Chapter Text
Enoch was torn from sleep by a hand on his arm that rocked him awake. His eyes shot open at the icy touch, panic coursed through his system. The hand on his arm was so cold it nearly hurt. Dread filled his body as he slowly glanced over at the shadowy figure beside his bed. His muscles tensed at the sight of his dead brother, and grief crippled him, left him paralyzed. The breath in his lungs escaped him and he couldn’t seem to find air.
“Victor?” He choked out, his voice strangled. Victor stared down at him with an empty expression, the black holes where his eyes once stood left him soulless. There was no life left in him, no humanity, but he was still Enoch’s brother.
Enoch mustered everything inside of him to pull himself up and look at his brother face to face. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t bring you with us. I couldn’t save you.”
Jake’s mind was slow and foggy as he lifted from a dream. A quiet sound pulled him out of sleep and gentle movement jostled him awake. As Jake’s consciousness became clearer, so did the sensations. He could hear a muffled sob and felt the bed move in tandem with the sound. Concern overtook initial annoyance and he opened his eyes. Enoch sat beside him, his knees against his chest, his face buried in his hands. Jake glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 3:17 am. He turned his attention back to Enoch.
Uncertainty flooded Jake’s system as he watched Enoch express more emotion than he had ever seen from the teen. He contemplated every possible decision. He could ignore Enoch and go back to sleep, let him be alone with his feelings, but Jake knew that wasn’t an option, just the thought brought a thorn of guilt into his spine. He could speak and let Enoch know he was there. He could ask what was wrong and risk Enoch snapping at him. He could sit up and pull him into a hug, but that might make things worse. There were too many options that Jake could take, he decided to shut his brain off and do the first thing his body made him do.
Jake sat up and slowly slid his hand onto Enoch’s back. Enoch tensed at the contact, but he couldn’t stop his tears. He leaned slightly into Jake, and Jake took that as permission to go further. He snaked his arms around Enoch until he was fully contained.
Jake’s arms were warm but constraining. Enoch tried to stop his sobs, but the more he tried to control them, the worse they became. He couldn’t open his eyes; he couldn’t face Victor who still stood beside his bed. He could feel the cold seep into his side where Victor loomed. Jake’s heat on his opposite side did its best to fend off the icy presence, but there were too many stimuli. The pressure from Jake’s arms, the texture from his shirt, the heat from Jake’s body, the cold from Victor’s, Jake’s breathing against his side, his presence in the room while Enoch was vulnerable, Millard’s snoring, it was all too much for Enoch to handle.
Jake felt Enoch’s body begin to tremble underneath his touch. Uh oh. He had overshot his welcome. Jake pulled away and crawled out of the bed. He checked on the kids, to make sure they were still asleep. Relief at the sight of the sleeping children pushed the heavy weight of Enoch’s pain off of Jake’s shoulders. He only had one issue to solve.
“I’m gonna leave the room to get Olive, okay? I’ll let you be alone, but…” Jake watched Enoch carefully for nonverbal cues. “You want Olive, don’t you?” Enoch’s sobs persisted at its unrelenting pace, but Jake could see a small nod behind his hands.
Jake rushed out of the dark room into the bright light of the motel hallway. His eyes hurt as they adjusted, and he had to fight the urge to shield his eyes. He was on a mission, there was no time to waste, but the moment he took one step, he could have sworn the hallway expanded. He took another step, then another, with each step the hallway grew, his destination seemed so far. His balance twisted and he struggled to walk straight as the walls seemed to warp around him. Was he dreaming? Was this a dream? No, Enoch’s panicked breaths, his distressed sobs, his shaking body were all too real. Jake had to get to Olive.
Jake’s attention was pulled to the end of the hallway, his gut egged him in the direction of a shadowy blur. Jake took a few steps closer and the shape of human began to manifest. An uneasy familiarity washed over him as the figure became clearer. “Grandpa?” Jake blinked and he was at the end of the hall, Abe was right in front of him. His face was pale, his eyes missing, his expression one of messy panic, the one he had worn in his backyard when Jake had found him that night. Jake’s heart stopped and his body told him to run. He darted to the side, down another hallway. He rounded a corner where he found Enoch. His heart calmed as he took in the familiar frame of Enoch’s shoulders. His back was to Jake, his head tilted toward the ground. “We gotta get outta here.” Jake sighed as he ran a tired hand over his face. He placed his hand on Enoch’s shoulder and something felt off. Dread overtook relief and Jake pulled Enoch to face him. The teen’s body moved where Jake pulled him, an empty vessel. A large hole in Enoch’s chest that awaited an organ to make him animate made its presence evident to Jake. His face was partially decomposed, his hands nothing but bone. Jake nearly fell backward at the sight, but a laugh caught his attention. The short man from the dining area stood at the end of this hallway, a large smile on his face as he watched Jake with amusement.
