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Josh had found Chris on the same night his sisters went missing. Throughout their friendship since then, he'd made melancholy comments about how he replaced his two sisters with a bro. Chris insisted he wasn't replacing them, just temporarily--and he said 'temporarily' a little too firmly--filling in that empty space, insisted that they were just missing, that they'd find Hannah and Beth.
"What would you do without me?" he'd always say on nights when Josh fell deep into a hole of guilt. Josh would curl up against the headboard of his bed, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head in his arms, and Chris would climb up onto his knee, rest his own arms on Josh's, and put his chin on his arms.
For the first 10 or so minutes, it would be silent; nothing but Josh's sobs could be heard. Eventually, though, when Josh breathed a little better and shook a little less, Chris would talk to him. He was close enough that Josh could hear his small voice, and so he'd whisper reassurances to him until Josh felt a little better. Josh would peek up at the Borrower, who'd give him a fond smile and reach out with a small hand to brush away a tear.
“I don't know,” Josh always replied, a breathless chuckle following. And he'd fall asleep with the Borrower on his chest, the blonde drifting off with the rise and fall of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart, and they both knew that everything would be okay.
Until dawn.
When the sun rose early those mornings, Chris would leave, going back to his home to prepare for the day, and Josh would awaken soon after. The latter of the odd couple was off to do something far less simple, however. Ever since his sisters’ disappearance, he'd been scheming. He'd been planning his revenge; a little prank to scare his friends, since they'd pranked his sisters and caused their disappearance. Maybe his plans were a little harsh, but then again, he had been lying to Chris; he wasn't taking his meds, and he definitely wasn't working on the crap his therapist suggested he do to help.
Chris would probably be mad when he found out, but it was totally worth it...right?
He hadn't seen them all in such a long time; Mike was with Jess now, and Emily was with Matt. Ashley and Sam were sort of together, apparently, and Jess and Emily, while having a bitchfight on the outside, seemed to be filled with more than hatred; more like lust. And Chris was able to catch a shared interlocking of hands for a brief second between Mike and Matt. Smart, Josh thought with a smirk, the four of them being each other's beards.
“Guys, you realize that I can tell how gay you are, right?” he commented with a grin. Emily sighed in relief, and Matt wasted no time launching himself at Mike. Josh chuckled.
Everyone was reintroduced to Chris; some fawned over him, and the others gaped at him, seemingly having forgotten that he existed. He flushed under the attention, and there was a dull ache in Josh’s heart when the borrower looked at him with a shy smile.
He really hoped Chris would forgive him for all of this.
Chris had to go back for him, he just had to. He had to look for him. He couldn't be dead, not after all this. He'd faked his death once, surely he could do it again. Maybe there was no wendigos after all. Josh's parents were movie directors, maybe Josh had picked up some skill in special effects. This couldn't be real, it couldn't. The wendigo couldn't have dragged him off. It just couldn't have.
Chris didn't let himself think about what he might see if he did find Josh. He didn't think about how his head could be cracked open like a fucking watermelon, or his limbs no longer attached to his body. He didn't think about whether he would walk in on a feeding session for the wendigo that took him, watching the monster tear away his best friend's flesh with its long, sharp teeth.
But what he definitely didn't think he'd walk in on was Josh’s feeding session.
He stopped, frozen in horror as his best friend tore open the decapitated head of the stranger who'd helped them earlier, eating it as it were something as simple as a chicken wing. Chris was going to be sick. He leaned off to the side and retched, the sound attracting Josh's attention--was it even still Josh? Chris wasn't quite sure.
It seemed that the entire side of Josh's mouth had been torn to make way for a row of long, sharp teeth; just like the wendigos. Chris choked down a sob and a little bit of bile. The eye on the same side as the torn cheek was beginning to turn a milky color, as if he was blind. Chris swallowed the lump in his throat.
The worst part about the entire exchange was that Josh fucking recognized him. Chris wished that it could've been easier; he could've turned tail and ran the fuck out of the mines, could've gone back home, grieved over his loss, and gotten over it, but now Josh was crying and crawling toward him. Chris barely registered the movement; he was too preoccupied with the replaying image of the man before him gnawing away at a man’s head.
“Ch-Chris? Chris, is--is that you?” His words are garbled by the massive teeth in his mouth, and Chris’ sharp intake of breath makes him frown--or try to, he can't really without hurting himself. He's starting to lose control; he didn't even notice that anything had changed, that he'd just been eating the head of a man who'd tried to help. He was already losing himself again.
“Yeah, Josh, it's--it's me--” Suddenly, Josh was growling. Chris was confused. Just a second ago, he'd--
Josh launched at him with a scream that was beginning to sound more like the screeching of the wendigos, and Chris ran. He sprinted out, losing Josh not too far from the exit, where Mike was waiting for him.
“Hey, Chris. Did you--Chris? You okay--woah!” Chris launched himself into Mike’s hands, sobbing.
“We need--call Josh's parents.”
“Did--did you find a body, or…?”
“He's turning into a wendigo.”
Josh's parents, rich as they were, hired the best doctor they could; they wanted to fix their only living child, and they'd be damned if money was their issue. They'd done everything they could, however, and got desperate.
The man they'd met with was happy to help, until they saw Josh. The man was going to form a Native American exorcism; they were going to exorcise the wendigo spirit out of him, and then maybe get him some cosmetic surgery; the kid looked like a train wreck. Of course, though, it would prove difficult to convince the incredibly--and deservedly--superstitious chief to perform the exorcism.
When he'd finally agreed, and it finally, finally worked, Josh would be back to normal by dawn, everyone cried with joy.
They didn't let Chris around Josh or vice versa for a while; they were afraid he'd not yet fully healed, and could still have an animalistic instinct to eat him or something. Chris was terrified of him anyway. But, of course, when they'd supposedly taken Josh out for his therapy appointment, and Chris had taken it upon himself to enter his room, Josh had turned right back around to grab his jacket.
They locked gazes; Chris’ hands shook, and tears welled up in both of their eyes. Josh dropped down to the floor on his stomach. The wound on his mouth was still open; his plastic surgery appointment was next week. Chris fell backwards, landing in his ass and staring at the row of long, sharp teeth. The teeth glimmered. Chris thought that, if he dared to get close enough, he would be able to see his own reflection in them. He didn't want to get closer.
He'd seen those teeth tear apart a head. He'd seen the very same man in front of him covered in blood and dirt, looking more like an animal. He'd happened to be wearing the same flannel that he had been that day. He wore a lot of flannel, but this one was one of his favorites. He still wore it, even though Chris could see the bloodstain on the side, the one that he knew Josh cried over at night when he thought everyone had finally stopped watching him.
"Ch-Chris? Are you okay?"
His eyes snapped open. He hadn't realized that he'd been crying. He could taste the saltwater on his lips. He let out a sob. Josh turned away, hid his deformity. He knew it was the reason Chris was so scared.
"I--I saw you tear that man's head apart," Chris said quietly. Josh's heart sunk. "I--If I hadn't, if it was just the teeth, I'd be able to look at you, but-but I saw what those teeth did, and now--" He let out another sob.
"I--Chris, I--"
"I'm sorry, Josh. I'm so sorry--"
"It's not your fault," Josh insisted, "and don't you ever, ever let yourself believe that it was. It wasn't your fault."
It was gonna take more than that for Chris to stop seeing the blood drip out of the side of Josh's mouth.