Chapter Text
is there a medicine i can take to make me not annoying
yeah its called poison
oh
“I’m sick of y’, Jack.”
Jack turned to his roommate, pulled out his ear buds, and slid down his blue hood. “...What? Sorry, I had my music in, did you just—”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Bunnymund exclaimed, his Australian accent more prominent in his anger. “All you have to do is clean, that’s all I ask, ‘n what do you do? You sit there ‘n do nothing! You’re selfish ‘n immature, ‘n I’m done with you, Jack.”
“What—wait, where did this come from? I do plenty around here, Bunny,” Jack said, frowning as he shifted on his chair. “I mean sure, it, it may take me a while, but that’s just because I don’t...hop to attention the first hint, the moment work shows up. Boring, dull work,” he finished with a roll of his eyes.
“Ugh, you’re just so—Filthy bludger! I can’t stand you normally, I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. I must have been straight out of my mind.”
Icy blue eyes darted away and thin shoulders shrugged anxiously. Jack had no answer for Bunnymund except for a funny one, and he didn’t much feel like joking right then. Presented with tight silence, Aster continued releasing his pent-up anger. Deep, green eyes flashed.
“I clean the dishes, I do the laundry, I do bloody everything around here! Blimey, you don’t even have a job, Jack!”
“I had a job, and I was doing just fine! Wal-Mart’s a perfectly reputable place to work,” Jack said, standing and shaking his silver-white hair out of his eyes.
“You got fired, you boofhead.”
“Burger King then! You gotta admit, Kangaroo, I look good in a paper crown. Better than you in that ridiculous pink apron, that’s for sure,” he finished in a chuckle.
“A bakery is a ridgy-didge yakka—honest work! I’ve had a stable job for years, but you, you’re the fuck-wit who’s fired from every job you’ve had. Right?” Aster spit, a mean chuckle at the end.
“I get bored, I’m not like you! Doing the same thing, day after day, pack this, bag that, flip the burger just right, Jack, you’ll get it in a few years of being a hopeless dead-end teenager—that’s not for me! ...A free life, riding on the wind, fantastical stuff. Or it’s not worth it.”
Aster loomed over the younger boy and jabbed a long finger into his chest. He growled, “You need to grow up.”
Jack squared his shoulders and leaned up in challenge. The teen lowered his voice, heavily enunciating every word, “And you need a life.”
“I already have one, mate. Last time I checked, your life wasn’t worth living. Or did you change your mind?”
Frosted orbs glazed over like a thin sheet of ice melting, the water underneath overtaking it. Jack worked his jaw, clenched it, and swallowed. He would not show the asshole how much that stung. After a quick, deep breath, he thought he could trust his voice. Jack leaned back slightly and spoke, his tone light, “Maybe I don’t want to grow up.”
“Fine. Good for you. But you need to live in the real world sometimes Frostbite, get some common sense ‘n learn the boundaries between fantasy ‘n reality. Fuckin’ time to grow up. I can’t wait to see how things go when you’re on your own,” Aster said, venom on his breath. His grass-green eyes burned deeper than any emerald in the hottest flame.
“I don’t need you,” Jack said angrily, gesturing sharply. “I don’t need anyone, I can take care of myself. So yeah, I’m gonna be fine, thanks. Because you care so much,” the teen said as he turned away, mumbling his last sentence.
“Oh, you don’t think I care? Alright fine, bloody crash-hot. Don’t mind that no one will ever take you seriously; you don’t look a day over seventeen! You’re nineteen, it’s ridiculous!”
Jack’s eyes lit up in amusement, a moonbeam shining across a pond’s surface. “That’s what you focus on? My incredible good looks? My, my Bunny, I never thought.”
“Not. In. The mood, Frosty.”
“Oh yeah? You gonna hit me? Because that gets us so far,” the teen started, ready for a fist fight.
“Not this time, Jack. I’m not yer old man. Yer a Clayton’s brother, a shitty cobber, and we’re through.”
“What does that even mean?” Jack asked, laughter in his confused voice. His smooth hands flew up in the air, frustration at its peak.
“It means you were my friend!”
Jack’s pale face twitched in horror. He said frantically, “Bunny—”
“For the last time, that’s not my name!”
“Bu—But Aster is such a stupid name... Bunny suits you much better. I mean, who ever heard of Bunnymund for a last name, it’s not even German,” Jack teased, smirking.
“Get out.”
The teen’s face fell, a ghosting frown masking his desperation. His lanky body swayed easily, a leg swinging in the air, before he leaned on the wall. The silver of his cargo pants scratched at the light green paint. His eyes distant, Jack challenged, “And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll pretend you don’t exist,” Aster slowly chewed every word. His voice quickly became frustrated and high-pitched as he continued, “...I can’t live with you anymore.”
Blue eyes dulled before he said, “Fine. You’ll be rid of me. Happy you.” Jack spun on his barefoot heels and practically skated to the door. His gnarled walking stick hit the hardwood floor as he snatched it.
Aster fell back on his heels, his long arms falling to his sides. He should have been happy that Jack was leaving, but nothing about the situation felt right. Frustrated, a rough palm raked over his face, his stubble scratching him. The man sighed and plodded across the plush carpet until he came upon the entryway.
“Jack.”
The boy in question slung his blue converse over his shoulder, the laces tied together like a hobo’s nun chucks. Tossing a nonchalant glance over his shoulder, Jack offered a short, “What.”
“Where are you gonna stay?” Bunny inquired, his tone detached and unreadable.
Deciding it was a stupid question not worth eye contact, Jack balanced his cane, or his staff, as he liked to call it, in the crook of his arm. In all honesty, Jack didn’t have a plan. His back to one of the few people he thought he could always count on, always trust, even though he would never ask for help, Jack said, “Tooth’s place. Probably.”
“Shame, you’d make a good dero,” Aster said flatly.
Jack slowly spun on his feet, a brow raised. “A what.”
“Tramp. Homeless.”
“Gotcha. Sorry to disappoint you, Doc, but me and boxes don’t really mix,” Jack said, his usual playful swing to his tone gone. He grabbed the cold knob of the door— “I’ve been looking after myself for years, going back... It’ll be easy,” —and stepped out.
The robin’s egg blue door clicked shut. Aster’s broad shoulders sank, and he groaned. He was going to regret that later.
But in that moment, for a while, he would have some peace and quiet. Finally.
You know what I think? I think we just dodged a bullet.
He’d feel like getting shot again later.