C'est La Mort

When Fred opted to remain (nearly) silent, Weasel seized the opportunity with a shouted and utterly confused: “Duh F-ck?” But his curiosity was silenced by Jack’s bite towards his fellow. He turned then towards Fred, gurgling quietly between them in a fit that was unnervingly similar to laughter, before leaping hastily from the countertop.

All of which Nemo remained entirely unnaware as he burrowed his face against the sofa’s back in silence, simultaniously drawing his knees in towards his stomach. With his locked arms he filled the gap, until he felt exposed no longer. Without Jack’s company it was frighteningly cold in the sitting room; the beating of his heart disturbingly loud.

“Mmhm,” He acknowledged Jack’s jest with a grumbled chuckle that hadn’t the strength to part his lips. And further inward he crawled, his limbs wound so tightly as to cause muscle to spasm against his joints. “Lights…" He spoke up at last, broken-voiced. “Please,” He whined into the sofa. “It’s too bright.”

Jack paused, unable to do anything but watch him as she hovered between the strength of ignoring the obvious and the weakness of its pressing influence. She was able to regather her fortitude and sense of self as he spoke, giving her a task, something that could help him, ease his discomfort. "Of course. I'm sorry." She turned and hurried for the lights. With a flick of her fingers the lights in the living room went out. Another flick of her wand did the rest, turning out every other light and lowering ever blind.

Perhaps... too dark. Because now Jack couldn't see. But she also found something in the darkness she had lost before. Purpose. Jack had dropped a subject of importance because it was scary to face. But she now faced darkness. And she felt a growing resolve, one goading her to speak. Daring her. And she always took a dare.

"I mean it." She spoke to darkness, but she addressed her roommate. She stood rigid, across the room, eyes tenderly where she guessed her friend to be. "I mean... I don't know the proper definition of love, the one normal people use, but I mean it in my own ways. I mean that I want to fight our problems together and go towards some sort of happiness. I mean that on rough days, we can count on each other. I mean being able to have serious talks as well as being able to go to a fast food place at three in the morning. I mean that everything will be okay to so.e degree so long as I have you near. I mean that no matter what happens, I can feel like everything wrong is made up by you. I mean that I don't want to sleep alone and I really hope this temporary living condition is anything but temporary." She paused, surprised at herself, but her strength had not entirely left her. "I don't know what anyone else means when they say 'I love you' but that's what I mean."

The darkness brought Nemo the support that he had so heavily depended upon. As the light fled from the room, he was left blind of all else but the black, and within him stirred a false sense of nonexistence; that pseudo sleep that he'd craved. Were it not for his remaining senses, it might just have sufficed.

But the quiet that he had wrapped himself in was broken not long after it had begun. It’s The Savior, Nemo reminded his subconscious as a frustrated sob bubbled forth. It’s The Savior. It’s Her. He chanted inwardly with the clenching of his teeth. But the noise was just too present. Jack’s pledge anchored Nemo to reality, and once more he was reminded of his life. “Shshsh.” The noise had slipped past Nemo’s defenses, and he reacted at once with the introduction of the sharpest of his teeth with his tongue.

“I-“ Nemo tried, only to find that his urge to cry aloud had returned.“Sorry,” He appolagized, for as aware as he was of his obligation to reply to Jack’s explanation, he was presently incapable. Instead, he lifted an arm and reached towards her voice, and with his next request he forfeited any and all understanding that he had once had of himself. “Please, I can’t… Please stay? I can’t… I need you. I can’t…” He fidgeted against the sofa, fighting against himself. “I can’t not do it again. Not without you. I want it too much.” He needed Jack near; to feel safe and not alone, lest he should lose the war that he'd waged against his state of mind.

"I'm trying, McDonald," he croaked.

Jack hesitated, for with the dissipation of her courage came the renewed onslaught of her painful self awareness. She heard a muffled shush, followed by a broken speech full of pain. Jack's arms folded at the elbows to tribe one another, attempting to provide each other with some sort of comfort. With a start, Jack became conscious of the fact that her hands were shaking.

She flicked them out and listened to Nemo. He provided no response to her own speech, but as she was not sure she was strong enough to have said what she said AND bear whatever he might say, she was not upset. He was asking for her. Her gaze drifted to where she knew the reclining chair to be, where she had intended to set herself up. She knew, however, that she would not, could not refuse him.

She slowly approached the sound of his voice, reaching a hand out. Her eyes had adjustment enough to allow her to perceive the shapes of the furniture, ut she could not see her friend. Her other hand floated up and immediately brushed his outstretchef hand, whilst the other drifted over his hair. She ran her hand over his hair and allowed it to fall to his chin. She kneeled next to the couch, squeezing his hand tightly and resting her forehead against his cheek. "I'm here." She paused, squeezing his hand. "Thank you... for trying."