes his head, clearly confident in his decision and unwilling to change his mind. He doesn’t answer, stumbling towards the door. Andrew follows.

“I want to hurt you,” he whispers, and when it looks like he’s about to say something else, the ripple curls into his vocal cords. Jaiden chokes around his words before deciding it’s not worth trying to speak. Even when Andrew calls for him a final time, he doesn’t hesitate for a second– moving with a one minded track of getting out. Getting away from Andrew.

Jaiden leaves the door open on his way out, because he’s losing who he used to be, the things he used to do. Andrew barely notes it, and as much as he wants to follow behind him, he doesn’t.

Instead, he sinks to the floor.