A scream broke out from Emma and Olive’s room. Bronwyn! Jake’s heart sped as he bolted away from the man toward his friends. He raced down the hallway, back the way he had come. He rushed past dozens of clocks until he reached the door he was looking for. He knocked frantically on the thin red door. His palms sweated and his heart was in his throat as he waited for a response. The door swung open, Fiona on the other side, her face worried and tired. “What happened?” Jake’s words were rushed and frantic. Fiona stepped aside to let Jake in. She didn’t answer him, only shrugged and motioned toward a bed. Emma held Bronwyn in a tight hug. Bronwyn squeezed Emma as tightly as she could without hurting the woman.
“It’s alright, Jake. I’ve got this.” Emma assured. Tears filled her red eyes and her voice sounded stuffy. She had been crying too.
Jake’s body calmed enough to allow him to remember his original objective. He scanned the room but saw nothing of Olive, only a sleeping pile of pink where Claire resided. “Where’s Olive?”
“She went to your room.” Emma wiped at her eyes and sniffled. Something was very wrong with this place. Jake had rarely seen Emma this upset, and he had never seen Enoch cry.
Jake gave Emma a quick nod as a feeling of urgency swept over him. He bolted out of Emma’s room toward his own, worry that Olive hadn’t made it surrounded him. What if she had gotten caught in a similar trap to Jake, or whatever that had been?
The clocks on the wall laughed at Jake as he ran to his door and skidded to a halt. It was as if the clocks watched his every move, taunting him, enjoying his misery; perhaps it was unhealthy to personify clocks, or perhaps there really was something to them, perhaps they were just as odd, just as daunting as the rest of the building and the people that resided in it?
Jake brushed the feeling of eyes on him off and opened his door. The lights were now on, and everyone was awake. Millard and Hugh sat on their bed unsure of the situation. Horace lay on his couch, his eyes open but sad and tired. Jake could see the glint of a tear that had run down his temple. The bathroom door was closed, a light on inside of it, and Jake could hear Enoch and Olive conversing about something. The world felt still compared to the hallway. Everything was calm and slow, if not a little depressed. The room was quiet, the only sound the muffled voices of the teens in the bathroom.
Jake reached a hesitant hand up to the bathroom door, and after a breath, he knocked. “It’s Jake. Can I come in?” He waited for a response, but no response came. The room fell silent, and he heard shuffling. The door opened to reveal Olive. She was in her pajamas, her long gloves stood out against the soft pink of the light material of her dress.
“Are you okay, Jake?” Olive’s voice was soft and concerned. Her face was sad and tired, a perfect duplicate of Horace’s. Jake appreciated her kindness, her care for others even when she struggled herself.
“I’m okay. I had a little spook in the hall, but I’m okay. Are you?” Jake reached out and placed a hand on the tall woman’s shoulder. His heart still raced, but his mind had calmed.
Olive moved to the side to let Jake in the room, her eyes pinned on him. He felt her staring into his soul. She might have had fire as her peculiarity, but sometimes it felt as though empathy was her true ability.
“I’m alright. Better than Enoch, but he’s come around a lot in the last two minutes. I’ve finally gotten him calm.” Her voice was quiet, but their proximity allowed Enoch to hear the conversation. He said nothing, just sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at the tiled ground. Jake entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Enoch kept his eyes on the floor, but he listened to the movement of the room, listened to Jake and Olive, to where they were and where they moved. His body was tired, exhausted from a long day and an emotional night. He felt weak, his muscles overused from constant tension. He couldn’t meet Jake’s eyes, not after Jake had seen him so vulnerable, but he didn’t want to leave. He was worried for Jake, he had heard Bronwyn’s scream, he had been told of Olive’s distress. He wanted to comfort Jake, the same way Jake had tried to comfort him, but his embarrassment held him hostage. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t leave his spot, he couldn’t look up. The only thing Enoch could muster was a short question. “What happened?”
“I don’t really know, but I saw my grandpa…but, not him. I know that doesn’t make sense.” Jake slid onto the counter and noticed Olive’s bare feet. She must have rushed over as quickly as Jake had left.
“I understand.” Enoch was understandably not very chatty, not that he ever was, but Jake was surprised by the amount of conversation he was able to have with such little words on the other man’s part.
“You look like you’re doing a lot better. Do you wanna talk about what happened?” Enoch shook his head at Jake’s offer of support. He rang his fingers together restlessly. “Can I give you a hug?” Jake slid off the counter and kneeled in front of Enoch. Olive stood by the door, still enough that Jake thought she may have been trying to go invisible.
Enoch’s muscles were too tired to tense, but his mind screamed 'run'. He examined Jake’s body, his eyes never met Jake’s. Did Jake ask for Enoch, or for himself? “Do you need a hug?” Enoch’s voice was hesitant. He eyed Jake carefully as he waited for an answer. If Jake needed a hug, Enoch could pull it together enough for him, but if not, Enoch couldn’t move, he didn’t want to move. He had been overstimulated and simply needed to recharge. He couldn’t handle the sensations of another person’s body near his own, touching him, the warmth and pressure on his skin.
“I’d like one, but I don’t need one.” Jake reached his hand out to place on Enoch’s arm, but he paused and let it hover for a moment before he put it away. Jake had gotten good at remembering to ask before he touched Enoch, but there were times that he would forget. “You don’t have to hug me, I’ll be fine. I was offering for you.” He assured.
Those words brought a wave of relief over Enoch. He could finally relax. His mind stopped screaming at him and he eased into a comfortable silence. A small smile tugged at his lips. It hadn’t escaped him that Jake always asked before touching; it hadn’t escaped him that Jake asked where Enoch wanted to sit before seating himself; and it hadn’t escaped Enoch that Jake asked which cup, plate, bowl, or other kitchen utensil Enoch had unintentionally claimed in his head before each meal. Jake had observed the peculiars and taken the time to learn all of their quirks. Enoch had always felt like an outcast, he had always felt different and odd compared to everyone around him, even the peculiars, but Jake treated him no differently. He treated him with the same unique touch he treated all of the world with. Jake looked at the world through a specialized lens and treated everyone accordingly. “Thank you.” Enoch’s words were soft, an inaudible whisper.
“Sorry, what was that?” Jake cringed. He hated asking people to repeat, especially Enoch who hated to speak on a regular basis.
“Thank you, for not making me feel weird.” Enoch repeated, his voice louder but more reluctant.
“Why would you feel weird?” Jake leaned slightly closer as he sat from his kneel.
Enoch tried to shrug the question off, but Jake’s pleading eyes urged him to continue. “You just make me feel normal. I don’t feel normal a lot, no one else is as particular or thinks the way that I do. Everyone treats me differently, but you treat everyone different, so that makes me normal.” Enoch looked at Jake for the first time. “Please don’t ever make me say that many words again.” He was too exhausted for defense mechanisms, this was the true Enoch, buried beneath layers of sass and insults meant to protect him from harm and the judgment of others.
A small chuckle escaped Jake’s lips. He enjoyed this Enoch. There were small moments they had where Enoch let his guard down and they could have, albeit short, but honest, meaningful conversations. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you keep giving me one-liners for the rest of our lives.” He joked. His face fell into a more serious, but wistful expression. “That’s funny to me though, because you make me feel the opposite. I’ve always felt really ordinary, everywhere I went, whether it be school or home, I blended in, I was invisible, but the little things you do, the things you only do for the people you care about, it makes me feel really special.” Jake watched Enoch’s face carefully, and a smile crept up his face. “You treat me differently from everyone else, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but you always manage to make me feel seen. You always consider me when doing anything. I can never disappear into the background around you.”
Enoch didn’t like that he was hyper-aware of Jake. He had been since day one, and he had hated every second of it. He didn’t like the state of hyper fixation Jake placed him in frequently. His mind always searched for a way to accommodate for Jacob’s presence. He was one more body to account for in every situation, and Enoch didn’t like that he had become hyperconscious of Jake’s feelings. He didn’t like loving Jake, but he couldn’t help it, the same way he couldn’t help loving any of the peculiar.
Enoch looked in Jake’s eyes and found concern. Jake was on edge, even now, after everything had settled. His stomach filled with the familiar fire of protective anger. “I don’t wanna stay here tonight.” His voice was rushed, he hadn’t meant to say that, but he had meant it. This place made Jake uneasy, it had hurt them both, and Enoch hated it for that. He wouldn’t allow Jake to get hurt again, he wouldn’t allow himself to be hurt again, not tonight.
“Me neither. I’ll go talk to Miss Peregrine. I don’t trust this place. I don’t think we’re the only peculiars here, and I’m not so sure how friendly the others are.” Jake made to stand up, but Enoch caught his wrist. Jake paused; butterflies tickled his stomach at the contact.
Enoch stared up at Jake, his eyes severe and sincere. “Do you need a hug?” He asked again, more intently this time.
Jake smiled at the sentiment. “I can get one from Olive or Emma. You don’t have to overwhelm yourself for me.”